Eighty four minutes after EOS' announcement, they were airborne. The wind still howled and rain still fell, but the intensity was far less and the great green behemoth that was Thunderbird Two shouldered her way through the assault as she rose up into the grey sky.

"I'm going to take us above all this." Virgil said as he pulled on the yoke. "Once we're above the clouds it'll be clear flying back to Tracy Island."

"Grandma, did you get all that?" Scott asked the miniature image on the console from his spot in the co-pilot's seat as he checked their course. "We should be back in about twenty minutes."

"I did, I'll have the infirmary ready." Grandma nodded. "How are John and Alan?" She asked.

"Alan's still out," Scott reported, twisting to glance over his shoulder at their injured on stretchers at the back of the cockpit. "His last scan showed he's still got some cathinones in his system. John's holding steady, he got a bit nauseous but the ondansetron pills seem to be working."

"When did John last eat?" Was Grandma's next question.

"Breakfast at 0920 hours, our time." Scott reported. "Yes, I know it's now almost 2030, I've told him off already."

Sitting up and facing forwards on his stretcher, because flying supine or backwards made him airsick every time, John rolled his eyes at Scott's remark and went back to the text conversation he was having with EOS.

"Well, at least he can have his concussion treatment shortly after you get home." Was Grandma's resigned reply to that. "But we will be having words about your eating habits, young man!" She added, pitching her voice to make sure it would carry to John, who had the sense to look somewhat contrite until Grandma signed off.

"The GDF are still waiting for the storm to die down some more before they move in." Was Kayo's distracted comment from behind Virgil, her eyes on the data scrolling over the screens in front of her. "I've updated Rigby with our initial report, he says they're shifting Pandora off the watch list to the active threat list."

"Whoop-de-do." Sarcasm dripped off every syllable as Gordon rechecked the fit of Alan's oxygen mask. "Because that's going to make such a difference."

"Knock it off unless you want to walk home." Virgil growled the warning, flicking a glare over his shoulder. "I'm not in the mood for more of that."

Wisely, everyone shut up.

Thunderbird Two nosed through the last of the clouds into the brilliant blue sky, the sun hanging low and well on its way to the horizon. Scott certainly felt his mood lift almost as soon as they got out of the storm; glancing around the cockpit he saw he wasn't the only one as he saw shoulders drop and the creases in people's faces smooth out now that they were out from under the oppressively dark lid of black clouds.

Late afternoon became twilight and deepened into night as they chased the sunset back across the Pacific Ocean, crossing the Terminator line as well as the Equator. Finally they were home, the palm trees bowing back and the fake cliff lowering to welcome Two back into her hanger.

"I'll take care of shut down, restock and refuel." Scott waved Virgil out of his chair as soon as they'd come to a standstill and Two turned on her belly to face nose out. He knew Virgil would want to go with John and Alan. "You get them to the infirmary."

"F.A.B. Thanks Scott." Virgil nodded to him with a grateful expression and followed the others as they clustered onto the platform to leave Two.

0o0o0

John had tried to insist that he could walk to the infirmary and be spared the indignity of being pushed in on a hover stretcher, but one look from a still irritable Virgil put paid to that.

"So, looking forward to your brain-defrag session with the Donut of Doom?" Gordon quipped as he lined up John's stretcher next to one of their hospital beds, a set of John-sized hospital scrubs already sitting there waiting for him.

John finger-spelled it out for maximum sarcasm, eyeing the machine at the far end of the room with palpable disdain.

The 'Donut of Doom', as Gordon had dubbed it, was a combination MRI and concussion treatment unit. They all loved and hated it- loved it because it could fix up to a grade three concussion as long as the overall symptoms were mild, hated it because it needed a 12 hour fast beforehand, six hours sedated and intubated in the machine so it could do it's work and two days off the roster recovering from the side effects- anything from synaesthesia to hypersensitivity. They did agree it was a vast improvement over waiting for the brain to slowly piece itself back together over the course of a year though.

"But seriously, you need any help getting ready?" Gordon asked as he helped John shuffle across from the stretcher to the bed.

Not far away, Alan was being lifted onto his bed by Virgil, Kayo helping keep the oxygen tube from getting tangled up and Grandma tutted to herself as she scrutinised the latest readings from his medical scan.

John shook his fist in the sign for No, then added a thank you.

"Okay. I'm probably going to be up on Five for monitor duty by the time you get out. Tell EOS to play nicely this time?" Gordon couldn't help but be a little plaintive, thinking of all the annoying things EOS had done last time to express her displeasure. "I'll make sure there's a projector near your bed so she can talk to you later."

Will do John signed, managing a faint smile. Thank you.

0o0o0

The noises were what woke him. The hiss of an oxygen mask, the faint rhythmic buzz and wheeze of an automatic ventilator and a dull whirring noise that somehow made his teeth ache as it irritated something in his inner ear.

Alan cracked an eye open, waited for his vision to clear, then opened the other and looked around to identify his location- the infirmary on the Island. Sure, it was the infirmary, which always sucked, but it was on the Island, which meant he was home.

He was safe.

Relief settled on him like his favourite red blanket, warm and cozy.

But where was John?

He carefully propped himself up on his elbows, feeling thick-headed and cotton-mouthed, but finally able to think straight. Having that clarity of thought was something he'd really missed, it was one of those things that you didn't really appreciate until you didn't have it anymore. Looking over at the source of the whirring he could see a sedated and intubated John lying on the bed attached to the MRI/concussion machine, a blanket pulled up to his chest as it worked it's magic on him.

John was here, and while he wasn't okay yet, he soon would be. The lingering knot of worry instantly unravelled at that.

"Hey kiddo." Grandma appeared at his side, smiling gently. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay." Alan was surprised by how croaky he sounded to his own ears. "What happened?" He asked, letting her take the now unnecessary oxygen mask off him and taking a careful sip from the water bottle she placed in his hand.

"Save it for the morning. There's a full debriefing once everyone's had a rest and you two are recovered." She told him, knowing if she let him get stuck into any task related to today he'd work until he dropped.

"But I feel fine!" Alan protested, sitting up fully and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.

"You're not. You've been sedated for five hours." Grandma caught his wrist to check his pulse the old fashioned way, slim fingers finding the spot easily.

"Five hours?" Small wonder he felt so stiff. "Why?"

"Tomorrow." She insisted. "Now, lie down and get some rest. If you promise to stay in bed I'll let you have your tablet so you can watch some videos and Virgil will bring you some snacks when he comes to wake up John. Deal?"

While making an escape attempt รก la Scott sounded really tempting right now so he could get his teeth into finding out what the heck had happened at Arecibo 2, he really wanted to be here when John woke up. "Deal." He agreed with reluctance.

"Attaboy." Grandma smiled and pressed a gentle kiss to his head. "I just want to say it now, I've read the preliminary report and I'm so very, very proud of you. You got John out of a very tight spot and kept him safe while in a bad way yourself. Well done."

Alan couldn't help the blush creeping up his cheeks as he laid back down and pulled the waffle weave blanket up to his shoulder. "Thanks Grandma."

0o0o0

John's awakening was far less pleasant. As soon as he cracked his eyes open it felt like being stabbed through the head and he hissed and flung an arm over his face to protect himself from the light.

"I take it you just won 'photophobia' on the Donut's roulette wheel?" Virgil's voice floated down to him from somewhere above his head.

"Yup." John grimaced from behind his elbow. "It sucks."

"I know just the thing, be right back!" Alan chirped from his right.

John heard his littlest brother scamper off with the obscene amount of energy that teenagers seemed to have, there was a rattle of cabinets, packaging opening and padding feet as he made his way back. Something soft was put into his free hand and John investigated the smooth fabric carefully. "What is it?"

"Old school triangular bandage, folded up to make a blindfold." Alan explained. "Do you want me to put it on you?"

"No, I can do it." John shook his head carefully, relieved to find the motion didn't hurt anymore. He sensed the movement of something over his head and paused, wondering what was going on.

"I'm shielding your face from the overhead lights." Virgil instructed. "Do it now."

"Thanks." John put the improvised blindfold to his face and lifted his head just enough to tie it on. "Done."

"Virg put your ouch wear on your bed and the projector on the side table so EOS can talk to you, Grandma says we have to spend the night here." Alan advised him. "You feel like eating? Virgil brought down some snacks from the good stash."

"In a bit, I want to get out of these first." John replied. He carefully sat up, swung his legs over the edge of the narrow MRI table and plucked at the hospital scrubs he was in. "They itch."

"Understood." He heard Virgil move to stand beside him. "Alan, go back to bed. John, I'll help you over to your bed and help you get organised, then you both need to get some more sleep. Clear?"

"Clear." John nodded, holding out his hand for Virgil to take to guide him across the infirmary. A rest in a nice, soft bed sounded like a very good idea right now. Being back on Five would have been better, but this would do for now.