Good morning! I'm back with a new chapter.

As usual, I own nothing aside from original characters and original plot points.

ENJOY!


Indiana noticed something was amiss from the moment she woke up.

One of the things she quickly learned when she moved to the island is how full of life it is. Whether it be working on the Thunderbirds, the hustle and bustle of going to or coming back from a danger zone, or just the Tracy boys looking for ways to occupy themselves between rescues. (Particularly when it's Scott and/or Virgil chasing after Gordon and/or Alan after a prank they pulled.) Either way, when there was quiet, there was something wrong.

Today was one of those days.

She immediately noticed that Gordon was absent from the breakfast table when she went to join the family.

"Hey. Where's Gordon?" Indiana asked as she took a seat next to Scott.

"Uh, he tends to like to keep to himself today," Jeff informed her as he passed her the jug with orange juice.

Indiana's brows furrowed as she considered Jeff's words. Gordon was, for lack of a better expression, the life of the party. He's part of the reason why the quiet on Tracy Island was so concerning. Usually, it meant he was planning a prank. Indiana would know. She was recently one of his victims. It was his way of officially welcoming her to the team now that they started operations.

Of course, he was warned to expect payback in due course.

Now, Indiana suspected it was because of an anniversary. She immediately knew it wasn't the anniversary of the day Lucille Tracy died. For one thing, it wouldn't just affect Gordon; it would affect the entire family.

But she didn't want to pry. It was clear that the entire family was uncomfortable and wanted to respect Gordon's boundaries.

Now that breakfast was done, Indiana went about her day, much like the other occupants of Tracy Island. She was keeping a regular eye on Tin-Tin following her experience aboard Fireflash. As Indiana mentioned to Scott, in cases of mild radiation exposure, it could take several days for symptoms to appear. But it looks like Tin-Tin got lucky and she wouldn't have any lasting impacts for her inadvertent involvement in International Rescue's first assignment.

But there was a delay in giving Tin-Tin her exam. Because when Indiana went to walk into the infirmary, she saw Gordon hiding in the corner, clearly emotional.

"Hey. You know what, Tin-Tin? How about I grab some stuff and we can do the exam in your room?" Indiana suggested, "You're getting to the stage where you don't need to come in here all the time."

"Okay," Tin-Tin nodded.

Indiana quickly walked in, grabbing some of the equipment she needed to do Tin-Tin's health check, including the printout of Tin-Tin's blood test results that had come in the previous night. On her way out, she quickly turned to Gordon, who quietly mouthed to her, 'Thank you.' She gave him a small smile as she walked out.

"Why the sudden change of venue?" Tin-Tin asked Indiana as she walked into her bedroom.

"Well, I realized you didn't need a thorough medical exam this time," Indiana answered as she held up the test results, "I just need to check a couple of things and then I can give you the all-clear. I can easily do that outside the infirmary."

Tin-Tin let out a sigh of relief at Indiana's words, "I am grateful, Dr. Evans. Father and Alan have been so worried."

"Well, radiation exposure's not something to mess around with," Indiana stated, "I know they managed to get the plane down fairly quickly, but there was still enough time for at least mild radiation exposure. With mild exposure, it can take longer for symptoms to manifest."

"Do we know the status of everyone else on the plane?" Tin-Tin asked worriedly.

"Scott asked Commander Norman to keep us updated. It's been hit and miss. Some people on the plane, like you, don't appear to have been affected. A few are showing signs of mild exposure, but they're testing them to confirm it's not something else. There's quite a bit of overlap when it comes to the symptoms."

"You mean the symptoms could appear to be something else," Tin-Tin surmised.

"Exactly," Indiana nodded, "Also, I didn't think you'd appreciate everyone hovering around you."

"Thank you, Dr. Evans," Tin-Tin smiled.

"You're welcome," Indiana responded in kind as she went to depart Tin-Tin's room.

"Would you like me to find a way to keep everyone out of the infirmary, Dr. Evans?" Tin-Tin asked innocently on the way out.

Chuckling, Indiana replied, "It would be greatly appreciated, Tin-Tin. But don't make it obvious, either. I've seen Smother Hen Tracy in action."

Not only had Indiana seen Smother Hen Tracy in action, she'd heard the stories.


Gordon looked up when he heard the door to the infirmary open again. Looking from under the bed, he was relieved when he recognized the shoes Indiana had chosen to wear today. He supposed he should've expected her to come in after dealing with Tin-Tin. He was grateful she gave him that extra time regardless.

"Tin-Tin knows you're down here," Indiana warned him as she sat across from him, "But she's not gonna say anything. In fact, she's helping with distraction duty with the others."

"Thanks, Indy. I don't mean to put all of this on you. It's just… this is the only place I could hide where they wouldn't look for me," Gordon sighed morosely, "They'd expect me to hide out in my room or in Thunderbird 4. I wouldn't get any privacy by the pool. They'd follow me to the beach."

"Well, they're worried, Gordon," Indiana pointed out, "And by the looks of it, they have a right to be."

"I'm fine. I just… I didn't want to be smothered," Gordon retorted.

"Do you want me to go?" Indiana offered.

"No. You can stay," Gordon immediately shook his head, "I just want someone to listen."

"Well," Indiana gestured wordlessly for him to start talking.

Gordon let out another sign (gee, he was doing a lot of that today), "The hydrofoil crash happened today."

So that's why Gordon was the way he was. Indiana had heard about the hydrofoil crash. Who hadn't? Because of the sheer number of casualties, Gordon's involvement and the circumstances behind the crash, it made international news. That's how she knew that Gordon was the sole survivor. Everyone else died on impact or died later at various times, whether it be while they were waiting to be rescued or in hospital.

"Run it through for me," Indiana requested kindly, "If you're comfortable, that is."

"It was a regular day. When I was in W.A.S.P., I was part of the experimental watercraft division. Because of my experience, it was my responsibility to test the Sea Skimmer hydrofoil speedboat. The people I was with had been by my side since we went through training. I trusted them with my life and they trusted me with theirs. I was driving. Everything was going as it should… but there was a freak malfunction," Gordon recalled with a trembling breath, "We ended up travelling at over 400 knots. I couldn't regain control of the boat. I barely had time to…"

Indiana knew what Gordon was trying to say. He barely had time to warn them. But Indiana had also read the inquest that followed. High-speed crash. High fatalities. An inquiry was inevitable. Everyone agreed on one thing: Gordon was not to blame. There was concern that the blame would be lumped on Gordon simply because he was the sole survivor. But that wasn't the case.

The boat malfunctioned. There was nothing Gordon could have done to prevent the crash. He had done the best he could in the circumstances they faced. He also had several family members of the other victims come forward and say they did not hold him responsible. If there was someone to blame, it was the person who built the death trap.

"Gordon," Indiana was gentle, yet firm (a strange contrast) as she gripped his hand, "Everyone says it wasn't your fault. The engineers fucked up. There was nothing you could have done."

"I know what the inquest says. I was there every day. Bandaged. In a wheelchair. Wondering if I would walk again," Gordon said in anger, "It doesn't change that ten people died."

"Tell me about them," Indiana requested as she moved closer to Gordon, "The ten people. Tell me about them. Tell me about the people. You said you just wanted someone to listen. I'm here. I'm listening."

Gordon let out a tearful breath as he showed Indiana the photo of the crew. Six men. Four women. It was taken the day before the crash.

Gordon pointed to the first man, an African-American in his early-twenties, "This is Joseph Davis. He was my second. His brain was filled with the most random trivia. When it came to trivia nights, you always wanted him on your team and you never wanted to go up against him. He, um, he died on impact. Banged his head pretty bad. I don't even know if he knew what was happening. I hope he didn't."

Gordon then pointed to another man, who almost looked like he could've been Gordon's twin, "Walter Banks. I called him Wally. I met him on my first day. We bonded over being named after Mercury 7 astronauts. He was always the life of the party. He knew how to pick you up when you were down. He was knocked out from the impact. He… he drowned in front of me. I couldn't reach him."

Indiana knew that Gordon was pinned by debris, struggling to keep his head above water as the craft (or what was left of it) kept getting hit by the waves, always teetering between floating and sinking. He saw so many of his friends die in front of him. Just out of his reach. He couldn't help them.

Gordon pointed to a black-haired woman who was clearly the oldest in the group, "Susannah Parry. We called her mum because she was the mother of the group. She took care of all of us. Just about everyone outranked her because she enlisted later than we did, but we still deferred to her as our mother. She helped me stay alive long enough to be rescued. She died on the way to the hospital. Massive internal bleeding."

Gordon pointed to a man in his late teens with brown hair and light brown eyes, "Mikey Lopez. He was the baby of the group. He was the same age Alan is now. He looked up to us. We wanted to help him grow. He joined W.A.S.P. as a way out. He grew up in a bad neighbourhood. Most of his classmates joined gangs. But he had a mother who kept him away from all that. He died in hospital. There was nothing they could do but make him comfortable. He got to say goodbye to his mum."

Gordon pointed at a man who could only be described as a Steve Irwin lookalike, "Sam Barton. This guy loves animals. Had a whole collection of them. He could tell us about every sea creature we came across. Mum – Susannah – was holding his hand when he died. She was the only one who could reach both of us. She sang him a lullaby she used to sing to her little brother."

Gordon next pointed to a young woman of Scandinavian descent, with blonde hair and crystal blue eyes, "Freya Anderson. She was a warrior. Her dad was a commissioner, so she knew how to protect herself. She was the only other person to die on impact. They… they said it was internal decapitation."

Gordon pointed to another woman, a Chinese-American in her mid-twenties, "Sarah Chen. She had a wicked temper, but was someone you could count on when it came down to it. She died in surgery. They couldn't get a bleed under control."

Gordon pointed to two men, identical twins with red hair and green eyes, "Leo and Noah Granger. They were twins. They did everything together. They may have looked alike, but personality wise, they were so different. Leo was quiet and reserved. He could recite the manual by heart. Noah often joined Wally in being the life of the party. Leo… Leo died in his brother's arms just as the rescue arrived. I can still remember hearing Noah's cries before I passed out. Noah died on the transport to the hospital. He had some bad injuries, but a lot of people think it was a broken heart."

Indiana noticed that Gordon was leaving a person for last. A Hispanic woman who looked to be around Gordon's age with arguably the most striking amber eyes she had ever seen. She was certainly beautiful. The way she and Gordon held each other in the photo, she had to wonder if they were together.

"Amelia Marks. She and I were… This was to be our last assignment together," Gordon admitted, "She was leaving because we were planning on getting married. She told me to stay with W.A.S.P. I wasn't quite ready to go yet. Dad was going to let her join International Rescue."

"What happened to her?" Indiana asked quietly.

Gordon started crying in earnest, "She got an infection. They said it was because of how long we were out there before we were rescued. She died not long after I woke up."

Indiana didn't say anything. She just held him. She now started to wonder if it was a bad idea to push him to talk about it. But Gordon had said he just wanted someone to listen. And Indiana did.

As a trauma surgeon, Indiana was already horrified by the crash. The lives lost. The devastation. But she looked at it only from a clinical point of view. She only knew what was made public knowledge through the inquiry. There were still some things that were hidden from the public. For good reason. But here, she was now witness to the emotional impact.

Indiana suddenly realized the surname sounded familiar. She had heard of a Mirabel Marks, who was a field agent for International Rescue as she attended Academy of Art University in San Francisco, California to study photography.

"Is that why Mirabel is part of this?" Indiana asked quietly.

"Yeah," Gordon nodded, accepting the box of tissues Indiana reached up for, "We're pretty close. I also want to do right by Mia's family."

Indiana smiled as Gordon rested his head on her shoulder. He would start feeling better. In time. But in a lot of ways, the wounds were still fresh.

"Is your back okay?" Indiana suddenly asked worriedly.

"It's fine," Gordon moved to reassure her, "I'm okay, Indy. Physically, anyway."

"Well, it won't do your back any good to stay down here like this," Indiana pointed out, "But I also get why you wouldn't want to be smothered."

Suddenly smirking, Indiana leaned in like a co-conspirator and asked, "Want to help me flex that new diving certification?"

Gordon returned Indiana's smirk with his own and said, "Meet you at the beach."


Scott watched from the balcony as Gordon and Indiana returned from their dive. They were gone for several hours, as gestured by the son starting to set over the horizon. In fact, they didn't even return to the villa for lunch. Grandma Tracy had arranged for a picnic lunch to meet them when they returned for a food break.

"Oh good. They've returned," Jeff quipped as he joined his oldest son on the balcony.

"I think Gordon showed Ana a lot of the underwater caves," Scott guessed.

"Well, he seems to be in much better spirits," Jeff observed as Gordon playfully flicked water at Indiana, starting a water fight between the two, "This time of year is hard for him. Being the sole survivor of something like that…"

"Everyone said the crash wasn't his fault," Scott argued, "Not even his crew's families blame him. They all know he did everything he could to keep them alive."

"That doesn't change the fact that he feels guilty," Jeff retorted, "He was driving the boat, and he was the only one to survive. You should understand how he feels."

In a way, Scott did, but in some ways, he was jealous of Gordon. Gordon could talk about his experience openly (if he felt comfortable to, of course). But Scott was limited in who he could talk about his own experiences with. The majority of his Air Force missions were classified. He came home with scars and commendations, but he couldn't tell the story behind them.

Granted, the Air Force provided him (and everyone else who came back from those missions) with psychiatrists they could talk to that wouldn't violate the classified nature of those missions. Scott still keeps in touch with the one he was assigned – as well as a lot of his fellow pilots from those missions. They could talk to each other about it.

But they could never talk to their loved ones.

He remembered his physicals with Indiana. She observed the scars on his body from his missions, but he couldn't tell her about them. He couldn't tell her how he got them. Even if he knew she would never betray his confidence (she takes doctor-patient privilege very seriously), he still couldn't tell her.

"Hey. Do you think I have some time before dinner?" Scott asked his father suddenly, "I just… I need to make a call."

Jeff read between the lines. He knew the call his oldest son needed to make. With a quiet nod, he watched as Scott retreated to his room. They all had private tele-calls in their bedrooms with heavily encrypted lines, especially if the boys wanted to make calls outside the island (particularly to their brother in Thunderbird 5). On top of that, Jeff made sure every single bedroom on the island was soundproof. (He was a young man once; he knew there will come a day when the boys will bring a girl home and he didn't exactly want to be privy to that aspect of his sons' lives.)

Jeff sent a worried look after his eldest before returning to his observations of his fourth son and their doctor.

Maybe Indiana can help heal his sons in more ways than one.


I'm not gonna make that joke. I'm not gonna make that joke. I'm not gonna make that joke.

Phew. I didn't make it.

BYE!