Day Twelve: Alt Prompt #2: "I need help."

Drileyf asks for Gordon

Sineater suggested Olympic Gords.


Characters: Gordon, John

Warnings: Spiked Drink, Hospital


This was going to be his year.

Gordon had been working up to this day since he was six years old and had watched the swimming events with his Mom. He'd turned to her in his childish enthusiasm and said he would win a gold medal one day.

His Mom had never doubted him.

Nor had the rest of his family, assisting with early morning swimming, timings, trips to meets and helping him stick to special diets.

All of which led him here.

His specialty, the butterfly, was one of the last events to be held, but he was here as part of a team, Team USA, and he would participate with the two relay events as well as all the freestyle ones.

The Olympic Village was a hive of activity and the first few days passed in a haze for Gordon as he met other teams from his and other sports, made friends and rivals alike. Not everyone liked the idea of a fifteen-year-old trying for a gold medal, especially one who was rich, when most people he'd be against would be around 18-22.

But he was here to race and that was Gordon's priority.

Swimming was late on the Olympic agenda, but he still had to practice, still had to take the doping tests, and Gordon threw himself into competition life. It wasn't too much different from his national meets, just on a grander scale.

Somehow he'd made an enemy from one of the rival teams, he wasn't sure which one. But pretty early on his stuff was being tampered with, his things going missing. Coach had been diligent in reporting each and every incident because they took these things seriously, but Gordon hadn't asked for help. Not once.

Except for now.

Day seven.

Practice day, and the prep pools was fully booked to allow the sheer numbers of swimmers competing to have sufficient and fair access. Today Gordon had the earliest slot, one that pleased him a lot.

What didn't please him was his partner in the next lane.

Michael Phelps Anderson was the Australian hopeful for the butterfly, and unlike his namesake, he was a nasty piece of work. Gordon had heard from lots of different participants regarding the underhand things the man – at 21 Gordon guessed he was officially a man even if he didn't act like it – and so far their paths had not crossed.

So Gordon was pleasantly surprised that Anderson didn't bother him at all.

His watch vibrated and Gordon finished his lap and made his way to the locker room. Anderson had left ten minutes before him and was nowhere to be seen and Gordon pushed him out of his mind as he grabbed his water and snacks and made his way over to the stands to watch as he ate.

He'd eaten his snack and drunk half his water when he began to feel…lightheaded, dizzy even. Gordon stood up, using the seats as supports, and stumbled over to where someone else was sitting.

Gordon hadn't even taken three steps when his eyesight blacked out and his legs gave way. He just heard someone screaming 'I need help here!' before he passed out completely.

He woke up in the hospital.

He had no idea how he had got here, but at least he wasn't in pain anymore and his vision was fine. That he was alone wasn't a surprise, but he hoped that someone had called his dad and brothers. Virgil and Alan were due to fly out to watch him in two days' time, followed by Dad the following day, but both Scott and John had been unable to get time free from USAF and NASA. Both his brothers were disappointed, but Gordon understood.

He didn't dwell on it for long as he drifted off to sleep.

When Gordon next awoke he wasn't alone anymore.

John sat beside him, nose deep in a paperback (who reads real books?) and so engrossed that he hadn't noticed Gordon yet. Which pleased Gordon no end for some reason. He watched John read for several pages before he got a tickle and although he tried to muffle it he really couldn't.

The cough startled John so much he dropped his book. But he sprang up and held the water for his brother to drink until the tickle was gone.

'What happened?'

'I was hoping that you could tell me, Gords.'

'No – I mean what happened – you're here.'

John stared at him as if he'd grown an extra head.

'Gordon, you almost died.'

'Uhhh…'

'Yes, it was that serious.'

'Oh.'

What else could he say?

'How – how long have I been here?'

'36 hours.'

36 hours! I gotta get ready! I gotta race in three days!'

'Woah, Fish, you're not fit to go anywhere yet!'

Both turned to see their Dad and Gordon's coach striding into the room.

'But Coach!'

'Gordon, I have withdrawn you from the group events and the freestyle. Butterfly is the last event, and if you are fit by then, you can compete. You have six days to get better, ok?'

'Ok Coach. Thank you.'

While Jeff and Coach continued talking, Gordon turned to his brother.

'I need help, John.'

'Of course. Whatever you need.'

'Between you and Virgil I have no doubt I will be fit enough for my event.'

'Yeah, we got you covered.'

'I need your help with something else.'

'Oh?'

'That bastard spiked my water, I just know it, but I can't prove it, Johnny. No one ever can.'

'No one?'

'It's not the first time I've heard that he's done this. I need you to help me nail him so he can't hurt anyone else.'

John went cold. He understood completely what his brother was asking him.

'Give me his name and I'll have him on a platter before the day is out.'

'Thanks, John.'

'And don't call me Johnny.'