Disclaimer: I don't own Thunderbirds.
Sicktember Prompt 1: Fever, with Alan (requested by uniwolfcorn) and Scott and caretaker!John (requested by anonymous)
John shouldn't have been surprised at how things ended up, but somehow he hadn't seen it coming.
A rescue in the thick rainforests of the Amazon, complete with biting insects and various other hazards to health, had demanded the duo of Scott and Alan to tear onto the scene in Thunderbird One while Thunderbird Two was occupied in England. The situation itself had been simple enough – a couple of explorers in over their head and in need of extraction. Nothing that should have taken much time, and certainly nothing that should bring any complications.
It was always the simple-seeming ones that caused the problems. John really should have known better.
"Alan!"
Scott's sudden cry yanked his attention back to Thunderbird One, halfway home after a successful rescue and theoretically no longer in need of Thunderbird Five's attention, just in time for the system to recognise that his brother had thrown his 'bird onto autopilot. Instantly, John pulled up the internal camera feed, and a projection of Scott scrambling out of his seat and darting for the slumped figure of Alan in the passenger seat appeared in front of him.
"What happened?" he demanded, drawing up his youngest brother's suit telemetry and wincing at the figures that jumped out at him. High temperatures, concerningly so, offered an explanation for Scott's distress, and Alan's lack of a response. They did not, however, offer an explanation for what had happened to the teenager in the first place.
"I don't know," Scott replied, voice tight. "He was talking, then said his elbow was hurting, then he fainted."
"Telemetry puts him up at one oh three," John reported. "You need to get him home."
"Working on it." Scott grit his teeth, although it was painfully obvious that he didn't want to leave Alan's side even for the fifteen minutes or so it would take Thunderbird One at full speed to get home. John didn't blame him.
"Strap in and I'll pilot," he offered, reaching out for the Thunderbird's remote controls. Scott didn't move for several moments, kneeling awkwardly in front of Alan with his hand on his forehead despite wearing temperature-resistant gloves that meant there was no way he could actually feel the fever for himself.
Then he shook his head, straightening back up to his full height and sparing a moment to fuss with the straps securing their younger brother in the seat. "No," he said. "I'll pilot. See if you can find out what's causing this."
"F.A.B." John couldn't disagree – Scott would always get more out of Thunderbird One than he could – although he wasn't certain how much he could find out.
He toyed with the idea of alerting the rest of the family, but Thunderbird One would be home hours before Thunderbird Two, even if she left immediately. As Virgil and Gordon were snarled up in one of Lady Penelope's events, with the added presence of both Kayo and Grandma, an immediate departure was also unlikely.
Besides, until they knew what had struck Alan down, it was best to keep him quarantined. John made a mental note to keep an eye on Scott, just in case.
Trekking back through Alan's suit telemetry, it didn't take long to pinpoint the initial temperature spike to only minutes before he'd passed out. Whatever it was, it had hit hard and fast.
It was also probably something from the rescue, so John set EOS to looking into every detail she could find about the area while he ran a programme looking for anomalies in the suit telemetry.
He ran the same checks on Scott's, also bringing up his big brother's current telemetry. There was no way Scott hadn't also been exposed to the cause, considering the pair of them had been together all rescue; the question was whether or not Scott had also caught it.
It took EOS less than a minute to find the culprit. "John, comparing symptoms with the known lifeforms in the area, there is a ninety eight point three percent chance that Alan was bitten by Aedes albopictus and has subsequently been infected with the chikungunya virus."
Ouch. John winced; that wasn't going to be fun to deal with. On the plus side, however, Alan wouldn't need a hospital. "Is it contagious?" he checked, glancing over at Scott's telemetry again and frowning.
Scott's temperature had climbed by half a degree.
"It cannot be transferred from human to human," EOS confirmed. "As long as Scott was not also bitten, he is at no risk."
John was not about to bet on that.
"Should we alert Thunderbird Two?" she continued. John thought for a moment before shaking his head, much like Scott had a few minutes prior.
"Wait until we know for sure if Scott's clear," he said. "There's nothing they can do, either; let them have their fun in England."
The virus didn't have a cure; it was one of the many things that had to be left to run its course. Not fatal, but John was going to have an unhappy brother – potentially two – for the next week or so.
Another glance at the telemetry showed Scott's temperature had crept up a little more.
John sighed. With the island devoid of anyone except Brains, who stood no chance against the face of Scott's smother hen mode, it was clear that he was going to have to go home.
"EOS, get the space elevator ready," he requested, pushing himself out of the comms sphere. "I'm going down."
"Why?" she asked. "There is nothing that you can do, either."
"Analyse Scott's telemetry and tell me the chance that he's also infected," John said by way of answer as he passed through the gravity ring. To the AI's credit, despite her disapproval the space elevator was clearly ready to descend.
She was silent for a moment. "From the rate of increase in Scott's temperature in the past five minutes, there is a seventy three point nine percent chance he has also contracted chikungunya virus. But, John, there is nothing you can do for him, either."
"He won't rest unless he knows Alan's in safe hands," John reminded her. It was unlikely his big brother would even admit he was ill at all without intervention – or collapsing, much like Alan had. John wasn't entirely sure why it was taking longer to hit Scott, but despite EOS' calculations leaving over a twenty five percent chance that he was fine, he just knew he had it, too.
"Very well," EOS accepted as he strapped himself into the seat. "When should I inform the rest of the family?"
The space elevator began its descent. "When they're ready to leave England," John decided. "They don't need the worry ruining their day."
"Understood."
Thunderbird One arrived first. John had known she would, so it wasn't a surprise when he left the space elevator to see her in her berth below. There was only one place his brothers would be, so he padded through the corridor from the main hangar until he reached the infirmary. Sure enough, Scott was standing by a bed, still in full uniform, fussing over their ill little brother.
"How's he doing?" John asked, and narrowed his eyes when Scott jumped.
"John? What are you doing here?" Blue eyes widened, darting back to where Alan lay in the bed. "Is he-?"
"It's not contagious," John assured him, stepping closer and scrutinising his big brother closely. There was a bit more colour in his cheeks than he'd noticed through the hologram, and a tightness around his eyes suggested he was feeling some aches and pains himself.
"You found out what it is?" Scott leapt on the insinuation, and John nodded, coming to a stop close enough to his brother for their shoulders to brush.
"Chikungunya virus," he said. "He must have been bitten by a mosquito while you were out." He raised a hand and pressed it against the back of Scott's neck, eliciting another jump from his brother. "And from the looks of things, he's not the only one."
"Wha-?" Scott started, ducking away from John's touch. "John, what are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about you, you idiot," he said bluntly. "Your temperature's been rising ever since you left the rainforest, too."
"I'm fine."
John rolled his eyes and grabbed his brother again, gripping him tightly enough to discourage escape as his hand found Scott's forehead. His suit meant he couldn't feel if he was broadcasting heat, but he didn't have to feel it – his suit also had temperature sensors.
Scott wriggled free, only to waver where he stood.
"You've breached a hundred," John said matter-of-factly, barely glancing at the number that appeared in favour of grabbing hold of Scott's arms and keeping his brother upright. "Sit down before you fall down."
"I'm fine," Scott repeated, but despite John's grip he was still clearly unsteady. "Alan-"
"Can wait a few more minutes while I get you into a bed," John finished for him, dragging one arm across his shoulders and wrapping his own around Scott's waist. "Come on, big brother. The faster you do as you're told, the faster I can focus on Alan."
Scott dug his heels in, because of course he did, but John had practice dealing with his stubbornness and pulled him along regardless, conscious that he was taking most of his brother's weight across the last few steps. What was supposed to be a controlled sit ended up a chaotic collapse as the fever dug its claws in, leaving John sprawled on the bed with a brother half on top of him. He wriggled out with a groan, and then had to pin Scott down as he too tried to get back up.
"Let's get you out of this," he said, yanking at the zipper on the front of Scott's uniform before unclasping the bracers and slipping the gloves off. Ineffective hands failed to bat him away as he relieved his brother of his baldric before the greaves and boots went the same way as the discarded bracers and gloves. "Are you still here enough to take your flightsuit off yourself, or do I need to do that, too?" he asked.
Scott, eyes bright and scowling, shoved at him. "Look after Alan," he insisted, and John sighed.
"I'll look after Alan if you get changed by yourself," he bargained, taking the risk to leave his older brother long enough to retrieve the pyjamas that stayed in the room out of necessity, which he tossed onto his lap. Scott grumbled, and John chose to take that as agreement, no matter how clearly begrudging it was.
Scott was right that Alan seemed worse – the teenager was restless even in unconsciousness, tossing around and letting small whimpers out with each breath. There was an IV already inserted in his hand, which John quickly determined was a simple drip to keep him hydrated as the fever made him sweat.
Seeing his youngest brother in that state was deeply unpleasant, but there was little to be done about it while Alan fought off the virus. All John could do was fetch a lukewarm towel to siphon off the sweat with and card his fingers through tousled blond hair, the neoprene ridges catching stray strands.
A thud jerked his attention back to his other sick brother, who had apparently decided that getting into pyjamas did not necessitate then getting into bed, and had seemingly tried to return to Alan's side. With a sigh and one last dab of the towel, John circled around Alan's bed to pick his idiot big brother up from where he was trying and failing to get off of the floor.
"Bed," he said firmly, steering him back towards it and pushing him down until he was laying flat. "I've got Alan, you stay put."
"But-" Scott protested, getting up as far as his quivering elbows before John firmly settled him back down.
"Don't make me sedate you," he threatened, although in all honestly Scott was probably going to lose the rest of his strength sooner rather than later. Sedation wouldn't be necessary at all, although John was prepared to deploy an IV if Scott ended up as bad as Alan. "I will tie you to that bed."
That wasn't an empty threat. He didn't remember exactly why they had restraints in the infirmary, but they had been deemed necessary more than once – usually with Scott. John was pragmatic enough to use anything available in order to make sure his brothers were recovering as best they could, and Scott knew that.
His big brother caved with bad grace, and John set up a monitor on both of them in order to keep track of their temperatures. Alan was higher, but Scott's was the wrong side of a hundred and still climbing, too.
Things were only going to get worse before they got better, but in a few hours he'd have reinforcement in the shape of the family medics. Until then, John just had to keep an eye on both brothers, and make sure Scott stayed in bed where he was supposed to be.
With Alan's condition clearly the worse of the two, that was going to be a tall order.
As you can see, I got two requests for this prompt, so I merged them together! Good old fever; the virus used here is an actual one, but I sped its incubation period up by... a lot. Because I could.
I'm dabbling in Sicktember over on tumblr! Only doing prompts that I get a character request for, so feel free to drop by with a request. You can find the list on the sicktember tumblr blog!
Thanks for reading!
Tsari
