So enjoy the next chapter. There may or may not be an update next week as they've scheduled work on internet service. If it's fixed there will be one, if not, I hope you can survive!

He wanted to go home.

That wasn't something he thought likely either.

Yes, he loved their Island home, but the opportunity of a rescue was always delighting, a way to get out and see the world, not to mention escape Grandma's cooking. Rescues – save swimming – were what he did best and usually he had some confidence ready to carry him through.

Smashed.

All of it in a space of seconds. He wasn't even sure what he was supposed to be looking at, despite knowing exactly what he should be seeing. John's words were still bouncing around in his head,

'The accident is a crash between a cargo train and a twelve-carriage passenger train. The train is currently on its side and in a varied state. The cargo train has practically broken apart, but at the speeds they collided we're looking at a range of serious injuries, possibly fatalities.'

And he'd not believed the elder to be serious about the last part until Virgil flew them over the sight, making him glad that he was inside the green giant for a rarity. Down there, looked worse than anything he'd seen yet, and he had a long rescue history record to speak from. He had many words for it, but hideous was the one which stuck out.

Deadly, was the one he tried to ignore.

But he knew it. He didn't want to, he didn't want to believe it, and he certainly didn't want to be the first to back off due to the likelihood of it, yet it was undeniable that John had been right. That John had most likely been trying to use save tactics to stop them from foreseeing this, to try and keep their focus set where it was needed.

'Range of serious injuries, possibly fatalities.'

No, John for all he could see had been wrong in that choice of wording.

Definitely fatalities.

He would be surprised if everyone down there was alive, in fact, he'd be miffed and he'd name it a miracle despite no longer believing in them.

He couldn't be sure what it was, the feeling that had settled over him. It was a large mix of revolted, sick, weary and angered, all of them directed towards different people and things, all of them potent and strong. His humour felt like the fuse had been blown clean out which was terrible in itself: it was his coping mechanism and it felt as though the ability had fallen off the face of the Earth, descended far away from his reach. He couldn't bring himself to let his eyes look out the window anymore. He had the image burnt into his brain. He didn't need to keep looking. Down below was simply a mess of muddled and crumpled old metal, broken bones and crippled structures. Death. It was the first thing he wanted to avoid, and the last thing he wanted to have to face.

Damn, this was just meant to be a simple few days as brothers, with all of them on the fricking planet for once!

And I was the one to put the foot in the door of course.

He needed to start listening to Alan's nickname for him, 'The Call Summoner', because it was often true. Or if it wasn't a rescue which occurred, he'd end up signing himself into something by opening his gob.

He didn't know what he was feeling really. Humour had always been his grounding point; there wasn't humour here, there couldn't be, that made him lost. He knew what had incited these feelings, but not where they'd come from. On the other hand, he knew exactly where the impulse came from which led him to a likely stupid choice of words, but he felt they needed to be said. Because he couldn't see right now, from up here at least, what there was they could do to assist in the clear up of bodies.

"Do you think there's any point in us landing?"

His voice sounded quite in his head, but the sink in Virgil's shoulders seemed to suggest he'd spoken louder than he'd realised. Even though he'd spat the words out, he still wasn't sure what his aim was. What did he want them to do? Turn around and go back home? Yes please. Would they? No. Was that even what he really wanted? Probably not.

So why did you even say it!

"Of course." Alan stated, as though it was the simplest of things to know, because really, it was. He was being thick and stubborn and quite frankly stupid, but still the words rolled from his tongue with no approaching buffer. He needed his humour back; that was what he knew how to use. He didn't know how to utilise any of what he was currently feeling to his advantage, least of all to deal with what they were heading to.

So that made it logical in his mind for them not to go, because then he didn't have to try and find that answer. Or fail.

"I know that. But I meant, if we have to go so far away-"

"Yes!"

He wondered is the slight bump in altitude was intentional, a method to try and get them to shut up maybe. He didn't want to think about the other options, because Thunderbird Two couldn't become a wreck like that too. No, they just needed to go home to where they were safe. Or if not, they needed to be avoiding this stupid, pointless venture into the middle of nowhere with the dark rapidly approaching them.

"But why couldn't we just hover?" They could have done something from the air. Not to mention looking down would have been optional. On the ground, there was no way he wouldn't have to look at the wreckage at some point. He was certain if he did he'd end up being violently sick. Then he'd be no use to anyone.

You're not even any use to them now!

He was trying to fool himself. Scott knew how to use anger; John could work as weary as they come without fault; Virgil had always been good at holding back his sickness at sights; and Alan – who had become so annoyed with the state of the world early on in life – had plenty of experience in use the appalling for waves of energy. He was the funny guy. That was how he worked. That ability seemed to have died and left him. He wasn't sure if it was looking to come back either.

"And do what?" Alan sounded horrified at the suggestion for a moment, before his intonation u-turned and suddenly he was thrown back with the appearance of angered-humour, "Drop the pod on them?"

Virgil's shoulders moved again from the corners of his eyes, but the only words the middle child delivered were, "You know we couldn't have stayed at the site, Gordon."

He felt like they were ganging up on him, he felt like a victim, he felt lost, and it was all completely ridiculous because he was supposed to be the one bringing the jokes to break the tension. Instead, he was the one creating the tension and he was clueless as to what to do in response to that. It was all a foreign language to him, maybe even ten different ones.

"But this is silly. We're using up precious time!"

"Exactly. We're losing time with this conversation."

He opened his mouth for a moment, before closing it again like a fish, only having taken in air. He didn't appreciate the silence, because it gave him time to self-analyse, to think about the things he'd said. Things he never would have uttered in his right mind. It was so rare that a rescue skewed him, that he just wasn't used to this. It was also incredibly rare that his humour would fail him, leave him bare and vulnerable. He didn't like this version of him and he wanted the person he knew to take control inside his head. Truthfully, he'd never been good at facing death. Dealing with it, well then you could wear as many fronts as you liked, but facing it (in their line of work for certain) there was no hiding. Humour had only ever been the thing to do exactly that, whatever the case. He supposed Alan's comment had actually been a little bit funny, because there was no way they could do that, and… well, that was just the sort of thing he would have suggested if the roles were reversed. He glanced at his only younger brother, annoyed to see the sadness lining his face. Yes, most of it was probably from the situation, yet part of that situation was now down to him. Making it worse for no reason. There was, after all, nothing else they could do. This was the only option and he supposed they had to take it. He sighed, pushing the air out through his slightly parted lips in thought.

"I know. And I know we can't land there. It's just…" He saw the flicker cross his fellow blonde's face and considered that Alan was now able to acknowledge the demon which had been sitting with him. He only hoped that Virgil would too. He never would have suggested something like that in a sane state of mind, and it definitely wasn't what he believed. Still, he didn't need to think of the way that sentence should end, which made him incredibly relieved.

He just hated feeling like there was nothing they could do, and nothing he could do to try and aid his brother's morale. He'd never really needed anyone to aid his own. He was the joker of the family: he'd always done it for himself and everyone else.

"Come on, we're almost there now, I think." He imagined that was the best attempt Virgil could muster at a rallying speech, although at least he was trying. "Let's just keep our focus where it needs to be, ok?"

And he was right.

"Ok." He knew his answer was small, Alan's barely any louder, although he didn't feel he could manage anything else without beginning to unravel, more so than he already had. He wanted to scream – this wasn't like him.

"Good. We'll get back to the crash before we know it if we stop trying to criticise and argue over everything. We all know what we need to do."

Yes, they did. He didn't dare voice anything though, because it would just be the final nail in his coffin. Alan seemed to pick up on his train of thought though, and almost immediately the younger blonde had given the pilot an answer essentially from them both.

"That's different to actually being able to do it though, isn't it."

He didn't even want to think about the possibilities awaiting them.

It felt like they'd travelled along way, so he risked throwing his eyes out towards the view. He'd never been keen on looking outside of Two, being so high up and far away from the calming waves, but now – with no accident in site – the clouds were serving to reassure him somewhat. At least, they were so long as he kept imagining them as fish and seaweed. He didn't think there was any strength left in his voie. No hope left in his mind. No humour left in any bone of his body, something so essential, born and bred. He would have given anything to be able to jump beneath the waves right now, hold his breathe for as long as possible and just consider. And if there was nothing to consider, at least it would usually help him to settle the tsunami in his mind, to help him recover himself, like a perfectly natural drug.

Virgil and Alan both seemed happy to be in the air, and unusually for him, he was beginning to feel happy up high too. Still, he'd always choose the sea, but right now in the battle between land and sky, the atmosphere had to win for the first time. Horrific images lived in his head, and that was the only reasoning for the peculiar conclusion. Even so, he wanted to land sooner as opposed to later, because they just needed to move forward with this rescue. It was a hard enough one as it was, without them being stuck separated by miles of land. He didn't want to see the crash, he wanted to see Scott.

He wanted to know things were going to be ok. Or as ok as they were going to be capable of being in a situation like this. He just wanted something to hold onto at the end of the day, something to take home which wasn't doom and gloom.

It has to be possible.

Considering they made the impossible happen nearly everyday, he was sure there had to be something they'd be able to salvage. There wouldn't be much left to do so with though if they didn't hurry. It. Up.

Completely aware that he might turn back into the five-year-old child from their family road trips, he enquired, "Are we there yet?"

But he realised it didn't really sound like him, or certainly that version of him that everyone knew, loved and thought of: the one even he considered in his mind to be the representation of Gordon Tracy.

"It doesn't feel like it." Alan grumbled back, which hardly made him hope. He whacked his head into the back of the seat, not enough to attract attention, but enough to feel the effect.

"We're here."

At first, he was sure he'd imagined Virgil speaking, that the words were only figment of his imagination. That surely, the world couldn't just flip on them like that in an instant, despite the fact he knew damn well that it could. The elder's words seemed to fly away quickly on the air, but even with that uncertainty, he couldn't halt from throwing himself forward with excitement and belief that this was it.

I just can't keep waiting any longer.

He hated being able to do nothing.

"We're here?"

Alan moved forward until his chin was almost connecting with Virgil's shoulder bone. It was a very funny sight, but his motivation was the same. It made him want to laugh, but the sound didn't rise willingly from his throat, "This is the place?"

He took a glance for himself and he had to agree, it was incredibly run down, nonetheless it was a landing strip long and wide enough for Virgil's beloved beast and right now he'd take it. It didn't have to be the best, it just had to be a landing strip. So this, poor and old as it was, would suffice.

"Yes, this is it."

He didn't think Virgil had really needed to affirm that now, still the words filled him with new vitality, and he suddenly wondered whether this would be such a disastrous mission after all. Things just needed to keep looking up like this.

"Well, take us on down, Virge." He knew his direct elder wasn't too keen on the name, yet he couldn't stop himself from using it now. It was just another silly thing he'd taken too, a touch of his humour and using it made him feel a tad more akin to himself. The slight drop in their flight pattern made him smile for the first time since they'd left for this dreaded site and the comm flashing almost simultaneously made him delighted. Virgil's fingers moved instantly to answer it for which he was glad, because he desperately wanted to know whatever it was they needed to.

"Thunderbird Five, to Thunderbird Two. Virgil, I thought you might like an equipment update."

He definitely wanted to know that, and he was glad thar John was always on the ball with things like this. They didn't have a moment to waste; as soon as they hit the ground, they needed to be running, like the old saying went.

Thanks for that one, dad.

There were far too many terrible lines stuck in his head thanks to that man. Though he wouldn't change that for the world.

"I'd love one, John. We're just about to land. I'll send Alan and Gordon to get it all ready."

As soon as he'd put the two pieces of information together, he was already unbuckling his figure from the seat, swerving around to fall in step with Alan as they both moved at speed to ready whatever they required. He kept an ear open to listen to John's words, which filtered loud and clear through Thunderbird Two's excellent sound system.

"You're going to want your heavy lifting gear."

Please don't use the name!

Whenever they were on a rescue together and said equipment was needed, there usually had to be a challenge over the name of said tools. He was still trying to think of the right name for them without much luck. He supposed they all knew it wasn't the right time for said game to be participated in. He already began to make a call of his own, reaching for the selection database, fingers ready to flick over to wherever necessary. He popped his head back around to listen in closer, Alan still in Two's main deck.

"FAB, I'll suit up as soon as Two is on the ground."

"Get Gordon and Alan to configure a pod. You're going to want as much cutting and heavy lifting gear as you can get."

He didn't want Virgil to have to rely anything, so he called out, "On it already, brother."

He ducked back into the cargo hold, Alan following with a bright wave, stopping at his side as he selected the pods. "He's not going to notice that."

"What?"

"You. Waving. He's busy."

"I think he noticed." He shrugged. It didn't really matter after all, so long as Alan could stay bright and chirpy for as long as possible – he personally found it made rescues easier. Besides, the longer the younger stayed like it, the more he felt his own wit returning, which definitely wasn't bad.

John's voice still filtered through to them, and he made sure to grab everything he heard mentioned straight away.

"You'd be best to take multiple first aid kits, as many as you can carry just to be certain. I don't know how willing the ambulance crews are going to be to get inside the train. Currently they're leaving it to the police and fire services, but maybe when there's inside access they'll join."

Damn local services. They were never quite good enough for some reason or other, never willing enough to put in a hand once the legendary IR showed up.

"Alan, pack the first aid kits into the pod."

"How many?" His fellow blonde queried, paused in a half dive to dash away. He had a valid point too. John had simply said as many as they could carry, yet he didn't know exactly what numerical value that converted to. He thought for a moment before shaking his head, selecting the second pod's features.

"Just as many as you can fit inside each pod. Ten maybe?"

"Ok." And with that Alan was off on his task, busy loading up the already completed pod. He waited for his to finish in order to give the younger a hand, but until then he allowed his mind to note their descent. It was occurring quite quickly now, the smooth motion though the air, the downward spill of air pulling them closer and closer to the ground below. It was actually rather reassuring, at least for him, the brother of the Earth and Sea over Space and Skies.

We're on our way, Scott.

"How are you doing back there?"

He called back instantly, passing onto Virgil the knowledge he couldn't be privy to through vision, "Fine. Assembling the pods now."

"Ok, beginning descent."

"FAB!" He was glad that he and Alan had managed to answer together again. It was just another sign that they were both picking their game back up. He was at least able to keep a smile on his face – however inappropriate he knew it seemed given the situation – for longer now, which filled him with joy. Ironic, yes he knew.

It shouldn't take them too long to head back over the terrain in the pods, and if John guided them, he was sure they could make it before the dark's cover fell entirely. It was hard to notice exactly how dark it had become from inside the belly of the beast, lit up endless series of bulbs and strip lighting required to illuminate the console, cabin and cargo hold. He didn't want to change a thing about it, but he knew that the effect of heading outside was going to be affected by it. He could only hope his eyes would adjust to the change of light to dark as quickly as they did for air to water.

He wished they could have beaten the dark entirely, but their torches and the lights of the pods would have to suffice. Whilst he thought about it though, he reached out and grabbed a few spare torches, just in case. He, Alan and Scott didn't have the luxury Virgil did of a shouldered LED Spotlight (with an extra-long-life battery thanks to Brains engineering), and had to rely on the old small bulb and connector system. Whilst they all carried one as standard, he wasn't sure one was going to be enough, and even if the light it cast was good enough, that would make it very quick to run out.

It was a pity. Living so close they could practically be neighbours with the continent, he knew the rough patterns of darkness which fell here based on what he knew from home, and they certainly weren't going to lean in their favour.

On that note, he grabbed a couple more torches ahead of making his way to the second completed pod. If Virgil was taking his lifting gear, then they wouldn't need a third. Alan was chucking first aid kits into the back of his now with gusto. It made him glad that Brains insisted on Two being overstocked with the little green things, just in case of larger scaled rescues with injuries. Still, he doubted what they would be able to do with the small kits, other than wrap up a few scrapes, support a couple of bones, and that was only for the living. He knew there was naught they could do for the dead, but with that level of basic medicine, there was no way they'd be able to do much for the dying. He wondered whether John could work out for certain if the medics there would cooperate.

Virgil was still talking, the tones of his voice reaching the hold, though not the words. He didn't think it was to John anymore, which meant an update from Scott could be possible soon. Though then again, he wondered if he'd even want to know if it stood the risk of upsetting his mood.

He signalled across to Alan as he took the last few green packs from his little brother and stuffed them into the back of his pod. Climbing in, he watched Alan do the same, running the brief system checks to be certain. They couldn't afford to have a single fault show up. It would doom them for sure.

"Gordon, Alan," The call momentarily knocked him from his thoughts, leaving him completely off guard. He could only hope the youngest had missed the way he jumped at the new voice entering the conversation. "How are we doing with the pods?"

"Ready to go." He called back, though he noted he was already beginning to feel a little tired, which he was sure was wavering the confidence he was gaining in his re-building natural ways. It spoke volumes for exactly what this mission was going to be like, not just the physical toll, but the mental one.

"FAB, I'm going to suit up. I'll join you outside."

"FAB." It was another joint response, but he left little tie to acknowledge it, signalling to Alan once again before steering his pod out the open ramp. Alan followed momentarily, a slight distance back. He glanced around to see Virgil's shadow emerging and pulled to a halt at the bottom of the ramp, wincing. Really? The ground just had to be gritty, didn't it? It would serve for a very horrible sound as they travelled. Still, he couldn't wait to get going, to pick up the pace and hurry to Scott's side, to do what they could to aid the… injured. It wasn't the right word, but it was the best he had present at the front of his mind, at least which he could think of that sounded semi-hopeful still.

By the time Virgil headed out into the black to join them, he was glad to see the 'Jaws of Life' for once, even with their poor name.

"Are we going?" He was tapping his foot against the controls, desperate to head out. It was petulant really, but right now it was serving as his outlet, for so much anger which he didn't want to direct at his brothers. A motivation.

"Yes, Gordon. Move out." At long last. He steered his pod around, Alan instantly following, and from the sound of it, Virgil too at quite a pace. It was the only viable option really, with how little time they had left on the scale. Keep going, keep going, keep moving. Eventually, something had to go their way. They just had to keep going. It had to be able to work out at some point.

It just has too.

He wasn't sure what he'd do if it didn't. What any of them would do…

It didn't bare thinking about. He tried to calm his anticipation by gripping the steering column hader, until his knuckles were almost turning white. It was hardly the most comfortable of journeys, the hard terrain beneath them and the dark surrounding them making it a difficult combination to navigate. He'd chose water any day with ease.

He tried to keep pace with Alan, attempted to make sure that they were keeping up pace with each other. The last thing he wanted was to lose sight of the matching head lamps on the pod, because whenever he looked back now, Virgil wasn't in sight. He knew that made sense, considering they were in the pods and he was on foot, for the different speeds they could push too varied greatly, and the encroaching darkness was quickly cutting out and everything and anything which didn't beam brightly through it. Keeping Alan in his eyeline just made him feel better about having three brothers out of it.

He knew he was the second youngest, that he wasn't 'supposed' to worry about his older brothers, because that was 'their job'. He knew using that logic, he should only worry about Alan, but he couldn't help it. He wasn't sure any of them could avoid worrying about each other, for that was just the way they were, always had been and likely always would be. Even more so since… Well, that didn't bare thinking about either.

We'll get him one day.

The next time he saw that man, he wanted to be the one to snap his neck. And that memory wouldn't haunt him. Not half as much as some of the others stacked up inside his brain. Not half as much as he truly believed this event might. He was already preparing a neat little space for it.

"Gordon, Alan, do you read me?"

"Loud and clear." Alan announced.

"What is it, Thunderbird Five?" He answered, waiting for John to give them the reason for the call. He was desperately hoping for some good news.

"An update on your coordinates."

"FAB." Once again, their answer came together and he was sure John would be rolling his eyes. Even though it was a small thing, it increasingly made him feel more like Gordon, like the 'Terrible Two' of the family again.

"Go ahead, big brother." He added, making himself ready to listen to detail like he never usually did. They couldn't afford to waste time here, to miss something and go the wrong way. He was always the serious version of himself on rescues, but this one was a cut above the rest, requiring a whole new level he wasn't sure he'd ever utilised.

"Well, you need to keep straight. Head towards the GDF planes. You'll see Thunderbird One's tail engines in just over a mile. When you do turn right and pull up beside the tracks.

"FAB John." Alan answered, his voice gradually becoming merrier and that, Gordon knew to appreciate when faced with situations like this.

"Speaking of them, what's happening with the GDF, John?"

"They're supposed to be moving, so I wouldn't jump you see them flying towards you."

"Like now then." Alan voiced, and he pulled his gaze back up to the sky, watching as two of the carriers shot away overhead.

"Where abouts are they going?"

"The same place I sent you."

"Great." He exaggerated his words as he glanced back to their still distant heading, blinking to make sure he wasn't seeing things, or that he hadn't miscounted. "What about the other one?"

John sighed, his voice dropping a tone into warning territory, and his following words made it clear that the subject should be avoided. The GDF had obviously managed to wind up the calmest of all the Tracy's, so that wasn't going to bode well for them in the long run. He was instantly sure that Colonel Casey couldn't be involved, since everything was seemingly far too disorganised for her orders – he garnered that much, if he was mining John's vocal qualities right, "Don't even mention it, Gordon."

He took his voice up a notch to balance out the counter and willingly let the subject drop, "FAB."

John was never slow to return to the business at hand anyway, seeming far happier at talking to his brothers, and about them. He was more than happy to listen and talk back as well; he didn't think he could stand silence and darkness right about now. But then – whatever protests he always made against it, including the scientific ones he didn't quite process – he was sure John had always been a mindreader.

"Virgil's moving as quickly as he can, but he estimates double your time." That… wasn't brilliant, but he supposed it would have to do. The middle child was on foot after all, so he couldn't afford to be too hard on him. "And because I know you'll only ask otherwise, Scott's managed to get the driver out and find a way into the first carriage."

"Ok, well we hope to join the hero soon. You know, take some of that limelight." He heard Alan snigger, his humour beginning to return in floods through his veins and that was good enough for him. He was clearly getting back on point if he could be the cause of his only younger brother's (restrained) laughter.

"Of course you do." Even John sounded a degree amused, though ever the professional, something he quickly returned to, "I have a suggestion for when you get there."

Predictable. No really, he should have expected it to follow at some point, considering how logical the red-head always was, how quick he always was to establish a secure plan for them so they didn't have to waste time or (hopefully anyhow) deal with unexpected risks. Of course, it happened occasionally, but usually ideas which came from John were secure and stable, worked effectively and held brilliant coordination. He wasn't going to say no to having a plan from their older brother.

"Let's hear it."

"I suggest you break off and follow the scheme Scott managed to get roughly set up," He knew there was clearly a large section of conversation they were missing out on, and that 'roughly' wasn't a very good term. However, he also knew that John wouldn't suggest they continue on that road if he wasn't aware of the plan filling out its intentions and avoiding the course of a sinking ship. No, he was sure it must have turned around since its start and John would be the person to know that. John knows everything, after all. "Alan, head over to Scott. Gordon, meet up with the local fire and police services – they're working their way from the back of the train. Wait for Virgil and work down your end to meet Scott and Alan in the middle. Virgil should be able to use his lifting gear to help get the tops of the carriages and give you access, and if you work from either side, you should be able to get most people out quickly."

He could guess what that last sentence was meant to indicate. John had clearly been able to work out where their 'best chances' – so to speak – lay. He just had to trust that the elder had got it right, that he'd seen something they couldn't at brief face value, found something which indicated exactly why that procedure should be taken.

"You've been thinking about that one, Johnny." He smiled around every single word, briefly glancing his eyes around for any sign of Thunderbird One, acutely aware that he'd stopped looking.

He didn't have to wait so much as a beat for the answer, "Of course I have, it's my job, and don't call me Johnny."

Yep, he was definitely on his way back to his peak of brilliance. He felt the smile spread actos his face at that; the simple fact that he'd managed to reuse his nicknames for both of his older brothers in near succession. Still, as he was coming back into his peak, and they had their heading, he just couldn't resist pushing one further… "Add a smile to that and you've got a deal."

John sounded ruffled and affronted at the comment, declaring, "You can't know if I was smiling or not."

"I can tell by the sound of your voice." He chuckled as John's disbelief travelled in the silence and he continued, sure that his emotions were travelling across perfectly. "Like me, I smile all the time."

It was quite true and John's word were completely flat as he gave answer to that, "I hope you're not smiling now."

He sighed at John's truth and decided to please the elder by changing his phrasing. Alan seemed to be finding this very amusing from his pod if the crackles over the well-working radio were anything to go by. "Ok, most of the time. Happy?"

"Whatever you say, Gordon." That was always the best answer John could give, and he'd give it often if they were in a high-tension situation. It was another answer which was only believable when it came from the red-head, because Scott and Virgil were never quite capable at fully letting it be when the dust settled. He wondered whether it was the youngest attempts at badly concealed laughing, or his quietness which made the elder turn his questioning to him, "Alan, are you alright?"

"Fine John." The answer in itself said it all as it was obvious Alan was struggling to talk through his laughter without completely breaking into it, and he knew that was good considering the stress which was to follow.

"Yeah, you don't have to worry about him. Laughter's one of the only things which can't kill."

"Well, there would be an argument for that, but time and place." It did amuse him, just how easily John could mention something and then in a situation like this, drop it for later. And oh, he was sure there would be a later.

You had to do it again, didn't you?

He really needed to learn about opening his mouth. Or maybe it was better if he learnt to stop using it entirely. He couldn't ever go far wrong if he said nothing at all. At least, that's what he was being driven towards believing considering his past record, not to mention the one he'd established in a mere day. Once more and he'd have a full set of three, brilliant!

"How far away are we?" Alan queried and he suddenly became aware just how good a question that was, one which he would have completely overlooked without the younger's input. John took a moment before delivering them the answer.

"About a quarter mile. You should see Thunderbird One soon. Remember, head right, stop before the tracks. I'm gonna' try and update Scott."

"FAB." Gosh, they were on it all of a sudden; John just blew the air out of his lips.

"Are you two going to manage that all evening?"

He pursed his lips, "Probably."

"Maybe."

John shook his head before promptly closing their link. He smiled anew at the simple things.

Considering the simple, he wondered whether he could get Alan to brighten up a little more. It would be a risky tactic he was sure, and not the ideal one for the situation, but if it served its purpose he'd take it. It was after all, just a little tradition of theirs whenever they took the pods out together, just a little bet on the situation. Usually they were on small, trivial things, but occasionally they'd place odds on the larger. For him, it had truthfully developed as a coping mechanism and since it seemed to have work to at least keep Alan going on the longer and more intensive rescues. He'd considering dropping it at one point – because really, was it right? – but a conversation with his older brothers had made him realise they all had coping mechanisms they didn't necessarily share, so why should he then eliminate one of his?

What was that other old saying of Dad's? If it's not broken, don't fix it. So, as he saw it, there you had it – the point in not changing a pattern which worked.

"Hey, Al?"

"Yeah?" He knew they were travelling close due to the deepening blanket of darkness (one which didn't miss a stitch), but it was at times like this when he noticed just how good the pods radio systems were too. The clarity was incredible, like travelling in the same unit.

"What bet are we putting on Scott?"

"You really want a bet, even in this situation?"

"Yeah. Keep the sparks alive." He gave it a beat, a moment for Alan to consider the options likely rolling around his mind. He knew wat the outcome would be. Alan in high stress situations was too easy for him to read. Ok, he couldn't exactly see his blonde counterparts body language at the moment – which would have been a huge help – but he had learned to make do with voice. They were brother's after all; little to nothing could stay hidden from them for long, especially since they were five strong, for someone was always bound to wind up knowing something. "So what do you say?"

"What's the full bet?" He sounded as curious as he could imagine a cat would: so far, so good. If he could keep Alan focused, away from the subject of what was coming up ahead, then everything might just stand a (likely minute) chance at still being ok (yes, in a very loose sense of the word).

It was a good question though. Something too small wouldn't keep the youngest attention for long enough. Something too big could just be dangerous explosion territory. He needed the middle ground. And he had a feeling he knew where to find that within the scope of their hero. Alan hid it well, because he worshipped all of his brothers, but since Scott had taken a leading hand over International Rescue, the kid had pretty much hero-worshipped him. It was the shape of some of their usual bets, but that was because it was an easy design to shift and change, and right now he wasn't able to be very imaginative, so he was most glad of it. He ran his tongue over his teeth as he thought of the best phrasing. Alan seemed to be waiting expectantly. In the end he came up with it, the simple, easiest and quickest of proposals.

"The closest to the number of people he's rescued from the wreck or assisted within it."

"Ok." Alan agreed, but his apprehension was clear, not for betting on their brother's success, but for what had to follow with a winning situation. I was always just to brighten things up that they added a losing side. The last time Alan had lost, he found himself thrown into the pool, because an agreement was an agreement.

"And…" Usually he was able to think up the best of scenarios for a losing challenge, any great number of things, even going so far as to enter the dangerous territory of stealing Scott's hair products. But now, his brain seemed dead to the humorous concoctions he'd usually manage to create. He hated to say it, yet for once he had nothing, and it hurt him to declare that. "I can't think of the loosing challenge."

Alan scoffed over the radio waves, "You expect me to bet on something in the dark?"

"Of course I do." He smiled this time, because his basic humour was still well alive and kicking now, fully renewed on that instinctual level, even if not on the one he had to mull over. "Have you seen the sky?"

"Funny, Gordon."

He could only smile. Alan would definitely see it as a laughing matter later, and he personally thought it was quite a good one, especially when his natural abilities had previously been dampened. He shrugged, despite knowing it wouldn't be seen.

"What can I say? It's a talent." He truly believed that, considering no one else in the family had ever matched his humour. John never would, considering it was a foreign concept to him; Scott had tried, but he was sure that protective instinct which came with being the eldest always held him back; Virgil didn't do half bad really, but then he could throw it out the window at times (like now) when it held no use to him; Alan had to come the closest, but then that was likely aided by being the youngest, and having grown up with him for an older brother. Still, he liked who he was. As dangerous as this job was too, he wouldn't change it for the world. Never. None of it. Well, maybe just the one detail. He shook his head in a vague attempt to clear it. "So? Your bet?"

"Hmm…" Alan seemed to take a moment to think here, a move which was wise. He should probably begin to do the same. He was slightly shocked by the sudden outburst, which still nearly blew his ears off even though they weren't remotely close enough. That just told you what power the kids lungs had. Really, he'd always said it was a pity Alan went for space over swimming. "One!"

His brows furrowed as a natural response, one which he didn't even have to consider. Alan never bet low scores on any of his brothers – something which often cost him the bet, because he really did seem to believe they were inhuman – however he usually betted a lot higher on Scott by rule. This had to be a first, a complete outlier.

"One? Really, I thought you had more faith in him than that." He was sure his shock had carried over into his tone, but the youngest was quick to sigh, his voice light and bouncy. Oh… how did you not notice that one? It was the shock. He was going to blame that oversight on his part on the shock.

"No, I mean Thunderbird One!" He took a look to his right, certain Alan would be pointing and waving and making a large deal out of it, which… yeah, fair enough, it was a big deal in this situation.

"Oh…" He was correct too he found, as he brought his pod to a halt. Thunderbird One's tail engines loomed on the other side of the ridge, warm and welcoming despite their silver appearing cold and cool. Well… that's a turn up for the books. Something finally seemed to be going good. He glanced around, but Virgil wasn't even remotely in sight, even though that had been what he'd expected, it still made his heart drop a note. They weren't all together quite yet. But soon, he was sure they would be. He smiled, brighter than he had for this entire trip and began to manoeuvre his pod once more, aware Alan would follow. "Let's turn right."

"FAB."

Being on the move again was like surfing a new, fresh wave getting ready to break against the shoreline. It was exhilarating, and his courage was returning. They could do this. They stood every chance. Ok, they might not save everyone, but so long as they could save someone then they were still doing their job properly.

They'd be able to see Scott soon, to lend him some helpful hands. He could only hope that they weren't too late. That there just wasn't too much left to be done. They'd stopped one crash, however they couldn't stop this one, thus there was every chance they couldn't save everyone. It upset him beyond belief, it made him worry that they just wouldn't be able to live up to what their name had become. That they wouldn't be able to help the people who needed them the upmost in their one time of desperate need.

They'd be out of the pods soon, on the ground attempting to do what they do best.

The problem (as he saw it) was, that he didn't have as much ground experience as some of his brother, preferring to be beneath the waves. He was rubbish with first aid, most of it just tending to go over his head, to confuse him until there was nothing he could do. The problem was, that he was rubbish when it came to Earth legs, that he didn't cope well with working atop the ground as opposed to beneath it. Beneath it, he hardly panicked as much as he did above it. He truly believed he was safe beneath the sea; rarely had he ever believed that for the earth.

And he knew that was stupid.

He knew that he joked about it with John and space, but really, he shouldn't. Because it was the same thing: John was always destined to feel safer in space than on ground-zero, and he the sea as opposed to the earth.

No, he feared that he was going to be utterly useless, let the side down and prove himself to be a failure at something so far from his water filled comfort zone. He worried he wouldn't be able to help his brothers, would be no support at all. That maybe, he should have stayed with Thunderbird Two like some kind of guard dog, that maybe he should even have swapped with John. Ok, the last one was a bit drastic, but the closer they came, the more his nerve began to take over.

He wasn't sure he'd ever been this nervous on a rescue before.

After all, they were his life. Practically every day they disturbed his sleep, or quiet time, or dinner, or swimming, or just his day. And practically every day he went out to aid someone without even thinking about it anymore. He'd thought when The Mechanic destroyed Thunderbird Four, because he had to if he was going to survive, but that had to be the first time in a long time. Now, he was thinking again, and making it the first time in a while, a complete break in his pattern of never consulting his head. John was their mind when they were out here, Scott their orderer, Virgil their calm, Alan their energy, he… he was the loose link, the one which fitted when he could focus and was useless whenever he couldn't. If he could focus, he was the hidden strength, the thing which kept them all pushing, when he couldn't, well, he believed himself to be little more than a hazard.

Snap out of it Gordon! Or you really will be useless.

He could only image how much of an issue that would cause. He couldn't afford to be a dead weight in the middle of something like this.

His apprehension only grew as they approached, but also his relief. Soon they'd be out of the pods and he'd at least be able to see Alan, to hopefully find and see Scott, and then Virgil too. That was the best he could hope for at the moment, and oh he hoped.

They pulled the pods up as close to Thunderbird one as they could get, squishing the pods in beneath its main body, trying not to take out the landing structs as they did so.

He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting. In fact, he wasn't sure he'd expected anything since the space was just too broad. This was definitely… he wasn't even sure what it was.

A mess.

That was the first thing which came to mind.

He stepped out from beneath Thunderbird One's shadow into the dark's cloak and still felt as though the sun was casting a large shadow on him, a rain cloud building up for a thunderstorm looming above his head.

This was a nightmare. A pure idea of a nightmare.

The train was… well now he caught full sight of it, he could see the extent to which it had tumbled and crumpled and shattered and… surely they'll be dead?

He wasn't sure how Scott could even have managed to get himself into that wreck, let alone stay in it, let alone not choke up at the sight of it. He felt one hundred percent sick. If Alan wasn't at his side, he believed he just might have been.

It felt finite, seeing it before his own eyes, seeing it on the level.

He took steady, careful steps forth, as though the ground beneath him was set to crack if he didn't.

"Woah…" Alan breathed and there was no bone in his body which could disagree.

"What are we meant to rescue from that?" He questioned, knowing it would become rhetorical. He just didn't see the way forward from here. He continued to walk towards where the hustle and bustle was located, sure that Alan was walking in his step from the echoes of footsteps distinctly not his. It was unusual to walk into a field of police cars, fire engines and ambulances, especially without Thunderbird Two in their near sight. The GDF carrier still hovering above was a big distraction and he felt as though they were constantly waiting for fire to rain down. People looked at them of course, but none made any move to halt their journey as clearly the uniforms spoke volumes. They let them pass with a wide berth, but still looked as though they wished to ask.

He had things he wanted to ask too, because gazing on at all this he was suddenly clueless. Clueless and breathless.

"John? We're here. Where next?"