Crash Focus

by DarkestWolfx

Sometimes they had to wonder if the world missed the right way, if ever it was possible to slip from the path. For it was certainly true for the track: none of them were going to allow him the focus he needed. So it would have to be crash. Yes, they'd go with crash for now. Yes, it was easily a far sight more than simply that, but he wasn't going to think on it anymore.

6. VI: Six

I'm so sorry for the delay on this one! I was trying to get a few more chapters written before I uploaded anything else, but I think the leap year got me, as I ended up with writer's block for the past week and being really unexpectedly busy! So I'm uploading this so you at least get something from me!

P.S. I did proof read this, but probably about 9 days ago and I can't remember whether I was completely happy... I'm assuming I was else I wouldn't have put it in my 'to upload' file, but if you do find any errors, just let me know and I will correct them.

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He knelt beside the boy's father, the pair of them leaning across in their seats. The father was practically resting against the metal of the side, his son leaning against him, the older man the only buffer between him and a likely cracked skull. Scott knew now, simply from being a son to an amazing father, that if he could get both of them out safe and sound, the father would rather for an eternity that they'd sat that way. A father would always take the injury for his son where possible. That was something Jeff Tracy had taught them all. Something they instilled brother to brother, practised every day, especially in their industry of work. He reached out instantly to see the man's pulse. It was there, thready, but present. The man was awake too, dozing and slipping in and out, but that was a good enough start considering the rest of the record for the afternoon.

"Right, let's see about getting you fixed up and out of here."

It was that traditional thing of childhood panic, even with someone so close to ground you. Trapped in a carriage with your dad unable to offer you much support, that was a reasonable emotion, a credible reaction. And it made his heart ache.

"My Dad! Please help him."

It wasn't lucky at all, but they'd rescued enough children this young boy's age to give him wise, extensive and good experience in the area.

It was a big promise to keep, but there was no way he could lie to the boy. No way he could let him down.

So, he'd just have to keep the promise.

---

He just had one promise to keep.

In this rust-bucket of an apparent train he was stuck in, he had one promise he must keep no matter what.

"Don't worry. You're both gonna' be fine."

"It's alright Dad, International Rescue are here. They're going to get us out."

Whilst he could see the red liquid beneath the light of his torch, it was hard to reach in far enough to really do anything about it or see any other causes for why there was such a volume of it. No, he could see what he needed to do; understand the only way it was going to work. It wasn't entirely what he wanted to do either. Ideally, he wanted the boy to be kept as close to his father as was possible, but the thing he knew right now was that he needed to be closer and that the boy shouldn't see what he didn't have to. There was no way to avoid that if he kept the two of them close. It was a horrible situation, but he knew without a doubt the option of choice he was diving towards.

So Scott decided to just trust himself and dive in.

"Why don't we get you out of there? We'll swap, that way I can get closer to your Dad alright?" The boy nodded, tentatively dropping his father's hand – everything about this was beginning to break his heart - and he reached around the child to disconnect the seat belt, which (thank goodness) came away first time. He reached out again, this time grabbing the kid before counting to three in his head and lifting him from the chair. He turned, setting the boy gently down on the new floor, keeping his hands hovering in case the sudden move caused any funny turns of blood pressure.

"Are you ok?"

"My Dad-"

"I need to know if you're alright first. Your Dad will want to know that too, trust me." The boy looked at him a little strangely, as though he wondered how his voice could keep so much surety on the matter. It came from experience, not that he was going to divulge all the tales.

"I'm ok. I'm not hurt."

"Good." That was miraculous really – and he nearly didn't believe it, but he more than triple-checked and the kid was fine. 'Who are you?'

'I'm Ben. I'm eight. Nine in two weeks.'

'Right, nice to meet you Ben. I'm Scott.' He offered the kid a hand to shake which seemed to calm the boy a little and he guessed the kid was likely an IR fan. But then again, it was hard to find someone these days who wasn't.

He turned back in, glad that he was now able to get significantly closer to the man. It would certainly help his efforts.

He took a breath, trying to angle his torch just enough to illuminate what he needed, and hopefully nothing too traumatic. Where were nerves of steel when you needed them? From what he remembered, he'd had them nearly all his life, and they were choosing now to abandon him. Now to throw in the towel and quit? After all these years of rescues and hairy flying exercises, he had never expected this to be where he fell down. That wasn't quite true though when he really thought about it: his nerves had been slowly letting him down ever since Dad died. Now it just seemed as though he could no longer keep any handle on them.

Come on, Scott.

Promise to keep and all that.

Well, this one promise to keep to this boy, however he was sure there would be many identical promises to follow over the course of the night (because it was now seeming as though they would be here all night for this rescue). He just hoped they could take something out with them from the cloak of the dark night. It didn't stop him from trying, but it just made things seem better when something positive was achieved, when IR were able to have success in something, save someone.

Even if it was just the one someone.

Right now, he just had one promise to keep. Later he was sure there'd be more. The hurdle he was stuck at though, with no gathered speed to carry him over it, was how that promise was to be kept.

And it has to be kept.

That was one of the few things he did know for certain, which he could take a standing leap for. There were some leaps in life you just didn't need momentum for in order to take you over them. Unfortunately, there were just so few of them on the negative side.

Which he only looked too as he was trying to keep some sense of balance in this equation. John had always taught him the importance of balancing Chemistry equations (not to say he passed with flying colours or anything), and the principle had stuck with him when they moved to working International Rescue on a daily basis.

He cursed the world beneath his breath. He wasn't getting anywhere like this. He needed two hands, ideally two pairs of two hands minimum, but he at least knew he could make do. He had to make do. That was the only option.

The skies had darkened considerably and that gave him no comfort.

It wouldn't be his usual choice, but it was the best choice he had.

"Are you able to help me?" He called backwards and for a moment there was no verbal reply.

"What do I have to do?" Leaning back up, he turned to the boy who looked quite unsure now. He could understand that; your father was dying, he was putting his faith into a stranger to rescue the man he loved dearly, and now he was being asked to have a part in that. He thought anyone would share similar fears. "I'm not very brave."

How anyone could say that when they were preserving, pushing through something like this without breaking down, at that age he would never know. For what he did know, was that at that kid's age, he truly hadn't been brave. Still, even now, he wasn't the brave man half the world knew him as; so he was Scott Tracy, but the faceless, nameless International Rescue operative the world knew him as didn't really have the courage lying beneath.

"I think you're brave enough," He gave Ben a small smile before promptly handing the young lad his torch, helping him to point it to roughly where he needed it before instructing the kid to turn away. He didn't really want the child to have a vivid memory of all this, if this did turn out to be the way his father went. He didn't hear any protest, but he checked regardless – he knew from experience with Alan and Gordon what young children could be like when given orders after all – and he was glad to see his advice had been heeded. Although, he didn't think even an argumentative or boisterous child would have argued the toss right now, for when it came down to it, there was just an ever-present switch in your brain which kicked in when it knew the moment was necessary. The switch which told you to look away or to listen to a stranger in uniform. The switch which told you to blindly follow orders and to keep hoping, even if you knew something was as unlikely as winning the lottery.

He supposed it made up part of the human condition, that switch in your brain, which somehow held you conditioned to lies of hope.

Oh… Never had he sounded so like John within his own head.

Was there something he was missing though? He didn't think he'd know until he could move the man from this awkward seating arrangement, and he couldn't do that until he had somewhere safe and clear to rest him. What he needed was an ambulance crew. People who knew what they were doing and how to help someone in a state like this. Just someone to help him evacuate the man. Yes, the man he should be focussing on – so focus, Scott!

"Sir, can you hear me?"

The answer was a series of slurred movements of his lips, a gargle of sound, but an affirmative. It wasn't looking to be full of good signs now. Yes, the man was awake, but he wouldn't be for long if he couldn't do something to fix the overriding issue causing this situation. The carriage wouldn't be an easy fix, so it had to be the injury (which still wouldn't be an easy fix for him, but it might be for someone). Ok, it was the easier off the options presented to him, and he remembered something else John had told him about the river always choosing the simplest course.

There was definitely a knock to the head, but he was beginning to realise that wasn't the source of the issue. Yes, it had bled, but medical training had taught him enough to know that head wounds bled more than most because of where they are located, not necessarily because they are worse than others. It was the instant and obvious draw to his eyes, but it soon didn't become the only one. Now he knew he needed to look further, he did exactly that, so obtained his answers.

Really? How was it possible for a small shard of glass to do so much damage? Just a little knick to the side and you could bleed out, quickly, painfully, horrendously. And he knew immediately that they had to get out of here. He heard his breath catch, so he didn't know how he'd been hoping for Ben not to hear it.

"What?"

"Nothing serious." He meant it, every word, because he could do this, he could save this man. He glanced back, noticing the boy had changed his angle just slightly; not enough to see anything of real note, yet enough that he could see the back of a blue uniform. And looking back at the boy… well, he shouldn't be focusing on the kid right now, but he wanted to be sure, to miss absolutely nothing. It would be all well and good if he saved the father only for the son to die from something he'd entirely overlooked. Besides, it was a way to divert his attention elsewhere, away from the sight of blood. "You sure you're alright?"

The young boy nodded, seeming a lot older than an eight-year-old really should – and yes, he knew a thing or two about that: he may look young, but he felt as though his eyes gave away the truth. He was an old man really. "Yeah, I'm fine. It's just my Dad. Please help him."

"Don't you worry."

The pressure was building, the tension in his shoulders increasing with every move he made. He knew he had to keep going, he knew it was only building because he was stressing, but it wasn't making his job any easier. He'd always been like it – his shoulders were the instant rush of flare up pain when something began to bite at him, when the strain increased. It had been more prominent since they lost Dad, since a permanent responsibility for his brother's and International Rescue was chucked on top of his bones too. He'd always had responsibility for both he supposed, but neither had been solely down to him. Now he was the eldest, the most patriarchal figure, the one who had to shield his younger siblings from the rest of the world whilst issuing the life threatening-and-saving commands. That was on him.

Now, so was this man's life.

And he was clueless as to what he was best to do. The standard supplies he'd brought from Thunderbird One and low level of medical training he had weren't going to cover this, in fact, he didn't even think they were going to come close to touching the issue. He was in desperate need of someone with greater knowledge in the field, with a bigger team than himself. He needed his brothers here, and the authorities to be on their side with ready assistance on offer. Because this was way over his capabilities and he was beginning to be able to see it now. He knew they had to take the call, but he was beginning to think there was actually little International Rescue could do.

He was panicking.

Was he… hyperventilating? Oh gosh no… no, he had to be in control. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes and trying to steel his nerves anew. He had to help his boy's father. He couldn't see another child lose a parent. Not like they had been forced to experience. If anything was going to drive him to success on this one, it had to be that. It had to be that.

Right… He could see roughly what he needed, and he knew the only way that could be achieved. He felt bad about it really. John had been trying to call him for the past who knew how long, and he'd ignored the call. It was considerate of his direct younger really not to badger, but just to leave the alert flashing for whenever he could answer. Had it been anyone else up there, he wouldn't have heard peace from them until he responded. The call could have been important for all he knew, and it was rude of him really to only give the red head an answer when he needed something from it. He couldn't say he didn't feel guilty about it as he opened his mouth to speak, keying in his radio.

"John?"

He would half have expected no immediate answer to come considering how long he'd been making his brother wait, but the response was as instant as ever, though clearly filled with abundant relief.

"At last Scott."

He wasn't sure whether John was going to say anything else, but he knew that he didn't leave the spaceman much chance to interject anything other than what he'd already spoken. There was a very pressing matter at hand, and Thunderbird Five was the only way he was going to get the necessary insight to complete it, "I need you."

"You could have called. Or answered." It wasn't a jibe or a prod like Gordon or Alan might have come back with, it was just a remark that meant he'd been there the entire time. He wondered whether John had spoken the words in reassurance, because – yes, he was aware – he was sure his tone sounded perfectly agitated, and it wasn't helped by having everyone miles away.

"Well I've only just realised I need you. And sorry, but it will make sense."

He must be sweating buckets. He could almost feel it dripping down his neck and rolling down his back in the most uncomfortable of ways. He couldn't roll his shoulders anymore, he was sure. The tension had grown too great, and had he the time to bother checking, he was sure his veins would be enlarged like giant bon-bons. He wondered how John managed to avoid (or swallow) down headaches at times like this, because he could feel one rising as though he whacked it upon a stack of boulders.

"What do you need?"

For you to keep talking to me for a start.

It would certainly be a good way to keep his mind settled. It was almost impossible to zone out or fall off track with John speaking into your ear. He was never boring – unless you let him deter into detailed science, never patronising, never dull nor condescending. There was just something in the spaceman's tone and way which made him perfect, wonderfully suited to the job he did. He was a mediator, a peacekeeper, a friend, a brother… he was whatever the situation called for and seemed to have the intuition to tell which he should be if the answer wasn't starkly obvious. And he couldn't recall a time his direct younger had made a mistake. It was a one to a hundred occurrence, and usually if it occurred, it was minuscule, never enough to be damaging in any way or sense.

But right now, he knew, a single slip up from him could be exactly that: massive, damaging, fatal. It would be a consequential error which began to spiral; it would knock his concentration and belief, and when those two entwined pieces left him, he lost his confidence. When his confidence fell, he panicked. When he panicked, he was useless. And useless was not what he wanted, needed or could be right now. He had to be Scott Tracy – International Rescue's version, the leader and field commander who knew everything, never slipped up, panicked or lost control.

That's who I need to be.

Though it was one of those typical things in life which was easier said than done. He'd learnt over the years too, that those moments always came at far less than ideal moments, and they always seemed there to intently and inherently challenge you. It was as though that was there only purpose for being a factor of life. Which was just beyond irritating on hundreds of levels he didn't have the time to consider.

He needed to keep hold of every ounce of strength, will and courage which he had in order to make it through this ordeal with as many people as possible by his side. He needed to believe that it didn't end here for everyone involved in this crash. He needed to believe he could do something to aid them, to aid at least some, or even just one of them.

Just one would do.

He looked down, trying to get back to really focussing on the task at hand, and suddenly wished he hadn't, his mind going reeling like Gordon's fishing line on a good day.

The red liquid seeping onto the edges of his fingers was making him feel sick, and he'd never been bad with any type of bodily fluid – likely one of the things which resulted from being the oldest of five; the privilege of looking after ill younger brothers. The struggle now was trying to keep his brains cells from quitting on him one by one. Something was shaking, he was sure it might be his hands. His senses were becoming dulled. Is this what panic is like? He couldn't afford that to wash over him now. In fact, how the hell would he even deal with something like that? He didn't panic for goodness sake, he stopped other people panicking! They were two separate things.

"Um… I need an ambulance crew over here."

Well there was a good explanation.

"Ok." Did John's voice just seem that perfectly calm because it was the opposite state to him, or was the younger just that unflappable? And speedy apparently, but then, all of them were usually quite efficient at their jobs by now. "They're on route. Overview?"

It was an option to talk, a chance to spill it all, permission if he would take it so. And he'd always been one to check for certain that his brothers wanted to know his demons before sharing them. Ok, this was slightly different in the respect that they were working, and IR operatives had to share a fair few things as procedure for operations to run smoothly. Knowing John though, he was always asking on the deeper level. He could easily have gone off on a tangent, spoken about the irrelevant, but he chose to give John a low down of the immediate situation. There'd be time for him to rant and rave his own feelings later.

Deep breath. Just stick with the deep breaths.

"You know I'm not a medic, but we're looking at a…" He paused for a moment, running over the details in his mind, knowing something which should be lying on the tip of his tongue was missing, something which could be crucial. He found it was a question he couldn't answer either and so quickly lifted his head to look around at the little boy sat beside him, "How old's your dad?"

"Forty-one."

"…Forty-one-year-old male with, I think, serious wounds to the head and side. I've stopped most of the blood loss, I think, but I can't do much more down here."

"Are you planning for them to come down to you?" John was clearly doing more of that multitasking he was so well versed in and holding another three-way conversation. He didn't expect a question like that to suddenly spring to the spaceman's mind without a prompting from somewhere. How the second son ever managed to coordinate all of these things he would never know. But at least that was a question to which he knew the answer.

"No, they'll never make it down quickly or safely. I have a grapple line set up since it was the only way to get down. If they can get me the equipment, I'm sure we can hoist him up. I'll send his son up after him."

"His son?"

"Yeah, brave eight-year-old Ben."

"He sounds it. Scott, they're sending a man up to the roof. Do you want to speak to him or leave me to coordinate it?"

He wasn't sure he could face trying to converse with someone else. He doubted any of his sentences would be half as coherent. In fact, he didn't even know if he was being coherent now or whether John just knew him well enough to be able to compensate for his ramblings. For the sake of everyone else stuck inside this carriage he seriously hoped he wasn't rambling.

"Tell them I want a back board and something better to cover this wound with."

"Right. What are you using, dare I ask?"

"My hand."

"They're going to pass them down to you."

"Ok," because that's just convenient, considering he was nowhere near the 'entrance', "I'll need a moment." He really didn't want to let John fall silent, but the younger probably had something else which needed his attention anyhow. What currently needed his attention was how exactly he was going to be able to receive said 'passed down' items. He really didn't want to move his hand for the risk of what that could unsettle, nor did he want to leave the man's son holding his hand over a deep wound. He was flicking his eyes around for another option, but he really couldn't see or think of one. "Um…"

"I can do it." The boy piqued up, clearly having been listening in – something he couldn't blame the kid for as he'd have done the same if the conversation concerned someone he cared about. And actually, that offer was probably the best one he had to take up right now, even if it meant having the boy try to negotiate his way back alone.

"Ok. Take this." He twisted his torch around to hand it to the boy. "You need to walk along the side, ok? Put your hand on the metal. Don't remove it until you reach the end, understand?"

For a long time there was practically silence and he was worried to say anything much in case he put the kid off. Even if he'd made to speak, he didn't really know what to say anyway. It was probably the better of two evils for him to stay silent ultimately, even if the silence was creepy and cold to the core. It felt as though a chilling wind was rushing through the carriage even though the angle and wind current wind speed wouldn't really allow for that to be plausible. He supposed things could easily feel so in these sorts of situations. They just… well, they honestly weren't really prepared for something like this to happen when peaceful waves seemed to finally be rolling into the Island. At last. And then this had to go and happen. Someone had to be stupid or foolish – somewhere down the line, someone had to have made a mistake and now they paid the price in this moment, here and now. When would the world learn to be more responsible? What if IR weren't around? What if there was no one who could have answered this call? And even so, in them answering this… well wreck was the only word for it, there was no one else properly equipped to answer all the others. And don't get him started on the GDF… Don't let him get started on ranting about the way of the world.

Just let him be glad Jeff Tracy chose to leave it International Rescue: them.

"Ok. I think I'm there."

The voice jolted him, but he knew it was good to hear such a response.

"Can you see a line above you, to the left?"

There was a pause and a flick of torchlight. Then, "Yeah."

"Go to it." He heard slight shuffles of movement and took that as an answer. He made instead to contact their eyes in the sky. "John, I think the kid should be there."

It barely even took a second. No winder IR always seemed so organised – that was entirely down to the red-head being on the ball permanently.

"Ok, I'll- Yeah, he's there. They're sending the kit down to him now."

He nodded, hoping John would take his silence as thanks before calling back to the young lad. He could hear a lot of noise and see practically nothing, "How are you doing, Ben?"

"I have a board." His voice called back, loud yet quiet and the clunking of objects continued. He could hear what he assumed were the mutterings of the medics.

"Good. We'll need that one."

"And they're passing me some kind of bandages."

Oh, at last they had found someone capable of following instructions. They'd clearly listened perfectly to the message he'd had John relay – a rare occasion he just adored the occurrence of.

"Great." He called back, trying to weasel his way to the pocket of his tool belt.

He couldn't stand the darkness anymore and luckily he'd finally managed to locate his spare torch single-handedly, not to mention with his less dominant hand. He clicked it on, but even with the small pool of light he'd had previously restored, he still couldn't work with that alone. There were so many people in here and he could do with the living ones having torches of their own really. It would make the place brighter and give him a clearer indicator of who he needed to reach. It would make his job easier – practical work in the dark was nearly impossible unless you have the eye sight of an owl which was impossible considering he was just a man.

For all IR made them seem otherwise.

It gave him a sudden thought actually and he made the decision to voice that thought to the only power that be which they had access to.

"John, are they bringing torches with them?"

"I imagine."

"Good, because I've only the two and this darkness is nearly impenetrable." He'd never had a fear of the dark – that had been Gordon in the younger years, something he'd nearly passed upon to Alan, if John hadn't been able to pass on the love of space with more enthusiasm. Gordon had never picked up a love for space, it was more a case that he'd been able to find a way to help the aquanaut fight it. Right now, he felt as though he could easily be developing one. And really, at twenty-three, that wasn't something which was on his to do list (of which there were a few things if life ever gave him a holiday) for anytime soon, or even ever.

He could imagine that star-bright smile of John's as the direct younger replied, "You can do this."

It was exactly what he needed, and you could always be fooled into thinking the spaceman had some kind of telepathy, or maybe everything ran a few seconds ahead in space and John had just been able to see all this already. Who knew?

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

"John?" He thought he'd spoken for a moment, before the dulcet tones fully registered, and that was likely only because his brother had made explicit reference to who was their owner.

"Hold on EOS." He really wished now he'd opened a holo-communication channel, but there was no need for John to see any of this yet, and no need for him to further distract the younger. He just wanted that link for his benefit, because his brain insisted that seeing John would solve the issue he had with his confidence. "What are you planning, Scott?"

He hadn't really made too much of a plan, just a terribly rough sketch, most of which inside his head was relying on components he didn't have to hand, "I'm gonna' try and get over to the entrance. It would be easier if Virgil was here-"

"ETA ten minutes at most."

"That's too long. I have to move him now or he'll bleed out down here."

There was a pause. Why? John never paused. What did that mean? Did that mean something was going wrong? Or maybe he was over-thinking it and John was just thinking about things. But John was usually a quick thinker, so why the pause?

Oh stop it, Scott.

He'd never dropped the habit of being the big brother, in fact when Dad died he'd probably babied the younger four more than necessary and a rescue like this was just bringing all those instincts back out in full force. They weren't helpful right now though.

"I know you said it was dangerous," John began after a moment and he desperately hoped his direct younger wasn't about to present an Alan, or even Scott-like scenario, "But if someone came down, would it buy you longer to wait?"

"I don't think they could do anything with how cramped it is down here." He took a glance around now, a semi-proper one and realised that the carriage wasn't as busy as it could have been – many seats lay empty, and some were only empty because bodies were draped on the floor. Or, at least, wasn't as busy as it could have been because many towards the front were already dead. He didn't particularly want to return there, yet he knew he had too. Moving the man wasn't a case of not able to be done, it was more a case that he didn't want to face his own fears. He took a deep breath to try and settle those rising nerves. He wasn't sure he'd ever seen this many dead bodies in one go, and the total likely hadn't even finished rising yet. There were still another five carriages to go before he'd hopefully meet his brother's somewhere in the middle; eleven carriages in total.

Oh god.

It was almost as though his shoulder bones were trying to meet his collar bones, his rib cage crushing in.

Calm down, Scott. Pull it all together.

He'd been the best at dealing with their Mother's death (or at least, he could play it that way), but their father had been a different story altogether. Virgil was quite right though, he'd never grieved for Dad, just pushed on – and that was because it felt necessary; he couldn't grieve for a man he couldn't truly, deep down, believe to be dead. That was so finite. It had never really phased him, death, until they lost one parent. It still could stare him in the face and he could be strong against it, death, until they lost the second parent. If the trend was going to continue, he was sure he'd be next. It had never bothered him as much in the past as it did now, to see someone, lying cold and stiff, so unnaturally sleeping. After everything he'd done and seen, he was still a child frightened by death.

Deep breath.

In.

You can do it.

Out.

They won't be long.

He had to believe that, because his brothers were his strength, always, especially in times like this.

He didn't know if he'd murmured anything, or if his breathing gave it away, or if John was just that tuned in.

"Don't think about it, Scott. We'll work this out."

"But that's… I don't know what's best to do. I can't bring the medics down here until I've got some light and at least some kind of clear way.'

"Scott, breathe." He tried to do exactly as he was told, taking a deep breath in and then out. "Right, think and talk it through with me. What's the problem?"

He took a breath as instructed and decided to try and focus on that charming voice talking sense to him. He couldn't put his finger on why this was messing him up so much. Ok, he hadn't had many 'off days' recently, so maybe he was due one – but whatever the reason, this was not the useful time. So he took a moment and let all semblance of words and balance begin to return to him.

What was the problem? The biggest problem. The one he needed to deal with first. The one which needed tackling as though it was a forest fire.

"It's getting up and down."

"Because the carriage is on its side." John stated, completely right, before continuing, "From the in-depth schematics – which before you say anything, Scott, are practically useless even to me – the angle it's at will have made the leap down quite long, and dangerous if you were to fall on any broken glass or break it yourself in the drop. The seats to the side of the door might offer you a step up, but not with a stretcher or anyone too injured to keep their balance and grip. They also become as dangerous as they do useful in your descent."

"I'm ahead of you there." He'd thought to look before he leapt, at least. "That was my assessment exactly, little brother. That's why I don't want them attempting it."

"You set up a way down then, right?"

"Yeah, I used my grapple to create a line from the underside of the door connecting with the chairs. The jump from there was easier as I used the chairs to climb down." He'd been able to angle it as best as possible to make it safe, yes, but he couldn't see how that was going to help him with a stretcher.

"Maybe they can use a similar system."

He wasn't entirely sure whether that was a case of John muttering ideas aloud to himself or if it was to be taken as a valid suggestion. And if the latter was the case... No, he was completely and utterly lost, "Sorry?"

"Remind me; how strong are those lines of yours?"

"They can hold considerably more than my weight." He didn't know the figure to pluck from his headspace, but he was more than certain that the younger should, "John, you know what they can hold."

"I know." So the red-head was just trying to keep his mind off of other things then, trying to make him think about one thing, in order to be left unable to consider another. "Do you think they could use the existing line you have alongside a new one in order to pull up a stretcher?"

"I can't quite picture it, but it sounds as though it could."

"Well Scott, that's why you have my eyes." He could practically see the mirth in that tone of John's, at least, and figured that maybe it was worth replying with the same – that clearly had to be the younger's game after all.

"Oh, lucky me."

He could hear the slight withheld beginnings of a chuckle, but John had always been good at keeping two distinct sides to his life, something maybe Alan and Gordon needed to do more of.

"Going off the plans – of course that's if what I'm telling you to look for is still intact... You need to secure the second line to the underside bar on the right-hand side of the door. The crew above will have to pull it through and re-secure it on their end. Then you'll have to fix the other side through the stretcher before passing it to them, so they can pull the stretcher back up. Like a pulley system. Got it?"

"Got it."

Ben had made it back to him now and he quickly ushered for the kid to pass him the dressings. It was a better option than requiring the son to have his hands covered in his father's blood. He wouldn't wish that on anyone.

He set it down over the wound, pressing down hard to test just how well it was going to succeed and was more than pleased to find it was working.

"Right, Ben, I need you to hold this and apply pressure. Trust me, you won't hurt him, you'll help him. There's something I need to sort so we can get you out of here, ok?"

The kid nodded which he took as a good sign before he moved out slightly, keeping his hand in place and finally becoming glad for his height. The kid shuffled around to stand beneath him, reaching out a hand which he guided until it met his own.

"Keep your hand there, and your torch down, ok?"

"Why down?"

Yeah, he really didn't think the explanation for that through properly, but he just really didn't want the kid to see the full extent of injures he may not have completely under control.

"Because light could affect his head. I want to make sure he's not too badly injured and I don't want to worsen that in the process." It was so very badly worded, however after a moment Ben nodded seeming to take him at his word, and he supposed he once again had the International Rescue name to thank for that little bit of authority and trust it could gift them at times like these; when his brain wasn't really functioning, and his words were never good enough.

He stood up, finding his legs unfortunately shaky and uncertain, too things he hated being when they were all out in the open. Weakness could be exhorted and men like The Hood wouldn't hesitate from doing that if they saw it.

He managed to navigate though, to make it back towards the front of the carriage – even if he had to swallow deeply in order to try and stomach some of the things the route took him past. He tried to keep in mind all the things John had given him as instructions, holding the torch between his teeth (really not advisable, he knew) whilst loading the new grapple pack. The bar was a little tricky to find in the low light, but eventually he caught a glimmer of it and fired at where he was sure it was.

Now he just needed to know there was indeed someone waiting on the other side.

"Hello? Anyone there?"

"About time you remember us." That answer sounded distinctly like an annoying voice he'd documented before, and from down here which was just oh so helpful.

"He's not talking to you."

Oh, the last thing he needed was for an argument to break out.

"We're stuck down here!"

"We need help!"

"Everyone stay calm!"

"International Rescue are doing their best."

He shook his head, hoping his voice would not betray him now of all times. He really had to channel the calm, well-trained pilot and first-responder that he was, "Quiet!"

Thank space, that worked.

"I promise we are going to get you all out of here, but we have to work with priorities."

He'd had his doubts, but it seemed the message had been carried across by the near silence which echoed back towards him. The only sounds were muttered conversations and he wasn't about to stop anyone from distracting themselves with whatever they found to discuss. In light of that, he threw his gaze up once again.

"Is anyone up there?"

"Here, International Rescue."

That was so good to know.

"I need you to take the end of that line and secure it somewhere up there. Can you do that?"

There was a moment of silence, although the grapple line was moving so he was assuming that they were attempting to find somewhere strong enough to attach it to. He couldn't remember what was up there enough to help them.

"Ok, that's done. What next?"

It was a relief to hear that.

"I'm going to try and get our inured man up to you by using this like a pulley system."

"Right. We're ready when you are."

"I'll shout up." He needed to think of a way to carry the stretcher round now. Just what could he do? Maybe… Well, it was worth a try actually, so he thought he might as well get to it. "Just stay ready."

He'd needed to ask a certain person a certain favour, but right now he needed to have a conversation with a different particular person first. Someone who might actually be able to help him, because right now as he stumbled into the dark corners at the front of the train by the field of dead bodies… well, it was like nerves were taking over, feelings of panic he didn't even know he could have. But they were taking over, swallowing him, and he didn't know if he could keep pushing them away.

This was just so unlike him.

"John."

He swallowed, trying to focus on keeping his breathing as rhythmic as humanly possible.

"Yes, Scott?"

And there was the rock he had to keep relying on today. He really wished he could just manage to hold his own for whatever else was to come. He couldn't keep calling John: the red head had his own problems to be dealing with and yet, he kept making time for him. That was just how they worked as brothers, and brotherly bonds could so easily travel into their work for IR. It was like those two parts of their lives were never separate these days.

Especially not now.

"I think I've made a promise I can't keep."

"We're getting both of them out of there." John answered, without even a shred of doubt – and maybe that was why he was breaking down, because everyone believed in him, save him. So, yes evacuating those two, that he was managing at least it seemed, though he wasn't sure he would have thought about this great escape idea by himself, and he still didn't have any clue how he was going to get everyone out of here – he certainly couldn't imagine thinking that up by himself either.

And he didn't think John was going to have the time to be 'babysitting' him.

"Yeah, but," And he couldn't think now why he'd even said it, it was a stupid thing to say, "I said I was going to get all of them out of here."

"I believe in you."

And that was faith undying, faith all of his brothers had in him. Usually, self-confidence was one of the areas he didn't lack in. So why were so many essential strands of his being failing him now, now of all times.

"But I don't." He'd never felt quite like this either. Yes, he'd had moments where he lacked belief in himself, but not once like this, not once without any hope or chance of recovery. He had no clue how to pull himself out of this. "I said it in a moment of complete panic. Everyone was talking at me and I was trying to work out who needed me most and-"

"Scott. Stop talking. Deep breaths. Listen to me. My new life scans are showing me that there are thirty people in that carriage. The passenger records I've managed to get and the general scans tell me that there were forty-one. You can't do anything about those who killed before we got there. You can do this."

"What? Save thirty people?"

It made him remember the broken neck… oh no… now was really not the time to suddenly start feeling violently sick. Definitely not in an enclosed space. That reminded him that he was essentially trapped inside four walls- stop it, Scott!

"You've saved more."

That was a statement, a fact. He had a few which he could easily throw back. He was going to do just that.

"Not alone."

"You're not alone." It was a simple reminder, but it was working, just having someone to talk to: that would always be enough. It had to always be enough. "Breathe."

He didn't know that he hadn't been. He took a deep breath though, hopefully enough to satisfy whatever concerns he borne in John before continuing down his sudden line of thought as to how he was meant to do all of this.

"Is it doable?"

"I've given you my answer." Did John really have no fear in these situations, because he didn't sound like he held any. In fact, Scott couldn't recall a time that was so. "Just stay calm. Do you have anyone else with serious injuries? From up here I can't give you those answers. I can however tell you about a falling pulse rate to your right, but it's the only symptom showing, so I'd guess shock."

Right. Facts and figures. It might be a little bit dangerous, but John's new innovation was really doing a few favours for them right now. It might actually help to make this doable if John could give him information like that straight off the bat. It would definitely be useful for the process of this rescue. It gave him hope as well that they might actually be able to help the people who needed them most first. John was a genius and he could trust in the work of a genius to get them through this.

He nodded even though the younger wouldn't see it.

"Ok. I'll address those in a moment." What would he do without the younger right now? Without the knowledge that his brothers were here and ready to help him? The simple answer was likely fall apart. Why now, this rescue, he didn't know. He just knew he was failing. He was really trying to pull himself together though, to think like himself, to try and be himself. "Any clues for me on the next carriage?"

The words were spoken around a smile, for John was nothing if not obvious – at least to those who knew him.

"Forward thinking, Scott. I like it, it's more you." At least that small change seemed to be working. He just had to hold onto it. "Hold on."

He had to snort. It was semi-like a chuckle, almost sounding like a scoff within the mix. In fact, he wasn't sure what it was, but he thought it would carry over into John's endless array of languages, "Well that was a better word choice than 'sit tight'."

There was a moment, the briefest of pauses in which he tried not to think of exactly how the next sentence was going to sound, because he was certain he could already tell what his direct younger would say.

"Please say you didn't say that?" There was a hint of confusion in John's voice, just a little hint which suggested he wasn't entirely sure if that was just a badly placed joke. He decided his safest option was probably attempting to not plead anything.

"Then I won't say a word."

Maybe now John would have an idea of his struggles down here with the mortals.

"Oh Scott." He wasn't really sure how to even describe that tone.

"John," He began pointedly, more than ready to give the younger his full explanation, finding himself a little bit merrier at the simple prospect, "If there was a training course in how to do what you do, I'd take it."

"I'll teach you." John sounded serious though cheery and he actually had to ask whether that was actually even a possibility.

"Can you?"

"Well," For a moment John seemed thoughtful, but Scott was sure it was a played pause, "I managed to improve your math grades, and teach you chemistry."

That was indeed true, or though he did have to issue a little bit of a reminder as to just how well that tuition had actually managed to go, even though he didn't really care to relive school. It seemed like so long ago now as well, almost as though it had been hundreds of years ago. He realised when he actually thought about it, that whist they may not look that old, they – or he at the very least – could feel a whole lot older. He wondered if their knowledge and their eyes would give it away too, allude to just how much they'd seen and all that they'd lived. They were hardly the ages they were supposed to be, and maybe they'd never really had much time to be the image of a 'proper' child, because their life had never been easy or normal. Whatever anyone wanted to say money could buy.

It certainly wouldn't have been able to buy him a better tutor.

"Yes, but if you care to remember, I barely passed chemistry."

"Exactly." He wondered if John sure anything as a loss, because the spaceman sounded perfectly proud of that. "You'd have failed without me. I never said I could make miracles, Scott."

He had to snort at that. Because really he could always rely on something spectacular (and usually safe) coming their way from above, "Believe me, spaceman, sometimes it seems like you can."

"That could be said for any of us. For IR as an organisation."

"Well, we're not talking about IR right now."

"Fair enough, but I think we should be." And with that, his hand seemed to regain some weight, something to counterbalance against. A wall. He blinked and the entire train carriage seemed to return to his field of view. He was here, inside a train wreck. He wasn't Scott Tracy right now and he couldn't let himself slip into that world, even though he just had. Had John let him? Why? Had John even led him there? He needed to put his work focused head on, he needed to live in this world, in the here and now. And John seemed ready to make sure that happened now, "They have things ready on their end."

He blinked as he pushed against the wall to stand himself back upright. He couldn't even comprehend how he'd been able to leave the tragedy and catastrophe that this event was.

"Ok." He answered, still not quite comprehending everything in full, but he knew now at least what his game plan was.

He headed back down the carriage, ensuring he was careful with where he set his torch light to try and keep from refreshing some of those sickly images in his mind. But he needed to get to someone who might be willing to assist him, because there was no way he would be carrying that stretcher alone.

He was back at the halfway point, back by brave little Ben, still patiently waiting, trusting in him to get his Dad out of here safely. He could do this. He placed a hand on the boy's shoulder as he passed to remind the kid that he was there. The boy gave him a small smile.

He knelt next to the row of seats behind the boy's father and leaned across to the woman sat behind them. He was amazed considering the state of Ben's father that she was incredibly unscathed. She was sat right by the window too, but she was fine.

It seemed there would be a few miracles for the day and he supposed they'd just have to take them as they came.

"Hey. International Rescue."

"Yes, I know who you are." She gave him a smile, regardless and he realised just how stupid something like that was to say. He'd announced who he was of course.

"Right. Um, sorry, busy day. Do you have a name?"

"Linda."

"Ok, Linda," This was the part he hated really, and didn't know how to verbalise in any other way, any way less… well, obvious. Usually he would never ask someone they were rescuing for their assistance, but he felt this was out of the norm, "Can I ask a favour of you?"

"Of course." He definitely liked this woman, because he knew how hard it could be for some people to think of others in situations like these, but she was doing a very good job at it. At staying calm and thinking about others. Ok, she wasn't hurt or stuck so that probably helped, but still, it was a little bit remarkable, "What do you need?"

"I need help to carry Ben's father out of here on the stretcher. It's a two-person job, and as you can see, there's only one of me."

"I'd be happy to help. I'm not sure I'm strong enough, but I will give it a go."

"Thank you. I'll pass you up to the medics with the pair." She nodded to this and he offered her a hand to help her up. It was a lot easier than he thought to get her up and she seemed to have a sensible head. He handed his torch to her wordless as he knelt down by Ben, pulling the stretcher forward. "We're gonna' try and get you and your Dad out now. This is Linda she's gonna' help us."

He gestured up to her and Ben nodded, sending a smile her way. He shifted into the seats passed Ben and tried to get as close to the new side wall as he could. He was trying to aim for some leverage behind the man to make maneuvering him easier. It was hard to manage whilst desperately trying to avoid glass. He knew that usually you'd never think that sort of glass would shatter, but with the speed of the collision he doubted everything about this train now.

Eventually though he was able to get a relatively sound grip. The man wasn't too heavy either, so he figured that he'd be able to move the slight man with minimal assistance. It would certainly make the stretcher easier to move too.

"Ok, if you can pass the stretcher down to me." This really was not an easy work space and he watched as Ben and Linda shuffled around a few different ways in order to be able to pass the board round to him, his recruited helper wisely choosing to come opposite him. He fixed his gaze on her and she looked back, ready. "Right, if you can hold it steady, I'll lift him on three."

"Understood."

"One. Two. Three."

He really was surprised at how light the man was. Getting him across onto the stretcher became a much easier task than he'd ever imagined it would be. He wasn't sure whether that was good or bad at this moment in time and decided that maybe he couldn't be deliberating that right now. Maybe that was part of the problem, maybe his approach needed to change and be more clinical. Maybe he couldn't keep second guessing and re-thinking over everyone's possible problems. He had to cut off in some way.

It could even be his only option.

He quickly fiddled with the relevant straps, buckling them and checking the dressings were still firmly in place before deciding they could set off. It was typical that they had to lose the pressure on the wound, but it was the only way to get the man out, and that was the better option. They were the sort of decisions he hadn't to be making now – the best of the worst, whatever that end up being.

"Right, Ben, Linda, we're going to stick as best as we can to this path just above the windows. Mind the glass, we don't know how much of it will break if we put too much pressure on it. Linda, you and me might need to mind our heads. We move slowly, we watch every possible step. Ben, you stick close behind me, yeah?" The boy nodded and that was enough off an answer for him, before he turned to Linda, holding his hand out, "Ok, pass me back the torch please? We'll lift on your count, just say the word." He hoped she'd catch the reason for that as he once again settled the small hand-held LED torch between his teeth. Hardly comfortable, but they required the light.

"Right." He heard the slight waver in Linda's voice now and he couldn't blame her for that. She didn't train for this, this wasn't her life. "Ready?"

He nodded. It really was the best he could do.

"Ok then," She took a breath, "Ready, lift." The stretcher wasn't as heavy as he thought it would be either and he wondered if that could go in their favour. Maybe they would have success with this one, after all. Maybe John was right, maybe he could do this. No, of course he could do this. He was Scott Tracy of International Rescue.

He felt a little like he'd turned into a snail – not that he knew what that felt like of course – as they moved steady and slow. It felt as though it had taken them days to get anywhere, but eventually they were turning the corner which showed they were nearing the front of the carriage.

Eventually they made it to the slight filter of natural light, and he freed his torch from its dying grip between his teeth.

"Ben, you still alright?"

"Yes Sir." The boy answered, sounding a lot chipper now, and Scott supposed that was because the kid could tell there was some hope for their situation. He loved the part of International Rescue which allowed them to depart some hope and good feelings to others.

"What do we do now?" Linda asked, and he shifted around as best as he could to leave the stretcher on the right line with his grapple lines.

"Now, I'm going to take over and get you three out of here, ok?" The pair simply nodded, trusting him, and he preferred it that way right now. Usually he'd be desperate for the conversation, however right now he couldn't see how it would be in his favour. He moved over to the lightest part of the doorway and looked up, "Hello?"

"Yes, International Rescue?"

"We're ready down here to lift the injured man up to you. Then I'll pass up his son and a woman whose helped us."

"Right, we'll wait for your signal."

He nodded, even though he wasn't sure if they could hear him. With the dark dropping in above, he could hardly see anything, not even an outline of those above him. He was glad they weren't making him go off their signal, because he wouldn't be able to see it if they chose a visual cue.

He knelt down and reached for the ends of the grapple lines, fixing them through the gaps in either end of the stretcher whilst seriously hoping that John's logistics were on point – not that they were usually ever wrong – and that he wasn't about to break what was definitely one of the biggest rescue promises he'd ever made.

Here goes nothing.

It was worth at least taking the chance, because he had no other plan after all.

"Ok, we're all ready for lift down here."

"We're ready up here." The reply came promptly, and he caught sight now of low-light helmet torches shining down, "What's the plan?"

"You should just be able to pull on your end. If I can see anything going wrong, I'll shout for you to stop."

"Understood. Are you ready for us to go on three?"

"Yes." That sounded like a good and sensible plan. He really was glad that John had managed to find him a crew of ambulance personnel who actually knew how to do their job with the proper care and management of difficulties. It did help that they were able to follow instructions as well. It was a very useful skill when trying to coordinate something like this; a big, dangerous rescue.

He didn't have time for difficult operators or time wasters.

"One."

He forgot just how nervous counts made him.

"Two."

Ok, ready, ready, all set.

Remember to breathe, Scott.

"Three."

Ok, up we go. It all seemed to be going really well actually. Not that he wanted to speak too fast, too early or too soon.

It was a minute or two of him holding his breath in fits and struggles, but eventually the stretcher disappeared from his view and the team up top called down, "Ok."

"Thanks. Great." He looked down towards Ben, lowering his voice, "You're next."

It was harder to get the kid up due to his height, but the team up top were very good with the necessary assistance and leant down to meet him in scooping the kid up. The woman would have been an issue if she'd wanted to insist on keeping her heels, but she was more than happy to go along with the flow and take them off if it meant she was able to get of here. He sent her up as a way of thanking her for her help. It was a risky system, but at least he was able to have a hand and get three people out of here. It wasn't a system that he could see working long term though. The medic team had to leave and that would leave him with only one set of hands.

It was too dangerous to risk getting so many people out this way, on a system which he couldn't guarantee the security or safety off. The drop would be risky, the climb was equally as much of a challenge. He needed a ladder. Such a simple practical thing which he was lacking which could do so much to aid him right now.

He made a note to enquire to John as to whether they could obtain one. For surely somewhere along the line one must have been kept, for maintenance purposes or something...

And now he was back down in the belly of the beast, in dire need to work out who needed him most next. It wasn't an easy process to rush. He could swear it had only been minutes since he last heard John's voice, but he was more than glad to hear it again so soon. You wouldn't see him complaining.

"Can any of them get out for themselves?"

"Some of them might need help to get out of their seats and it's quite dark to see the best route out, but I reckon they could. I need more torches if you can get them?"

"Gordon and Alan should have more – they're almost with you. If you can get them out Scott, I suggest you move on."

"Ok. If I can't?"

"The fire services are calling in more personnel to try and build you a bigger team to assist in the efforts. If you can't get them out, so long as they're stable, I still suggest you move on." He doubted john would say that lightly as well, so…

"You're not getting worried, are you?"

"Who, me?"

"Ok. I'll deal with this and then work out who can leave. I imagine I'll have to take them in small groups unless you can find me some lighting or an easier route? Or be an angel and find both."

"The lighting I definitely can't fix for you. All the external circuit boards are showing as damaged and the emergency lighting is just rubbish. EOS is running too many other programs, but I don't think she'd have any luck either when looking at the break down reports. On that note, the breakers are shot too, so you couldn't fix it either even if I talked you through it."

"Great."

"An easier route I can look for, but it's the windows and odd seating angles which are going to cause you problems."

Didn't he know that one for sure, even in the lowlight.

"Tell me about it."

"And I wouldn't suggest climbing across the rows of seats."

He frowned, knowing that was a foolish thing to do, "Wasn't in my mind."

"Oh, sorry I was actually talking to Gordon."

"You're running a three-way conversation again?" He was wondering whether he should let John go… if maybe he didn't need the direct younger's services as much as someone else. Gordon, for example was a clear indicator for that argument.

"No, just for that instant." He didn't believe that for a second though. He already knew John was running a lot of the systems together, and he was leaving that choice to the younger, because that was his area of expertise. It didn't mean to say that he had to like it. He just didn't understand how John couldn't get stressed or worried, or if he did, how he could keep it from his voice.

"Where is the water child?"

"He's with the team working their way to you from the other end. Just got there."

"He's here?"

"So's Alan. They've just arrived. Virgil is five minutes out at a guess, but that's only from tracking data."

"Well, hopefully it's accurate. If that's the case, I'll let you get back to what you're doing."

"FAB. Alan should be on his way to you now."

Perfect. An extra pair of hands was exactly what he needed. He headed off, trying to establish the possible injuries ranging though the carriage. A lot of people seemed to be in shock, and that made sense, but he wasn't hearing too many replies which sounded deathly serious. Yet.

He didn't have to wait long though for his extra pair of hands, as his name reached him, for once not over the radio. "Scott?"

Alan. That was Alan's voice. Breathless, wearied already from its sound, but still it was a melody, a brother finally by his side. Someone else for him to rely on, fall back on, even if it was the youngest. Alan could be a kid back on the island, but whenever he came out in that uniform, he grew up more than a boy his age should have to. He almost felt bad for ever letting Alan get into IR so early, but really it was what he grew up with, something he was born into, destined to one day be a part of – so how could he be the one to stop the youngest? And honestly, he was glad Alan had been there for some missions. There were things the young spaceman of the family could do that he'd never have thought of, never have attempted in his wildest dreams. Yes, some of them were crazy, but then John was most likely right: he was guilty for Alan's crazy streak.

"Alan?" He glanced up, trying to make his way over to the door. He was certain his youngest brother wouldn't be able to see him in the pitch black. There didn't seem to be any light coming from the doorway either and he worried for a moment that the kid hadn't brought a torch with him.

"The one and only." He wondered whether the slight bounce in Alan's voice had come from the joy which had readily entered his own. He chuckled though, shaking his head at the terrible line as he navigated his way around the seats. It was hard to do – harder when he thought about passing by the dead, though he knew moving them from the carriage was a waste of time – but eventually he managed it.

"About time little brother." He answered, beginning to see some form of low light creep in. He knew it was getting dark outside, but he hadn't expected the light to have faded this much since he last visited this end of the carriage.

It was going to be pitch black before he knew it. He wasn't looking forward to that either, for it was only certain to make their job harder, to make navigating the inside of this dark, hollowed ruin even more of a struggle. He wasn't a medic, though they all had basic training, yet he worried what work he'd be able to do in low light, who he'd be able to treat – if anyone.

What if their injuries are too serious?

He already felt like he'd come up against one of those cases, and it was still a (happy) miracle in his mind that the man had lived. And there were still so many people to evacuate from this carriage, not to mention the other five on his way to meeting the others in the middle. It was going to take quite a lot for this to work out, and the night wasn't the ideal time for an operation like this. No, some dry and bright daylight would be good. Either that, or just some decent emergency lighting! He was definitely going to be putting in a complaint about these stupid train designs.

"Yeah. Hold on a minute. I'll be back." He wasn't sure he wanted the youngest to disappear. Right now, he felt like that comfort blanket was greatly needed. Usually he'd just have asked John to keep talking into his ear, but he knew the second eldest was busy, that John (and EOS) were running a lot of programs and conversations up on Thunderbird Five. Despite knowing John was a great multi-tasker, he knew there would also be limits to those abilities, and right now, he really didn't want to push his good-under-pressure brother. Because they really needed him. They needed eyes in the sky right now – and ideally a team on the ground.

He couldn't see much of Alan before the kid left, but he could only see shadows now. That, and a lot of faint sounds echoing around him. Slight thuds and bangs and scrambling clunks. He wondered what was going on, but didn't reach out to ask. It wasn't really a big deal as long as the youngest came back. Soon, ideally.

Even with the faint glow of his torch, his eyes had long grown used to the darkness he was encased in. A such, the sudden flicker of new light, brighter and just awoken, glimmering down from above make him blink rapidly. After a moment the light had followed through up towards his face and he shuffled a step forwards, better into the focus of the beam. The torch had to belong to Alan and he would happily step into view of that. It took a few more blinks, but his eyes soon adjusted to the new brightness.

Alan seemed happier to have some visual on him too. The torchlight had moved slowly before it hit him and he wondered what Alan was afraid of seeing. Probably, sensibly, anything down here. He hadn't really thought about it when he jumped into the mission, but now, he knew he'd be doing the same if he was up there. Down here was nothing comforting, welcoming or enticing. This first carriage was a challenge already, and he knew from some terrible, sinking feeling smouldering in the pit of his stomach, that it wasn't going to get any better, the further in they went. They'd just have to find some way to cope, if it was even possible to achieve.

Alan's eyes seemed to be wondering still, though he had no idea as to what he was looking for. When the blonde turned back to him, it was with steeled eyes he rarely saw on the youngest unless he was at the helm of Thunderbird Three, safely in his comfort zone of control which could push the limits miles further than he would anywhere else.

"I've got the first aid kits. Shall I chuck a few down?"

Well that explained the cacophony of sounds at least. The sentiment too was nice and thoroughly appreciated, but he was thinking now they'd have very little use for the things. From what he'd seen already, they needed something far more advanced than what they had – in terms of kit and training. But if Alan had brought them, it was likely John's (or Virgil's) call of equipment, and he trusted both of them to make educated, authoritative, best chance calls. Who was he to know it as well? They might prove their use after all, at least if they can stem damage until they can get a proper medical team in here.

He was itching to talk to John, but held off. Alan would probably want to talk to the elder too, so they might as well save that conversation for when they were together and in serious need of a game plan. Because his one, just wasn't working.

He took a moment to take a deep breath.

Calm.

You can do this.

Two things he was struggling to channel right now, yet knew he had too if they were to have any chance. Not to mention, that once Alan was down here, the kid was under his judgement calls. In fact, he probably already was due to the close proximity. He had no clue why, but it always seemed harder to make those important calls when your family where in the field, also willing and ready to obey the commands and follows the choices of their field commander. He hated the role. He hated having the be the leader. Ok, he was almost a born natural at it; nevertheless, he hated it.

"I don't think they'll be much use, but you might as well." He hoped he hadn't caused any upset to his youngest brother, but he gathered alan wasn't too fussed when the soft green kits started raining upon him. He moved back a slight step to make sure he was clear of their tumbling path. When finally there seemed no more to follow, he stepped back into Alan's waiting torch light, adding, "I'd much rather a second pair of hands."

Something seemed to brighten in Alan's blue eyes, just a flicker, but it was one of the only things he could make out crystal clear through the dark fog before the youngest's eyes looked to the sky. He wished he could do the same right now, as he tried to throw the first aid kits into more of a pile as opposed to a scatter pattern. He didn't really take any notice as to where they went though; his thoughts were elsewhere entirely. A danger, he knew, but now he couldn't stop thinking about the sky. It was never his hobby, but he'd taken to it recently: if he borrowed John's telescope, you could see Thunderbird Five perfectly from the Island. From the distance, it looked almost like the star it was, but he knew better. He just hoped no one else ever sought to discover it.

"Ok, I'm coming down."

He blinked again to try and accustom to the darkness as the little beam of torch light suddenly disappeared. There was more shuffling from above and he wondered whether Alan had brought anything else with him. There were a few clinks and clatters, metallic in their sound, which identified them as more torches – thank goodness for that! After a moment there was silence. He wondered whether Alan had disappeared entirely.

"Ok," It came to him then, suddenly, in a flash of consciousness, that he never warned Alan about the drop. Something which was quite necessary. He just hoped the blonde was still up there to have a chance of hearing him. It was hard in the dark and the quiet to know where the kid had gone, "But Alan, hold on, I'll come meet you, there's-"

One moment it was pitch black and the next, it was almost as though a chandelier had been lit. Yes, it was dark, but he saw the slim figure perfectly as the blue and red uniform fell through his vision. Fell through the door, and straight through…

Oh no.

He should have remembered to issue that warning sooner. Stupid! How was Alan supposed to know what he'd set up? If the kid didn't spot the grapple line with his torch, then how would he know it was there without being explicitly told? He couldn't move though, only panic as he realised nothing was going to break his brother's fall to the new ground. He really hoped the agile kid might at least be able to pull of some kind of quick, chance landing, but when the final thump hit, he realised that probably wasn't the case.

It was quite literally a bit of a crash landing. He quickly reached for his torch again, turning on the beam and heading over. After a moment, Alan's eyes seemed to catch the light like a deer finding sudden oncoming headlights. That at least allowed some of his panic to subside, though he still knew it was his fault.

"I didn't say that quick enough, did I?" He tried to keep too much of the blossoming guilt from his tone, for he knew Alan would only tell him it wasn't his fault, and right now, that was a discussion he had no want to enter in to.

"No." Alan grumbled, slowly reaching to rub dust from his uniform, looking around, still with great resemblance to a deer.

He stood for a moment, feeling a bit like a spare wheel, no utter clue what he was best to do. Some of the first aid kits had scattered around their feet and he tried not to step on any of them. His focus returned as the younger groaned, clearly trying to attempt sitting up. He quickly moved forward, dropping to one knee beside his brother, trying to keep the light from his face, shining it off to the side so as to (hopefully) not give Alan a headache.

He felt more than noticed Alan's hand move to his belt, and soon another wave of light joined his own. Well, it was at least reassuring to know the kid still had his head. After a fall like that, he wouldn't have been surprised if a concussion had been obtained, but it seemed as though the kid was alright. He placed his left hand onto Alan's shoulder, knowing all the while it was more for his benefit really – it was his way of physically knowing the kid was alright. Nothing could happen whilst he had hold of him, and that he really wanted to keep believing. This day – or evening rather, for the day had been quite nice - was going terribly already.

Alan Tracy levels of crazy… And yet, with those levels of craziness, he always seemed to come out of it unscathed.

He noticed Alan's eyes finally catch the grapple line he'd established and wondered what was running through his brother's mind. It was so hard to read Alan sometimes – unless you were John, or him on a good day. Or Gordon, actually, almost all of the time – and now was one of those times when he had no idea what the youngest could be thinking inside that occasionally random mind. He continued to watch as the blonde shook his head and seemed to take a moment of pause in deep thought. He waited all the while, even though he wasn't sure what Alan was debating at some points. He just simply gave his little brother some space.

He was trying to find the right words. The things he could say which wouldn't harm the situation either way, for he knew, it was ultimately his fault. Alan wasn't to know. He should have been on the ball, looking out for his brother, giving him all the necessary information. Now, they were losing time based on his mistake. And most people in this train wreck had probably already lost enough (if not too much) time. He was beginning to lose his hope for finding those down the line of carriages alive, especially as he had already seen quite a few dead here, and of course some serious injuries. And no doubt, there would be one, annoying, unharmed person, panicking away in each carriage. They just weren't the sort of people he was good at dealing with: they were definitely another John specialist area.

"Sorry," He decided on eventually, as poor, bad and routine a word choice as it was for these situations. Alan gave another shake of the head, seeming to dismiss what he thought to be a necessary admission of guilt. The youngest seemed far more indulged on checking he had no injuries as he patted his uniform down. He sat in silence. He didn't know of anything else he could say. Of what he should say. He'd focussed in on his brother, forgetting they had an audience who could be listening in. If they caught wind of International Rescue making a fault, falling below the bar, then the endless chattering panic he'd managed to somehow settle earlier would rise again. And it wasn't like he could magic up John, or even borrow his direct younger brother's skills at dealing with panic. Really, the spaceman was like a specialist in pressured situations, especially those in which others would resort only to panic. John seemed capable of finding endless reason, and he admired that. He certainly couldn't do the same.

After a moment, Alan nodded, and he took that as a meaning of 'I'm alright'. It was a point made clear for him when the boy began to try and think about getting back up. He moved his hand to tap the younger on the back, a simple thing, but it calmed him too.

Alan's alright.

He felt as though he'd just breathed for the first time in a century. A long, cold century.

He finally found some words too, thinking that it was easier (and possibly what Alan wanted him to do) to return to 'rescue mode'. "Come on then. There's still a lot do to here."

"Long evacuation?"

He almost chuckled, but doubted that would have sounded fitting to anyone else around them. Still, it was just that typical twist of fate logic: it had to be the metro, didn't it? It just had to be their luck. He was actually beginning to feel quite drained at the thought of how much they still had to do. "Longer than you think."

"Let's get back to it then."

He smiled down at the younger, admiring the spirit the kid always seemed to have, the spirit he'd brought to IR from day one – something he honestly thought had helped them since losing Dad. Alan, he knew to some extent, had always felt like the one in the family with something to prove and Scott was sure that everytime the kid put on that uniform, he did it for Dad. For his legacy. It gave him a new burst of energy to think about things like that. Dad was with all of them when they went out for work, but in this moment, the brunette was sure the youngest of them had become the most attuned.

"Come on. Oh and Alan," He rose back to his feet, feeling now he could get back to work, with Alan at his side, and shortly, hopefully, Virgil and Gordon too. He watched as Alan's eyes moved to track his face and couldn't help smiling as he finally thought of a relatively decent line, "Follow me this time."

Alan nodded and that seemed to propel the kid forwards as he clambered onto his feet. He headed away, knowing the blonde would follow him and he could see the faint edges of Alan's torchlight trailing behind him as a reassurance.

He'd made it to the 'Row-he-ignored-existing-as-a-row' (yes it would have been easier to just say a row of dead people, but that was the word he was looking to avoid, thus it wouldn't have been very effective), when he heard it. A low, almost faint growl he could have missed, if of course, his ears weren't attuned so well to the voice's owner.

"Ow!"

The sound seemed to reverberate around the metal and he wondered for a moment if it had definitely come from where he thought it had, but he knew, deep down, that was only wishful thinking.

"What?" He asked, tracing his way back. His torchlight soon showed him that Alan had sat back down, and that caused him a whole wave of panic. The kid had been set on following him, had been following him. So what on Earth had occurred in the brief moment he had his back turned? When he finally got to his brother's side, he knelt down holding his torch slightly lower, so it wasn't in the blonde's eyes. In answer to his question, Alan simply gestured downwards, holding his torch in a similar direction. It took him a moment to follow the blonde's established cue, swinging his torch to illuminate whatever the problem be.

He tried to hold back from any response which could cause more panic, but really it was as though the world was out to get them today. His shoulders dropped, in complete sympathy for Alan and annoyance at the world (yes, he knew it didn't really get him anywhere, but it helped him to at least feel like his anger was being vented somewhere).

"Oh, that's all we need."

He could see from Alan's face alone that the kid agreed. The way he squirmed within their metal can. There wasn't an easy way in or out as it was. It wasn't an easy rescue as it was, but this was definitely going to complicate matters. He hoped Alan wasn't thinking that he was to blame, because Scott knew this was entirely on him: he didn't give the warning in time.

Now look what you've caused, you fool!

He could have cursed himself in the moment.

Alan's face looked overcome with guilt, and he really hoped the youngest wasn't going to try and take the blame for his obvious schoolboy error, "Sorry, I should have waited."

He shook his head. He didn't want the youngest trying to take the blame. It wasn't right or fair, "You weren't to know."

He reached for his wrist communicator, hoping beyond hope that Virgil had arrived by now, or that John could get him here quickly by some miracle. It was annoying, but it was his fault. They were going to have to manage the three of them now, for there was no way Alan could aid him with the rescue now. It was just too risky, too dangerous, and the situation was already quite precarious. As soon as he had the link open, he didn't even wait for a signal, just quickly started speaking, "John, can you fetch Virgil? I need to get Alan out of here."

"What's happened?" John's calm voice filtered across, but there seemed to be a slight waver, a drop. It was probably his mention of Alan, none of it likely aided by the fact his words were rushed on his tone verging on the edges of a breakdown.

"He jumped down-"

"Ah."

"-And he's done his foot in, possibly his ankle (left)."

"I'm on it. I'll warn Virgil and Gordon not to dive in."

"Sorry, Al. I probably should have asked John to pass that on sooner."

"I get it. Scattered brains."

"Please never describe it like that again."

"Ok." Alan chuckled, but he could tell it was false. He knew his youngest brother well enough to know that.

This situation was going to be one of those which got a worse before it got better.