Nine: Uphill Climb

"Don't overwhelm him," said Dr. Morton, when the whole Tracy clan and their two friends-like-family were gathered around him in a barely contained knot of simmering excitement. "Don't give him too much to process all at once. He's likely to be confused, emotional, forgetful. Don't take it personally." He waited until everyone had given a nod of understanding before continuing. "Most of all, what he needs is time. He's come far, but he still may have challenges that we don't yet know about. He may be frustrated, and may actually grieve any lost abilities or memories." He smiled warmly. "However, from what I've seen of you all, I have no doubt that Scott will be loved and supported every step of the way."

Virgil called a second conference after the doctor had left, continuing on the theme of how to interact with Scott for the foreseeable future.

He really had to hand it to John; his bookish brother was slipping into his role as Interim President of Tracy Industries as if it were made for him. One of John's first orders of business was to write up a proposal to the board regarding the accommodations they had found themselves in for the last two weeks. The result was that they were now standing in the newly christened Scott C. Tracy Neurological Recovery Unit, furnished in signature Tracy jet-age style. The artwork was cheerful, the seating was comfortable, and plans were in motion to add amenities such as a small kitchen and bath for families needing to stay close to loved ones.

So it was that Virgil felt a little more at home as he stood to address his eager audience. Some, like his grandmother, had unshed tears of joy in their eyes, and others, like Gordon, looked nervous but determined, but all were hanging on his every word as he took them through their 'new normal'.

"Like Dr. Morton said, while Scott's still in the hospital, we need to take turns with him like we have been-one at a time. I know we all want to rush in and tell him how happy we are to have him back, but that might frighten him." He swallowed, forcing back the sourness that flooded his mouth when he thought of Scott cowering in terror from those he loved. "So. Let's keep it quiet and calm in his room for now. If he wants to talk about what happened, that's fine, but don't quiz him on what he remembers and what he doesn't. He might not remember getting hurt at all."

In truth, Virgil mused, who knew at this moment how much Scott would remember about anything? He himself had survived enough head injuries to know that memory could be patchy after such an event. It remained to be seen how large the gaps in Scott's recall would be.

"The most important thing," Virgil continued, hearing his voice slide into his father's no-nonsense 'Papa Bear' register, "is that any official business will continue to come to John and I-John for Tracy Industries items, and iR stuff for me. Under no circumstance will anyone-and I mean anyone--be allowed to bother Scott about any of that until John and I say so."

"We especially need to keep the press away from him," John chimed in. "Kat Kavanaugh called me today, but I didn't answer. If she starts calling anyone else, let either of us know. We can get Legal involved if she starts bugging us."

"I know everyone knows all of this," Virgil went on, "but it doesn't hurt to revisit it, not when Scott's health is at stake." He gave them all a brave smile, his tone lightening a fraction. "We're gonna face whatever happens together. I couldn't do this without you guys at my back, so...thank you."

Immediately, he was at the center of a loving knot of support, arms and hands holding on to him, warm lips pressed to his cheeks and forehead.

Soon, it was his turn to visit with Scott, and he cleared his throat as he entered his big brother's room so Scott wouldn't startle. "Hi," he greeted the burr-headed patient, who was laying slightly elevated so he could see the television. "Whatcha watching?"

Scott blinked, as if suddenly remembering that he was indeed watching the screen. "Oh," Scott said, rolling his head on the pillow toward Virgil. "Nothing."

Virgil nodded. "Daytime TV is pretty boring," he said. "Want me to find you something else?"

Scott shook his head.

Virgil pointed the remote at the TV and turned it off. "How about a little chill-out music?"

The blue eyes blinked. "Okay."

Virgil pressed another button, and soft instrumental music began to spill into the room. "How you feeling today?"

Scott's eyes wandered away from Virgil, and he tipped his chin down to survey his prone form, from the airplane-print hospital gown on his chest, down to where the twin bumps of his feet rested under his own carefully laundered blanket from his bed at home. "'M alright," he replied. "I miss…" His dark brows drew together. "Work."

"It'll keep, don't worry." Virgil smiled at him. "Anything else you miss?"

To Virgil's happiness, Scott cracked a tiny smile. "Coffee."

"Tell you what, when we spring you out outta this joint, that's our first stop." Virgil made a face. "Not hospital coffee, blech."

Scott echoed his younger brother's distaste by wrinkling his nose, then gained a thoughtful look. "Virg, where's Dad?"

Of all questions, this one had been the one Virgil was dreading the most. He'd meant to sit and dope out a good answer, maybe even organize his thoughts on paper, but it hadn't happened and now the moment was here. He sighed, leaning forward to take Scott's hand in his. "Scotty...do you remember TV21? It's okay if you don't."

A nod. "Dad's plane." The sapphire eyes closed and Scott cocked his head, as if listening for a faraway sound. "The Hood." He opened his eyes, his face going so still that for a moment, Virgil feared Scott had had a stroke. "Dad's dead."

"No, we don't know that," Virgil reassured him. "He's been gone a while, but-" He squeezed the cool hand, heart sinking as huge tears began to track their way down Scott's pale cheeks. "We haven't found him-dead or alive. John wrote a program that keeps scanning for him 24-7 from Thunderbird Five. Kyrano is-well I don't know exactly where Kyrano is, but he's our 'boots on the ground,' following up some leads." He squeezed the slack fingers again, willing Scott to believe. "When Dad disappeared, you told us that we couldn't give up. We haven't, and we won't."

"Saw him-somewhere," Scott murmured as Virgil let go briefly to grab a box of tissues, not even flinching as Virgil dabbed away the tears. "Just a little while ago."

"Maybe you were dreaming." Virgil got up to toss the tissues into the rubbish bin and resumed his seat beside the bed. "The doctor said some confusion was normal."

Scott nodded mutely, the naked loss and grief on his face an all-too familiar reminder of the day they'd lost their father.

Virgil attempted to continue their conversation several times, but for some reason, anything he thought of to say seemed trivial and hollow. He turned the television on again, albeit muted, and flipped channels for a while before turning back to get Scott's reaction. To his relief, Scott's eyes were closed and his chest was rising in falling in the rhythm of deep sleep, and Virgil gave a resigned sigh as he tossed the remote onto the table beside the bed. He ran a hand down his face with a low groan, then let his hand fall to his lap as he considered the well-loved face before him.

"That went just great," he quipped darkly. Never mind, he thought, the question had to come sometime, and from what the doctor had said, it might come again. With a firm nod to himself, he rose and grabbed a piece of blank paper from a drawer, then retrieved a pencil he'd been using to sketch with on an earlier visit and wrote out the list he'd been planning on before Scott beat him to it. Hopefully, he mused, as the words began to flow, they'd be prepared if Scott needed to be reassured of his father's status again.

He was wakened by a touch on his shoulder, and startled enough to drop the pencil. It clattered to the floor as he looked up to see John standing over him, and he gave the redhead a sleepy smile, stretching and yawning as John stooped to retrieve the pencil.

"How is he?" John asked, with a lift of his chin toward the still-sleeping Scott.

"Confused," Virgil replied. "He asked where Dad was."

John crossed his arms and looked away. "Well, we knew that was coming."

"Yeah. He caught me off guard, so I wrote down some stuff we can tell him, if he asks again." Virgil nodded to the paper laying on the bedside table out of Scott's line of sight. "How's everyone else?"

John stifled a yawn against the back of his hand, then shoved both hands into the pockets of his jeans. "They're doing okay. Al and Gordon put in an order for pizza, so they're hanging around in the lobby downstairs waiting for the delivery. Grandma's at the hotel resting for a while. Penelope called to say she'd gotten home okay, but she said to call her anytime."

"Where's Kayo?"

"She took Brains home in 'Two, said she needed some 'island time.'" He let one corner of his mouth curl up in a rueful smile. "I think she just needed to get off the ground for a while." His face fell, and he re-crossed his arms, hugging them to his narrow torso. "Speaking of, I need to get off the ground, too. You know me and gravity, we don't exactly see eye to eye anymore." He blushed. "Plus, I'd...like to see Ridley."

Virgil nodded. "I know, I don't think you've been dirtside for this long in a while." With a last look at Scott's sleeping form, he got up from the recliner. "How about 0800 tomorrow, I'll have Kayo come get you and you can get back up top."

Relief lit John's face. "Thanks, V. I'll sit with him tonight. I need to set up the projector anyway."

The need to be able to see Scott from literally anywhere in the world had been of paramount importance, and one that John and Brains had been more than happy to tackle with their usual flair. Tonight, Virgil knew that John would be quietly tinkering away at the video setup to ensure that at the press of a button, they would be able to look in on their convalescing leader. "I'm gonna head over to the hotel and see if I can get some sleep," Virgil informed the slender redhead. "I'm just a comm away, though."

John made shooing motions toward the door. "Go. Sleep. We'll be fine."

Virgil raised an eyebrow. "Have you slept? When did you eat last?"

"Does the smother-hen stuff just sort of get downloaded into your brain along with the title of 'Field Commander'?" John rolled his eyes. "Yes, although you know how wonky my sleep cycles are. And a while ago, but don't ask me what it was; it was that memorable."

"Eat something. Soon." Virgil stifled another yawn, then moved to brush his lips against Scott's forehead. "Let me know when you get back to the office," he told John, squeezing his shoulder through the MIT sweatshirt.

"F A B." John shot him a quick smile, then turned back to the schematics on his tablet.

OoOoOoOoO

A noise from the bed brought John out of the sea of code he'd been submerged in for the last hour, and he surfaced from the depths to see Scott staring at him, eyes frozen wide in terror. John quickly shunted his laptop and tablet to the table beside him, and bent over his older brother. "It's okay," he soothed. "You're okay, Scott. You're in the hospital."

The terror-stricken look didn't fade at the kind words, and John glanced up to the monitor to see Scott's heart rate and blood pressure begin to ratchet upwards. Scott's hands, which had been buckled into the padded straps on the bed frame for his own safety, began to twist and pull feebly at the bonds. "T...tracy. C'mand'r...4911."

John leaned forward and gently touched Scott's hand. "You're not a prisoner, Scotty. You're a patient. You were hurt very badly, but you're getting better."

Scott's eyes continued to search John's face, only seeming to see an enemy instead of a beloved family member. "Tracy. 883...219...4 Alpha…" He trailed off, lips still mouthing unheard syllables. John frowned and made an executive decision: He unbuckled the restraint from around Scott's wrist and held the quivering hand in both of his.

"Scott, do you remember the first time we went to the Smithsonian?" He smiled, casting back over the years for the fond memory. "I think you were about ten, which made me eight. Alan was just a baby. Do you remember how Gordon set off the fire alarm?" The space monitor chuckled. "I cried, I was so upset-not at the noise or the confusion, but at the thought of never being allowed inside again." He squeezed Scott's hand. "You told me not to worry. You explained how Gordy was just little and hadn't known what would happen. You took me to the gift shop and spent all your vacation money on a book about comets for me. I still have that book; it's up on 'Five. I read it every now and again just to remind me of what a great big brother I have."

Scott had stopped mumbling to himself and was staring fixedly at his redheaded brother. "Johnny?"

The man in question broke into a wide smile. "Right. You back with me, Scooter?"

The nickname made Scott blink. "Yeah. Sorry. Feels like 'm dreaming all th' time."

It was the longest sentence he'd put together since opening his eyes, and John nodded, impressed. "I hear that's normal. It'll pass, with time."

Scott closed his eyes wearily. "How long-?"

"You were sedated for ten days," John informed him. "Forty-eight hours ago, you had improved enough to be extubated and have the paralytic withdrawn. You've still got quite a cocktail of drugs in your veins; I'm not surprised that you feel like you're in an Escher drawing."

Scott opened his eyes again, staring at nothing. "Thought Dad was...here."

John's smile turned sad at the corners. "I'm afraid not. Everyone else has been here though. They've all been taking turns sitting with you while you were sleeping. Even Penny was here; she said she regaled you with the latest fashion news from Milan, and Parker read to you from his favorite Louis L'amour novel."

"Mm." The hand in John's was going slack, and the lids over the sapphire eyes were drooping. He uttered a handful of unintelligible words, then fell once more into a deep, drugged sleep. John watched him for a few moments, making sure that Scott's chest fell in a smooth, regular rhythm, then gently buckled the slack wrist back into the padded restraint. If Scott woke up frightened, having him restrained would keep him safer, though it pulled painfully at John's heart to do so.

Finally, all the preparations for the camera interface were complete, and John switched it on. "EOS," he called.

"Yes, John." The AI's voice floated down from the overhead speaker, and John smirked; leave it to his cheeky partner to hack the hospital tannoy instead of being restricted to the tiny speaker in his wrist comm.

"Camera check, please."

"Thunderbird Five is receiving clear images of Scott's hospital room. Connections are secure. There is no threat to privacy."

"Thank you. Thunderbird Two, this is Thunderbird Five."

"Two here," Kayo lilted, her accent clear and warm. "Are you back home, John?"

"Not quite yet. I'm in Scott's room; EOS and I are testing his camera setup. How do we look?" He waved a hand at the lens.

"Coming through clear. Has he been awake at all?"

"A little. He's still pretty confused." John shifted in his chair to lean forward, elbows on knees. "He thought he was a POW for a minute."

"God, how awful."

"Yeah, it was a little creepy."

"Where's Virgil?"

John smiled. "I sent him over to the hotel to get some rack time. I'm gonna go back up tomorrow morning; any chance I can catch a ride?"

Her own smile was clear. "You know me, John. Any excuse to get off the ground." Her tone gained a bit of mischief. "I could bring Shadow and take you for a real ride before you go home."

He rolled his eyes. "'Two will be fine."

"Live a little, spaceman."

"I'd like my breakfast to stay in situ, thank you very much."

"Ugh, you're as bad as Brains. He nearly honked on the way home. I told him turbulence is just nature's thrill ride."

John snickered. "I can guess how that went."

"He didn't seem to appreciate it, no." She chuckled. "What time shall I pick you up?"

"0800, please."

"F A B. See you then. Thunderbird Two out."

OoOoOoOoOoO

When Kayo appeared at the doorway to Scott's room, John was talking quietly with his older brother, their hands intertwined. Kayo hung back a moment, just watching them; John's words were too low for her to hear, but the tone of his voice was warm and gentle, and Scott's eyes stayed on his younger brother, blinking calmly in the early morning light filtering through the window. Kayo wasn't entirely sure if Scott was catching everything John was saying, but at least his eyes were open and he looked more...present than he had the last time she'd been here. She also noticed that Scott's hands were no longer restrained, so either John had freed him once Scott was awake, or the doctor had given the nod to do away with them. Either way: Progress.

John held one of Scott's newly liberated hands in both of his and rested his cheek against the scarred knuckles. Kayo's heart warmed as Scott managed a smile at the fond gesture, and let her steps make noise as she entered the room. "'Morning, you two," she said. "Jay, you all ready to go?"

"Sure am." He gave Scott's hand a final squeeze, then laid it back on the bed. "I'll check in with you as soon as I'm up top, okay?"

Scott dipped his chin. "Okay." He kept his smile. "Love you."

"Love you too, Scotty." John picked up his duffel bag and shouldered it, then turned to Kayo. "Ready."

Kayo hung back a moment to kiss Scott's forehead, then turned to leave. They were met at the door by a solemn-faced Gordon, who was carrying a shiny silver gift bag, and the trio spent a few awkward moments trying to get out of each other's way. "You dance divinely, Gordon," Kayo quipped, but her smile faded when their resident joker didn't rise to her attempt at levity.

"Sorry," he muttered, threading his way between them. "See ya, Johnny."

John raised an eyebrow. "See ya, Gordy." He shot a glance at Kayo, but she could only shrug. She kept her eyes on the aquanaut for a moment as he took his place beside Scott, then followed John out the door.

Scott's eyes tracked upward to watch Gordon as he settled into the chair John had just vacated. "Fishie," he said, raising a loose fist a few inches off the blanket.

"That's me," Gordon replied, giving Scott a gentle fistbump. "Howzit goin', Scooter?"

Scott let his hand fall back to the blanket and gave him a slow blink. "So tired."

"I remember what that was like." Gordon cracked a one-sided grin. "Sleep while you can, buddy. You'll be back in the saddle before you know it."

"Hope so." Scott's eyes drifted shut, but Gordon touched his cheek, and he dragged them open again. "Huh?"

"Before you go back to sleep, I have something for you." Gordon brought the gift bag up to rest on the side of the bed, and Scott raised his hand to brush the shiny red curls of ribbon with a fingertip. "Just a little something to inspire you as you get back on your feet. Here, I'll help you."

Scott watched through his eyelashes as Gordon plunged a hand into the artfully fluffed clouds of white tissue and brought out a flat box covered with black velvet. When the bag had been set aside, Gordon gently laid the box on Scott's stomach and worked the controls to raise the head of the bed just a fraction. "Any guesses?" Gordon asked, but Scott shook his head, brows together.

Gordon reached over and lifted the hinged lid to reveal a palm-sized disc of polished gold, surrounded by a deep blue ribbon set in precise folds. On the disc, five interlocking rings were cast in relief over a swimmer breaking the surface in a froth of golden water. He lifted it by the ribbon, letting it wink and flash for a moment, then gently flipped it over to brush a thumb over the letters engraved there: Gordon Cooper Tracy, USA. Men's 100-Meter Freestyle 47.03. 1 August 2058.

"Do you remember this, Scotty?" Gordon turned his gaze from the medal to his brother's face, and found Scott staring intently at the beautiful object as if trying to recall where he'd seen it before.

"Yours?"

Gordon bit his lip. "It's yours now," he said, his voice almost steady. He stood and gently lifted Scott's head away from the pillow, then slipped the ribbon around Scott's neck and laid the medal on his chest. "At least, until the day you can walk across the room and give it back to me."

Scott's eyes filled with tears, and he gave a grunt of frustration as he tried to raise his hands to touch the precious gift. Gordon gathered Scott's hands in his and tucked the medal into the slack fingers, molding them around it until his brother was able to hold it in a loose grip.

"There. Hang on to it for me, okay?" Gordon pressed a brief kiss to his brother's forehead, and they sat with heads together, contemplating their golden bond.

When Alan came in an hour later, he found Scott asleep. Gordon, too, was asleep, his head pillowed on one arm on the side of the bed, the other hand still over Scott's, the medal clutched in their intertwined fingers.