"—SCOTT! Answer me, please!" The eldest Tracy jerked from his reverie, wincing at the sudden movement. His whole body felt heavy and sluggish. He opened his eyes – when had he closed them? – and sought out his wrist comm. He felt like he was moving underwater.
"John?" he asked dazedly, his confusion evident. He could hear his brother's exhalation of relief.
"Scotty, thank goodness! You've been out of it for a few minutes." Had he? Scott grimaced at his own helplessness. His own weakness. He couldn't think clearly and he was scared. Scared that his head injury was worse than he originally thought. Scared that Alan would never wake up. Scared that something like this would happen to another member of his family on a future mission. Scott crossed his arms, subconsciously trying to shield himself from the cool wind and stop his body from trembling.
"Scotty? You still with me?" Oh. John was still talking. He tried to pull himself together even as the world shifted out of focus.
"John, I can't do this."
"What are you talking about?"
"I can't…be like Dad. I can't get us back up to Thunderbird One. And even if I could, I'm in no shape to fly. Alan needs medical attention, and…" It's my fault. All my fault. He gazed down at Alan. His baby brother looked hurt and small and vulnerable, like he could break apart at the slightest touch. Scott shuddered and studied the bloodstain on his sleeve again.
He heard John hesitate, as if debating how to respond. Scott couldn't blame his younger brother for being angry with him. Alan was out cold and they hadn't even completed the satellite repairs. He braced himself for the worst. "Scott…I've looked up to you for as long as I can remember. Today is no different. Don't ever doubt yourself. Not now."
The eldest let out a wrecked breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. This wasn't the response he expected. Nor the one he deserved. "No, you shouldn't…not me, John. Please. Dad was – is – so much better. I try to be like him, but I just can't…a-and now Alan's…he's…" Scott lost his train of thought and stared feebly at the young astronaut. John shouldn't have so much faith in him.
John's reply was matter-of-fact. "I don't want you to be Dad. I love Dad and everyday I wish that we find him, but he's not my hero. That honor is all yours."
A hero? He didn't feel like a hero but, even so, his brother's praise softened the sharp edge of guilt that threatened to consume him. The redhead seemed to sense the change in mood and spoke rapidly, as if he was afraid Scott would slip into another long silence. "Scotty, we're gonna get through this. But I need you to listen to me. You need to follow my instructions. Let me take charge, okay?" Scott gave his consent.
"Good. Now, I've got to inform the others of what's happened. I'll keep our line open, so I'll hear you if you need help, but I've got to mute my end. Understand? You won't hear me for a few minutes, but I'll be right here." Scott managed a bleary response that didn't even coalesce itself into a word. John pressed forward without breaking stride. "In the meantime, I need you to test out that knee. Try to stand." The line buzzed slightly as the mute filter was applied, then silence once again reigned across the island.
Scott didn't want to stand. He was gripped by the irrational fear that he'd be that much farther away from Alan if he stood to his full height. He hurriedly located his brother's pulse, surprisingly strong, and willed himself to think logically. Large spires of rock surrounded him and, further down the path, an immense overlapping canopy connected a grove of tall trees. There was no room for any of the Thunderbirds to land or even for a rescue platform to be sent down. Which meant they had to move. Scott took a shaky breath. Then another. Despite everything, John had called him a hero. He wanted desperately to live up to that expectation.
The oldest brother pulled himself into a sitting position with his back taut against the cliff face, the pockmarked stone providing adequate handholds as he prepared to shift his good leg underneath him. He cringed as his injured knee tightened reflexively against the movement. Undeterred, Scott pushed himself upwards into a half crouch before slowly moving his throbbing knee. He exhaled in short, harsh breaths as he bore weight on the stiff appendage for the first time since smashing it into the boulder. The expected wave of pain hit him much harder than he anticipated, almost causing him to lose his grip. He fought off the accompanying nausea by hanging his head and counting the seconds until his breathing stabilized. His whole body trembled with the effort, sweat stinging his congealed head wound and threatening to drip into his eyes. A tentative half step forward proved his swollen knee could support his weight. He took another bold step and released his grasp from the gritty handholds. Swaying, but still standing. He inched closer to his unconscious sibling, grimacing with each little footfall, just as John's voice rang blessedly from his comm.
"We've got a plan in motion. You've gotta hang in there."
"Hey, I'm not the one…hanging around all the time." Scott's joke was weak, but had the desired effect. John chuckled lightly.
"Just for that, I'm holding you to a bucket of beers when I come home."
"I thought you were providing the beers."
"Good man, Scotty. Way to pass my memory test." Scott rolled his eyes, immediately regretting that decision as the world spun around in a looping circle. "The fastest and easiest method for your extraction is if you can carry Alan to a spot where Thunderbird S can land. If you're unable to support his weight, we can use alternative methods, but with Alan's head injury—"
"I can handle it." Scott could physically feel John's scrutiny through his audio link.
"…Are you sure?" No, he wasn't sure of anything at the moment but the longer his brother stayed unconscious, the greater the potential for permanent damage. He couldn't take that chance. As if to prove his worth, Scott edged as close to Alan as possible and lowered his torso. He screamed as his back protested in agony, the cry lodging itself in his throat. He bent the rest of the way over, positioning one hand under Alan's knees and the other supporting his neck. His knee shook as he brought his brother's dead weight up and close to his chest, pain radiating from his entire being. He stood slowly, quivering under the additional burden, but he was up. Alan was in his arms and they were getting off of this wretched island. He basked in his accomplishment until he registered the incessant chatter coming from his comm. John was speaking erratically.
"Scotty, please, I just heard a yell, if you're okay, please respond. Scotty, come in. Don't do this to me again! SCOTT—"
The eldest found himself reassuring his brother of his presence for the second time in as many minutes. "I'm here. Sorry, it was my back. But I'm good now."
Silence. "Scotty, you're not good. In fact, in some ways you're worse off than Alan. This is too dangerous."
"I'm not leaving him here. I've already got him in my arms and I'm standing. Tell me where to go."
John sighed heavily. Scott guessed he was rubbing his temples. In a few seconds, a dim 3D image of an aerial view of the island came into focus on his wrist comm. A light blue line snaked elegantly through the representation. "Kayo's suiting up now. We've located a clearing a little over a mile from your position that is big enough to accommodate Thunderbird S. I've indicated the rendezvous point on your comm. Follow the blue line, and it'll lead you right there."
