"Thunderbird S, what's your status?" Alan asked, groaning a little under Scott's weight. Scott's arm was slung embarrassingly over his younger brother's shoulder, but he couldn't deny he needed the support.
"ETA thirty minutes. Keep it up, Alan. We'll have you boys out of there in no time." Kayo's crisp voice cut through the salty air.
"Nice, Kayo. I'm thinking Shadow could rival Thunderbird One for speed," John quipped, eliciting a throaty chuckle from Scott.
"No one rivals my baby, Johnny. We all know Thunderbird One is the best ship."
"There'd be no use for Thunderbird One without the communications and resources of Thunderbird Five."
"Hey! Let's not discount Thunderbird Three."
"Isn't Thunderbird S doing the rescuing?"
The light banter continued encouragingly with each aching step. Scott shifted his weight slightly and fell into a labored stride. Sheepishly, he thought about his earlier conversation with John and his shoulders dipped slightly at the memory. His younger brother had called him a hero. Him, of all people! A sidelong glance proved Alan was having more trouble keeping him upright than he let on, but still he persevered. Alan, whose head must be killing him, and yet he insisted on taking the lead and following John's coordinates when Scott failed to do so. A real hero, Scott mused, though he thought the word was fitting for each member of his family. Virgil and Gordon, continuing to help those in need even when two of their own were in danger. John, remaining calm and providing aid despite the distance. Kayo and Brains, always ready to lend a helping hand. Grandma, never allowing their resolve to waver. Dad, believing in their cause.
Scott just couldn't think of himself in the same way. He was too flawed, often taking one facet of his personality and driving it like a wrench within his family's perfect balance. Dad's missing and may not come back? Better take on the burden of leading International Rescue entirely by himself. Someone makes a minor mistake on a mission? Better drill them all mercilessly and demand perfection, even at the peak of exhaustion. Alan gets too close to the side of a dangerously high cliff? Better smother him to death with his protective tendencies instead of treating him like an adult. He sighed and Alan took the noncommittal noise as a sign of pain. He felt the blonde tighten his grip on the utility belt and hug him closer, murmuring words of encouragement.
The path gradually led away from the sandy, rock-hewn cliffs and into a deep copse of trees. Left to their own devices, the roots and vines had run wild, twisting around thick underbrush and battling the earth itself for dominance. Alan and Scott's already slow pace nearly stilled to a halt as they were forced to stop their rhythm and pick carefully through the unruly terrain.
"Al…?" Scott said tentatively as he neared…something…on the ground. His vision was blurry and the blood from his head wound had started to congeal the eyelashes of one eye together. His younger brother followed his gaze and gave the brunette a reassuring nod.
"It's nothing, Scott. Just a root and then some brush. You can do this. I'll be supporting you the whole time. Just move your good leg – yeah, the left one – over first, then we'll get your knee over, alright?" Scott could feel himself nodding, though he didn't know if he was just parroting his brother or actually agreeing with the plan. Either way, he needed to move. Scott gripped Alan's shoulder tightly before gingerly lifting up his left leg. His breath caught at the wave of agony that washed over his wounded knee as his body attempted to compensate for the lost balance. Alan pulled him tighter still as he set his foot gently down on the other side of the barrier.
"Scott? You okay?" John. Asking if he was okay after stepping over a root. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
"Scotty?" A little more urgency this time.
"Johnny, I'm okay. Just one more step and I'm golden." His voice came out raspy and shaky. Scott hadn't realized how badly he was trembling. He lifted his swollen knee before he could give it much thought and couldn't hold back a yelp as pain arced through the area like a lightning bolt.
"That's it, Scott. Up and over. I got you," Alan said as John and Kayo provided their own verbal encouragements. He slowly, slowly, lowered his foot over the protruding root and, with a sigh of relief, made contact with the ground. Hunched over, he drew himself up straighter, placing proportionate weight excruciatingly back onto his right leg. A sinister 'click' from under his foot caused him to freeze in terror. He grasped Alan's petite frame in a crushing hold to stop his knee from giving out.
"Don't. Move," Scott murmured, instinctively lowering his voice. He recognized that sound. He'd heard it often enough at the Air Force training compound.
A chorus of concerned voices surrounded him but only Alan's cut through the chaos. "What is it? What's going on?"
It's going to be fine. You're safe. I'll take care of you. I should never have brought you here. He swallowed thickly, trying to will the words to come. Guilt. Shame. More guilt. "Alan, I'm so, so, sorry. For everything. Everything I've ever done." His body shook and he tightened his grip around the youngest Tracy.
Bewilderment and fear colored his brother's voice. "Scott, what happened?"
"It's all my fault. This island must've been a war zone at one time." He cringed at his own recklessness. "I stepped on a pressure plate, Al. It's connected to an explosive. If I even try to lift my right foot…"
"…Game over." Alan whispered, eyes widening in terror.
