Keeping consistent, equal pressure on the plate was key. A severe enough shift to either side could trigger an explosion even if his foot never left the metallic surface. Scott couldn't help an involuntary shiver as he crushed Alan against his side, a counterbalance against his weakening knee. He strained with the effort of applying downward force on his right leg even as his mind screamed for him to stop. One of Alan's gloved hands swiped a particularly tender scrape on his back while returning the embrace, nearly causing the brunette to stagger forward. His breath seized, inhalation coming in short, irregular bursts as he combated his rising panic. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe.
"…when Kayo arrives, she'll work with Brains to disarm the explosive. In the meantime, try not to move and keep Scott's weight centered." When had John started speaking? Alan's response diminished to a soft muffle as Scott dropped his head into his brother's shoulder from sheer exhaustion. The action condensed his windpipe and made it harder to inhale. Fingers brushed against his forehead, cupping his chin and forcing him to focus on cerulean blue eyes.
He caught fragments of conversation—
"…he can't breathe, what should I…"
"…hyperventilating, he needs to calm down…"
—before the static returned, reducing all outside interferences to white noise. He closed his eyes against the piercing gaze, the rise and fall of his chest taking on an uneasy cadence as he tried to remember how to breathe normally. The attempt was compounded by his intermittent gasps of pain and his grip tightened. He fought his brother's attempts to steady his face, instead turning his sight downwards and trying to scrunch in on himself. The pain was everywhere, consuming his body like a hungry fire intent on reaching his core. His lungs burned with those flickering coals, each intake of air a punishable necessity. The cut above his eye throbbed with the failing effort, then his scalp ached as his brother yanked backwards on his hair, forcing his head up. Tears streaked unbidden down his face as he took a deep lungful of oxygen. The pressure on his hair remained while another vice-like grip locked onto the back of his collar, effectively locking his head and shoulders in place. His back protested angrily against the rigidly enforced posture.
"Scotty, you've gotta stay upright, it'll help you breathe. I'm not trying to hurt you. C'mon, take deep breaths, okay?"
He sucked down mouthfuls of biting wind, eyes squeezed shut against the harsh rays of the sun. The coals lessened slightly as they were doused with the chilly island air.
"…relax, just relax. C'mon, Scotty…"
His breathing settled into a semblance of normalcy, pocketed only by dry coughs and hitches of discomfort. The tugging on his hair ceased, the firm grip readjusting to rest at his shoulder.
"…you're doing great, that's it…"
His knee felt like it would shatter. It was a testament to Alan's resolve he hadn't yet collapsed. He opened his one eye not congealed with blood and, upon seeing his brother's face, shut it quickly. He couldn't stand to look in those eyes. He knew what would be lurking in their depths.
"John, he's doing better. He's alright. Scotty, can you hear me? Just look at me, please. You're okay. Keep breathing. I've got you." Scott shook his head mutely. He didn't deserve to look his brother in the eye. Any of them, in fact. Not after this. He didn't doubt they would forgive him, eventually; no, he doubted his ability to forgive himself.
"Scott…?" The sound of soft whimpering tore through him deeper than any rock. He wrenched his eye open blearily, the pull of his big brother instincts driving him to console the youngest Tracy even under these circumstances.
"Hey, Al." Barely above a whisper, hardly coherent, but there. "I'm here." Bloated pauses settled between each word, like invisible hurdles set too high to overcome. His strength waned with those four words even as Alan's seemed to increase, his brother's hold regaining new vibrancy. For this, Scott was thankful; he sagged slightly into his brother's hold, releasing a small portion of tension welled up along his shoulder blades.
"SCOTT? ALAN? Are you two okay?!" A deep voice rang from Scott's wristcomm, disregarding all official protocols. Static dotted the transmission briefly before John was able to clean up the communication.
"Virg…" Scott couldn't even spit out the second syllable before his voice died in his throat. Remorse coated his heart. He'd completely forgotten about Virgil and Gordon and their mission to assist GDF. His memory of their briefing by the satellite trickled like water through laced fingers. Something about an explosion…collapse…people trapped…"Rescue?" He hoped the one word question would be enough to convey his thoughts. He didn't think he could summon the strength to speak for much longer.
Virgil gave a distracted sigh, probably running his hand through his hair. The raven-haired brother had picked up that habit from Scott, unfortunately. "Textbook operation. All civilians rescued, explosion deemed an accident, no injuries."
The brunette smiled in relief. His form wilted further, eliciting a grunt from the youngest, whose upper body shook with the effort of keeping the eldest upright. His beloved middle brothers were unharmed. His injured knee jerked involuntarily, the motion causing him to list to the side. Alan caught him, though the previous surge of energy was gone.
"John, Kayo. I can't hold on to Scott for much longer. He's falling." Alan's voice shook worse than his trembling arms. A chorus of frightened, concerned brothers heralded Scott, not unlike a choir of angels. The thought was comforting.
"Alan, you can't let him go. I've just landed S, I've got your coordinates, I'll be by your side in a few minutes."
Scott felt a familiar wave of guilt corrode him from the inside out. He didn't want to drag Kayo down with him, too. It was bad enough he wasn't strong enough to save Alan; he refused to let this explosion claim his little sister as well. A slew of voices begged, barked orders, demanded him to speak, urged him not to give up. He thought of Dad. I'm sorry. He was out there, somewhere. I wasn't the leader you needed me to be. His family would find him. He wished Alan could be a part of that reunion. It's all my fault.
The spots appeared at the corners of his vision again, although Alan's pleading wouldn't be enough to stave off unconsciousness this time. Leaves crunched under gentle footfalls while soothing assurances wrapped him in a tight cocoon. The footsteps became louder, stopping momentarily as a slender hand brushed bloody bangs from his face, exposed fingertips cool to the touch.
"K…?" No. She could not be here. She needed to leave before it was too late!
"Scott, I'm here." Her clipped accent exuded confidence. Her half-gloved hand left his face as she knelt by his side. "I'm working on disarming the plate now. You have to stay still. Brains, I'm sending you the images." He tried to reason with her again.
"No…please…I…" he wavered, unable to finish his appeal. He felt his baby brother tighten his embrace.
"You've held out this long. Please, you can do this." He tried to return Alan's hug, but his arms felt limp, disconnected. Try as he might, he couldn't stop the massive trembling that ripped through his body from head to toe.
"Stay with me, Scott. Just a few more wires."
His voice was gone. He couldn't even nod his assent. The brunette leaned more heavily against his brother as his graying world tilting alarmingly to the side. Alan, despite his exhaustion, clung to him even tighter, encouraging him to do the same. Scott's leaden limbs refused to cooperate, his grip releasing his brother's uniform with an agonizing slowness. He swayed even further, the movement breaking his brother's hold and subsequent counterbalance. A sob clawed his throat when he felt his right foot lose contact with the pressure plate. His world turned black.
