Hi everyone,

My apologies for the rather late arrival of this chapter - illness forced me to postpone my posting. Hence I have posted two chapters this week to thank you for your patience - and all of your wonderful reviews! It was so lovely to receive such a warm welcome back and I am so glad that you liked the first chapter.

I must take a moment to prepare you that I am trying a new writing technique that uses character perspective to indicate the passing of time. Rather than rely on author's notes such as "Two days later...", I will use the characters to inform you if any time has passed. I hope this will not be too confusing and will rely on your feedback as to whether or not I have succeeded in this particular challenge I have set myself.

So read on and enjoy! I look forward to your next reviews!

Boann xxx

Chapter 2

It didn't take long for the boy to fall asleep, but his grip on Mary's hand did not loosen.

He's so helpless, Mary thought sadly.

She'd spend a long time at his bedside. He'd been found just before dawn a day after the Thunderbirds had left. The rescue volunteers had begun digging out the bodies of the dead. They found the boy sprawled out under the remains of a table in the ruins of the community centre, broken and bleeding. He'd been wearing some sort of uniform, which had been torn to shreds. Maybe he'd been one of the maintenance crew. Initially, they believed him to be dead, but the careful observations of one man had revealed that he was, in fact, alive. He'd been rushed to the hospital and spent nearly fourteen hours in surgery. His injuries were so severe, and the punctured lung and internal bleeding especially complicated things. They'd lost his pulse three times, but he'd kept fighting. Doctors had said that the table, which he'd no doubt dived under when the quake hit, had certainly saved his life.

The strangest thing was that nobody could identify him. The hospital had taken his fingerprints and blood samples, but found no match in the medical records. It was like the boy had appeared out of nowhere. It had taken only two days for the word to spread around town. Now Mitchellton was buzzing with gossip about the mysterious miracle boy. So many people had lost loved ones and friends. The boy had given them hope and inspired them to fight just as hard as he was.

Mary had been helping out at the hospital when he'd been brought in. From the moment she saw him, her heart had nearly broken. He'd looked so young and vulnerable, and he'd been so alone. She'd remained by his side ever since.

She regarded the sleeping boy sympathetically before turning to her husband.

"Do you think he's going to be okay?"

John sighed, placing his hands on his hips. "I don't know," he admitted. "He's got a long road ahead of him, and that's not considering the risk of complications. His leg should heal fine. He's breathing on his own now, which says great things about his lungs. I'm keeping an eye on the lacerations in his arm. We've got him on antibiotics so hopefully that will cover the risk of infection."

"And the memory loss?" Mary inquired.

"It's a common result of a head injury," John reassured her. "It should come back to him in time. Right now we have to focus on his recovery."

Mary nodded and went back to watching the boy.

John sighed again and put a hand on his wife's shoulder. "You should go home and get some sleep."

"I'm fine," she insisted.

"Mary, you haven't left this hospital in days. You can't watch the boy all the time," John said.

"Rupert Thomson's taking care of the ranch. It'll be fine for a few more days," Mary argued softly.

She looked up at her husband. "He needs me, John. He's all alone and scared, and we can't ask him to go through this without support."

"He has support," John pointed out. "And he's being taken care of. Right now, you need to take care of yourself."

"I will," she smiled.

John was about to insist when his pager went off. "Think about it," he told her, planting a kiss on her forehead before he left.

Mary smiled fondly. John was tired. And when John was tired, he worried. Although the rest of the town was steadily getting back on track, the hospital was still overflowing with wounded victims of the quake.

Mary wasn't the only one who hadn't left the hospital in days. Many of the staff were still working overtime and some relatives and friends of victims refused to leave.

At least the others who were hurt have relatives and friends, Mary mused, stroking the boy's hand with her thumb. He can't be older than sixteen. I wonder if his parents are wondering where he is.

OoOoO

Two weeks today.

Gordon sat on the edge of the pool, dangling his feet in the water. This was as close as he'd come to the pool in nearly a week. For the first few days after Alan's disappearance, Gordon had slaughtered himself in the water, desperately seeking peace through the hundreds of laps he swam. Back and forth. Back and forth. But after three days, the pain had still not gone away. He'd given up trying. He'd turned to using avoidance to prevent himself from feeling.

His father had let his boys tend to their grief in their own personal ways. At night he would visit each of them to talk. Gordon never talked, and he doubt his other brothers had either. Even John, who'd been brought down from Thunderbird 5 within hours of hearing the news, had become a recluse. Gordon had only seen him once since he'd arrived home. Now it had been two weeks since the day Alan had gone missing.

Gordon looked out towards the horizon. The rising sun offered no hope or comfort. It was simply another day. It was another day without his partner in crime. It was another day without his confidant. It was another day he'd habitually go to Alan's room in search of his brother, before stopping halfway down the hall and remembering. He didn't cry anymore. He'd run out of tears. Crying didn't solve anything anyway. It wouldn't bring his brother back.

Then the voice had appeared. A small voice in his head that constantly reminded him of his own pitiful predicament. You're in pain. You don't want to face another day. You miss your brother. Your back hurts. The voice had become so persistent, he'd waved it off as a normal side effect of grief and accepted it.

"Gordon."

Gordon looked up, surprised at being disturbed.

Scott stood beside him, his face a mirror image of Gordon's stoic one. Scott's voice was strained, as if he'd been screaming for so long that he'd lost it.

So that's what I heard last night, Gordon mused.

"Dad wants you in his office," Scott stated emotionlessly before heading back inside the house.

Gordon didn't respond at first. He had been holding a lot of bitterness towards the rest of his family. It wasn't that he blamed them; it just seemed like he was the only one who cared that something didn't seem right. Although his father had constantly monitored the area for any sign of Alan, nothing was happening. His brothers, it seemed, had given up hope already. They'd each retreat to their rooms and emerge looking like zombies. Virgil wasn't playing the piano. Scott wasn't running. John wasn't up all night star gazing. It was just too weird. Even the Kyranos and Hackenbackers had become reclusive. It seemed like they were all convinced that it was end, that Alan was never coming back.

Sighing, Gordon got up and obediently walked to Jeff's office. He was surprised to see Scott, Virgil, John, the Kyranos and the Hackenbackers there too. Everyone wore the same exhausted expression.

"What's going on?" Gordon asked as he perched on the arm of the couch on which John sat.

Jeff stood in front of the windows, his arms folded. His eyes were glassy, there was a permanent crease in his brow, and his voice was scratchy, but he addressed all of them firmly. "I've brought you all here to talk about an important matter," he started. "As you know, we've been very lucky since Indiana. We've had no rescue calls. But that's going to change. Sooner or later, someone somewhere is going to call International Rescue for help."

Gordon saw a few worried glances being exchanged. They all felt the same. How could they help someone now? What if it cost them someone else this time?

Jeff watched all of them intently. "We must decide," he said. "We must decide whether or not to refuse that call. Permanently."

Gordon's head shot up at that last word. "What?"

His father looked at him. "I am prepared to officially relieve you of your duties, disband the Thunderbirds and shut down International Rescue."

Gordon looked around disbelievingly when nobody objected. "No!" He stood up. All eyes went to him. "We can't do that. We can't just abandon people like that!"

"Gordon," Virgil softly interrupted. "We have to think about this."

Gordon looked around. "You're not seriously considering this, are you?"

Nobody responded, but their eyes all exuded the same regret and opinion.

"I can't believe this," Gordon murmured, shaking his head. He looked imploringly at his father. "You're giving up? After everything you've ever taught us, after everything you've made us believe, you're telling us that it was worthless? Whatever happened to not giving up at any cost?"

"Gordon, if I could change what happened, I would." Jeff croaked. "I would give everything I have to change it. But we need to think about what must happen now."

Gordon scoffed. "You're just scared, Dad. You're scared of what might happen if we go out again."

"Aren't you?" Scott asked from where he was leaning against the wall by the door. "What if we lose someone else? Haven't we given enough? Haven't we sacrificed enough for other people?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Gordon saw Tintin look away to hide her tears.

Gordon felt a familiar tugging sensation at the back of his throat but he forbade the tears from coming. "If we give up, it all would have been for nothing!"

Virgil sighed wearily. "I can't do this anymore, Gords. After what happened, maybe it's best if we shut down."

"Best?" Gordon repeated, looking from Virgil to Jeff. "You mean what's best for you. If anything, this should inspire us to keep going. Do we want people to suffer like we are?"

"It's not like that, Gordon," Jeff gently said. "If we are not able to function as a result of what has happened, we need to make that decision."

Gordon looked around at everyone's dismal faces. "John?" he asked hopefully.

John looked up. He had been staring at the floor for most of the time. He shook his head. "I'm sorry, Gords. I can't be up in space. I need to be here with my family. I can't do that while International Rescue is operational."

Fermat nodded. "I wanted to be a Th…Th…a part of the team because of Alan. We were going to go on an adventure together. I c…c…it would be wrong to go on the adventure without him."

Gordon gritted his teeth, his eyes watering. Nobody spoke. "Fine," he finally said.

Jeff sighed. "That settles it, then. As of now, the Thunderbirds are officially disbanded."

Gordon wanted to scream. He wanted to break something. Instead he remained steely and silent. The Kyranos and Hackenbackers left silently. Gordon went to follow them.

"Gordon, wait," said Jeff. "I need to talk to you boys."

Gordon turned, fuming. "About what? Alan?" he scoffed. "There's nothing to talk about, Dad. You've all made it perfectly clear that you've forgotten him. Instead of honouring him you're sweeping the dirt under the rug and avoiding anything that will remind you of him."

"That's not true, Gordon," Scott argued. "Dad's only trying to look out for us."

"Bullshit!" Gordon snapped.

"That's enough!" Jeff raised his voice. "Gordon, I don't have time for this. The decision has been made."

"Yeah, you sure honoured Alan's last wishes, didn't you?" Gordon sneered.

His father didn't respond to the jibe. He remained solemn. "We need to start making arrangements for the funeral."

Gordon practically exploded. "What?"

Jeff closed his eyes. "Gordon, please."

"No!" yelled Gordon. The tears he had kept at bay were now running down his face. "You're giving up on him? He could still be alive, Dad! We haven't even-"
"Gordon, we've tried," Jeff argued. "I've looked everywhere, used all my military, government, and media resources. I haven't found anyone matching Alan's description at hospitals and orphanages in the area. Hell, I even conducted a worldwide search!" said Jeff.

"I've been reading the transcripts too, Dad," Gordon said. "The Recovery Team Leader at Mitchellton told you that he didn't find any body matching Alan's description in the ruins of the community centre or anywhere else in the town. They've cleared all the debris so there's no chance they've missed anything, but they still haven't found him. If there's no body, he's not dead! He couldn't have just vanished into thin air!"

"What would you have me do?" Jeff yelled, startling them all. His blue eyes glared at Gordon.

"Well obviously something's not right," Gordon argued. "And I'd start looking in Mitchellton."

"I will decide what action to take!" Jeff shouted. "I do not need your foolish delusions making this any harder!"

Gordon felt like he'd been slapped. He hadn't been imagining it. His family really had resigned to the worst possible scenario.

"Maybe he's right, Gordon," John gently imputed. "Maybe it's time to put this to rest."

Gordon's forced smile was more like a grimace. "Sure, guys," he nodded. "If that's what you want. But I'm not giving up. If you want to stay here and feel sorry for yourself and let other people suffer for it, that's fine with me. I'm sure that, wherever he is, Alan's very proud of you all."

He stormed out as tears fell down his cheeks.