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John couldn't remember the last time he had been given the chance to fly Thunderbird Two. It wasn't that he wasn't capable – far from it. They had all been through the same training and John made sure he kept up to date with the simulations every time he was down from Five. There was no telling when a situation like this might arise and he would need to take the wheel – so to speak. But Virgil was too protective of his 'bird – even Gordon wasn't allowed to fly and he was in Two almost as much as Virgil.
John enjoyed the flight home, but had no intention of telling Virgil how rusty his landing had been. Thunderbird Two was back in her hanger without a scratch on her; that was all that mattered. John trailed a hand over the green machine as he left, giving it a reassuring pat as if to thank it for not making him crash on the way home. Then he realised what he was doing and shook his head, bemused.
Heading upstairs, he deliberated between changing out of his uniform and going to check on his brother. Scott won out and John headed towards the infirmary. He didn't have to check if that was where the rest of the family were, he knew. Sure enough, the doors opened to reveal both Gordon and Virgil crowded around a bed, blocking Scott from his view. Gordon had obviously been home long enough to change but he twisted in his chair as John walked in.
"Look who finally has decided to join us."
John didn't answer, but rolled his eyes. He moved further into the room and realised Scott was asleep. The cast on his leg looked bright white in the light of the infirmary, a shocking colour against Scott's tanned skin. It was a stark reminder that not all rescues went according to plan.
"How is he?" John slid into an empty seat, convinced it had only just been vacated by his father. The fact the man wasn't in here answered John's question for him. Their father wouldn't leave any of them if there was even the possibility of anything dangerous.
"Apart from a broken leg and hating that it will take six weeks to heal, fine," Virgil said quietly. He was bent over Scott's leg but sat back to look at John. Although Virgil's eyes were assessing him closely, John saw the pen in his hand and had to smile. It was clear Virgil disliked the white of Scott's cast as well and was already rectifying that. John resisted the urge to look what his brother was drawing until Virgil had finished.
"So," Virgil waved his pen in John's direction. "How was she?"
"Handled like a dream," John lied, smiling as Virgil scowled. His brother still was not happy about someone else getting the chance to fly his 'bird without his permission. John rolled his eyes. "Thought you said Scott was going to be the one worked up over this, not you. He's fast asleep, you're glaring at me like I've grown horns. You can go and check her over yourself if you want?"
Virgil looked torn. He glanced between Scott and the door and John laughed, leaning back in the chair to make himself more comfortable. Eventually, Virgil's frown faded and he bent back over Scott's leg.
"I saw the mountain though," John continued. "You guys were lucky there weren't serious casualties today."
"I know," Virgil murmured. "We obviously got our timing right on this one."
"I should have been out there with you."
"Why?" Virgil looked up again. He must have seen the guilt John was trying to hide for he frowned. "It wouldn't have made any difference, John. Most of the time even Scott didn't have anything to do but stand around yelling orders."
"He was having the time of his life then," Gordon quipped. Although his words were light, John knew Gordon was thinking the same. They were always like this. When one of them was hurt, the others managed to convince themselves it would have been a whole different story if they had just been there. As if John could have stopped that final landslide with his mere presence. Virgil didn't answer Gordon, but shot him a scathing look. Gordon grinned in response but stood up, linking his fingers and stretching them over his head.
"I need a swim. I can't sit around here any longer while Scott sleeps the day away. Some of us have work to do."
He turned and left. If he was aware of his two conscious older brothers watching him, then Gordon didn't look around.
"He hates sitting in here," John murmured. Although he was still in his uniform, he had no intention of moving. He and Gordon might feel the guilt of not having been there. But he knew Virgil was having to deal with the fact that he was there and there was still nothing he could do. While Scott was out of commission, it was up to John to make sure their little brother was alright. Scott would never forgive him otherwise.
Virgil nodded absentmindedly, tilting his head to one side in order to examine his artwork critically. John half-stood, leaning over so he could see what Virgil had done. He smiled. Thunderbird One was traced up the side of Scott's leg, the detail so precise John knew Virgil had every bolt and mechanism traced onto the cast. He whistled appreciatively as he sank back into his seat.
"Not my best," Virgil murmured. John didn't respond. Virgil was his own worst critic when it came to drawing and he couldn't imagine sketching on a cast was easy.
"Do you remember all those ones you did for Gordon?" John asked. "A new one every day. He would have been a walking doodle by the end of it if he could actually walk."
Virgil nodded with a smile. "I had to do something to cheer him up." He glanced down at Scott and sighed. John knew that was his opening.
"You got to him as quickly as you could."
"I should have been up there with him."
"Think about it logically, Virg," John said. "If you were up there, the chances are you wouldn't have been in the Excavator either. You both would have been caught in that slide, both would have been hurt and we would have had to come out in Three in order to bring you home."
Virgil stared at him impassively for a moment. Then his lips twitched. Finally, he gave in and smiled and John knew he was picturing a rocket turning up on the scene just because the others had no other way of getting there.
"He didn't answer, John," Virgil said softly, his eyes locked on Scott. "The whole area was devastated, I didn't know where he was and he didn't answer me."
"You said it yourself; he's fine." John reached across the bed and squeezed his brother's shoulder. "It's not him you need to worry about now anyway. It's yourself. Well, all of us to be honest."
"Why?"
"Scott's grounded for at least six weeks. He's barely going to be able to move. Do you really think we're going to be able to survive this?"
Virgil groaned, dropping his head into his hands theatrically. "He's going to be an utter nightmare."
John didn't respond. There was nothing for him to say, not considering he had been thinking exactly the same thing. Scott had an active life here on the island everyday as it was. He wasn't going to handle being forced to sit around and do nothing very well. That wasn't including rescues…
Knowing he had got through to his brother the best he could, John stood up, intending to get changed before returning to the infirmary. This was as docile as Scott was going to be for the next six weeks and John fully intended to make the most of it while he could. As he left, John crossed his fingers and wished it was a quiet few weeks in regards to people needing their help. He usually liked gaining some field time while he was down on Earth. But with Scott out of action, Virgil was right. Their brother was going to be a pain for the next six weeks.
TBTB
Scott shifted his weight to the palms of his hands and prepared to rise. He knew he was going to have to slide along the lounger to reach the crutches propped up at the end. Admittedly it hadn't been a great idea leaving them there, but it had made balancing to sit down easier with his hands free. He hadn't thought about getting up.
A few days had passed since he had woken up in the infirmary to find his leg in a cast and Virgil's drawing up the side. Brains had been swift when he had put the cast on, but the pain had been great and Scott had been exhausted when he was done. It had only taken a few moments for the next lot of pain relief to kick in and Scott had fallen asleep halfway through a conversation with his younger brothers. When he had woken up again, it was evening and said younger brothers had morphed into his father and John. Scott knew he had been asleep for a while simply because he was starving.
He had stayed in the infirmary for most of the next day. Not through any choice of his own, but because there hadn't really been anywhere else for him to go. His brothers were in the process of bringing most of his belongings downstairs so he could use the spare-room as a bedroom and a rare day of bad weather meant sitting outside wasn't an option. Scott could have shifted to the lounge, but no one had provided him with a way of moving and he was trapped.
That hadn't stopped him from groaning when Gordon had appeared with a wheelchair and a pair of crutches. Scott had grabbed the crutches before shoving at the chair and sending it spinning to the other side of the room. If his brother honestly thought he was going to get in that thing, then Gordon was in for a surprise. But the smirk on Gordon's face indicated he wasn't at all shocked by Scott's decision and he hadn't said anything as he had helped his brother adjust the height of the crutches. Scott had given him a brief smile of thanks and Gordon had gone to hold open the door so Scott could make his bid for freedom.
It horrified him how long it took to move from the infirmary to his bedroom. He was used to physical work – the constant rescues put his body through things most people never experienced in their lifetime, let alone daily – but the pressure on his hands and how much it hurt shocked him. By the time he had crashed down in his new room, Scott had been trembling. He had refused any more pain relief from Virgil and regretted it.
But Gordon quietly told him to put a pair of socks over the handles of the crutches and left Scott to pull himself together. Scott had done so, reminding himself that Gordon had gone through this being told he wouldn't regain the use of his legs. At least it was only six weeks for Scott.
When the weather had looked clearer the next day, Scott had forced himself outside and promptly fallen asleep on the sun-lounger. Now here he was, trying to work out how to shuffle along in order to reach the crutches to get back inside.
"You're really made this hard for yourself, haven't you?"
Scott looked up to find Virgil was watching him with an amused expression on his face.
"You could help a guy out and pass them over, you know."
"And miss watching you struggle? Don't think so. You got yourself into this mess, Scotty, I want to see how you get out of it."
Scott flipped his brother the finger and for a split-second, both of them braced themselves. Their grandmother had an uncanny ability to turn up whenever one of them swore. But there was no sharp reprimand and Scott breathed a sigh of relief knowing he had got away with it. He shuffled along a bit, stretching to reach the crutches. His fingers brushed against them but he couldn't get a grip. He moved a bit further and this time, he knocked the stick as he reached for it and it fell over in the opposite direction. Scott stared at it in dismay. He couldn't get up without them – his leg was still too sore to even try jolting it – and now he had no idea what to do.
Virgil rolled his eyes and walked forward. "You're hopeless," he said. But Scott could hear the fondness in his tone as he bent down and picked up the crutches, handing them over to Scott. "If I hadn't been here, what would you have done?"
"Called Gords."
"He's not at your beck and call."
"He seems to be," Scott mused. It had taken him by surprise, actually. Every time he had tried to figure out how to do something over the last couple of days, Gordon had appeared with a quiet word of advice and not a scathing comment to be heard. He thought his younger brother would have taken the chance to gloat over the fact he could do what he wanted without Scott breathing down his neck.
"He knows how it feels," Virgil said quietly. Scott shifted the crutches over, propping his leg awkwardly up on the next lounger. Virgil came to sit next to him.
"Guess he does know all the tricks," Scott admitted. He ran his fingers through his hair. "Look, Virg…"
"You've already thanked me for coming to get your ass off that mountain, you don't have to keep doing it."
"I do though." Scott put a hand on his brother's shoulder. "I know you. You won't be just accepting this. So go on, spill."
Virgil gave him an amused look and Scott knew he had been right. But Virgil sighed, resting his weight back on his palms and staring at the sky.
"Strangely enough, I'm fine. You're the one with the broken leg, not me."
Scott watched him for a moment before grinning. "John already got it out of you, didn't he?"
"Before you even left the infirmary," Virgil confirmed. His amused look turned into a proper smile. "You two are freaky, sometimes."
"You're just as bad, kid. If it were Gordon or even Alan who had been out there with me, do you honestly think you would have left them alone?"
"Yes! I'm not as bad as you."
"Nope, you're worse."
Virgil shoved him lightly on the shoulder and Scott pretended to overbalance.
"Hey! Be nice, I'm injured."
"Why does that mean I have to be nice?"
"Because I said so," Scott retorted smugly. Virgil stood up and Scott frowned. It was unlike Virgil to back down that easily. Then his brother took a step towards the crutches and Scott's eyes widened in alarm.
"Don't you dare," he warned. Virgil's hand hovered over them as he threatened to topple them again. Scott didn't realise he was edging forward, his hand gripping the edge of the lounger as he tried to work out whether he could move in time or not. But then Virgil backed down.
"I'd only have to come back and help you." He muttered, stepping away from the lounger and taking a few steps towards the house. Scott grabbed the crutches, making sure he kept them out of Virgil's reach and securely in his own hands.
"I came out to tell you dinner is almost ready."
He disappeared and Scott began the slow task of getting to his feet (well, foot) and making his way back to the house. He knew by the end of his six weeks, movement would be a lot easier. But for now, it was a painstakingly slow process and he hoped his brothers had left him some food.
He reached the house just as his grandmother made to call the others. Scott smiled, knowing Virgil had come to tell him early in order to make sure he was in by the time the others got there. As he heard Gordon racing towards the table and then the sound of John and their father talking quietly as they approached, Scott slipped into his seat and pretended to look bored.
"How slow can you be?" he moaned as Gordon skidded into the room. "Been waiting ages."
Gordon pulled a face as he too took his place at the table and Scott laughed. Just because he couldn't do some of the things he was used to didn't mean he couldn't still have the last laugh. In the end, it was Virgil who was the last one to the table, muttering something about having to go from one end of the house to the other. Scott shot him a grateful smile when the others weren't looking, however, and Virgil nodded in response.