Just a little one-shot based on a prompt: How far we've come

Hope you enjoy.

"I can't do it."

Read the situation. Analyse the data. React accordingly.

"Okay." John turned back to the data-pad in his hands.

"Ok-ay?" Gordon's defeatism was tinged with a hint of disbelief.

John shrugged. "Okay."

He stared at the numbers in front of him, not taking any of it in. He was waiting. Just a few seconds longer…

"What'd you mean, okay?"

He kept his head bowed to hide his smirk.

"You said you can't do it. Fine. I'm not going to make you."

"You're not?"

"Why should I? You know your limits. I don't." That was a lie. "Not my job to make you do something you don't want to do."

"That's… that's not how I thought you'd react." Gordon now sounded confused. John kept his expression neutral as he looked up.

"What? I'm supposed to give you the pep talk, the 'you can do this', the 'don't give up' speech every time you stop? Better things to do: I'll leave that to Scott."

He looked down again. If he held Gordon's gaze, he'd never keep up the pretence.

Of course he cared. There was no way he was letting Gordon quit. Not now. But Gordon had already had every inspirational speech there was. He'd only dig his heels in if John tried another. John got it: heck, he'd never have stayed as optimistic as Gordon. The kid was an inspiration, and not just to his family.

But he didn't want his brother putting a mask on and pretending while John was here, then sinking further once he'd left. If Gordon said he couldn't, then John's job right now was to agree with him and not make a fuss. Gordon's own stubborn nature and determination to prove everyone – especially himself – wrong would mean he'd pull himself out of his funk.

It was hard though. Hard to sit here, seeing Gordon staring at the floor out of the corner of his eye, hearing his brother breathe hard. He wanted to soothe him the way he always had, but Gordon didn't need that.

"I-,"

"Gordon. One of us thinks you can. One of us thinks you can't. I'm not going to sit here arguing about it with you. Doesn't matter what I think. If you say you can't, then you won't, meaning it's not an argument I can win. I don't enter battles I can't win."

"Neither do I."

There it was. The defiance, the hint of pride under Gordon's uncertainty. No matter what he'd been through, he was a Tracy. None of them quit. Not even when the element they'd spent their life worshipping had betrayed them in the worst possible way.

Then John heard it. The slightest whisper as a slippered foot shuffled a few millimetres across the floor. There came another. Then the creak of the bed as Gordon shifted his weight.

Very slowly, making sure he didn't draw attention, John placed his data-pad to the side. He did know Gordon's limits: this would be pushing them and he was ready to react. But he kept his movements carefully controlled, not breaking Gordon's concentration.

His brother was moving almost as slowly as he was. He edged forward, teeth gritted, as he eased himself into an upright position.

It was painfully slow. And judging by what John could hear of Gordon's sharp intake of breath, just painful, period.

But his brother stood. Inch by agonising inch, he walked across the room until he reached the dresser where the jug of water waited that had caused this whole debate. His hand was shaking as he poured, his grip wavered-,

John was there. His hand curled around Gordon's, holding the glass. His other arm slipped around his brother's back, supporting him as he helped Gordon drink. Once they'd put the glass down, he smiled.

"You did it."

Gordon stared at him. He looked exhausted. Not relinquishing his hold on his little brother, John snagged a chair with his foot, spun it towards them and lowered Gordon into it.

"Look how far you've come," he said, crouching in front of him, hands resting on Gordon's knees. While he wasn't one to initiate physical contact, he knew what it meant to Gordon, and how much his brother needed that right now.

"Four steps." There was frustration, pride, bitterness and accomplishment all mingled in Gordon's tone.

"I don't mean physically," John said with a laugh. "Well, I sorta do. Three weeks ago, you couldn't walk unaided. Two months ago, you couldn't stand up. You just crossed the room by yourself."

"Now I can't get back."

"Since when have you used the word 'can't'. I'm the one with the extended vocabulary, not you. You never used that word before; don't start now."

Gordon dropped his gaze, suddenly looking ashamed. "Sorry."

"Don't be. Just don't forget the difference between can't and won't. You did six steps two days ago: this was never a case of can't."

Gordon nodded. He blushed. And when he looked back up, pride and defiance had taken dominance in his expression and the look in his eyes…

John smiled. It was pure Gordon Tracy looking back at him. A man who'd never understood the word can't.

"I guess I have come pretty far," he muttered.

"Don't forget it," John said, straightening up. "'Cos we're not going to let you."

Gordon finally smiled at him. Then glanced at the bed. Back to his brother.

"What you just said about can't…" He trailed off, sheepishly.

"I lied, before," John said, "I do know your limits. This time, I believe you. Let me know when you're ready."

Gordon gave him a grateful nod. But he sank back in his seat. "I think here's good for now."

That didn't surprise John. His brother hated being in that bed. But it also came as no surprise when Gordon fell asleep five minutes later.

Four steps, six… the number didn't matter. Gordon had come a long way in the last two months. No wonder the kid was exhausted.