Aerophobia - fear of flying
They say that you should get right back on the bike when you fall off.
When that 'bike' is a 19,700kg Lockheed Martin F-22 Raptor that's easier said than done.
All Scott had ever wanted was fly. He recalled times his parents said that he'd always looked to the sky even as a baby and even now the blue called him.
But this time the call didn't give him butterflies, didn't feel like home. This time the blue caused butterflies that caused him to feel sick, have sweaty palms and palpitations…
So Scott didn't look at the sky anymore. He kept his eyes -and feet – firmly on the ground.
His brothers fretted over him, his Grandmother stress-cooked. His Dad tried to talk to him, but Scott didn't want to know, wasn't ready to deal yet with the reason he was grounded.
Jeff watched as Scott fought hard to overcome the physical injuries being shot down and being held as a POW for six months. Every day he was getting better, stronger, fitter. But still Scott refused to go anywhere near the hangar. Didn't look at the sky when the mail plane came in.
Day after day he watched as Scott got better physically but also drowned in the demons that consumed him. And he plotted.
The day came when Jeff needed to return to the mainland, TI needed him to attend in person. After much consideration, and some prompting, he took his mother with him, hoping that the break from parental pressure might give Scott a rest. He left Scott with Kyrano and hoped that he was doing the right thing.
The morning went well.
Scott didn't realise how stressful being around other people, even people he loved and who loved him, had been until he was alone on the Island. He spent the morning just sitting on the beach, toes scrunched up in the sand and eyes resolutely on the ocean his fourth-born brother loved so much.
He'd not felt this light since…since coming home.
The ocean reflected the sky perfectly today, all shades of blue with occasional whites. The thought hit Scott hard. He hadn't thought about the sky at all, but the idea that Gordon's love and his own were almost the same, and he reflectively looked up.
Blue. Blue with a touch of white scudding clouds. A lone Kermadec petrel flew overhead and Scott couldn't take his eyes off the bird as it seemed to float effortlessly above him.
He drew in a shaky breath. It caught and tugged something free from his heart and he found himself laying back and watching the sky, the first time he'd done that since returning home. Even that flight home had been so hard he'd stayed in the back of the jet with the curtains closed and headphones on so he could drown out the sounds.
Now, as he watched, he wondered why he ever felt that way in the first place.
The petrel called and Scott's soul answered.
When Scott didn't come up for lunch a concerned Kyrano went in search of him. When he eventually found him in the last place he'd thought to look he smiled with relief.
Scott was in the hangar, hand on his own jet, just caressing its' nose.
Maybe his healing had come full circle now.