Greetings! I hope everyone had a good Christmas etc. Me? I spent most of the day writing, so yeah, I had a good day:)
And so, as a belated present for everyone, I give you another chapter. A bit shorter this time I will admit, but a chapter is a chapter, so enjoy.
Standard Disclaimer: Thunderbirds property of Gerry and Sylvia Anderson (Apologies for the misspelling more than once, I feel stupid...)
"Virgil?"
"Over here Dad!"
"John! Virgil, what's happening?"
"Don't panic! He's fine. I just need to get a line in."
The two voices seemed to swirl around and merge into one loud cacophony that thundered around his head. Confused, he tried to shift away from it, groaning as the slight movement caused a spike of pain to lance all the way down his body.
"John? Open your eyes for me."
He struggled his way towards conscious thought towards the deep voice, finally managing to crack open an eyelid a fraction, then immediately regretted that decision up as the bright light above him caused his whole head to explode.
"That's it. You can do it."
A sharp pain in his hand caused him to whimper. Surely he'd been through enough already today?
"Shh, easy, easy, don't worry. Virgil's just giving you some more painkillers."
Sure enough a few seconds later the fireworks in his head had diminished slightly and he slowly pried his eyes open to be greeted by a black blob floating above him, which was thankfully blocking out the light.
"Come on. There we go!"
Blinking slowly, the blob eventually focused and coalesced into a familiar face, over which a small hopeful smile was spread.
"Dad...?" He croaked, relaxing under the gentle hand that caressed his forehead.
"Yes John, I'm right here." Jeff soothed, relief evident in his voice as he ran his fingers through the soft blond hair. "Good to have you home."
"...Stay...?" John whispered, attempting to lift up a heavy arm to reach out, only for his father to grab it and place it back down.
"Of course, John. Of course." Jeff replied, stroking the back of John's limp hand, careful to avoid the IV line that was inserted in it.
"Mmm." John sighed in relief, as once again his eyelids slid shut, but this time he had a smile on his face. He was home. He was finally home.
"Rest well, my little Spaceman." Jeff muttered, bending down and placing a kiss on his son's forehead. He took a deep breath, fighting back the tears that were forming. "Rest well. I'll be right here."
"Dad?" He was brought out of his thoughts as he felt a hand on his shoulder. He lifted his head to see Virgil standing next to him. "He's almost ready to be moved. Can you give me a hand?"
Jeff stood, shaking his head to compose himself. "Of course. What do you need me to do?"
As they prepared to transfer John into the infirmary, Scott walked in through the med-bay door, having finished his preparations on both Tracy One and Thunderbird 3. While Jeff hadn't asked him to make sure Three was ready to fly, he didn't want to waste any time while he was playing Taxi driver, so as he had to go through the rocket's silo to reach Thunderbird 2, he may as well have killed two birds with one stone.
"Ah, Scott!" His father addressed him, not looking up from what he was doing. He hadn't been too worried when Scott hadn't met up with him outside as he waited for Two's engines to be cut. He knew the quickest route was to cut through Three's silo, so he had guessed what his eldest would have decided to do whilst in there. "Have you seen Gordon anywhere?"
"No." Scott frowned. He had expected Gordon to be in here with the rest of them.
"He said he'd do the post-flight checks for me." Virgil commented, hooking up a bag of fluids to John's IV. "So he may still be in the cockpit."
"He's taking his sweet time." Scott muttered. "I'll go check up on him." He announced, turning around to head out of the door towards the cockpit.
"Good idea Scott. Met us in the infirmary afterwards." Jeff agreed. He turned to his middle son. "Right, are we ready?"
"We're ready." Virgil replied, unhooking the hover stretcher from it's holder and activating it. "Let's go."
They followed Scott out of the door, but instead of going to the the cockpit like he did, they instead guided the stretcher and it's occupant towards the exit and ultimately onwards to the infirmary deep within the depths of the Tracy villa, where they would finally find out the extent of John's injuries.
"One, two. One...two! C'mon, Gords. You can do this. One foot in front of the other, that's all. One and two. One aaannnddd two. One and...DAMN!"
Gordon cursed loudly as his legs gave way for what seemed the tenth time, and he found himself once again face to face with the floor. He pulled himself towards the wall, leaning heavily against the cool metal, gasping for breath.
He considered hitting something, anything, to release the pent-up rage that was building inside of him, but instead settled for grabbing the pole above him and hauling himself upright, thankful that Virgil had decided to install railings along the walls in this part of the ship.
He stood there for a few moments, holding himself up for dear life. He was drenched in sweat and he felt like he had run two marathons, yet all he had done was get halfway from the cockpit to the infirmary. He should never have sat down. That's what did it. He should have known better really, but exhaustion had overridden common sense, and so it was that he had found his muscles seizing up a bit sooner than expected, hence why he could now hardly walk. At least the painkillers he'd had earlier had taken the edge off, although they were starting to wear off.
At hearing footsteps he straightened up, letting go of the railing. He was fine, he convinced himself. He was a Tracy, and Tracy's never showed weakness. But he still breathed a sigh of relief as whoever was roaming the corridors moved away from him, leaving him in silence apart from his ragged breathing.
"Right, c'mon you moron." He muttered to himself, grabbing a hold of the railing again, using it to propel himself along. "Left. Right. Left. Right."
He repeated the mantra as he struggled along. He could make it, he had spent months re-learning how to walk before, this was nothing in comparison.
He was still muttering as he rounded a corner, focusing all his attention on staying upright. Grabbing out, he almost overbalanced as his hand hit flat metal instead of the rounded surface he had expected. Looking ahead of him, he growled something he knew his father definitely wouldn't approve of as he saw that he had reached the exit door of Thunderbird 2 and so ultimately the railing had ended, to be replaced by the vast open space of the silo. He pressed his forehead against the wall, silently cursing his bad luck.
"Didn't think that bit through, huh?"
Gordon jumped out of his skin at the voice behind him, overbalancing and finding himself crashing to the floor again. Sitting up, he looked around for the source of the voice, narrowing his eyes as he saw the grinning form leaning against a door-frame nearby.
"What are you doing here?" He growled, once again grabbing the railing and struggling back onto his feet.
"Looking for you, Twinkletoes." Scott replied, moving to stand in front of the red-head, who straightened up and let go of the railing. "Need a hand?"
"No." Gordon growled, taking a step forward, crying out as his legs gave way. Scott caught him just in time. "...Yes." He admitted, grateful for his brother's quick reactions that had saved him from hitting the deck yet again.
"So...need that hand yet?" Scott repeated, struggling slightly at supporting the aquanaut in such an awkward position.
"Please." Gordon sighed.
Scott nodded. He shifted position, swiftly lifting his brother up into his arms up so he was cradling him, just like he had many a year ago when the youngest two had been toddlers. Of course, Gordon was a bit heavier now, but out of all of them, he was the lightweight thanks to his swimmer's physique. Scott was thankful for his father insisting they spent hours in the gym to build up their strength,as he wanted all of them to be able to lift a full grown man with ease, as it was never known when they may be called upon to do just that in the middle of a rescue.
"Thanks." Gordon said, also thankful for his brother's strength. There was no way he could have kept going for much longer.
"You know, you should have called." Scott grunted, exiting the green workhorse and making his way towards the infirmary. "You would have saved yourself from all of this. All you had to do was ask. I would have been perfectly happy to come and get you."
"Yeah, I know." Gordon looked away, feeling like a naughty child. "It's just..."
"You're stubborn?" Scott suggested, raising an eyebrow in amusement.
"I am not!"
"Yeah, you are! Classic Tracy stubbornness. It's hereditary you know." The eyebrow rose further, joined by a smug smile.
"Oh, you're a fine one to talk!" Gordon retorted, resisting the urge to plant his fist in his brother's face. He didn't fancy being dropped. "You're the worst out of all of us!"
"Really? Oh surely Alan is worse than me." Scott laughed. Sure, he knew he had his moments, but Alan was a different league altogether.
"Hmmm... I'll admit he's running a close second, but I'm afraid you still hold the title. I mean, do you have any idea what you're like out on rescues? Sometimes all I can hear in my earpiece is nag, nag, nag!"
"I'm nagging? God, you should hear what I have to put up with. Especially when Kyrano decides he's had enough coffee." Scott pointed out. He was enjoying this.
Gordon couldn't help but laugh. "Oh, alright then. Dad is the worst. Hands down."
"You can say that again..."
"I'm the worst at what, boys?"
Both of them started at the sudden voice. So engrossed in their banter, they hadn't realised that Scott had already made it to the infirmary, and were now standing in direct sight of their father and Virgil, who had just transferred a sleeping John onto a bed.
At seeing his red-headed son being carried in the arms of his eldest, Jeff's brow furrowed. He straightened up, slowly walking to stand in front of the pair, his head tilted to the side questioningly.
"Erm, well..." Gordon stammered, looking to his brother for help.
"You're the worst at...The worst at..." Scott stalled, thinking quickly. "Ah! The worst at when it comes to volleyball." He finished, stretching a smile across his face.
"I see... And when was the last time you played volleyball with me, hmmm?" Jeff questioned, smiling inwardly at the expressions on both boys faces. He could always tell when they were lying. But that wasn't the question he wanted answered.
"Gordon. Why on earth didn't you call for help?" He asked, knowing exactly why his second youngest was being carried like a child. He held out his arms, nodding an unspoken command to Scott.
"Erm..." Gordon floundered, wincing as he was transferred into the equally strong grip of his father.
"Because he's stubborn." Scott interjected, rotating his shoulder, glad to have been relieved of his load.
"Hmm, that's a given." Jeff murmured, moving towards the bed that was next to John. Gordon opened his mouth to argue then decided against it as his back when into spasm. At seeing his son screw up his face in pain, Jeff hurried his pace, carefully placing Gordon down onto the bed, for which he was very grateful.
"Virgil." Jeff caught the attention of the medic, who was still fussing over John, and pointed to Gordon, indicating that he needed attention. Checking John's readings one last time on one of the monitors, Virgil nodded, before quickly making his way to the next bed to start fussing over another sibling.
"Scott. With me." Jeff beckoned to the field commander, and together they went out of the room, the automatic door hissing shut behind them. Once out there, he turned to his eldest, who had a mixture of confusion and fear on his face, a result of being summoned outside unexpectedly.
"Do I really nag that much?" Jeff asked, a smile breaking out on his face
Scott's face lit up as he realised he wasn't in trouble and he grinned. "Yeah, you do have your moments." He admitted.
Jeff snorted with amusement. "As do you son." He said, clapping his hands onto Scott's shoulders. "Now, go get Alan, would you."
"But..." Scott started to protest. He hadn't managed to get close to John since he had got home. First he had been sent to find Gordon and now he was to fetch Alan as well.
"You said you would." Jeff reminded him, his voice soft. He knew that Scott would much rather stay here. "John's not going anywhere, at least for the moment."
"But..."
"Look, if anything does happen, I'll be in contact. You'll be the first to know after me ok?" Jeff soothed. He was doing that a lot today it seemed. "But you told Alan you would go and get him as soon as John was settled. He needs to be here as much as you do Scott. You know he and John are close."
Scott dropped his gaze, scuffing his feet. "Yeah, I know." He sighed. May as well get it over and done with. He lifted his head again, looking his father in the eye. "Ok, I'll go."
"Good. Now get going. Alan's waiting." Jeff used his hands to twist Scott around on the spot and gently push him in the direction of Thunderbird 3. Scott took the hint and reluctantly headed off to the silo, where the red rocket was ready and waiting to go.
Jeff watched him go, then waved his hand in front of the sensor, to which the door opened with a hiss. Stepping back into the infirmary, he made his way back to John's side, watching over him as Virgil continued to attend to Gordon.
A few minutes later a deep rumbling cold be felt all through the base, signalling the take-off of Thunderbird 3, on its way to bring the final Tracy back to Earth.