A/N: Woohoo! Chapter 5! I was thinking a few days ago that I really should have left this story as the one chapter but if you lot are still reading it, then I shall continue writing it! So enjoy, because our boys are finally back together!

Standard Disclaimer: Not mine, Thunderbirds belong to the Andersons

"Well, I'd call that a new record." Scott stood and stretched, groaning as both shoulders popped in quick succession. "Although that re-entry left much to be desired..."

"Oh I don't know, it wasn't that bad." Alan commented as he finished his checks. "You're just getting old. Can't take the G-forces as well as you used to, you know!"

"Oh really?" Scott growled. He silently moved across the cockpit to stand behind the figure sitting with his back to him and quickly wrapped his arm around his neck, causing Alan to squeak in alarm. "You know, maybe I haven't quite forgiven you for breaking my nose..." He tightened his grip, just enough to restrict Alan's airway slightly, squeezing out another squeak.

"...Scott! ...Please!...I...was...kidding!" Alan gasped, his hands gripping tightly on his brother's arm as he felt himself being lifted from his seat.

"Kidding huh?" Scott whispered menacingly in his brother's ear. He smiled devilishly as he felt Alan's pounding pulse quicken in fear. "You know, brother dear, that before this gig, I was in the military. I was taught how to do things that would give even the toughest man on the planet nightmares. Not even Dad knows about some of them. So the question is, would you like to find out instead?"

"NO!" Alan croaked, putting all his strength into trying to escape.

Scott held on for a second longer before letting out a loud tut. "Oh, fine!" He released his grip, practically dropping Alan back down. "You ruin all my fun!"

"I hate you sometimes!"

"Yeah, well, consider us now equal." Scott ruffled the mop of blond hair, ignoring the deathly glare being shot in his direction. "It was probably about time."

He moved towards the storage locker and opened it, Alan following behind grumbling and rubbing at his throat. Swinging one bag over his shoulder, Scott pulled out the second, swinging it in his younger brother's direction, who snatched it away with a bit more force than necessary.

"So, what do you reckon is the fastest way to the infirmary?" Scott asked. "Down to the hangar floor and then cut across, or go up to the control centre and go from there?"

"Hangar." Alan answered matter-of-factly. "Saves going up and down levels. At least this way we'll be on the right floor."

"Good point. Let's go then." Scott nodded. They walked out of the cockpit and towards the elevator that would take them straight to the hangar floor. Scott thumbed the button and the doors hissed open and they stepped inside.

As the elevator started to move, Alan scuffed his feet on the floor. "Is what you said true? Were you really trained to do things that would give people nightmares?"

Scott let out a snort of laughter. "No! Of course not! I was a pilot, for God's sake, not a super soldier! You have to admit though, I make a good actor!"

Alan shook his head in despair, he had been well and truly got. As they came to a halt at the floor of the hangar, he turned to face his older brother. "You know, now that I think about it, you're not that old."

Scott raised an eyebrow. "Oh, you've changed your tune!"

Alan nodded, a sweet smile spread across his face. A smile that transformed into a cheeky grin as the doors hissed open, revealing a clear hangar floor. He adjusted the bag on his shoulder. "Yeah, you're bloody ancient!" And with that he ran laughing out of the door.

"Ooh! You get back here!" Scott shouted, running out of the elevator himself and giving chase, cursing the fact that he had decided to carry the heavier bag.

They ran laughing across the open floor, their boots clanging on the metal. Alan ducked through the doorway into the corridor, with Scott not far behind, and was sent flying by a dripping wet Virgil wearing nothing but swimming trunks who was also running towards the infirmary.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Scott dropped his bag and grabbed the medic with both arms stopping him from falling too. "Virge, what's going on? What's happened?"

"John!" Virgil managed to blurt out, taking in a ragged breath. "It's John, he's woken up."

"That's good right?" Alan asked as he picked himself up for what seemed the millionth time that day.

"That's not the problem."

Scott's heart skipped a beat. For Virgil to look this worried, it couldn't be good. "Virge, what's happened to John?"

"I-I-I don't know." Virgil stammered, sounding remarkably like Brains. "He was fine not long ago, we'd got him changed and he was sleeping peacefully, so I decided to take Gords down to the hot tub, you know, to help his muscles, a-and the next thing I know I get a call from Dad saying John's eyes just flew open and h-he started convulsing or something..."

"Oh God..." Scott let go of his middle brother before turning to his youngest, trying desperately to stay calm. "Alan... You go get Gords. Get him before he tries to come back himself. Put these somewhere too." He kicked the bag by his feet.

"Ok." Alan replied, bending down and picking up the second bag, before turning and running as best he could under the weight.

"Virge, we need to go. Now."

With a nod to each other, both men took off again, the sound of Scott's boots and Virgil's bare feet echoing from the walls.

A minute later they burst through the doors of the infirmary and they both skidded to a halt, taking in in the scene unfolding in front of them. Jeff was attempting to hold down John, who was thrashing about and drenched in sweat, his eyes wide with fear. Brains was scurrying around the various machines, trying to make heads or tails of what was happening.

Coming to his senses, Scott shot to John's bedside, as did Virgil who joined Brains in his assessment.

"John!" Scott grabbed hold of his brother's bare shoulder, the heat of the flesh almost burning him.

"Virgil! What's happening?" Jeff asked, a panicky edge evident in his voice. He ducked John's arm as he swung out again, his back arching and the sweat pouring off him.

"His temperature's rising, as is his heart rate, must be a fever setting in. We need to cool him down. Scott, grab some water, start sponging him down. Brains, grab a saline bag. It's a priority to keep him hydrated."

"Right."

"O-ok Virgil."

The two men ran off to grab the needed equipment. Virgil took up Scott's previous position by his father.

"John? John, look at me. Listen, you need to calm down." He tried to get through to his older brother but with no response.

"No...no...She's going...down..." The blond cried out, his eyes unfocused and rolling in their sockets. "...emergency...mayday...mayday..."

Virgil swore loudly. The fever had taken a hold and John was heading towards delirium. "We need to stop him from moving. With those painkillers inside him he could very easily break his ribs completely and puncture a lung."

"Damn. John? John, can you hear me?" The Tracy patriarch asked, concerned as whether he would be able to get through his son's fever-induced state.

"F-five...she's...fallen out...of orbit...emergency."

A worried glance was exchanged. " Listen to me John. Five is safe. You're safe. You're home." Jeff tried to reassure, brushing his son's damp hair off of his forehead.

"No...Dad...don't...understand...hurry...re-entry...the…heat…we're…burning up." John continued to thrash about, convinced that he was on his Thunderbird instead of in a hospital bed.

"Virgil, what now?" Jeff hissed, suddenly grabbing hold of John as he almost rolled off the bed. He spotted Scott and Brains running back and gestured for them to hurry up. "He's completely out of it. What do we do now?"

Virgil shrugged. "Play along, I guess. If anyone can get through, it's you." Scott skidded to a halt next to them, almost losing the sponge floating in the bowl in his hands as the water in it sloshed around. Brains arrived a second later. "Ah, good. Scott, start cooling him down. Brains, hook that up to his IV." Virgil then nodded to his father, praying that his familiar tones would calm John down.

Jeff cleared his throat, composing himself. "John? John, where are you?" He asked, pretending that he had just walked in through the docking tube on the space station and was trying to locate his son.

"H-here..." John croaked, swinging his arm out and almost knocking the bowl out of Scott's hands as he started sponging. Jeff nodded to Scott, indicating that he too should pretend he was on the imaginary rescue.

"John!" Scott supplied, surprised as John in fact reacted slightly to his voice too.

Jeff smiled, nodding to Virgil. It seemed to be working. He waited a second and then continued the façade. "We've got you, son. We've got you."

"...Dad...hurry...we...need to...get...out...of here..."

"I know, I know. But you're hurt. We need you to calm down. Can you do that for me?"

Having heard his father's words, John finally stopped his thrashing around, his breathing heavy from his excursions.

"That's it, that's it." Jeff soothed. "Ok, we've got you, we're moving you now." He glanced at the monitors around him, smiling as he watched John's heart rate drop back down towards normal. "Ok, son we're in Three now, you're safe. Scott, turn up the air con, we need to cool him down."

"FAB." Scott answered, squeezing out the sponge and placing it on John's forehead. "How's that?"

"...Good..." The blond murmured. Convinced that he was now out of danger, John finally started to settle.. A thought flickered through his head, something to do with his Bird, but he felt exhaustion taking hold, and he let it wash over him, just like the cooling feeling flowing over his skin.

"That's it John. Just rest. Don't worry about a thing. We'll get you home." Jeff bent down, retrieving the oxygen mask from where it had been thrown when the whole situation had started, what now seemed an age ago. He checked the air flow and placed it back over John's face.

"Rest..." Now that sounded like a good idea, John felt too weak to do anything else. His eyelids once again slid shut and his breathing slowed as succumbed to a fitful sleep.

Four sighs of relief echoed around the room. Brains checked all the monitors and leads while Scott continued to bathe his brother. Virgil practically collapsed into the chair by the bed, leaning his head against his father's side for support.

"Good work kid." Jeff patted his middle son on the back, proud at how efficiently he had dealt with the situation. If there were two things Virgil was good at, it was engineering and being an excellent medic. It may seem a slightly strange combination, but for Virgil, it seemed to work quite well.

"Thanks Dad. How's he doing Brains?"

"W-well, his, um, heart rate is back to normal, a-a-and the water is bringing his temperature down."

"Good. Good." Virgil took a deep breath. He had certainly had easier days.

"Virge?" Scott asked, gently dabbing the sponge over the livid bruises dotting John's face and chest.

"Mmm?"

"Was that suppose to happen? You know, the fever?"

Virgil lifted his head. "Well, it's not uncommon for a fever to set in after a near-drowning, but usually it's pretty low-grade. I didn't think it would hit him that hard."

"Strange." Jeff murmured and Scott agreed.

"P-p-perhaps it was that c-cold he had last week." Brains suggested. "If his, um, immune system was already weakened, i-it wouldn't take much for a fever to s-start."

"I suppose." Virgil shrugged. He then shivered. In all the excitement, he had forgotten he was wearing nothing more than a pair of wet swimming trunks. And in the air-conditioned infirmary, he was starting to feel a chill. "Brr, I should really go get dressed."

Jeff ruffled the chestnut hair currently at his waist level. "Good idea. Go do that." Virgil heaved himself out of the chair and, after one last glance at the monitors, made his way out of the infirmary. After watching him go, the Tracy patriarch turned to his resident scientist. "Brains, are you happy to do a few more x-rays on him? I'd like to make sure he hasn't injured himself further."

"Yes sir. I'll go start the preparations. I'll do them as soon as his temperature is more normal."

"Very well." As Brains scurried off to do the needed preparations in the x-ray suite, Jeff mirrored the actions of Virgil a minute earlier, flopping into the recently vacated chair, leaning his head against the white-washed wall.

"One day, Scott, one of you will manage to give me a fatal heart attack. If I didn't know better I would say you lot do this sort of thing on purpose.

"Tell me about it. I'm surprised I haven't gone prematurely grey." Scott said. He checked John's temperature reading. While it was still high, it had fallen enough for him not to need any more attention. Satisfied, Scott dropped the sponge, gently placing his hand on his brother's damp shoulder. He watched the bruised chest rise and fall rhythmically, felt the strong pulse under his fingers, making sure that he himself was not hallucinating, that it really was his brother lying there, and not just a figment of his imagination. "Dad, I have seen a lot of things in this job, but what I witnessed out there today is something that I never, ever want to see again. Had Gords not been there, I don't know what-" He broke off, his voice cracking as the stresses and strains of the day finally caught up with him.

Jeff stood and wrapped an arm around his eldest son, pulling him into a hug. "Oh Scott. There's no need to focus on what could have happened. Focus instead on the fact that Gordon was there, and that thanks to him being reckless as usual, John is alive. No matter how much trouble that fiery red-head of mine can be, remember, under that tough exterior of his, he's got a heart of gold. He cares for his brothers as much as you do."

Scott sniffed loudly and nodded. He couldn't deny that Gordon cared. He had risked permanent injury to himself after all. They stood in silence for a while, both lost in their own thoughts.

"Are we interrupting something?" A cheeky voice asked from the doorway, bringing them back to reality. Scott lifted his head, letting out a mock groan as he saw the two young men silhouetted there, one standing, one sitting.

"Talking of trouble." He muttered. Jeff turned, a wide smile spreading across his face as he recognised the standing figure.

"Alan!" He let go of Scott and crossed the room quickly, pulling yet another son into another hug. "Oh Alan, it's good to see you."

"It's good to be back. Have we missed all the fun?" The astronaut asked, noticing that John seemed to be settled. "See Gords, told you we'd be too late. Shouldn't have wasted time getting you dressed."

"Didn't stop you trying though..." Gordon grumbled from the wheelchair in front of Alan. "Somebody would have thought you were trying to beat the land speed record or something..."

"Ha, you should have seen his re-entry, Gords." Scott grinned, walking over to join the group. "I didn't even think it was possible to descend that quickly without crashing!"

"There was nothing wrong with my re-entry." Alan pouted.

"Oh yeah, and there's nothing wrong with my back." The aquanaut joked, earning him a glare from the young blond, which he ignored. "Now, any chance of a hand up?"

Jeff nodded and moved to help his son, as did Scott. Even though it would be easier to wheel Gordon over to the bed, they both knew that wheelchairs brought out painful memories for the Aquanaut, and that he would want to prove to himself more than anyone else that he was still capable of walking. Kneeling down, Jeff swung one of the red-head's arms over his shoulders, and Scott mirrored him on the opposite side.

"Ready?" Jeff asked, to which Gordon nodded. "Right then, three, two, one, lift!"

Together they carefully lifted Gordon, who was muttering curses under his breath, onto his feet. They stood there for a second as the red-head composed himself for the relatively short walk to his bed, but for him it would be one of the longest he had ever done in his life.

"You ok?" Scott asked as he noticed that Gordon had gone very pale.

"Yes, yes." Gordon waved away the concern. He could do this. He had to do this. "Let's go."

"Alright then."

Slowly the three of them made their way across the room, Alan pushing the wheelchair behind in the unlikely event it was needed. Unlikely, because they all knew that Gordon would much rather claw his way along with his hands than admit he couldn't walk again.

After what seemed like an age, Gordon found himself being gently lowered onto the edge of the mattress. He let his father and Scott fuss around him as he sat there, proud with himself that he had done what he had set out to do. A tap on his shoulder made him look up, and he groaned as he saw his father holding out a pair of pyjamas.

"Aw, c'mon Dad. I don't have to stay here do I?" He whined. It was well known he hated the infirmary. He had been willing to stay for the evening but had hoped he could go back to his room for the night.

"Yes, I'm afraid you do." Jeff said, still holding the pyjamas. "You've damaged your back, and while it may only be muscle damage, I still want you under observation for one night."

"But-"

"No buts. You're staying here. Now, are you capable of dressing yourself, or would you like a hand?"

"Fine. Hand please." Gordon admitted begrudgingly, wincing as he raised his arms up. "And a top-up on the painkillers too while we're at it too."