A/N: I know, this chapter has been written so quickly, I even surprised myself. It's not a short one either, it's one of the more longer bits I've written. Don't expect this to be a regular thing though, this time it sort of just happened! Enjoy! Oh, and there will be another author's note at the bottom of this chapter, just warning you! If you'd like the sound of it, please read it and answer accordingly. :)

Standard Disclaimer: Not mine. The Andersons. That is all!

"Ow. Careful! That hurt!"

"Shh, Gords! You'll wake up Dad."

"Oh, he's out of it. Ah! No! Put me down, Put me down!"

"Ok, ok. This would be so much easier if you let me get the wheelchair."

"Alan, if you know me as well as you claim to, you'd know not to even think that word near me."

"Yes, sorry, I know, I know. So, want to try again?"

"Yeah. This place gives me nightmares..."

"Ok, but this time, shush!"

"Oh, you can talk... Ow! Jeez. Stupid, stupid."

"You alright?"

"Yes, yes. I'm fine. Let's go already. Otherwise Dad really will wake up."

"Too late boys. Now, would you care to explain what you are up to at 1am?"

Leaning his head against the cool tile, Scott let the warm water pound against his back, letting it wash all his tensions and anxieties off his body and sending it swirling down the drain. It had been two days since John had been brought back, two days of relative hell, as they waited for his fever to break.

Gordon had been given the all clear and discharged the morning after his escape attempt, and thanks to being in his father's bad books for his involvement, Alan had made himself scarce that day, claiming that he had a beat-up old car that really needed his attention, only reappearing at the dinner table, although his food had gone cold by the time he had managed to eat it as Scott had immediately ordered him to have a shower as he was traipsing grease and oil everywhere. Thankfully for him, that was something that his father didn't heard about, having taken his dinner in the infirmary so he could keep an eye on John. Not that he ate much of it, he had barely done anything but sit by his son's bedside. He had only left the whitewashed room a few times, and only then after being mercilessly nagged by his other four sons who insisted that he have a break, that he get some sleep. But after an hour or so, he would be back, and so in that uncomfortable plastic chair, he stayed, hour after hour, mostly accompanied by Scott, who too refused to leave, sometimes by Virgil as he checked over his brother and the various drips and tubes hooked up to him, and sometimes by the younger two who, even though they tried to hide behind tough exteriors, were taking the whole situation quite hard. Even Gordon, who, though he had tried his hardest to stay, and then get, out of the infirmary, had hobbled back to sit by John's bedside a few times, chatting and joking, teasing and playfully insulting, reminding his brother that he hadn't saved his life just so he could spend the rest of his days a vegetable and so he better give that fever of his a boot up the backside to get going. And so it was, in the early hours of the second morning, whilst Scott and Gordon kept watch, having got rid of their father for a bit, that John finally won, and his fever finally broke, much to everyone's relief.

Scott tilted his head backward, letting the water flow over his face. It had now been a few hours since the excitement of the night. John was yet to wake up, but according to Virgil and Brains, sleep was the best thing for him at the moment and he would wake in his own time. He had also been taken off oxygen, the two island medics happy that he had no water left in his lungs and so he was no longer in danger of secondary drowning. And so, happy knowing that his brother had finally taken a turn for the better, Scott had excused himself for a much needed shower, partly to wash, and partly to reflect.

He stood there for a minute longer under the cascade before turning the tap and shutting it off. Stepping out of the cubicle, he grabbed his towel and started to dry himself off. Wiping the steam from the mirror, he cast an eye over his toned body, his gaze hovering over the multitude of different sized scars that stood out against his slightly tanned skin, evidence of his extraordinary job, of the fact that he potentially put his life on the line everytime he was called out. He knew that every single one of his siblings also hid their own collection of scars under their uniforms, they had all had close calls in their duties in International Rescue, and they were known to compare them from time to time, always trying to one-up each other. Even John had a few impressive ones, although he hadn't even acquired his biggest one, a ragged line along his right thigh, in the direct line of duty. Instead he had managed to catch himself on a sharp edge whilst undertaking routine maintenance in Thunderbird 5, which had resulted in a sheepish call back to the island with a request for an impromptu lift back to Earth so he could go get stitches. Even Jeff had been rendered speechless by that one, and that was saying something. Eventually though he came to his senses and dispatched a giggling Alan and a tutting Virgil to go sort out their idiot brother, and a few hours later John was back on duty in the Space Station, this time with a sewn-up leg and a very fetching bandage.

Ruffling his damp hair, Scott wrapped the towel around his middle and stepped out of the bathroom, just in time to hear his watch start beeping. While it was waterproof, Scott preferred not to wear it in the shower. He rushed towards it, grabbing it off his desk, losing his towel in the process. He activated it, not caring about the fact he was now standing completely naked. He was alone in his locked bedroom and whoever was contacting him would only see his head, so his state of undress didn't really matter.

"Scott, it's me." The face of his father replaced the clock face.

"Hey Dad. Have you been kicked out again?" Scott asked as he spotted that Jeff was in the control room instead of the infirmary.

"How did you guess?" Jeff chuckled. "Anyone would think they don't want me seeing him."

"To be fair, you've probably been with him more than the rest of us. It's probably about time you had a break."

"Fat chance of that happening. Got called into the Control Centre by Brains. A potential job has just come in. We've been assured it's not too urgent but you couldn't pop up and assess it with us, could you? I'm thinking it may be a bit of a tight squeeze."

"Sure thing." Scott replied. "I'll be right up."

"Excellent." Jeff nodded and moved to sign off, pausing as he realised something. "Oh, and Scott?"

"Mmm?"

"Make yourself descent first will you? We're a rescue organisation, not a nudist camp."

Scott blushed as his father chuckled. "Yes Sir."

"That's my boy. See you in a minute."

Half and hour later, a now dressed Scott ambled down the corridor towards the infirmary. As he got closer he heard the sound of laughter and he smiled. At least tracking down his siblings wouldn't be a difficult job, he could hear three different voices, none of which had John's distinctive tone, and so it would seem that they were all together in one place for once.

Stepping through the door as it swished open, he couldn't help but grin at the sight before him. Gordon and Alan were lying side by side on the bed that the Aquanaut had occupied the night before last, a game controller in each of their hands and a large pile of snacks and drinks balanced on the bedside table. At the end of the bed was a large screen TV on wheels, and it was this that they were fixated on. Alan was sitting on the chair next to the bed, also holding a controller, but he wasn't using it. Instead he was laughing uncontrollably as Virgil and Gordon fought it out against each other in whatever it was they were playing.

"NO! NO! NONONONONONO!" Virgil yelled, evidently losing.

"YESYESYESYESYES! YYYEEEEESSSSSSSS!"

"FATALITY!" Boomed the TV, and Gordon whooped with joy, throwing his arms up in the air, wincing slightly as he pulled his still-sore back in doing so.

"YOU RIPPED ME IN HALF! HOW DID YOU RIP ME IN HALF?" Virgil shouted, absolutely astounded at what had just happened. "You pushed me down the stairs, and then ripped me in half! WHY?"

"Because I rock! And you suck." Gordon replied, high-fiving Alan. "Face it Virge, you just got your ass handed to you again.

"I do hope that's not John's heart monitor." Scott cut in, leaning against the door-frame. "Otherwise I'd hate to think what the 'FATALITY' was."

Virgil looked towards the door, sighing in relief when he saw his older brother standing there, the edge of his mouth curled up in amusement. "Oh Scott, thank God you're here. These two are ganging up on me, and sleeping beauty over there is being no help at all." He jerked his thumb towards the blond figure in the next bed, who was seemingly oblivious to what was happening around him.

"We are not ganging up!" Alan grinned. "You're just really bad!"

"I am not!" Virgil retorted.

"Yeah, you are!"

"What are you guys playing then?" Scott asked, pushing himself off and making his way towards them.

"Mortal Kombat." Gordon said, taking a swig of cola and promptly letting out a loud belch.

"Mortal Kombat huh? Now that's an old game. Older than Dad in fact."

"Yeah, the graphics are a bit dated, but it's still fun."

"For you maybe." Virgil muttered, snatching the cola and gulping it down.

"Fancy a go?" Alan asked, waving a spare controller in the air. "2v2. You and Virge, me and Gordon?"

"I'd watch out for those two." Virgil commented dryly. "Alan likes to rip your arms off and flay you with them, whilst Gords here gets straight to the point and just rips you in half..."

"What can I say, it's what I'm good at."

"While I'd love to guys." Scott shrugged. "I'm gonna break this party up. We got a call out; a collapsed mine in Wales. All the miners are accounted for, so it's not blazingly urgent but they're stuck down there. The only viable way to get them out is a handy-dandy underground river. The only problem is, the tunnel it flows in is just under 20ft in diameter, and the current is pretty strong too, so..."

"So they need something small, nifty and quite possibly yellow?" Virgil finished.

"Got it in one!"

"Well, time to go do what we do best. Come on Sprout." Virgil said, jumping to his feet.

Alan nodded and dropped his controllers on the bed, grabbing a handful of pretzels and stuffing them into his mouth as he stood. Gordon started to struggle off the bed, but was stopped by a strong hand on his shoulder.

"Not you Gords." Scott said firmly. "You're signed off for the time being."

"Scott! Why?"

"Why? Because two days ago you could barely move. There's no way you're fully recovered enough to be of any use out there."

Gordon tried to wriggle free but found he couldn't, not without something hurting. He hid his wince though, he had to convince everyone he was fit enough to go. "Scott! You said it yourself. That the tunnel is barely 20ft, and we all know Four is 11ft wide!"

"It'll be a tight squeeze, that's for sure."

"So who better to control it than me!" The Aquanaut continued. "I'll be fine. I'm perfectly capable of doing it!"

"Gordon." Scott massaged his temple with his free hand. He had hoped his brother would just admit to his weakness, but his stubborn streak was being exceptionally strong today. "This rescue is going to be long and arduous, and you are in no condition to sit in a confined and cramped space for hours on end. You know that, I know that."

"But...!"

Scott let out a drawn out sigh and sat on the edge of the bed. "Ok. Picture me this. We let you come along. We get you into Four and you pootle off down the tunnel. Now, there's only you down there, there's not enough space for two of us and the miners you're rescuing; it's already going to take multiple trips. Halfway in, maybe the first time, maybe the tenth, your back goes into spasm, thanks to you staying in one position too long, and you're in so much pain that you are no longer able to pilot your Bird. So, you're in agony, unable to get yourself out. What do you do now? We can't do much, we have no way of getting you out quickly; the currents are too strong to go down in scuba gear and the surface entrances are blocked, and, while I'll admit that Four has an excellent supply of oxygen, it'll give you, what, 12 hours at most? And even though we're good at what we do, I doubt even we would be able to clear a path and get you out in that time frame. Gordon, look at me. There is one thing in this world that I never, ever want to experience, and that's losing one of you, whether in the line of duty or not. It's already been hard enough this week with John's close call. And while I know that you'd rather be behind the controls in the thick of it, I also know that my heart, not to mention Dad's or anyone else's, would surely break if something went wrong down there, something that was easily avoidable. Now do you see why I'm asking you to stay here?"

Gordon dropped his gaze and nodded, a lump in his throat. He couldn't argue with his eldest brother's, and Field Commander's, logic. He picked at the stitching on the edge of the mattress, fighting back the tears pricking his eyes. He was not going to burst into tears, not now.

"Hey," Scott said softly, gently lifting his chin up. "I know this is hard for you. But don't worry. Four will be in safe hands. I'll be piloting her."

"Wonderful..."

"I know... Think about it, I'm gonna be piloting Four!"

"S'not that bad." Gordon sniffed, not happy at his Bird being insulted as well as not being able to go.

"No! Not that!" Scott let out a small laugh. "Think about it. I'm going to be piloting Four. So who do you think will be piloting One? None other than Mr Jefferson Tracy himself!"

Alan and Virgil groaned in unison in the background as Gordon burst out laughing, his argument forgotten. Not only did Scott have to give up the keys to his ship, so to speak, but he, as well as the other two, would have to deal with their father first hand. As least when he was halfway across the world they could do things their own way, they could switch him off if he got to annoying, but when he was standing right there in the thick of it, he would insist on doing things his way, which while it got the job done and pretty well too, usually also entailed a lot of unnecessary faffing around.

"You know what, while I loathe to admit it, I think you may be right. My back's being a right pig today, and the last thing I would want to do is get stuck in that tunnel. Tell you what, why don't you extend my apologises to Dad, I'll just stay here and keep an eye on John for you all."

Scott laughed too and patted his brother on the shoulder, inwardly congratulating himself at convincing the red-head to stay put. "You do that, I'm sure Dad will understand." He picked up and passed one of the controllers over. "Practise your dismembering instead!"

"It's not practise he needs..." Virgil muttered. "Come on, Dad's going to wonder where we've got to."

"Yeah." Scott agreed. "Knowing him, he's already in One, God so help me..." He stood up and turning to face Gordon one last time. "Brains will be co-ordinating. Give him a yell if you need him."

"Yeah ok, enjoy yourselves. Gordon said. "Don't scratch my Bird Scott, I'll be checking later."

"I'm sure you will. See you later Aquaman!"

Gordon waved and watched the three of them leave the room. As soon as the door swished shut behind them, he sighed and tilted his head backwards, muttering a string of phrases that he knew his father would definitely not approve of. It wasn't fair. It was his Thunderbird, and so he should be the one to be piloting it. But he supposed that Scott did have a point, he didn't really want to get stuck in pain and with a dwindling air supply. Lifting his head, he glared at the paused game flickering on the screen for a second, before grabbing the remote and switching it off with a growl.

Letting himself fall backwards, he landed with a soft flump into the pillow. Staring at the ceiling, he gripped the sheet tightly as a familiar rumble reverberated through the building. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a blue streak go past the large window that lined one end of the infirmary. He stayed in that position until another, deeper, rumble started up a few minutes later. As the bulk of green passed through his periphery vision he eased back up into a sitting position and scooted backwards until his back was supported. Grabbing the half-eaten pack of pretzels off the table where Alan had left them, he picked through them, throwing a few into the air and catching them in his mouth.

"Well, John." He said, crunching as he spoke. "Looks like you've got me for company for a bit." He swallowed with a grimace and smacked his lips together. "Yargh, these things are a bit salty. Where's Virge put the cola?"

He looked around him, smiling as he spotted the cola bottle on the floor next to him. Gritting his teeth, he leant over and grabbed it, surprising himself when it didn't hurt as much as he had expected it to, but it was still more difficult than it should have been. Still, at least he was making progress. Straightening back up with a groan, he inspected the contents of the bottle in his hands.

"Oh nice." He said as he swilled the liquid around the quarter-full container. "Drink all of it why don't you Virge. Man, that's gonna come back and haunt you later..." He smiled and twisted off the cap, taking a mouthful of what was left of the fizzy liquid. He settled back, glancing over at the next bed where the blond figure still slept.

"You know, it's about time they got to deal with Dad for a bit. I don't know about you, but both him and Scott flapping around was starting to do my head in. Virge I can cope with, he knows what he's doing most of the time. Still, Dad in the field. It's scary thinking about it." He mock shuddered, laughing at his own joke. He bit into another pretzel. "Ugh. I'm not liking these. You want them instead?" He held out the bag, not expecting an answer. So when, out of the corner of his eye, John's arm seemed to twitch, he took a double take. Surely he was imagining things.

"John? Do that again." He urged, not quite believing what he had just sworn he'd seen. A few tense seconds past with nothing, then suddenly John's arm moved, lifting just a fraction. Scrambling off his bed, not caring how much his back protested, the red-head hobbled as quickly as he could across the space between them, holding tightly to the bed-stead as he leaned over his older brother. "John? Can you hear me?"

He held his breath, letting it out explosively as a two eyelids slowly flickered open and a pair of pale blue eyes fixed blearily on him. "Well, if it isn't the blond bombshell finally deciding to grace us with his presence!"

John swallowed dryly. "Gords..." He managed to croak, his voice hoarse from disuse. His jaw twinged, and a spike of pain went through his rib-cage as Gordon raised the back of the bed so he was sitting up slightly. "Ow..."

"Hurts huh? I'm not surprised. Not after your performance." Gordon pulled himself around to the machine that controlled John's painkillers, inspecting it. "Shall I rectify that for you?"

"M-hmm."

Gordon pressed a button, increasing the flow of morphine into his brother. Normally he wouldn't dare touch anything medical, usually leaving that to Virgil, but after his own experiences after his hydrofoil crash, he knew his way around a morphine pump, and so was confident enough to adjust one for his sibling. "Better?"

John nodded weakly and swallowed again. "...Water..."

"Oh, course. Sorry!" Gordon looked around him. "Hang on, I'll be back in a minute." He turned and make his way towards the store room, leaning against the wall as he went. In the store room he grabbed a cup and popped it under the ice dispenser, pressing a button so ice chips clattered into it. As soon as it was full, he picked it up and made his way back to John's bedside, cursing the fact that he couldn't yet run.

Sliding into the chair by the bed, he fished out an ice chip and placed the cup on the table. "Here we are, open up." John opened his mouth as best he could and Gordon placed the ice on his tongue. "You've got great timing you know."

"Huh?" John grunted around the chip. The cold water slowly melting into his mouth was currently one of the best feelings in the world.

"Yeah, of all the times, you wake up as soon as Dad leaves the island. He's not gonna like that. He's out on what is going to be a long rescue, in Wales of all places, and so it's not as if he can come back either. So, don't think about going downhill again, alright?"

"Again?" John asked, the ice having melted. His throat was feeling a bit better.

"Oh yeah. You gave us another scare, you know!" Gordon smiled as he popped another chip into his brother's mouth. "Ended up getting a fever and hallucinating and thrashing around like something else. From the sounds of it, you thought Five was burning up in the atmosphere and you were trapped aboard. The only way Dad and Scott could get you to calm down was to play along. I missed the excitement though, so you'll have to ask them about the details."

John frowned as he sucked on the ice. He could remember snippets of something happening, but as if it was all a dream, not something that had actually happened. But then a fever would explain why he had thought he was burning up, in a way he had been, just not in the way his mind had latched onto. "Alan?" The last he could remember, his baby brother was still up on the Space Station.

"Oh, Scott brought him back a few hours after you. Currently also out on the Welsh rescue. Everyone is. Brains is co-ordinating upstairs. And before you ask, he didn't crash it. Five is still safely in orbit."

John sighed with relief. He'd known deep down that his Thunderbird was safe, but being told so meant he could truly relax. "They're in Wales?"

"Oh yeah, Wales." Gordon fished out a chip for himself, and crunched down on it. "Mine collapse, miners trapped underground and a small underground river seems to be the only way to get them out. River tunnel maybe 20ft in diameter, so guess which of the Birds is required."

John thought for a moment, his still fuzzy brain not quite up to speed yet. "Four?"

"Yep. And guess who's not allowed to pilot their Thunderbird at the moment. Oh yeah, that's right. Me! So, instead I'm having to leave my baby in the hands of Scott, so help me. Still, he has to leave his in the hands of Dad, so at least he sort of understands."

John smiled. He knew he had heard voices as he slowly made his way back to conscious thought, and now that he thought about it, it hadn't sounded much like an understanding. Not that he was going to let on. Instead he opened his mouth as Gordon placed another bit of ice on his tongue and greedily sucked on it.

"Talking of those two. We should probably let them know." Gordon pointed out. "They'll want to know."

"Mmm..."

"But then again... They are on a long, already difficult mission, we wouldn't want them getting distracted."

John swallowed, his throat now much more soothed. "You could tell Brains."

"Yeah, that's an idea. And get him to tell them once they're almost finished. I'm sure he'd understand our concerns." Gordon shifted and brought his wrist up, pressing the button on his watch to contact the control centre. "Brains. You there?"

The scientists face filled the small screen. "Y-yes, Gordon. What's up?"

"Oh nothing much. Just wanted to let you know that John is finally back with us." He tilted his watch so John could be seen, just like he had done two days ago just after he had pulled his brother from the lake.

"Oh, that is g-good news." Brains smiled, relief evident in his face. "I-I'll contact your father a-and tell right away."

"Wait. Brains. Could you not tell them right now? They are on a difficult rescue after all, and finding out now would only distract them. Could you tell them later, maybe when they're close to finishing instead?"

The scientist thought for a moment. "O-ok Gordon, John. I, um, see your p-point. I-I'll let them know in a few hours."

"Thanks Brains. You are a star!" Gordon grinned as he cut the connection. Turning back to John, he rubbed his hands together in glee. "so, now you're awake, and we've got a few hours of peace, fancy a game of Mortal Kombat? There's no way you can be any worse than Virgil."

"Why not? What better way to celebrate being alive, than mercilessly slaying virtual people!"

"That's the spirit! Just give me a minute, and I'll give you such a thrashing you'll wish you stayed at the bottom of that lake!"

"Bring it on, little brother. Bring. It. On."

The Other A/N: Ok, Hands up if you want the story behind how John got his scar! I have ideas in my head and I have the urge to write. Then again, I may just write it anyway, but I would love to know people actually want it. :)