The rain cleared out when the weekend arrived. Saturday dawned with brief snatches of sunshine although the new weather front approaching from the east promised another downpour in the not-so-distant future.
People made the most of the respite. Children's laughter was tied together by splashes of colour as fresh chalk marked hopscotch squares. Finch chased a tennis ball across the lawn, rewarded by pats and kisses whenever she returned it to Penny. Gordon and Jasmin lounged in the pooled sunlight on the grass as he attempted to teach her chess. Kayo released the hens to hear Theo's shriek when one of them attacked his sketchbook. John and Ellis worked on the latest GDF data packet on rotter activity, staking a claim on the garden furniture before anyone else could steal the table.
Scott watched the chaos unfold. He'd tried to read the transcription of Finn's last radio message (which had come through whilst he'd been out on another rescue with Kayo) and then had picked up the latest book which Marisa had recommended to him but neither task had occupied his attention for long. The same restlessness which had plagued him upon his final week on TB5 before their ill-fated satellite mission had returned to haunt him and he couldn't get his brain to focus on anything.
He set the papers aside and leant back against the heels of his hands. The patio tiles were a welcome warmth beneath his palms as he basked in the sunlight. There was something refreshing about the sight of happiness; fragile and easily broken but very innocent too, untainted by cruelty for once.
He glanced across at Gordon and Jasmin and wondered how long it would take his brother to realise that Jazz not only already knew how to play but was actually good at it. She wouldn't beat him easily even when he had his guard down, still under the belief that she was a beginner, but Scott was rooting for her. Beside him, Virgil watched the pair with similar amusement.
Virgil recognised the flicker of movement behind them first. The shadow that fell across the patio was hastily followed by Alan's appearance at Scott's side. He crooked his knees to wrap his arms around them, making himself small and uncertain as he knitted his fingers together.
Scott held his breath as if the kid were a wounded animal liable to bolt at the slightest sudden movement. Virgil's watchful stare held a thousand questions. Alan picked at a bit of moss which had grown between the flagstones and stared as Penelope and Theo entertained Finch. Her wild barks echoed across the lawn, followed by Kayo's electric laugh as she joined them. Alan's gaze had a distinctly lonely quality before he dropped his chin to his knees and exhaled in a rush.
"Hey," Scott greeted quietly. He nudged Theo's abandoned sketchbook within Alan's reach. "I'm sure he wouldn't mind if you wanted to draw something. Or you could read these transcripts but they're very boring. No dragons. Not your style at all."
Virgil shot him an incredulous look which loosely translated as shut up, what are you doing?
Scott returned his stare with a faintly helpless expression, earning an exasperated headshake. He flipped his hand upwards at his hip out of Alan's sight, as in, what else am I supposed to say?
Virgil's narrowed eyes implied that saying nothing would have been a better strategy.
"I don't really feel like doing, um… anything really." Alan's self-deprecating chuckle was somehow more painful than if he'd been in tears. He still seemed lost – scraped raw by the world – but at least he was outside in the sunshine. "I just wanted to, uh, sit here. With you guys. To, um, like… exist in the same space. Is that cool?"
"Very cool," Scott agreed emphatically, trying not to sound overly eager for fear of freaking him out. It was a lost battle; he could hear the strained joy in his own voice and inwardly cringed. "Yep. We can just, uh, chill."
Virgil surreptitiously elbowed him. "Stay as long as you like, Al."
"Okay," Alan whispered, returning his focus to the garden. "Cool."
The first time that Scott got to put a name to Isaiah's voice was entirely unplanned; he typically didn't introduce himself to a person whilst clad in a pair of loose sweatpants and a faded t-shirt.
In his defence, he'd only been awake for roughly five minutes and the secondary kitchen was supposed to be both private and a warm refuge from the chilled hallways of the manor. He didn't anticipate running into anyone other than perhaps Penelope, Ellis or Gordon, all of whom had seen him in far worse states of appearance in the past.
The kitchen was filled with the rich scent of some herbal tea – a feeble replacement for coffee in Scott's books but still better than nothing – and the oven door glowed, breathing warmth into the room which fogged the windows and transformed the tiles from icy to bearable. These should have been his first hints that he wasn't alone but somehow he got all the way to stumbling into a chair before realising that there another person sat at the table.
He glanced up slowly, his tired mind sluggish as he took in the sight of a stranger. For a moment, they just stared at each other. No words were exchanged, just confused looks. The man looked perfectly at ease in the space as if it were commonplace for him to set up shop at the kitchen table.
He was tall and muscular with the potential to strike an intimidating figure should he wish to come across that way. Black ink unrolled across every piece of exposed skin, slithering beneath the neckline of his shirt where the tattoos doubtlessly continued. His dark hair was longer across the top where shaved sides were growing back in uneven patches.
It was impossible to get a read on him which made Scott uncomfortable, especially given his own wild-haired, distinctly un-put-together appearance. Recognition flickered at the back of his mind when he noted the calloused palms of an engineer. There were diagrams spread across the tabletop: generator parts and fuel cell adaptations. His suspicions were confirmed when the man cleared his throat and spoke; it was the same voice as he had heard over the radio in Shadow.
"You're Isaiah."
"it's certainly one of the names I go by."
Okay, so it was definitely impossible to get a read on him. Scott tried to surreptitiously get a better look at the tattoos to see if they held any clues as to Isaiah's history but if they did then the meanings flew over his head.
"So," he began, leaning back in his chair. "What else do they call you?"
Isaiah's lips twitched with a faint smile.
"The Mechanic," he replied, returning the majority of his focus to his project.
"Catchy," Scott deadpanned. "How long have you been working with Penelope and Kayo?"
Isaiah's carefully concealed smile struck a gleam into his eyes. He didn't look up from his holograms as he reached for his mug of tea, positioned dangerously close to his elbow. If he found Scott's questions irritating, then he didn't show it. If anything, he seemed to find the semi-interrogation amusing. He reached around in his chair to switch off the oven, then returned his attention to Scott.
"Since they established this survival camp. Our paths crossed when they were searching for you. I helped them with their… scavenger situation." His voice dipped with darkness at the memory. "Penelope and I agreed that I could work here when it gets too loud to focus downstairs, but if you'd prefer to be alone then I can go elsewhere."
It was an unofficial test.
Scott stifled a yawn. It was too early for mind games, especially when he'd suffered a bout of insomnia the previous night; worry had caught him in its claws and trying to sleep had been futile.
"No," he mumbled past his wrist as he rubbed the grit from his eyes. "I'm not kicking you out. I just didn't expect to see you here, that's all. I'd have made a better first impression otherwise."
Isaiah's shoulders slumped slightly. "I apologise for the intrusion."
Scott studied him for a few more seconds. Every other new person he'd come across had been relatively open; intentions clearly good or bad; selfish or selfless; calculating or earnest. Isaiah was a closed book with walls built higher than the one at the Sanctuary, but Scott got the impression that those defences had been forged out of self-preservation.
There was a wariness about him that also existed in shelter dogs, distrusting of kindness and protecting themselves accordingly. However the apocalypse had treated him, it hadn't been gently. Not that there was anything gentle about zombies, but his quick-flicker glances towards the exits implied that some wounds had been inflicted pre-Z-Day.
But Penelope trusted him, as did Kayo, and Scott had faith in their judgement and so tentatively trusted him too. Sort of. It would take a while. There was still something about the guy which bugged him, but he relaxed enough to lounge in his chair, poking at the holograms.
"Generator upgrades, right?"
Isaiah hmm-ed. "Do you have an engineering background?"
"Sort of. I can get by, but my brother's the one you should talk to."
"Then I'll simplify."
Scott tried to avoid looking too stung by that remark.
Simplify, he thought to himself sarcastically, bristling at the idea. Fuck off.
Although, examining some of the diagrams splayed across the table, maybe the guy had a point. The math side was Scott's deal but the rest of it? Not so much. Jeez, were those chemical equations? He dug his knuckles into his left temple in the hopes of fending off a headache. It was definitely too early for engineering talks.
Thankfully, Isaiah seemed to be a relatively patient teacher. Certainly more so than Brains who would have gone off on a tangent and become distracted by other ideas, inevitably forgetting that he was supposed to be explaining.
Despite this, Scott knew he would have given anything to have Brains be the one sitting across the table from him. He tried to focus on Isaiah's words but the ache in his chest grew stronger, aggravated by lack of sleep and restless memories. On the last clear night he could recall, he'd sat out on the roof with John and watched Five pass over; the satellite seemed impossibly far away but it was a stone's throw from them compared with Mars.
"So, to summarise," he said, dragging his attention back to Isaiah, "This could either work or the generator could explode."
"It's a sixty-forty chance."
"In which direction?"
"I don't think you want me to answer that." Isaiah drew his papers into a haphazard heap and dismissed the holograms. "My work isn't over yet."
"Good to know. If you're going to accidentally blow the place sky-high, would you mind giving us a heads up first?"
Isaiah looked faintly amused. "I'll consider it."
The rain returned with a vengeance. It enclosed the estate in low gloom, sweeping down from the surrounding hills so that it looked as if the world were being erased piece by piece. It washed away every trace of good spirits from a few days earlier; cheerful chalk ran in colourful tears into the gutters and no one dared step outside unless they absolutely had to. Everything looked tired and heavy; bleak light stripped away the warmth too.
It lasted for days. In the heart of January, daylight was a precious commodity even without the increased darkness introduced by clouds. Sometimes it seemed as if all Scott had to do was blink and night would be closing in again.
It had a crushing impact; disheartening; constantly cold with a sense of being trapped within the manor walls. It got to everyone. Even Finch seemed subdued. The only person relatively unaffected was Virgil, who had persuaded Isaiah to let him help with the plans for the generator upgrades.
Scott was the only one in the sunroom for once when he heard the door creak open. Steps shuffled across the floorboards with the distinctive smack of bare feet. He tossed his book aside and reached for the second lamp, spilling golden light into the darkness.
Gordon flopped onto the couch, head tipped back to scowl at the water gushing over the glass roof above them. He didn't say anything at first, just let the air rush out of his lungs in a full-body sigh. His defeated air was disconcerting. Then, after a minute of silence, he toppled sideways, head propped on the armrest and feet deposited in Scott's lap.
"You need to start wearing shoes," Scott chided. "People tread God-knows-what throughout the house. You're gonna end up stepping in glass or something if you're not careful."
"Yeah, whatever. If I wanted a lecture, I'd have gone to Virgil."
Scott dropped his hand to one of Gordon's ankles and squeezed, a silent apology.
"What's up?" he asked, more gently this time.
Gordon frowned. "What's up is that you're weirdly cold. Seriously man, what's the deal with that? You used to be a human space heater."
"Zombie bites have shitty long-term side effects."
"Aw, gee. That sucks."
"Uh huh. Back to you. Why are you moping?"
"I'm not moping."
"Aren't you?"
Gordon dragged a hand down his face with a groan. "Maybe a little."
More rain flooded over the windows, so heavy that it sounded like constant thunder. It wasn't that late - only around six-PM or so - but the evening had the heavy presence of three-AM. Scott fumbled for the throw hooked over the back of the couch and tugged it down so that it fell across them both.
Gordon busied his hands in the faded yarn.
"She won't speak to me, Scott. I don't know what I'm supposed to do. I've tried giving her space. It's not working. I don't know what she wants from me. Whatever it is, I'd do it, but I'm not a mind-reader. And I don't want to- I was going to say that I don't want to mess this up but there isn't anything between us to mess up. Not anymore."
"Is this your way of asking me to talk to her on your behalf?"
"I don't know. Maybe." Gordon twisted the corner of the throw around his thumb. "It's the apocalypse, so I get if Penny doesn't want to… you know. Relationships are complicated and we have so many other things to worry about right now. So, if she doesn't want that – doesn't want me – then I can respect it, but I need her to tell me."
The brimming pain in his voice overflowed. He took a breath to steady it, but his words still wobbled.
Scott tightened his grip on his brother's ankle, trying to catch Gordon's eye.
"Penny's been through a lot. I know you hate to hear it, but I think Kayo has a point when she tells you to give her more time."
"I know. And I get it. I really, really do. Maybe I'm asking for too much. But I- I don't even need her to love me back. I just want my friend back, you know? I'm the only person she's avoiding and it hurts."
Scott hesitated, then ventured, "You love her?"
"I, uh…" Gordon coughed, ghosting a hand across the back of his neck as he ducked his head. "I don't know. I mean… Maybe? Something close, anyway. Ew, emotions. Change the subject. Hey, what's the deal with you and Mari?"
"Pick another subject."
"Boring."
"Tough luck, guppy. I'm not discussing it with you."
Gordon hauled himself upright, eyes gleaming. "So… there is something there to discuss?"
"Shut up, Gordon."
"Nuh-uh. C'mon, Scotty. My heart has been, like, stamped on and then run over by a steamroller, so I need to live vicariously through you. So does Virgil until we get Brains back from Mars. There's no point denying it. Literally everyone can see that something's going on between you and Mari. Kayo's already spoken to her. I'm ninety percent certain that an actual shovel was involved."
"Kayo did what?" Scott cringed as his voice pitched into a frequency that he was fairly convinced was only audible to dogs. He cleared his throat and attempted to sound calmer. "Please tell me that's a joke."
Gordon grinned. "Yeah, it was. But the second you guys get together, Kayo will use an actual shovel for that talk."
"I don't need my little sister giving anyone a frickin' shovel talk on my behalf."
"What about brothers? John probably has a PowerPoint lined up. He loves making slideshows. And I've always wanted to give a shovel talk. It sounds like fun. I couldn't give one on Virgil's behalf because it's Brains, you know? Plus they never made it official because they're idiots. And John isn't an option. So, I either have to wait for Alan to realise that Theo is embarrassingly head-over-heels for him or I get to threaten Mari. Like, Marisa Falcone, if you dare to break my brother's heart then no one will find your body because my sister is scary as hell and would totally help me murder you."
"Why are you like this?" Scott whimpered into the couch cushion.
Gordon thumped him on the arm with an unholy cackle. "You love me."
"God knows why."
Scott awoke with a jolt, instincts kicking into overdrive before he'd even opened his eyes because being shaken awake never boded well.
He scrambled upright just enough to prop himself on his elbows. The room was mostly encased in shadows, illuminated by a thin strip of light which bled through the ajar door from the corridor. It was some unknown, desolate hour of the night and the manor lay still and silent.
"Scott?"
Alan's whisper was all kinds of wrong. It was impossible to pinpoint exactly how but Scott just knew. It stabbed a chill right through him; a heart-lurching realisation that this was very, very bad. He fumbled for the bedside lamp as Alan's hands fell from his shirt.
Somehow, the light made everything worse. He drew a sharp breath which caught in his throat. He'd barely seen Alan over the past few days but Gordon had mentioned that the kid hadn't been sleeping well; he just hadn't known that not sleeping well actually translated to not sleeping at all.
It was impossible to tell if Alan was trembling from anxiety or sleep deprivation. Dark circles had set so deeply that they resembled bruises; eyes bloodshot and slightly unfocussed, glassy with tears that glistened in the low light. He seemed ghostly in every sense of the word; both sickeningly pale and wavering as if he were about to fade away right in front of Scott.
How long had it been since he'd last slept? Every symptom pointed to the forty-eight-hour mark if not more.
"Hey," Scott whispered, unwilling to risk speaking too loudly for fear of the irrational idea that Alan might shatter. It wouldn't take more than a slight push to knock him over. "What's going on?"
Alan drew a shaky breath which tripped over his next exhale so that he ended up gasping for air, trembling so violently that he looked as though he might tear himself apart. He crossed his arms over his chest, curling his hands around his biceps to claw his nails into the pre-existing bruises there as if it could hide the jitters running through his fingers. His nail varnish had chipped into ruined smears.
"Allie," Scott murmured, pushing himself to sit up properly.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed, hoping that Alan would take the hint and sit beside him, but the kid held himself as still as possible with the glassy gaze of a thousand-yard stare.
"Alan?"
"I…" Alan bit his lip viciously until he tasted blood. He took another strained breath and tried to force the words out before they could choke him. "I don't think I should be alone right now."
Scott swallowed a wave of anxiety-driven nausea.
"Okay. I'm glad you woke me."
It took physical effort to keep his voice level.
"Can you tell me why you don't think being alone would be good?"
Alan's knuckles paled as he tightened his grip on his own biceps.
"Because." His voice cracked and he flinched. "Because my- my thoughts are, um, not safe… dangerous. And they're loud. They're really- really loud, Scotty. Nothing else exists. It's just the- the thoughts. And I'm… I'm really scared they're gonna drown me. S' too m-much."
Scott forgot how to breathe. He fumbled for words that shied away from him, retreating into the mess of panic that his mind had fallen into. He tentatively reached out until he could brush his hand against Alan's elbow, immediately reassured once he had his kid within his grasp again; one step closer to pulling him back from the ledge; capable of holding him until the storm passed.
"You're not going to drown. I would never let that happen."
Alan stumbled over the final step. His knee smacked against the wooden bedpost but he didn't notice the pain, collapsing onto the edge of the mattress with greater exhaustion than it seemed possible to bear. He drew his feet up and wrapped his arms around his knees, hunched over them as if he thought that if he could make himself small enough then the universe might forget about him and give him chance to breathe for once.
Scott placed an arm behind him, a protective bracket just shy of touching.
"I'm tired," Alan confessed. The terrifying numbness that swept into his voice was matched by the desolate darkness in his eyes. His face was wet with tears but he wasn't actively crying. He stared at nothing, still shaking like a leaf in a hurricane. "I'm tired of being tired. How does that make sense?"
"I get it," Scott said softly, resisting the urge to pull him into a hug. "I'm so proud of you for telling me. You're being incredibly brave right now, you know?"
"I don't feel brave."
"How do you feel?"
"Too much."
There were crimson crescents up-and-down Alan's biceps, little welts left by his own nails. Scott wanted to run his thumb across them to soothe the pain, to erase the hurt or maybe even transfer it to himself. He placed his hand on Alan's upper back instead, tracing gentle circles while his own heart broke into jagged, vicious pieces at the telltale tremor of repressed sobs under his palm.
"I want to live and I want to feel everything and experience every moment but I also… don't. It hurts too much. And now there's just this one thought which won't leave. It's been in my head for a while but it started getting loud since New Year's and now it's become e-everything. I can't sleep. I can't breathe. It's just- Here. Telling me to stop. And I'm scared. I'm so s-scared, Scott."
Alan shook his head, burying his face on top of his knees. His voice came out as a tiny, fractured thing, twisted by pain.
"I don't want to give up but I'm too tired and I don't know what to do. You said that asking for help is refusing to give up so I guess that's what I'm doing? I- I need help. But I don't know what that looks like because the- the meds made me feel empty inside and then they made want to just- j-just let go and therapy didn't work either and I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do."
Scott was aware of background murmurs, sleepy voices questioning what was going on, but he ignored them. His world consisted solely of Alan; nothing else mattered. Alan, who had twisted his hands into a cage across his scalp, yanking painfully at his hair as his words stumbled over themselves and fell into a desperate wheeze.
"Hey, hey." Scott caught Alan's wrists, guiding his hands down. "I've got you, kiddo."
"It's too much, I c-can't- It feels like I'm dying, I can't breathe, I can't-"
"Alan." Scott raised the kid's chin until tearful blue met his own desperate gaze. "You're not dying. I promise you. It's you and me, okay? I'm right here. I will never let you drown."
Alan let out a broken, wounded sob. "I can't do this."
"Can you make it through the next thirty seconds?"
"I…"
"Just thirty seconds, Allie. That's all I'm asking. We'll get through them together, see?"
A hologram of the time helpfully appeared within their eyeline and Scott sent a mental thank you to Virgil.
"There we go. And now another thirty seconds. Atta boy. Let's aim for sixty seconds this time."
The timer reset over and over. God bless Virgil, honestly. Scott wasn't sure whether his family had figured out what was going on or if they were simply waiting until Alan wasn't on the verge of a complete breakdown before asking questions but either way he was grateful for their silence.
Thirty seconds became a minute became two minutes became five and then ten. He still had Alan's face cradled between his hands and tears were hot as they dripped over his knuckles. He finally let go, but only so that he could crawl back onto the mattress – he'd been crouched in front of Alan for nearly fifteen minutes now – and gently tugged the kid towards him.
Alan slumped into his arms as if he had been entirely bled dry of energy and had nothing left to give. He lifted his head slightly as he curled closer; it took several seconds for Scott to realise that Alan was listening to his heartbeat.
They kept tracking seconds and minutes; inhales and exhales; words and thoughts; fear and bravery. Scott ran a hand down Alan's back, triggering such a surge of protectiveness that it nearly stole his breath away; Alan felt sharp and small and hurt. He threaded his fingers through tangled blond hair, pressed a kiss to the crown of the kid's head, pulled him closer because he couldn't hold on tightly enough.
It took another ten minutes before Alan broke.
Scott clung on as he shattered into raw, guttural sobs; the kind that stripped voices raw and rocked the foundations of a person's world; painful, unbearable tears; trembling and shivering all at once.
Virgil laid down behind Alan, bracketing him between himself and Scott whilst Gordon crowded close too, Kayo folding herself into the space by Alan's knees, joined by Penelope. There was a brief pause before John stole the place on the edge of the mattress, pressed against Scott's side so that he could reach over and flatten his hand against Alan's back, tapping breathing rhythms to keep him from floating away again. They huddled together, their own lifeboat in the darkness.
"I'm sorry," Alan choked out, damp and twisted, forming a breathless chant, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I don't mean to worry you, I can't stop it, I'm sorry."
"No apologies," Kayo whispered. "Not for this."
"We love you," Virgil murmured, wiping stray tears away from Alan's chin with his thumb. "Always."
"Unconditionally," John promised.
"No matter what," Gordon chimed in and it was telling of just how serious the situation was when John didn't make a comment about how that was literally the definition of unconditionally.
"I love you." Scott tightened his grip slightly with each word. "I'm proud of you. It's going to be okay. We've got you."
Before you hit rock bottom – even if someone caught you before you reached that point – you first had to fall from grace. It might not have been noticeable to begin with, but eventually the realisation struck and then the fear crept in - how far could you fall before it was impossible to repair the damage? Until it was too far to claw your way back to normality? Would it grow so dark that you lost sight of the light? And if so, what then? – and with the fear came the final spiral.
Awareness of self-destruction was painful and exhausting but the most tragic part was how it only came about once you had already begun to fall. Scott was intimately acquainted with the fall; hollow-eyed reflections in broken mirrors; bruised knuckles; reckless near misses that had held too much temptation; unbearable isolation of his own choosing.
But he was not accustomed to watching others go through it.
He'd witnessed similar spirals – John's early college days sprang to mind as did Gordon's accident - but nothing had quite so clearly reflected his own past falls until now. They'd dragged Alan back from the rooftop railing back at the Sanctuary but a part of him had never stopped falling and they were all individually cursing themselves for not realising how bad it was getting.
The night gradually drew to a close but the fear didn't fade and neither did the parasitic sadness which leeched the light from Alan's eyes. Sunrise was supposed to bring hope but it seemed as if they'd have to create that miracle themselves.
Miracles are made by human hands, Scott recalled as he watched tentative sunrays peek through the curtains. That campfire in the woods had been so long ago now and sometimes he wondered whether it was the last time any of them had felt at peace. He threaded his fingers through Alan's hair again, reassured by the weight of the kid's head above his heart and his steady breathing.
No one had left the room except for Penelope. Her departure had been reluctant but necessary, taking over Kayo's usual task of setting duties on the large whiteboard in the mess hall. She'd taken Finch with her, promising to feed the dog and to return soon after with breakfast for the rest of them.
She hadn't slept since that terrible moment at oh-two-fifty that morning and her uneasiness had made itself known in the way she'd pulled on Parker's old sweater, shrinking into the fabric as if seeking the safety that its owner had once brought. Scott knew how she felt; there was a reason why he had stolen Virgil's shirt for the time-being. Comfort was a sorely needed luxury.
The same silence that had started out pained and breathless had grown into a peaceful lull at some point throughout the night. It was briefly interrupted by the daily clamour of survival chaos as people hauled themselves from bed and stumbled downstairs, but Kayo swiftly shut it out, uncurling from her place at Alan's side to kick the door shut with one foot.
Gordon lifted his head with a questioning murmur as he was jostled, partly asleep with his arm flung across Alan's waist, and Kayo patted his knee to assure him that the world wasn't ending again.
They had caught the kid before he'd hit rock bottom. There was some comfort to be found in that, Scott guessed, if only he weren't so fixated on how far Alan had already fallen.
It hurt to see him in so much pain – hurt even more to hear him confess that his mind kept telling him that it was deserved – and Scott had new sympathy for his brothers when he remembered how he had put them through an even darker situation with his own mental health struggles. He had to question how the hell John had managed to handle it all for so many years; honestly, he deserved some sort of award for not cracking up too.
So far, they had struck lucky in regard to miracles: Alan had voluntarily come to them when he'd gotten dangerously close to the final spiral and they had managed to calm him down to a point where he had fallen asleep. Scott was impossibly grateful for both facts; he sent a general sense of gratitude out at the universe; eyed the fading stars in the winter sky and silently thanked whoever was watching over them; grasped hold of the idea that things could only improve and willed it to be the truth.
He tipped his head back against the wall and reminded himself to breathe. At his side, Virgil stifled a yawn in his sleeve, brushing a hand over Alan's back again as if to reassure himself that their brother was truly there. He propped his head on Scott's shoulder; it was unclear which of them drew more comfort from the contact. Scott didn't dare speak for fear of waking Alan, so instead he lifted his arm to let Virgil lean more comfortably against him.
Penelope returned roughly half-an-hour later, arms laden with trays which included extra treats that definitely weren't part of their rations. Kayo had been using Gordon as a backrest while she watched each rise and fall of Alan's breathing but leapt up to take the trays from Penny.
A brief instance of eye contact leant itself to an entirely silent conversation between them. The uncertainty in Penelope's gaze melted into sad fondness as she sank onto the end of the bed, clasping Alan's ankle to reassure him as he dragged himself back into the waking world.
Kayo wordlessly handed around plates then returned to her place at Alan's side between Penny and Gordon. Penelope folded against her, tucking her chin into the crook of Kayo's neck, seeking an anchor amidst the waves of grief sweeping through the room.
"Mornin'," Virgil whispered, grimacing at the roughness of his own voice. Sleep deprivation was a bitch. He accepted the glass of water that John handed him with a grateful look. "How are you feeling, Allie?"
Alan lifted his head from Scott's chest to blink at Virgil blearily, gaze shifting to the rest of them in turn as he took stock of his surroundings. It was possible to pinpoint the exact second when recollection set in as tension sank its claws into his spine and shoulders.
"Were you guys just… watching me sleep?" he asked, jabbing his heels into Gordon's shins as if to accuse him. "Because that's kinda creepy."
"Kayo's always creepy," Gordon mumbled, not awake enough to consider why insulting her wasn't the smartest move. She shot him an exasperated look but worry for her youngest brother outweighed any contemplated revenge. "So is Johnny. He watches us sleep from holoprojectors 'cos he's paranoid."
"I checked on you while you were in the medbay," John sighed in a long-suffering tone which implied that it was far from the first time they'd had the same conversation. "It was one occasion."
"Debatable but whatever."
Gordon pushed himself upright. Now that the fogginess of sleep was giving way to anxiety again, he was full of nervous energy. It ran through his hands so that he kept knitting them together and cracking his knuckles.
Kayo tugged her hairband loose and dropped it into his palm without a word. He bumped his forehead against her shoulder in gratitude and set about twisting the band one way then another. While his focus remained on Alan, Penelope stole a long look at him, expression unreadable.
Finch clambered onto the bed and deposited herself in Alan's lap. She propped her chin on his knee with a pleased tail thump as he buried his hands in her long fur. A little of the tension drained from his posture as he petted her.
He still looked sickly but less as if he were about to drift away right in front of them, so Scott tried to concentrate on positive thoughts. Virgil knocked their shoulders together in warning as if sensing that he was getting anxious again.
"Don't make it weird," Alan muttered, twisting a lock of Finch's fur around his thumb. "It's silent and awkward and I hate it. Can someone say something?"
There was a brief pause.
"Eat," Kayo told him, shoving a plate within his reach. She gently pushed Finch's muzzle away when the dog made to sniff the food. "Go on. Official doctor's orders, right Virg?"
Virgil cleared his throat as he jolted out of his thoughts. "What? Oh, right. Yes. Eating is definitely a priority."
Alan stared gloomily at the plate. "Do I have to?"
"Yep," Gordon chimed in, stuffing a crust of bread into his mouth so that his cheeks bulged like a hamster's. "S'very important."
"And I get that but, like…" Alan ran his hand along Finch's back with a tired sigh. "I'm really not hungry."
Gordon's forcibly upbeat tone softened.
"Maybe not but you've still got to eat. And then you're gonna take a shower and after that you're going to sleep some more. And you probably won't want to do any of it but you've got to make yourself. I'll be honest, it's going to suck. But then it's going to get easier and after that it'll even get better. So. Take the first step. Eat that."
"Eating makes me feel sick."
"Not eating will make you feel even worse."
"But-"
Gordon shoved his plate into Kayo's hands and reached forward to grip Alan's shoulders until his brother looked up and met his determined gaze.
"You want our help, right? You want to- to get better? Then you've got to meet us halfway. Trust me, I really wish I could do all the work for you but unfortunately that's not possible. And this is one such example. You don't have to get up and make breakfast. We've already done that. All you have to do is actually eat it, okay? That's the part where you've got to put in effort because we can't do it for you. Which is exhausting and I get it because life's a bitch and it really sucks for you right now but Alan, c'mon… This is the lifeline. Are you gonna take it?"
A faint ache in his lungs reminded Scott that he was holding his breath. Virgil had grabbed his wrist at some point and now that grip tightened slightly. He was aware of John sat as still as a statue to his right, eyes fixed on their two youngest brothers. Kayo didn't look away either. Penelope lowered her gaze to hide the glisten of unshed tears.
But Gordon and Alan just stared at each other, both searching for something unnameable. Then, after a strained minute, Alan let his forehead fall against Gordon's collarbone and exhaled slowly.
"Switch with me then. Jam's too sweet. It's gonna make me actually sick."
"Yeah, 'cos honey totally isn't sweet at all," Gordon teased, but swapped plates without hesitation. He patted Alan's head with a secretive smile at the rest of them. "Hey, sit up. Food time for gremlins. I'll give you a proper hug afterwards, okay?"
Alan picked at a corner of the toast. "Can you take a shower first?"
"Dude," Gordon protested, trying to surreptitiously sniff his shirt. "Oh, yeesh. You might have a point. Wow. I miss the days when we didn't have to ration deodorant."
Kayo shifted away from him. "I also miss those days."
"Okay, listen Tan, you-" Gordon cut himself off, eyeing her suspiciously. "Wait. Do you have any knives on you? Or anything weaponizable?"
"When don't I?"
"Then I'm not going to finish that sentence because I value my life."
Gordon had slipped in-and-out of his jokester role throughout their time at the Sanctuary but it had been too long since Kayo had last been able to play his counterpart. Scott watched them, mildly impressed by how quickly they were able to set Alan at ease with their banter.
Penelope took a bite of toast, leaning into her knowledge of the human instinct to mimic others. Sure enough Alan copied without realising. It didn't take long for him to polish off the entire slice of toast; even if he'd claimed not to be hungry, his body had been desperate for food.
"Hell yeah," Gordon declared, complete with an actual whistle when he glimpsed the empty plate. He hooked an arm around Alan's neck and hauled him off the bed. "Shower time now."
"Gordon…"
"Nuh-uh. No excuses. Shower while you've got some energy because if you feel exhausted now then trust me when I say you're gonna crash real' hard within the hour." Gordon snagged Alan's wrist and pulled him out of the door, voices fading in the corridor. "I know where Kayo has her secret fancy soap rations, so you could totally steal some…"
Penelope waited until the door had closed before turning to Kayo.
"Fancy soap rations? I feel utterly betrayed. How could you keep such a secret from me?"
"Oh, shut up." Kayo elbowed her with a good-natured grin. "I was saving them for a special occasion."
"Such as?"
"No idea. But if they'll help him feel even the slightest bit better, then he can use the lot."
From the outside, it might have looked as though they weren't particularly worried. But the good cheer was surface level; as fake as a sunny day in winter, only looking warm; a cracked mask to cover up the anxiety which threatened to overwhelm all of them.
In Gordon's absence, Kayo took up the challenge of breaking the silence before it could become claustrophobic, but John had yet to say a word since the sun had risen and Scott himself swore he hadn't taken a full breath since two-AM.
"God," Virgil exhaled, leaning forward to brace himself against his knees. His voice wavered as Penelope gently put a hand on his back. "This is…"
"Shit?" Kayo supplied.
In spite of himself, Scott experienced a sudden surge of hysterical laughter. He squashed it back down, knocking his head against the wall so that the dull ache grounded him in the present, away from swirling memories and dangerous what-ifs. He followed Kayo's worried gaze to John, still silent and possibly even a little detached too.
History repeats itself, Scott remembered with a vaguely nauseous sense of resignation as he also recalled just how scared John had always been of experiencing this same cycle with any of their other brothers. And now it was Alan and that was-
"Shit," he confirmed, catching Kayo's eye. "But it won't get any worse."
"You can't make that promise," John interjected. He couldn't look at Scott. "None of us can. You know that and it would be unfair to tell him otherwise."
"Then it won't be a promise. But we can do all we can to help him." Scott hesitated, then forced himself to continue, "He's in a better place than I was and you dragged me out of it. And he's actively asking for help. So, I think… It'll still be an uphill struggle but we know it's possible."
"Right," John replied quietly after a moment, more of a mumble than an actual word.
He slid off the mattress and seized a pair of sneakers from beneath the radiator. The door swung shut behind him with a thud that had Virgil wincing.
Scott wrestled with the instinct to go after him but he wasn't the right person to have that conversation with John and he knew it.
"Should one of us…?" Virgil began.
Penelope scooped up two coats from the back of a chair. "I've got this handled."
"Are you sure?" Scott called after her and wasn't dignified with a response which was understandable given Penelope had been dragging John out of his own head since their Oxford days and thus was well-versed at reading him even when he'd done his best to close himself off entirely.
Finch lifted her head with a restless whine.
"And then there were three," Kayo remarked humourlessly. She shifted a little closer until her knee brushed Virgil's, trying to offer silent comfort. "So, what's next? What's our plan?"
Scott went to reply only to realise that he didn't have an answer. He'd been on hyperalert ever since Alan had first shaken him awake and now that his brother was no longer caught in such a dangerous spiral – or at the very least was in safe hands – all of the panic and horror that had been put on hold reignited in a rush. He couldn't get his mind to focus on a single thought, not helped by the whirlwind of exhaustion that made his vision blurry.
"We usually have vague outlines rather than structured plans," Virgil explained.
Kayo arched a brow. "Seriously? How the hell did you survive this long?"
"Luck," Scott muttered. "A lot of it."
"Whenever we had a plan, it fell apart again," Virgil elaborated, more weariness bleeding into his voice than he'd probably intended to let on. "After a while, it started to feel like tempting fate. Besides, we're good at improvisation."
Kayo looked torn between exasperation and concern. She opted for teasing instead, eyeing them both with a healthy dose of sass as she asked,
"Really? Scott's control freak tendencies didn't become an issue?"
"I'm not a control freak."
"I once had to cut comms because you attempted to micromanage my rescue from afar."
"Only because it was your first rescue back after literally being hospitalised. I feel like I was entitled to be concerned, Kay."
"Concerned, yes. Overbearing? Not so much."
"Over- That is such crap! Virg, back me up."
"And disagree with Kayo? Not a chance."
Virgil reclined against Scott's side, patting his knee to beckon Finch closer. The dog crawled into his lap with a delighted smile, flopping down so that her tail trailed across Scott's legs too. Kayo gave a leisurely stretch and rolled onto her stomach, chin propped in her hands as she studied her brothers.
It took a couple of minutes for Scott to realise she'd tricked them both into relaxing. A well-timed teasing comment had opened the gates to distraction and consequently provided a chance to calm down. He hadn't known that he'd been clenching his fists until he noticed the residual ache in his knuckles. The tightness in his chest had eased too. He rolled his shoulders, breathing deeply, aware of Kayo's watchful stare.
"Well played," he conceded, grudgingly grateful.
She tilted her head with a knowing smile. "Better?"
"A little."
Virgil smoothed the fur across Finch's back. "Thanks, Kayo."
"Anytime."
The fondness in Kayo's eyes sharpened with intention. She glanced at Alan's abandoned hoodie, flung in a heap on Penelope's cluttered dressing table.
"We don't need a set plan but I do think we should consider our next move."
"In terms of Alan or in general?" Scott queried. The familiar threat of a headache was snarling around his temples and he tried not to let on just how crappy he was feeling. "Because those are two very different things."
"Not so different," Virgil corrected quietly. "We can help him to an extent but he needs to talk to a professional. Briggs didn't work out but it's rare for the first therapist to be a good match. So, we can sort out his physical health but then we need to establish better comm links and start working on our original idea of bringing survivors together."
"Rebuilding civilisation is the endgame, Virg," Kayo interjected. "Maybe start smaller."
"I'm not talking about physically putting people in one place or reconstructing a city or anything like that. But the very idea of IR brought people together in the US and Canada and it sounds like you've saved a lot of lives over here too. So, I say we focus on International Rescue. It'll give Alan something to work towards. And maybe…"
"Maybe?" Scott prompted.
Virgil dropped his gaze to Finch. "Maybe we can find some answers along the way."
Answers meant something different depending on who was asked. Scott thought of a possible cure, but he could guarantee that Virgil was thinking of how to regain contact with EOS and Mars, while Kayo eyed her ring finger, clearly considering the gold band residing in her flight suit pocket.
"Isaiah is going to attempt the generator upgrades in about ten days," she ventured, schooling her expression as she glanced up at them. "If it works, we can take Shadow further afield, either to collect Thunderbird One or… or to go home."
Going home hadn't even dawned on Scott as an option. Now that he'd been faced with the idea, he was rocked by a surge of fierce longing. He closed his eyes, imagining that the tentative taps of rain against the glass were palm fronds against his window back on the island.
"We could go home." Virgil's question sounded like more of a statement, ragged with poorly disguised hope. "That could be…"
"Better," Kayo finished for him. She kneaded her scalp, evidently nursing a headache of her own. Her eyes were slightly bloodshot from lack of sleep. "We'd have to check it out first. We have no idea what state the place is in. But if it's an option then… I can't help but think that being home again might be more beneficial for Alan than being here would be."
"Isn't half of our stuff currently in storage on Five?" Scott pointed out.
Kayo waved off his concern. "Minor issue. Anyway, we can try to fix up the Space Elevator. There must be a way to get it working even without a connection. Virgil? Think you can handle it?"
"John can help. I'm sure we can figure something out between the two of us." Virgil hesitated, turning over an unwanted thought in his head before reluctantly adding, "But moving back to the island won't be an option until we have stable global comms."
There was a brief pause.
Kayo spat a curse into the duvet as she crossed her arms and buried her face in them.
"I didn't even think about that," Scott admitted. "Goddammit. Okay. So, home isn't feasible yet. But we can still collect One, right?"
Virgil nudged Kayo's bicep. "Kayo? It's your call. We'd have to take Shadow into the heart of a radiation zone."
She gave a loose shrug. "Sounds like fun. But first…"
Scott glanced back at Alan's hoodie. "He's our priority."
"One step at a time," Virgil murmured.
"We've got this," Scott confirmed, praying that his secret uncertainty wouldn't betray him.
Kayo scoffed, hauling herself upright to reveal a determined gleam in her eyes.
"Of course we've got this. We're International Rescue. Saving people is what we do."