Another story coming to a close - I hope you've enjoyed it!
"Touch that strap, and I'm tying you down."
Gordon jumped, his hand dropping. He looked sheepishly up as Scott stepped into the room, a raised eyebrow daring his younger brother to call his bluff. Gordon didn't lift a finger.
"Good man."
"So not necessary," Gordon complained. The neck-brace was uncomfortable and he longed to roll his shoulders properly. Part of his throat showed signs of swelling, and everyone had completely overreacted. The fact that he physically could argue against the brace should've been enough but nooooo…
Scott and Virgil were following the doctors' orders to the letter. It wasn't lost on Gordon (and if he'd noticed, John certainly had) that the pair of them seemed better at bullying their brothers into behaving than if they'd been the ones in bed. Scott would've been up before the doctor left, but when Gordon had tried that, his brother blocked the door.
"John?" Gordon asked.
If Scott was here, Virgil was with John. The pair had been switching since they'd arrived, although Gordon was sure it was to keep them sharp against the escape tactics that'd been thrown their way. It would have been okay if they'd been kept together, but the hospital hadn't had a room with two beds and John refused to use their name to get it. Gordon disagreed, but he'd been overruled.
"Persuading Virgil to give him a data-pad," Scott said with a smirk. No doubt he was glad to be out of that conversation – John had a knack for getting what he wanted. "They've got him hooked up, so he's not feeling anything."
Gordon would've laughed, only had learnt from bitter experience it wasn't worth it. Virgil had already confirmed that John would be fine. They'd strapped up his ribs and monitored him for a concussion, but there didn't seem to be any lasting damage. If John was asking for a data-pad, it meant he wanted to know what was happening at the warehouses.
But the laugh faded. He couldn't get the image out of his head of finding John on the floor, bloody, bound and unconscious. A hand touching his arm drew him out of his own head.
"He's okay," Scott said, his quiet voice revealing he knew what Gordon was thinking. "He wasn't the one having the life choked out of him when I arrived."
No doubt Scott was experiencing the same haunted thoughts, albeit with a different image in his mind.
"Don't be so dramatic," Gordon muttered. Without thinking, he rested back against the pillows, more tired than he cared to admit. "I had it totally under control."
"'Course you did." Scott's deadpan tone made Gordon look at him. For a second, neither blinked, then Gordon snorted and grinned, Scott following suit. The relief was palpable: John pestering for technology meant he was bored, and Gordon figured he had to be okay if that was the case.
Then again, he'd been bored while being held captive, so maybe that logic didn't ring true.
"So… bailed Alan out yet?"
He doubted his brother had actually been arrested. Unless he'd tried to hit a cop. Which, given he was a Tracy, wasn't completely out there. But it surprised him that the youngest hadn't turned up yet.
Scott didn't answer but glanced away.
"Did he get my text?" Gordon continued. It felt like a lifetime ago he was messaging Alan about the plates.
"Too late," Scott muttered. Gordon raised his eyebrows in an unspoken question but Scott shook his head. No doubt there'd been words between the youngest and oldest: Scott was never exactly rational when a brother was in trouble.
"Where is he?"
"Dad's securing his release."
"You actually got him arrested?" Gordon exclaimed. He didn't know whether to be horrified or impressed. It wasn't unusual for their family for things to go too far, but still!
"I didn't expect him to actually fight back," Scott admitted. If Gordon wasn't mistaken, his brother was blushing. "He was supposed to distract them while we slipped out the back."
"Did you actually tell him that plan?"
Alan wouldn't have liked it, but he might've played along if it meant at least someone getting past the police to come after the missing pair.
There was no mistake this time: Scott was blushing.
Gordon couldn't help laughing, even as he regretted it. "He's not Virg, Scott. You have to say things out loud for the rest of us."
Scott rolled his eyes but didn't respond.
"What would you have done?" Gordon pressed, "if two of us offered you up for bait and slipped out?"
"You wouldn't have dared."
"Oh, really?" Gordon held Scott's gaze, refusing to look away.
For once, his big brother broke the eye contact first. It told Gordon enough: Scott was going to be grovelling for some time.
Gordon smirked. Scott was trying to hide a grin. It was only now, just the two of them, that Scott would let himself see the funny side. Once he left this room, he'd be too busy grovelling to Alan to find it funny. And – knowing his little brother – Gordon was sure Alan would make him work for it, too.
A companionable silence fell between them for a few moments. Gordon studied the white linen before speaking again.
"What's happening?"
Scott didn't need him to elaborate.
"We called in a tip about the buildings. The police went out there: they've arrested those responsible and checking DNA to make sure it was really you and John. But that's just formalities: they've got the camera, weapons, perps… And Dad on their case. He's not going to let the police mess anything up."
It wasn't often Jeff Tracy used his clout to get what he wanted. This organisation had tried to make him part with some of his money. In a way, they'd got what they wanted; the money was being spent on them. Only, it was via a team of the best lawyers in the state to ensure everything the police had found stuck.
"And how we got here?"
The cops knew Scott and Virgil had left. The two brothers had then reappeared with their missing siblings. The issue was that there was no reason for them to know about the warehouses.
Scott looked weary. It wasn't fair that it was a familiar expression on him. Whatever happened, he'd make sure he was the only one who could be implicated.
Scott shook his head. "We wanted to see the wreckage again for ourselves," he said in a well-rehearsed tone. "Decided to follow the road on, see where it led. Turned off, heard shots, found you two coming towards us."
"Just happened to turn off onto the right dirt-track?"
Scott's miserable expression said it all. It was a flimsy story. There'd be questions.
"And what, John and I fought free and left our kidnappers locked up? What if they talk?"
"That's what the lawyers are for. I think they'll cut a deal. They don't have high connections, just a group of common thugs that got lucky."
"They weren't that common," Gordon protested.
He was a member of International Rescue and an ex-WASP agent. The idea that a group of casual criminals had rendered him so helpless, so many times, was insulting. But they had. They'd tied him up, beaten him, hurt his brother, and nearly strangled him. All the while Gordon hadn't done anything to stop them.
"Don't go there, buddy." Scott's voice was soft but authoritative. Gordon looked at him. "You know it won't help."
He only shrugged in response. There was a lump in his throat that had nothing to do with the neck-brace. He looked down again, emotion pricking his eyes. It was exhaustion, nothing more. He'd dealt with far worse, after all.
"What is it?" Scott's hand on his shoulder made Gordon close his eyes, drawing strength from it. The grip told him Scott wasn't going to let the matter drop and, for once, Gordon wasn't in the mood to fight. He'd done enough of that recently.
"They hurt him," he whispered. "They hurt him, and I did nothing."
"You weren't even there," Scott pointed out. No doubt he'd already heard this from John too.
It didn't placate Gordon. "That's not the point. Or, rather, is the point! I shouldn't have let us be separated, I was supposed to protect him and… and why are you laughing?"
It was not the reaction he anticipated to his moment of weakness.
"Oh, Gords," Scott said, shaking his head in fond exasperation. "I'm not laughing at you. Only, I've already had this exact conversation. With John. About you. And how you were hurt and he didn't stop it."
"Why'd he think that? I goaded them, and John wasn't even there."
"Uh huh."
Scott was smirking again. Gordon glared when he realised how effectively his brother had just turned his own argument back against him.
"It's what we do," Scott said. "Blame ourselves for things out of our control, especially when a brother is involved."
"You're the worst," Gordon shot back. He wasn't certain Scott's words had eased the guilt but he did have a point. This was how they reacted – all of them, no matter the situation.
"That's my job, kiddo."
Gordon sagged back against the pillows. He usually had a retort for any nickname that came his way. But right now, he didn't mind being the kid. He wanted his big brothers to sort everything out. Events had been a blur since they'd arrived at the hospital, and he wasn't even in the mood to work his charm on the doctors and nurses.
"Why don't you get some sleep?" Scott said softly.
"Not tired." That was a lie; he was exhausted. Apart from in the car, he didn't feel like he'd slept in days.
"Hell's going to break lose when Dad arrives," Scott warned.
"Hell's already here: it arrived the second they rammed us off the road." His tone was petulant but Gordon didn't care. He wanted John, he wanted to go home and he wanted this stupid neck-brace off. Being stuck in a hospital bed with a brace and his knee strapped up just brought back too many memories.
Scott glanced away. He knew Gordon too well – he knew the bitterness wasn't aimed at him. But he pulled around a chair and sat close to the bed.
"If I promise to stay, will you try to sleep?"
Gordon glared. It was a familiar line, even if one he hadn't heard for several years. After their mom, after his accident… both times, Gordon had developed a fear of being left on his own. And both times, Scott's quiet promise had encouraged him to relax enough to heal, whether that was his body or his soul.
He wanted to deny this was the same thing. But he couldn't. John had been badly hurt and they'd tried to kill Gordon. Much as he played it off, he'd been afraid.
"Please?"
That did it. Scott gave orders; he didn't ask and he certainly didn't beg. Gordon swallowed hard but nodded, avoiding Scott's gaze.
He should let Scott get back to John. Check Virgil had everything he needed. Make enquiries about what was going on with Alan. But he'd be lying if he said he wanted Scott to go.
Gordon felt his body relaxing even before he agreed. But then he forced himself to sit up again.
"Gordon," Scott groaned.
"You have to promise to get some sleep as well," Gordon said. He knew Scott: there was no way the man would've slept since they'd gone missing. The bags under his eyes and ashen complexion told the truth more than Scott's words ever would.
Scott snorted in amusement.
"Scotty, please."
"Easy, Gords."
He didn't remember resting back. Didn't recall the warmth of the blanket being pulled over him. But he did remember the soft touch of a hand running through his hair. The whisper that he was safe and it was over.
Of course he was safe. He was in hospital having helped shut down a criminal organisation.
Still, logic and reason and rationality paled in comparison to reassuring words from his big brother. Gordon fell asleep.
-x-
He was free. And he wasn't going anywhere.
Gordon hesitated in the doorway to John's room. Virgil had told him how their brother was most put-out by the fact Gordon had been discharged and he hadn't. The swelling on Gordon's throat had gone down and the staff were happy to discharge him. They seemed to realise that keeping John in another day was an easy way of also keeping an eye on Gordon: he wasn't leaving without his brother. But this way meant John couldn't shrug off their brothers and try to use Gordon to redirect their concern.
Their father had landed an hour ago. Scott and Virgil had gone to meet him, and collect Alan. Gordon could only assume they hadn't left their brother languishing in a cell this entire time. Gordon figured they wanted to get the dressing down out of the way – and preferably somewhere less public than the hospital.
Gordon had volunteered to stay. He didn't want to leave John. He just hadn't quite worked out the courage to walk in yet. It didn't matter what Scott said: Gordon still felt guilty he hadn't done more to protect his brother.
"Born in a barn?"
John sounded tired, but Gordon smiled and slipped in.
"Grandma would be so proud." It had been one of her favourite sayings while they'd been growing up.
John was propped up, but his eyes were shut even as Gordon entered.
"How'd you know I was there?" As far as he was aware, he hadn't made a sound. John snorted and looked at him.
"Scott and Virg have gone. I knew you wouldn't go far."
"I might've done," Gordon protested. "I could've gone with them – I've been cleared, after all."
"And leave me here on my own? Come off it."
There was no point denying it – John knew him better than that.
"How you holding up?" John asked.
"Discharged," Gordon said smugly. He pulled around a chair with his foot, spun it and straddled it backwards so he could face the bed.
John raised an eyebrow. "I saw the look on your face."
The floor suddenly became very interesting. Who knew plain white tiles could capture his attention so much?
"Gordon."
He knew when John was referring to. Those final few seconds before Scott had come crashing through the door. The hand at his throat, the complete lack of air… Until then, Gordon had been certain they'd fight their way free. That they'd bluff their way out of it. Those seconds when he'd been unable to breathe had changed everything.
But damnit, he'd really hoped John hadn't seen that realisation play out across his face.
"I'm okay." Gordon still didn't look up. But he spoke the truth. He was okay. He was here, alive and breathing, and even discharged. John was okay – alive and breathing, and stuck in a hospital bed where they could keep an eye on him. It was the outcome they needed.
"I'm sorry."
Gordon's head shot up.
"What?"
He was the one with the WASP training; he was the one who should have been able to get them out of it. Why on earth was John apologising?
"I should've uncuffed you," John said. "Should've freed you when I had the chance and then you'd have been able to hold your own."
It had never crossed Gordon's mind they should've done things differently.
"You had to get to Dad," he said with a shrug.
It made sense: they all knew that getting accurate information was 75% of any fight. The remaining 40% was luck. Then 10% skill. Something like that, anyway. Math had never been Gordon's strong point.
"Screw that."
Gordon blinked, startled.
"I should've protected you."
Gordon smiled. When John looked concerned – obviously not expecting that reaction – he gave a small chuckle. Scott was right: they both felt as guilty as each other.
"The same way I should've protected you?" he asked. "Stopped them from doing… that."
He gestured to John's entire body and the bruises covering it. John was still stuck in this bed because Gordon hadn't reached him in time. If that's what he chose to believe. Or, John was stuck in bed because the thugs who'd come after them had done a number on him.
He suddenly understood what Scott had been trying to tell him. Blaming themselves would get them nowhere.
"You couldn't have got to me," John protested. "They had you elsewhere, you didn't know-,"
"Exactly," Gordon interrupted. "I've been feeling guilty about not helping you, when there wasn't anything I could've done. You had to make a choice too – and freeing my hands might not have made any difference."
He was good, but he wasn't that good. Even Gordon had his limits, and these guys had had the upper hand the entire time.
John still looked concerned. "When'd you become the smart one?"
"We switched," Gordon told him. "You floored a guy; I came up with a rational explanation. I'm hoping it's not permanent. Nice moves, by the way."
He often forgot that John had gone through the same training as Virgil and Alan. Scott had taught them how to hold their own.
But his brother blushed. "I was angry," he mumbled, not holding Gordon's gaze.
Gordon chuckled. "So was I."
He still was. But only if he let himself think like that. He stood, spun the chair back the other way before sitting back down and propping his feet up on the end of John's bed.
Neither spoke. There wasn't anything left to say. They'd gone through something, and each had no doubt learnt something about themselves. Gordon would never admit it, but he wasn't as tough as he thought. When they'd pulled that bag over his head, when he thought John might not wake up… It had taken everything not to panic. That wasn't who he thought he was. But he was only human. Maybe too much time saving the world had made him forget that.
"Hear what the guys did to Alan?" Gordon had never been one for silence. Besides, he wasn't sure this was ever going to get old, and fully intended to milk it for all it was worth once his younger brother arrived at the hospital. John grinned, a genuine smile that made Gordon grin back.
"Virgil told me. Apparently the kid is furious with the pair of them."
"Great," Gordon moaned. "You realise who they'll dump him on to cheer him up?"
"You could pull the injured card."
"Nah, I've had enough of that to last me a lifetime."
John nodded in understanding and Gordon started to rock back on the chair. Scott would no doubt have something to say if he saw his brother's precarious position. Gordon felt he deserved a free pass though after being tied up and held at gunpoint several times over the last few days.
"Gordon?"
Gordon dropped all four chair legs back to the floor and looked at his brother. "Yes?"
"I never thanked you."
"For what?" Gordon had no idea what John was talking about and the bewildered look on his face must have said as much.
"For treating me. For getting the stuff off the guys, for begging for it. I know what that must have cost you."
"A choice between pride and you isn't exactly at choice, John." Gordon was not known for being the most serious out of the brothers. Even on a rescue he tried to keep a light-hearted approach, knowing how much it would get to him otherwise. Right now, he sincerely meant every word he said.
John managed a smile and Gordon pointedly looked the other way, giving his brother some space to pull himself together.
"Besides," Gordon continued. "You owe me a new magazine."
John snorted and Gordon grinned, the tension in the room having broken. The two of them were chatting companionably by the time the rest of the family arrived, including their father and Alan.
Scott and Virgil both took the chairs on the far side of the room and Gordon knew it was to give them some space. They had heard the doctors' reports; they knew what was going on. Gordon managed to direct Alan towards John, but knew it would be harder to dodge his father's questions about how he was feeling. Sure enough, a hand dropped onto his shoulder and Gordon glanced into his father's concerned face.
"I'm okay," Gordon muttered, then winced as his dad pulled him into a hug. After a moment, he persuaded the man to let go again, using bruised ribs as an excuse. Jeff pulled back but crouched in front of him.
"Seriously, Gordon?" He asked and Gordon sighed. His wish that no one had seen his terror clearly hadn't been answered; his father's expression indicated he was asking about Gordon's mental state more than his physical one. Gordon glanced at John, who sensed his look and returned the gaze, smiling softly. Returning the smile, Gordon nodded.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "I'm seriously okay."
If his dad didn't believe him, then he didn't push it. Gordon knew there was nothing he could do other than make sure the men responsible didn't see the light of day for a long time. Considering the set to his father's jaw, Gordon knew Jeff was intending to pull every string possible. The men would not be walking away from this.
"So," Gordon said, trying to change the topic away from him. "I hear you went and got yourself arrested, Al."
"I did not," Alan exclaimed. He sat down on the end of John's bed, folding his arms and scowling at Virgil and Scott. "Those two did."
"The police said they never saw them, how can it be their fault?" Gordon said innocently. Virgil groaned and Scott shot him a glare.
"Drop it, Gordon, you're not helping."
"How many years of grovelling is this going to take?"
"At least ten," Alan said, but his scowl softened. Gordon knew Alan was just glad they were all safe and couldn't blame him for being angry. Gordon knew how he would feel if he had been left behind. Then again, he wasn't sure Scott and Virgil would have been able to lose him as easily as they had given Alan the slip.
"You're a proper Tracy now," John suddenly piped out. Everyone looked at him in confusion and he shrugged. "Everyone now has a record in New York."
"You've been arrested?" Alan exclaimed. John shrugged and grinned and Gordon suppressed a chuckle as Alan looked from one of them to the other. Gordon was the only one who could hold his gaze and that was because Alan already knew about his drunken night that had got out of control a few years ago. When Alan looked at Scott and Scott pointedly looked out of the window, Alan's jaw dropped.
"No way!"
"Oh yes," Gordon said happily. "Big brother doesn't quite have the clean record you think he does."
"What did you do?" Alan sounded far too excited and Scott steadily turned red as he continued to look away. Gordon caught his father's eye from across the room and grinned at the eye roll. He knew all about their exploits over the years – he'd been the one to make sure the press never got wind of what they were up to and hiding things like that on an island never ended well.
Gordon's grin was genuine enough that tension finally left his father's face. He clearly realised that Gordon had been telling the truth; that he was okay.
"Please tell me?"
"No."
"Gordon?" Alan wheedled, hoping for a response. Gordon simply linked his fingers behind his head and leant back in his chair.
"That, Alan, is a story for another time."
