Let's just pretend it's a Friday, shall we? Sorry for the delay - unfortunately I had real life responsibilities to take care of - adult life is a bit of a let-down... I'd like a refund please. But hey, it's my birthday this week, so at least I get to eat cake, and it's pretty hard to feel sad when eating cake.


Thirteen hours came and went with no change. Brains and Virgil surrounded themselves with electronic files and projected bio-readouts and all the data they'd collected over the weeks since societal collapse. Grandma downed a coffee and joined them in the lab, pointing out that she had medical training and a working pair of eyes and therefore would be of significant use, which was an argument that no one could refute. Parker and Kayo vanished on a security check and took Gordon with them before the aquanaut could pace a hole in the floor.

Penelope remained by John's side. If there were such a thing as platonic soulmates, then those two were a classic example. Penelope's eyes were underlined with dark shadows and every so often she would blink back tears, but the love in her gaze was undeniable. She seemed as unconcerned with supposed safety regulations as Scott, keeping one hand tightly entwined with John's and carding her fingers through his hair with the other.

Scott stayed in his chair. Sleep got the better of him after a while and he waded through the bleary daze of reawakening to find himself slumped over the mattress, head pillowed in his arms, still holding John's hand. Penelope was still awake, but her senses seemed dull with exhaustion. She was shivering in the cold air but didn't seem to notice. Scott peeled himself out of his chair and took off his hoodie, coaxing her into putting it on. It swamped her – which was to be expecting given he was well into the Six-Foot Club and Penelope was barely scraping five-three in heels – and the sleeves fell over her hands, but she snuggled into the warmth, pulling the hood over her head, looking a little more human as the blue tinge faded from her skin.

"Thanks," she mumbled, tipping her head back to view him standing over her without moving from her chair. "What about you?"

"I'm fine," Scott assured her. "I naturally run hotter anyway. You need it more than I do."

Penelope tugged on a drawstring absently. "If you're sure…"

"Pen," Scott sighed. "Just keep the hoodie. No arguments, alright?" He patted her shoulder and moved back around to his own chair, taking up John's hand again.

Across the room there was a faint clatter as Virgil's chin slipped out of his hand and smashed into the edge of the table. He jolted upright with a yelp.

"I wasn't sleeping. Who was sleeping? Not me."

"Kid," Grandma said, visibly wincing. She reached over to rub the reddening mark on Virgil's face.

Brains set down his coffee mug. "Virgil," he murmured, sweeping aside holograms to get a clearer look. "You need a b-break."

"I'm fine."

"Virg," Grandma spoke up.

Virgil cut her off. "It's been over twenty-four hours and we don't know what the hell's going on. I don't have time for a goddam break. John doesn't have time."

Brains caught Virgil's hand halfway through the wild gesturing. "Virgil." He sounded fond, grimly tired and admittedly very stressed, but undeniably warm. There was a hint of sternness in the mix too, proof that he wasn't going to take no for an answer. "We're not g-getting anywhere any time soon. Take a break."

Virgil opened his mouth to protest.

"I'm not going to m-make any progress if I'm not fully focussed on the task," Brains continued, quietening as he added, "I can't f-focus when I'm worrying about you. So please, for my s-sake, take a break."

Grandma watched them knowingly but refrained from making any comments. Scott wisely kept silent. Penelope hadn't noticed the conversation at all, only having eyes for John.

Virgil ran a hand down his face and leaned ever-so-slightly into Brains' side. "Ten minutes."

"Thirty," Brains corrected.

"Twenty," Virgil amended.

Brains' smile was exasperated. "Alright," he agreed. "Twenty."

Grandma rose to her feet and snagged the back of Virgil's shirt. "C'mon kid," she growled good-naturedly. "To bed with you."

"M'not a kid," Virgil grumbled, but let himself be manhandled out of the room. His steps were stumbling and uneven and it was only Grandma's arm that kept him from walking into a wall. Scott could only hope that his brother took the advice and actually got some sleep.

With Grandma and Virgil gone, Brains practically slumped against the table. He set his glasses down and pushed his hands into his hair, hiding his face. MAX nudged his knees anxiously and earnt a half-hearted pat on the back for his efforts.

"Anything?" Scott asked, not really expecting an answer.

Brains lowered his hands. His eyes were red rimmed not from tears but from exhaustion. He seemed to have the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"John's stats s-suggest that his immune system is fighting an infection. Figuring out what that infection is… that's the tricky p-part because we don't know exactly what we're dealing with."

Scott swore his heart skipped a beat. "Infection?"

"It could be bacterial."

"Could be?"

Brains pinched the brim of his nose. "I'm not c-certain."

"How certain?" Penelope's question was scarcely a whisper.

Brains paused. "Currently? Sixty-forty."

It didn't escape Scott's notice that the scientist hadn't clarified in which direction those odds were.


Hardback plastic chairs crippled your spine after a while. Scott made the executive decision to tear himself away from John's side for the short few minutes it took to pop into the main lab and carry in a pair of cushioned desk chairs for himself and Penelope. His poor back immediately eased a little as he sank into the supportive embrace of the seat. Penelope's tense shoulders loosened only a fraction, but it was better than nothing.

Time ticked on.

Penelope rolled her chair around to sit beside Scott. She traced patterns over John's wrist, expression crumbling at the sight of the faint bruising around the restraint. Scott felt the same way but his request for the cuffs to be loosened had been met with a grim reminder of why they were necessary in the first place. He hadn't asked again. Brains sure knew how to make a presentation hit home.

The clock's ticking was enough to send anyone insane. It sort of itched at the back of Scott's brain. He gripped John's hand a little tighter.

Penelope pushed their chairs together so that she could rest her head on Scott's shoulder. They sat in silence, save for the clock and the tip-tapping of Brains' fingers against his computer. More time passed. Minutes drifted into hours. Virgil returned looking more human and deposited a fresh cup of coffee under Brains' nose.

"You c-complete me," Brains whispered fervently.

Virgil flushed. "Uh, n-no problem. Did you… um… the uh…" He gestured to the holograms.

Brains grimaced. "Not yet." He swiped half the data packet over to Virgil's display. "Here, t-take a look at these. I want your o-opinion."

The clock ticked.

Scott glared at the offending object and proceeded to spend ten minutes imagining all the different ways he could smash it into oblivion.

Penelope tucked her feet onto the edge of her seat and sighed heavily.

Time slunk onwards in its lonely journey.

Scott wasn't sure what day it was anymore.

Penelope's head was a warm weight on his shoulder. He put his arm around her and let her fall a little further against him, slumped over the arm of her chair and curled against his chest.

"I used to borrow books from him," Penelope whispered out of the blue. "I can't remember how it started and why I didn't simply go to the library, but throughout our time at Oxford, I would always borrow novels from him. He would underline his favourite phrases and tab the passages he thought I'd like the most. He was always right of course and some of those quotes still stick with me." She dabbed at her damp lashes. "Sometimes we'd discuss those books over tea. John always saw hidden meanings where I just read words. He'd uncover entirely new stories underneath the main plot. We approach life in a similar fashion, I suppose. He sees possibilities where I see cold facts."

Scott struggled to keep his emotions in check. His chest ached from the pressure.

"We'd watch the stars in the back garden when we were kids. We had a tent in case it got cold, but I don't think we ever actually used it. It was mostly his thing with Mom – stargazing – and he stopped for a while after we lost her. But then one night I got this knock on my door. It was the night of the Perseids Shower. We didn't speak. We just sat on the porch step and watched. And then years later, after a lot had happened, we took a trip, just the two of us and this crappy car of mine. All across the states. And we ended up in the middle of nowhere and I'd never seen that many stars in my life."

"He took me to see a meteor shower too," Penelope mused. "He was very strict about not looking at any artificial light for at least half an hour beforehand, so we wouldn't ruin our night vision."

"He's taken all of us to see the stars at some point."

"No talking throughout?"

"Exactly."

Penelope tilted her head. "Is there a meaning?"

"Sort of. There's nearly always some hidden depth to anything John does. But I actually think that this is one of the simplest of his actions. Think about it – he loves the stars more than almost anything, so he shares them with the people he cares about most."

Penelope exhaled slowly. "He's a remarkable person."

"Yes," Scott whispered, studying John's sleeping form and silently begging his brother to wake up, please… "Yes, he really is."


"You need a bed, old man. Your back can't put up with this for much longer."

Scott didn't bother lifting his head from the mattress, just flipped Gordon the bird and ignored the indignant screeching that followed. It took a moment, but Gordon let the act drain away and simply melted into a heap on the floor. He rotated one of his bracelets around his wrist over and over.

"No change?"

Scott screwed his eyes shut tightly until he saw spots. "No."

There was a faint scuffling and then a weight against his knees as Gordon shifted to use his legs as a backrest. Scott didn't protest. He had his forehead pressed against John's hand and moving required motivation that he was unable to find. His mind was steadily droning please, please, please on repeat.

"Scott," Gordon said quietly. "We have a problem."

"No shit," Scott snapped, and immediately regretted it. "Sorry. That was uncalled for. What's wrong now?"

Gordon twisted his bracelet a few more times.

"Alan's locked himself in his room. Actually, he uh… he freaked out pretty bad. Everyone was with John apart from me, but I was with you and as shitty as it sounds, Alan was kinda low on my priorities. He wasn't hurt and I knew he'd be panicking but you'd literally passed out and John kept fucking flatlining and I didn't… I should have checked on him sooner. I tried, but he said he needed space. But it's been nearly forty-eight hours now. I'd kick the door down, but he is answering, even if the only thing he says is go away or fuck off, Gordon."

Scott lost his grip on vocabulary, which was apparently becoming a trend. "What?"

"Yep." Gordon's shoulders were rigid. "I get he needs time. Hell, I have no idea what's going through his head right now. But he has to eat and… Well. Since when does Alan react to a close call by hiding? We've had to physically drag him away from hospital beds in the past. Remember when you took that hit in Nebraska? With the building collapse? I'm not even kidding when I tell you that Virgil had Al in a fireman's lift just to get him to leave your side and take a shower and a nap."

"He hasn't come out at all?"

"I haven't seen him since… when you were still out for the count."

Scott picked up on the hesitation. "Since what?"

Gordon yanked at his bracelet. "Look. Alan saw John. I'm pretty sure everyone saw John, given Virgil had to carry him across the hanger to Brains' lab in triple-quick time and it wasn't a pretty sight. And then Al saw Parker and I carry you out too. So. Uh. There um… there may have been a couple of minutes there when he thought he'd lost both you and John."

"Oh, fuck."

Really, there were no other words.

"Ye -ah." Gordon didn't look up. "So. You were my top priority. Everyone else was focussed on Johnny. By the time I found Alan… I kinda fucked up, Scott. I should have checked on him sooner. I didn't realise he didn't know that you were mostly okay and that John wasn't dead and I should have checked, but I didn't. So. You know. Guess who found their kid brother puking his guts up and hyperventilating in the bathroom? A-Star to me for Greatest Brother of the Year Award… not.

So, I did a pretty shitty job of trying to calm him down and… to be honest I don't know if he fell asleep or passed out, but I stayed with him for a while until Virgil called and said he needed me, so… I mean, Al was asleep in his own bed, and he didn't seem like he'd wake up for a long ass while, so I left him there to go to Virg, and when I tried to go back… I guess he woke up sooner than I anticipated because he'd locked the door. He said he needed some time to himself. So. What the hell could I do? What the hell can I do?"

Gordon's shoulders were trembling.

"So, yeah. I fucked up. What else is new? I'm sorry, Scott, I know you've got so much shit to deal with right now. I didn't mean to add to it."

"Gordon," Scott attempted to speak, only to be cut off.

"And I should never have left Alan. I don't know what I was thinking. I've never seen him that upset in my life, not even after we lost Dad, he was just fucking destroyed and so what if he was asleep, why the hell did I think that leaving was an acceptable thing to do? But Virgil was torn up and he needed me, and Grandma was with John and Kayo was calming down Penelope and then I couldn't… fuck. Fuck."

"Gordy. Look at me."

Gordon swiped tears angrily from his face as he finally looked up. Scott hadn't expected to end up on the floor but if Gordon wasn't going to stand up then joining him on the floor it was. His knees protested but he ignored this. There were enough painkillers in the cabinet to fix that later.

"I'm sorry," Gordon murmured again once they were sat side-by-side.

"Stop that. You have no reason to apologise."

"I fucked up. I have every reason to apologise."

"Gordon," Scott cut him off this time. "Yes, I'm worried about Alan. I'm worried about John. But do you know what the most important question is right now? Are you okay?"

Gordon's expression crumpled. Scott caught him, holding him close and murmuring vague reassurances as his little brother fell apart in his arms. Gordon's raw sobs sounded as though he were tearing himself apart.

"You'll be okay," Scott promised. "I've got you."

He guided Gordon's head to his shoulder as he felt fists grip the back of his shirt.

"Dad would be ashamed of me," Gordon choked out.

Scott had never been so certain of anything in his life as he held his brother tighter and replied firmly, without hesitation, "then Dad would be wrong."

Gordon's breathing hitched. "W-what?"

"You heard me. If Dad were here now and he genuinely thought that – which he wouldn't, by the way – then he'd be wrong."

"Wow," a familiar voice drawled, albeit cracked and painfully hoarse. "Scott admitting Dad's capable of being wrong? I really am dead."

Scott rocketed to his feet. "John."

"H-hey." John forced a weak smile. "Miss me?"


Gordon stuck around long enough to make his presence known to John, then, having reassured himself that his brother was showing no immediate signs of developing a taste for human flesh, made himself scarce. Scott presumed he'd headed back to maintain a vigil outside Alan's door in the hopes that news of John's awakening would coax the teenager into leaving his room.

There was a part of Scott that wanted to join Gordon in this task, but the majority of his instincts were focussed on John. His brain was still partly caught up on red-stained hands and fading whispers and stuttering heartbeats and while John was in front of him, alive, he had to remind himself that this real every so often for fear that was all some cruel trick of the mind.

Penelope had squeezed onto the narrow space on the edge of the mattress. One hand was holding John's as tightly as when she'd first slipped into the room and the other was running up and down his arm. She seemed to be crying harder now that he was awake than she had been during those long, painful hours of unconsciousness. John made a feeble attempt to comfort her and came unstuck when he discovered the cuffs pinning him to the bed.

"Ah."

"Sorry." Virgil winced. "It was just a precaution. I'd take them off, but…"

John stared at him deadpan. "Give it to me straight, doc."

"I know you hate to hear it, but sometimes the similarities between you and Gordon are truly terrifying." Virgil flipped through his holographic data packet. "I know you'd normally be more than capable of understanding all the medical terminology in here, but you're still pretty out of it, so here's the basic rundown: you're fighting off some variant of infection. However, we're ninety-percent sure that it's a bacterial infection. If you were going to turn, you'd have done so by now."

John tugged at a cuff with a knowing look. "I'm guessing these are for that remaining ten-percent, right?"

Virgil lowered his tablet with a sigh. "Exactly." His gaze drifted over to Brains. "We'll know for sure in an hour. Brains is running a final test." He lowered the tablet to the nearby table and sank onto the edge of the bed. "Ten-percent is being overly paranoid. In reality, it's probably around three-percent." He reached for the cuffs, loosening them a little until they were no longer pressed flushed against skin. "Also, I just can't bear to keep you tied up like a rabid animal. It was bad enough when you weren't awake to know about it."

"It's inconvenient," John mused, "but it makes the most logical sense. Three-percent, huh?" He winced as his voice scratched and took an offered ice chip from Penelope. "Thanks."

Penelope promptly captured a sob behind clasped hands.

John shot Scott an accusing look. "What happened? Pen, please stop that."

"What happened," Penelope hissed, overwhelmed by a peculiar mix of relief and indignant outrage at the casual way John was treating the entire situation, "is that you flatlined. Multiple times."

Virgil flinched. There was that clouded daze to his eyes that spoke of a flashback. Scott cautiously nudged his brother's foot with his own. Virgil blinked, hands trembling in his lap before he slid them into his pockets with a shiver.

"You died," Penelope whispered. "We lost you. Don't you dare tell me not to be upset."

"I'm not telling you not to be upset, I'm asking you to stop crying because I don't like to see you hurt." John hooked his pinkie finger around hers, the best he could do even with the cuffs loosened by several notches. "C'mon Penny," he added teasingly. "You'll set Scott off if you're not careful."

Penelope tucked her hair behind her ears and wiped her face with a fresh tissue. "Never do that to me again, John. I can't bear it."

John studied her with the softest expression Scott had ever seen from him.

"I'm sorry," he murmured after a moment's hesitation. "Truly, Penelope, I am. I never intended to put you through that. You know I love you."

Penelope sniffed. "I love you too."

John ran a thumb along the back of her hand. "When did you last sleep?"

"Is that a hint?"

"It's a suggestion."

Penelope reluctantly removed herself from his side. "I'll be giving you a proper hug as soon as these ghastly restraints are gone, so prepare yourself. You can't escape. I will find you and you will be hugged."

John visibly struggled not to laugh. "I'll look forward to it."

Penelope leant over and kissed his forehead. "I'll be back soon."

"Not too soon," John warned her. "Sleep, Pen. Seriously. You haven't looked this awful since our third-year finals."

Penelope pouted. "I am highly offended by that statement, especially given my current state is entirely your fault."

John couldn't hold back his laughter this time. "Sleep, M'Lady."

Penelope bristled. "Never call me that again. It sounds wrong coming from you."

"Do I need to ask Virgil to sedate you?"

Penelope swept out of the room with an exasperated sigh. "I'm going, darling, see?"

The moment the door hissed shut behind her, John slumped back against the bed, smile evaporating alongside any sense of energetic confidence. Suddenly it was very obvious that while he was now conscious, he wasn't yet out of the woods. According to the medical notes he was still significantly sick, and this made itself known in the form of a waxy pallor that couldn't be solely attributed to the lights.

Scott had yet to say a single word beyond his original realisation that his brother was awake. He sat in his chair and watched and listened but couldn't find his voice. He faded into the background somewhat but found that he was content with this. Virgil took over the conversation, voice low in the familiar comforting tone that he usually used to calm Gordon or coax Alan into taking medicine. It was slightly amusing to hear it used on John, especially when accompanied by Grandma's gravelly reassurances.

"I feel like you're ganging up on me," John complained, eyeing the IV line suspiciously as Virgil replaced it with a fresh bag. "Grandma, you're supposed to be nice to me. I'm ill."

"You're a bit high if anything," Grandma noted. "How much pain relief is in that solution, Virgil?"

Virgil grinned as he tousled John's hair and only received a bleary-eyed glare in response. "Just the right amount." He crossed back to Brains' side, alerting the scientist to his presence by a gentle tap to the shoulder. "Anything new?"

Brains went to speak and cut himself off with a yawn. "Five m-more minutes, just to be certain."

"You should sleep."

"Soon." Brains yawned again. "Very s-soon," he amended.

"Results then bed."

"RAD," Brains mumbled, listing a little to the side to lean against Virgil's shoulder. "Just a couple more minutes…"

John drifted into a daze-like state, only partly awake. Scott counted down the seconds until the results lit up in a vivid green on the desk. Virgil sat down heavily on a spare chair, relief stamped on his face.

"Bacterial infection," Brains announced, exhaustion colouring his words. "N-nothing more. He'll feel rough for a f-few days, but it's n-nothing a course of antibiotics won't fix." He ran a hand down his face, knocking his glasses askew, a tiny murmur of 'thank God' going mostly unnoticed.

Grandma didn't waste any time in unfastening the cuffs. Scott reached for the one closest to him and practically tore the restraint away. John rubbed at his wrists with a faint wince, the skin slightly flushed and threatening to come up in a bruise.

"Still not feeling cannibalistic," he commented under his breath, glancing at Scott. It was an admission that he remembered all that had happened on board Thunderbird Two but was unwilling to discuss it in front of the rest of their family. Scott understood that. He was still uncomfortable with Gordon knowing. It was a conversation that would wait until they were alone.

There was a brief scuffle as Virgil practically carried Brains out of the room, ignoring all protests and muttered threats that didn't really make much impact given the softness with which they were spoken and the gentle look Brains directed at Virgil despite claims to the contrary. Grandma followed them out, explaining that she was going to check on Gordon and Alan, although Scott suspected she just wanted to give John and him a chance to talk.

There was a short silence.

"Still awake?" Scott whispered.

John had an arm draped over his face. "No," he deadpanned.

"Hilarious, Johnny."

"Don't call me Johnny."

Scott trailed off, his next thought flying out of his head before he could voice it. Because that right there – the most iconic John quote of all according to Gordon – so familiar that hearing it shouldn't have hit him like a gunshot. He'd wondered whether he'd ever heard those words again. There was a lump in his throat. He propped his elbows against the edge of the mattress and pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to breathe evenly.

"Hey." John struggled to shift upright but even the volume of pain meds in the IV line weren't enough to let this movement go unpunished. He settled for patting the space beside him instead and tugged at Scott's wrist. "Get up here."

"Huh?"

John heaved a dramatic sigh. "C'mon. Join me." He shivered. "It's frickin' freezing anyway and you're like a furnace. Get up here – I need my human heater."

"Do you want a blanket? I can find one."

"Scott, do I have to spell it out for you? No, I don't want a goddam blanket. I want my brother."

"O-okay."

"Okay. Come on then."

The bed was not designed for two adult men. Scott was half-convinced that he was going to fall off at some point but frankly he couldn't summon the energy to care. He stared at the ceiling. It was perfectly painted without a single mark. His vision swam. John was still gripping his wrist. Their shoulders were pressed tight together and Scott could feel his tiny shivers.

"Why is it so cold?"

Scott swallowed. "They were trying to freeze the infection before it could spread. Turns out that wasn't necessary, but it takes a while for the room to heat up." He closed his eyes. Took a breath. Focussed on the way that John was practically curled into his side, seeking any ember of warmth he could find.

"Scott?"

"Yes?"

John exhaled slowly. "I'm sorry," he said in a rush. "And I also want to say thank you."

Scott choked on a fractured laugh. It was either that or cry. "I'm the last person you should be thanking."

"You stayed."

"I couldn't save you."

"That's not the point. You stayed. You knew it would mean watching me die and we both knew it would destroy you, but you stayed anyway, and I wanted to be selfish so I didn't ask you to leave. Thank you for that."

Scott stared at the ceiling again. "Did you really believe I would ever choose to leave you?"

"No," John admitted. "But I was scared out of my mind, so logic wasn't exactly on the table at that point." He considered his next words carefully. "What happened? After I…"

Scott clenched the hand hidden from view into a fist until his nails bit his palms.

"I lost you," he whispered and silently cursed the way his voice broke.

John waited for him to continue. Scott wasn't about to volunteer the information.

"Gordon knows," he said instead. "About… the uh, the agreement that you and I have. You know… that agreement. I'm not sure if he knows any details though."

John tensed. "And how, exactly, did he find out?"

"Put together some puzzle pieces. I just wanted to warn you in case he mentions it."

John seemed to be piecing together some puzzle pieces of his own. "How did that naturally come up in conversation?"

"There was footage of us in Two when you… he watched the tape before he wiped the recording, so no one else knows what happened."

"…what happened after I… well. Because that sounds an awful lot like you…"

"We had an agreement, but you weren't there anymore."

"I'm here now. Tell me." Then, softer: "Please."

"You fucking died in my arms. I was left with the gun. You can connect the dots. You probably already have."

John gripped Scott's wrist tighter.

"I kicked it away. I didn't… I wouldn't put them through that."

"But you wanted to."

"…Yes."

"And now?"

"Well not now, obviously."

John exhaled sharply. "Fuck, Scott," he breathed. "That's… I can't even…."

He shivered again, a full-body tremor that left his teeth chattering, which was made all the more concerning by the fact Scott could feeling waves of heat coming off him. He lifted a hand to John's forehead – a rather old-fashioned way of testing temperature but one that worked all the same.

"You're running a fever."

"Really?" John still sounded too worried to pull off the sarcasm but tried all the same. "I couldn't tell."

"Let's put this conversation on hold. You need to sleep."

"I've done nothing but sleep."

"You're sick. Sleep's the best medicine."

"If I sleep, will you stay?"

"If you want me to."

"Please."

Scott was halfway to drifting off himself when John spoke up again, words mumbled by fever.

"Don't leave us. Not under any circumstances, but especially not… not like that."

Scott was silent for a moment as John shuffled closer. "I won't."

"Good."

Another pause.

"Hey Scotty?" John whispered sleepily. "When I'm back on my feet, we should go up to the lookout. We haven't watched the stars in ages. I miss that."

Scott held him close. "Yeah, Johnny," he murmured. "Sounds like a plan."


He stayed for the nightmares and the feverish delirium and the long hours of nothing but uneasy sleep until finally John's temperature dropped back down to healthy levels. The antibiotics kicked in and the difference was noticeable within a few hours. Scott finally left to take a shower and grab something to eat. The most urgent task was to track down Alan but, according to Gordon's latest report, that door was remaining obstinately shut. Apparently Gordon didn't know whether to be worried or frustrated. Scott was firmly in the former category.

His hair was still damp from the shower when he made it to the kitchen. He was focussed on roughly drying it with a towel and not tripping over anything, so he didn't notice Kayo at first until she called his name. She was out on the patio, framed against the sunset.

"What's up?"

Kayo's gaze was firmly on the horizon. Scott squinted. Something metallic was glinting in the settling dusk. It looked almost like a searchlight winking at them.

"Is that a ship?"

Kayo nodded slowly. "It's a GDF vessel."

Scott knew better than to start celebrating without all the details, especially when Kayo seemed so on edge and alert. He moved to stand side-by-side with her and examined that metal hull reflecting the dying sunlight. As the evening glow faded, the bright lights of the ship activated one-by-one.

Kayo shivered. "I tried hailing it, multiple times. There was no answer."

Scott tugged absently at the end of the towel around his shoulders. The waves tossed their heads. The air tasted of rain. A soft haze was gathering around Mateo Island, concealing it from view. In the distance, the ship was beginning to vanish into the darkness, save for those lights which continued to blink. They were ever watching: a series of eyes on the horizon, observing, inching closer.

"What's EOS got to say?"

"She can't get through either." Kayo wrapped her arms around her middle. "I don't like it. There are heat signatures on that ship, which means there's a crew on board, and if they're not answering…"

"They're probably infected," Scott concluded.

Kayo exhaled. "Yeah. Exactly. And unless that current changes overnight, they're about to be washed up on our shores."

Scott strangled the towel in his hands. "This is gonna sound insane, but would you mind handling it? Just for a few hours? If anything changes let me know, but I've got something more important to do first."

Kayo reluctantly lifted her gaze from the ship. "Sure. There's nothing we can do for the time-being anyway. I'll just observe it. Maybe EOS can help me gather some more intel."

Scott patted her shoulder on his way past. "Thanks, Kay."

Kayo raised a hand in acknowledgement. "No need to thank me. Good luck with Alan. Let him know we miss seeing him around… I miss seeing him around."

"He's got to open the door to me first."

"I know. That's why I said good luck."

Scott glanced back over his shoulder as he headed inside. Kayo had taken up residence on the diving-board, her wrist console projecting EOS's avatar, hair tucked back into a tail and her eyes gleaming slightly with the reflection of the pool lights. Beyond, amid the dark, the ship continued its lonely path towards their home, a carrier of death and a promise of something much worse. Scott shoved his hands into his pockets and forced himself to continue walking. Somehow, even with Kayo on guard, he still felt uneasy about turning his back to the ocean.


Hey, look at that - I was slightly less evil this week...

Review?

Kat x