This is very late. I know. I'm so sorry. I've had a rough week. I hope you enjoy the chapter!
"You know," Virgil was saying, with an affronted frown that really didn't belong on the face of a man holding a needle, "it would be nice if someone gave me a heads up before dropping two massive bombshells during a family meeting and expecting me to run damage control afterwards." He gave a nonchalant shrug, an evil glint igniting in his eyes as he returned his focus to the needle. "Just saying."
"You've been just saying for the past twenty-four hours," Scott muttered, shifting closer to the door as he inspected the outrageously long needle – and surely there were better ways to collect a DNA sample than with a goddam needle? Clearly Virgil was just getting his own back for the lack of warning about aforementioned bombshells. "Pick a new topic. I think this is the longest I've known you to hold a grudge since Middle School."
"Well, this is the first time I've had cause since Middle School."
Scott raised a brow. "That is a blatant lie and you know it. Gordon irritates you on a weekly basis for a start, and I know I've caused you a few grey hairs."
"Ah, well at least you're self-aware enough to realise it." Virgil held the needle above the scanner and waited for the click as the lights blossomed green. "Close your eyes."
"Why?"
"Because you're a little bitch who's scared of needles," Gordon sing-songed from his perch on the lab table on the other side of the room. He swung his feet like a little kid and offered a positively angelic smile that fooled absolutely no one.
"Don't call me a bitch."
"But you are scared of needles."
"You should be scared of my fist in a minute."
Gordon snorted. "Yeah, right. You wouldn't lay a finger on any of us, ever, and we all know it. So I'm feeling pretty safe making fun of you."
Virgil kneaded his forehead with a heavy sigh. "Why are you even here?"
"So I can laugh at Scott."
"Try that again."
Gordon ducked his head. "Distraction. From the needle. Cos he doesn't like them. Shut up, Virg, stop making me say stuff that makes me sound like a nice person. I'm a gremlin and everyone should respect that."
"Aw," Scott announced, just to see Gordon's furious glower that wasn't scary in the slightest. "Thank you. I appreciate that."
Gordon flipped him off. Scott tried not to laugh, only to flinch as a pinprick of pain ignited in his bicep. Virgil retreated back to his station of various equipment.
"All done."
"Wait, really?" Scott blinked. "Just like that?"
"Just like that," Virgil confirmed, tossing a grin at Gordon. "Nice work, gremlin."
Gordon held up his hands. "My work here is done. You're welcome, folks." He slid off the table, bare feet smacking against the floor like flippers, violating about half-a-dozen lab safety rules, and peered over Virgil's shoulder at the rotating diagrams on his workstation. "Huh."
"Huh as huh, we're in business, or huh as in huh, we're all screwed?" Scott queried, rolling his sleeve back down once he was satisfied that the band-aid had successfully stuck to his skin. He rotated his arm and repressed a wince. Goddam, he hated needles.
Virgil lifted a hand but didn't say anything. There was a tiny muscle leaping in his jaw as he concentrated. Gordon flopped backwards onto a wheeled desk chair and slid across the room to lounge at Scott's side. He lifted his feet onto the edge of the cushion, fiddling with a rope bracelet, all anxious energy and eager to get to the heart of the action – namely, that satellite. Scott felt the same way, but the satellite wasn't quite as important as discovering whether immunity was a miracle that extended to the rest of them, not just John, and so here they were, waiting for the results after a long morning of Brains, Virgil and Grandma extracting DNA samples from everyone and analysing them.
Watching holographic data that he didn't actually understand grew very old very quickly. Scott zoned out and promptly regretted this – his subconscious had been dredging up every second of lost memory from the supermarket and showed no signs of stopping. He blinked to refocus his eyes on the holograms. At his side, there was a faint thud as Gordon's elbow slipped from resting on his knee and smacked into the arm of the chair.
"Smooth," Scott teased.
Gordon hissed at him.
Virgil set down his tablet with a long-suffering sigh. "That's it. Both of you, out."
"What?" Scott straightened in his chair. "You can't kick me out."
"Yes I can, and oh look, I just did." Virgil folded his arms. "I'm being serious. I can't work like this. I need you to leave and let me concentrate." The door peeled open as Brains returned, trailed by MAX. Virgil gestured widely to the open exit. "There you go. Begone."
"Rude," Gordon quipped, flicking his brother's temple on his way past and cackling as Virgil made to swat him and missed. Scott hesitated a moment longer before retreating too. He knew better than to argue with Virgil in Science-Mode.
Scott left Gordon in the hangars and took the stairs up to the villa. He ducked his head around John's door, but the room was empty. He didn't have to wait long for a clue as to his brother's whereabouts as the sounds of distant chaos in the kitchen echoed along the corridor.
"Idiots," he whispered fondly to himself, grabbing an extra hoodie that John would doubtlessly end up needing as the afternoon drew on.
For the first time in weeks, the villa once again felt like home. Scott halted in the doorway and leant against the frame to observe the scene.
With the polluted atmosphere drawing the evenings in, the sun was too faint to produce sufficient light this late in the afternoon. The result was faintly scattered rays and the warm glow of various lamps. The carpet reflected the blue tinge of holograms as a projected movie played above the table in the conversation pit.
Alan was lounged across one of the sofas, cradling his beloved bearded dragons on his chest. One of them had a tail hooked around his thumb and the other was nestled in the crook of his neck, its eyes hooded. Alan ran a finger down its back, smiling as it dipped its head contentedly.
On the end of the sofa, nose buried in a book – and actually following advice for once as his eyes were framed by glasses rather than tech-infused contacts – John held out a plate that appeared to contain shredded lettuce that was on the turn. The bearded dragons didn't appear to care as Alan took a piece and fed it to the tiny reptiles, sniggering slightly as a coiled tail tightened around his thumb. John glanced up from his book for a moment and observed his youngest brother's smile with a fond look.
The kitchen was another matter. Parker appeared to be in the throes of a passionate discussion with Grandma about the correct way to cook pasta. Kayo was perched on a countertop, attacking a tin with a can-opener but mostly just watching the chaos unfold. Penelope remained safely out of reach of any flying cutlery, nursing a drink by the patio doors and watching the gloom settle lower across the horizon. Every so often, Kayo would tear her gaze away from the kitchen and study her friend.
It was surprisingly normal. The new lead and the prospect of immunity had given them all fresh hope, something that had been desperately needed ever since the New Zealand trip. Scott could only pray that it lasted. As it was, he was content to enjoy this moment, no matter how brief it may turn out to be. All they needed, he considered, was some piano music and it would be like a standard family gathering pre-apocalypse.
"Are you going to lurk in the corridor all night or are you planning on joining us?" John called without looking up from his book.
Alan propped himself up on an elbow. "Oh, hey Scott. Wanna watch the movie with us?"
"Is John watching it?" Scott queried, stepping down into the conversation pit. "He looks like he's just reading."
"I'm capable of multitasking," John deadpanned. "You should try it some time."
"Hilarious, Johnny." Scott swatted his brother's shoulder on his way back up to the kitchen.
"I know I am." John lofted his book higher. "And don't call me Johnny."
Alan stifled a laugh behind a dragon. Scott reached over the back of the sofa to tousle the kid's hair. Alan batted his hand away.
"Movie?" he asked, voice laced with a faintly plaintive note.
Scott petted one of the bearded dragons with his thumb. "Soon," he promised. "Let me just check on a couple of things first. I'll join you in a few minutes, 'kay?"
Alan snugged further under the blanket he was sharing with John. "'Mmkay."
Kayo stuck her foot out to prevent Scott from entering the kitchen. "Oh no," she quipped, titling her head so that her smile turned into a smirk in the glow of the LEDs lining the underside of the cabinets. "You're not allowed. We have Grandma already – if I let you in the kitchen too the pair of you will somehow explode the entire island."
"I'm not that bad," Scott protested.
"Microwave incident," Kayo and Alan chorused.
"That was years ago…"
"Scott, you suck," Kayo informed him in no uncertain terms, and beamed. "Accept your fate." She slid the opened tin of tomatoes across the counter to Parker. "Goddam, Grandma, will you please just listen to him? I love you, but you can't seriously expect us to let you cook pasta with oil rather than water."
"Grandma," John called across from the sofa, still not looking up from his book. "I didn't survive a zombie attack only to die from food poisoning. Or an explosion, from the sounds of things. Please listen to Parker. He's a good cook and we don't have enough food left to risk wasting any."
"He's got a valid point," Kayo said quietly as Scott slid onto a bar stool beside her countertop perch. She waited until Grandma had vacated the kitchen in a huff. "We need another supply run." She put a hand on his shoulder before he could physically shudder at the thought. "I know. I get it. But we just screwed over any chances we had of fishing and Mateo is crap for growing crops – Brains already ran the simulations. Tracy Island is still the safest location for a home base, but we're gonna need to figure something out unless we want to keep hopping over to the mainland."
Scott folded his arms and dropped his head onto them. "I'm open to suggestions," he muttered into the marble worktop.
Kayo made a small noise of contemplation. "There's always Five."
Scott gestured for her to continue.
She shrugged. "It's a controlled environment. We can adjust it to suit our needs. It would be far easier to grow food up there under artificial sunlight than it would be to somehow adapt Mateo into a farm."
"You want to use Five as a greenhouse?"
Kayo bit her lip, clearly holding back a laugh. "Of a sort, yes."
Scott returned his gaze to Parker's attempts. The pasta was no longer at risk of being scorched and the sauce was simple but smelt exotic. He closed his eyes to the sounds of bubbling water and simmering salt and tomato and tried not to fall asleep there and then.
"Alright," he replied, recalling that Kayo was still awaiting an answer. "Speak to John about it. He may have some ideas. EOS can lend a hand. As for the supply run… let's do some research this time. Proper research. We're in a better position now than we were before at least. What do we urgently need? Food?"
Kayo grimaced. "Yeah, amongst other things." She slid down from the counter. "I'll make a list, don't worry about it. I've got this. In the meantime," she nodded to the paused movie, "go and hang out with Alan for a bit."
Scott didn't need telling twice. It didn't matter how many times Gordon had assured him that he'd spoken with Alan and the kid wasn't fine exactly but wasn't about to imminently suffer a complete breakdown, he still worried. Not that this was anything new – he'd been worrying about Alan since the day his youngest brother had been born. But it was a different sort of a worry.
Alan lifted his feet out of the way to let Scott sit without needing to be prompted. One of his dragons looked rather concerned at the jostling and crawled up his hoodie to curl in his hair. Scott didn't even try to hold back laughter at the sight, reaching across to pluck the reptile free and placing it on his own knee while Alan struggled to remove the other dragon from where it had its feet hooked into his shirt.
Someone was watching him. Scott twisted slightly to glimpse John. This time the book was lowered, resting upside down in his lap to keep his place.
Alan finally retrieved the dragon. "What? Why're you staring?"
"No particular reason," John said, tracing the embossed the letters on the spine of his book. He gave a loose shrug, expression open enough to read the fondness in it. "It's just… well, dying gives you a sense of perspective. Helps you to appreciate the people around you." He lifted the blanket so that it was wrapped around Scott too. "Reminds you just how much you love them."
"Aww," Alan teased, tipping sideways to rest his head on Scott's shoulder. "You love us."
"Yes," John replied dryly. "I rather thought that was the point." He reached for the remote, thumb hovering over the play button. "Everyone comfortable?"
"Can we switch the movie?" Alan questioned.
John lowered the remote. "Why?"
"Because I wanted to watch Onward originally, remember? And now Scott's here so I can."
Scott wrapped an arm around Alan's shoulders, a little confused. "Why can't you watch Onward without me?"
John shook his head with a fond smile. "Just watch and see. You'll figure it out pretty quickly."
Virgil and Brains worked through dinner and then into the evening. Scott had migrated onto his balcony with a drink by the time his brother slipped into his room. This in itself was a warning that all was not right because if it had been good news Virgil would simply have called him via comms. As it was, he stepped out onto the balcony, rested his arms on the railing, and hung his head.
Scott offered his drink wordlessly. Virgil took the glass and downed it in one.
"That bad?"
Virgil ran a hand through his hair. "Not exactly," he admitted, plagued by dark circles and the headache left by too long spent with holograms. "It's… Some of us are immune."
"But some of us aren't," Scott finished. He returned his gaze to the dark horizon. "Shit," he whispered. "Who?"
"Penelope's immune, as is Brains. Parker isn't." Virgil tightened his grip on the glass. "I… Grandma and Kayo are immune too. So are you."
The moon was just about visible, a faint glow breaking through the thick cloud. Without any light to reflect, the ocean looked impossibly dark and endless, as though nothing else existed beyond their own safe bubble of warm lights and sandy beaches. Below, on the patio, Penelope sat with her feet in the water, keeping Kayo company while she swam laps.
Virgil ran a thumb around the rim of the glass. "I'm not immune. Neither is Gordon or Alan. And before you ask, they don't know yet. I figured… well, no, I didn't figure anything. I came straight to you, actually." He ran a hand down his face. "I don't how to start that conversation." He huffed a humourless chuckle. "I could do with another drink. Don't suppose you've got another where that came from?"
Scott retrieved the glass from his brother's grip and placed it safely on the ground. "I don't think that would be a good idea."
"Yeah." Virgil exhaled slowly. "I know it wouldn't. It's just a weird feeling… knowing I might die. It's different to how it was out on rescues. I guess because I would usually have the adrenaline rush, so I don't have a chance to truly think about it or consider the implications. But now…" He tightened his grasp on the railing until his knuckles paled. "Personally, I… if I'm brutally honest, I don't think I'm capable of going back out there, so that takes me off the table. We can keep Alan safe, too. He's young enough to listen. But Gordon? He's a wildcard. He's the one who concerns me. And Parker… God knows."
The night seemed very still. Even the surf grew muted. The faint splash from the pool as Kayo switched to front crawl was the loudest thing for miles. Virgil's words faded slowly without a breeze to carry them away.
Scott didn't know what to say. It had never crossed his mind that they wouldn't all be immune, save for perhaps Penelope, Parker, Brains and Kayo. He'd assumed that either they'd all be immune, or none of them would be and John was just a fluke. Wasn't that how genetics worked? Wasn't it a bloodline thing or something? For the first time in possibly forever, he wished he'd paid more attention during Biology classes.
"So… what?" He couldn't quite keep the incredulous note out of his voice. "The immunity decided to just skip the younger half of our family?"
Virgil shrugged. "Apparently so." He sounded exhausted. Defeated. A little scared. He couldn't look Scott in the eyes. "God, it's crazy, but I feel almost like I've failed. Which is ridiculous. I know it is. All I did was run the tests and report the results."
"Is there any chance…?"
"No, there is not a chance that it's a mistake, not unless you think that somehow Grandma, Brains and me all made the same screw-up."
Scott wasn't used to hearing that level of venom from Virgil. He turned back to the sea, not entirely certain of how to proceed. The information that had just been revealed still hadn't sunk in. He expected it wouldn't hit him until the early hours of the morning.
"I don't know what you want to do next," Virgil said quietly. "Where do we go from here? Obviously there's still risks even with immunity. John's proof of that. There's bacterial infections to watch out for too. No one wants to get bitten, even if they won't turn, that's the summary."
"But without immunity…"
"Mm." Virgil slumped over the railing. "We could stay here. But… isn't the point of remaining on Earth so that we can do something to help save it?"
Scott read between the lines. Of course he did – this was Virgil. "You want to leave."
"No." Virgil straightened up, seriousness bleeding into his voice alongside vulnerability. "God, no, I don't want to. But I do think that would be the most sensible option. If I take Parker and the kids to Mars, that saves resources here. It'll cut down on the number of supply runs which will lower the risks slightly, not to mention that you won't be distracted worrying over us. It's easier to fight a war when you don't have to check your army hasn't turned on you every five seconds."
"How would you know?" Scott tried to joke. "You've never been in a war."
"And I never wanted to be," Virgil replied wearily. "But look where I've ended up."
Silence dripped into the space between them. Scott closed the distance. Virgil shivered in the faint chill that was never supposed to exist in the tropics.
"You're talking about splitting up," Scott said at last. The words felt jarring.
Virgil offered a tiny smile. "You make it sound like a divorce."
"Well, you are getting the kids…"
Virgil let out a dark laugh. "There's so much… I don't know where to begin. With any of it. I keep seeing things. I don't know if it's memories from that first day, when we were flying here, there and everywhere… and for what, by the way? Those survival camps were overrun mere hours later. Maybe what I'm seeing is my own imagination. But I can't live like this. Looking over my shoulder the entire time… I can't feel safe. And now I know for sure that I'll be more of a liability than a help."
Scott studied the clouds. Beyond that thick cotton, a bright orange dot was glittering.
"Mars," he breathed. "That's uh… that's a pretty long way, Virg. I don't think weekend visits will be on the cards somehow."
Virgil wiped the sheen away from his eyes and sniffed. "Tell me about it." He tilted his head, examining Scott's expression for any hints of his reaction. "It feels wrong to even suggest it. Even when we were at college, when you were flying, and Alan and Gordon were still in school… we still knew we were all safe. This is different. I can't imagine being on another planet, away from the danger but knowing you're in the heart of it. But…"
"It's the right thing to do."
"Exactly." Virgil watched Penelope offer Kayo a hand out of the pool. "You know," he continued, softly so that they couldn't be overheard, "We should all go. Just for a time. The apocalypse isn't going anywhere. We can recover a little, as a family, and then plan our next move. You can refuel Three at the colony for a return trip."
"It would give everyone the option to decide whether or not they want to come back."
"Like Penelope and Grandma."
"And Brains."
Virgil closed his eyes. "Yeah," he choked out. "And Brains."
Scott put an arm around Virgil's shoulders and just let it rest there. Not constricting. Just contact, and the comfort that came with knowing you weren't alone.
"When do you want to go?"
Virgil shook his head. "I don't know. I need to tell the others about the immunity first. And you and I need to sit down with John and Grandma… make sure this is a family decision."
"Gordon's technically a legal adult. He should be there."
"Either way, we need to discuss it first. But then… I know we've got that satellite to investigate, but… I think this should take priority. The satellite isn't going anywhere, and I don't think any of us can handle another high-stakes mission at the moment. Given we don't have enough supplies to stay here for much longer, that means we should head to Mars in the next week."
"Okay," Scott agreed. He tugged Virgil into his side slightly. "Before I forget to mention it, I just have to say… I'm proud of you."
"Come again?"
"I'm proud of you."
He didn't need to explain it.
Virgil's smile was sad but genuine. "Thanks, Scott."
As predicted, it hit him around one-AM. Possibly a little later, or maybe a touch earlier, but it was dark and it was quiet and Scott stumbled into John's room before he could overthink it and talk himself into panicking alone in the shadows. John was either awake already or took less than a second to come to his senses as he switched on a lamp and shuffled upright in bed, watching as Scott paced a hole in the carpet.
"They're not going to die."
"You don't know that!"
John pressed a thumb to his forehead with a tired sigh. "Alright. I can see we're not going to get anywhere with logic. But just take a moment to consider this – none of them have been infected yet. In a couple of days, we're heading to Mars. Between now and then, we won't be leaving the island. There is no point at which they'll be exposed."
Scott slowed to a halt in the middle of the room. "That…"
"Makes a lot of sense?" John finished for him, chuckling at the glower Scott treated him to. "Are you staying here tonight?"
The idea of being alone had his heart lurching.
"If that's alright?"
John shoved a spare pillow onto the floor to make room. "Don't be an idiot, Scott."
In other words, yes, it was alright. Scott slumped against the doorframe.
"Thanks," he murmured. "I've just got to…" He jerked a thumb towards the hallway. "Y'know?"
"Go check on them. Ease your paranoia."
Scott flipped him off and tried not to smile at the sound of his brother's laughter as he closed the door behind him.
The villa stood still and silent, but it was a peaceful tranquillity rather than the oppressive silence Scott had experienced in the past. Maybe it had finally dawned on him that this was their safe place, not just a base to return to – for the first time in weeks, the villa was home. There was sense of irony about that, given they were leaving in roughly forty-eight hours – and oh boy had that been a fun meeting earlier. Scott still cringed recalling Grandma's expression.
It had been a while since he'd done this – a nightly patrol, checking rooms and reassuring his restless mind that his family was safe and sound in their beds. He didn't need to check on Virgil, but he eased Alan's door open.
Alan had moved the bearded dragons' tank from one of the rooms in the Roundhouse to his own desk a couple of days previously and now the glow from the heater bathed the room in a faint glow. Alan himself was sprawled on his back, hugging a pillow to his chest, breathing faintly hitched and expression crumpled, proof that a nightmare was stalking him through his sleep.
Well. That was simply unacceptable. Scott couldn't do anything – yet – about the zombies, but he was an expert at chasing away nightmares. He lowered himself onto the edge of the mattress and set about untangling the blanket so that he could tuck it safely under Alan's chin. With the aircon on full, there was certainly a need for it, as even his own arms were covered in goose-bumps.
"Hey," he murmured, softer than a whisper. "You're okay, Allie."
Alan's grip on the pillow loosened a fraction. Scott smoothed tangled hair back from the kid's forehead and watched the pained lines ease.
"There you go, bud."
He waited a moment longer, but the nightmares seemed to have fled.
Gordon was not where he was supposed to be. Scott hovered in his brother's doorway for a second, as if the aquanaut were about to materialise from thin air, before turning and heading for the stairs with a sense of dread laced with resignation. He'd known Gordon had taken the immunity – or lack thereof – results too easily, but his focus had been on Alan, who'd started crying and then denying it only to work himself into a panic… it hadn't been pretty, and, somehow, within the chaos, Gordon had managed to slip away unnoticed. Scott silently cursed himself for allowing this as he tracked his brother down to the gym.
Gordon didn't workout at crazy-o-clock in the morning. He certainly didn't push himself past his limits, but one look at him proved that he had done just that and yet still continuing. Scott braced himself for deafening music but found this fear unfounded when he pushed the door open to find the room entirely silent. This was disconcerting – Gordon, voluntarily drowning himself in silence? Especially when working out – Gordon was the one who claimed that people who worked out without music were psychos and yet here he was.
"Gords," Scott prompted, knocking against the doorframe for good measure.
Gordon slowed the punching bag's wild swing with one hand and braced himself against it, panting. He was soaked in sweat and the blood staining the bandages on his knuckles painted a horrifying picture.
"Have you been down here the entire time?" Scott realised aloud.
Gordon tore the bandages off his fists. "C'mon." He gestured for Scott to step onto the mat. "Spar with me."
"That's not going to happen."
"Come on!" Gordon inhaled sharply and forced a smile, sharp and shattered. "Please," he whispered, and even his voice seemed raw. "Scott, please."
"I'm not going to fight you," Scott told him quietly. "It's not a smart idea and it's not what you need right now."
"You don't have a fucking clue what I need! No one does! No one ever does!" Gordon stumbled over the words, voice cracking, as though simply existing was too painful, too much, and the world was spinning away from him. "Please."
There was blood dripping onto the mat. Scott wanted to be sick.
"Do you want me to beg?"
"No, I don't want you to-"
Gordon dropped onto his knees. "Please," he whispered raggedly. He wiped sweat and angry tears from his face, smearing blood from his split knuckles across his skin in the process. Where humour had long since fled, fury was all that kept him together – pain, in a very human form.
Lights flickered.
The mat was slippery.
"Stop this," Scott whispered, not caring that it sounded like a plea because what help had pretence been in preventing any of this? "Get up."
He held out a hand.
Take it. Please.
Gordon smacked it away, raising his chin defiantly. "I said fight me."
"I'm not going to do that!"
Scott didn't anticipate his brother's next move – and really, he probably should have done – but on a subconscious level some part of him recognised the tension as muscles coiled. He stepped back instinctively just in time to miss Gordon's wild swing.
"Are you insane?"
Gordon's laugh was brittle and bloody. "Probably."
Scott ducked, the last remnants of exhaustion ebbing away as he slipped into a defensive stance. He refused to fight back, but he wasn't about to let himself get pummelled into oblivion – not that he believed Gordon would truly hurt him, but then again he'd never expected his brother would reach this level to begin with, so how well could he honestly say that he knew Gordon?
Usually, they were fairly evenly matched. If Scott stopped holding back, he could probably wipe the floor with Gordon in his current state, but that wasn't about to happen. He stepped back, circling around, trying to keep light on his feet. Blocking blows was no good – Gordon would simply use the force to his own advantage.
"You've made your point." Scott backed up a few paces. "I hear you, okay? You can hold your own, even without immunity, I know. So just… stop this."
Gordon didn't even falter. There was zero hesitation, just desperation and a hint of exhausted mania. He lunged forwards and Scott didn't step aside. His back stung as Gordon shoved him against the wall at full force and just stopped. Froze. He had one hand fisted in Scott's shirt and the other curled into a fist, arm trembling as he held it aloft in preparation of a strike.
"Stop," Scott whispered, keeping his hands at his sides and ignoring the instinctive urge to raise them to defend himself. His heart was pounding. "This is madness. You know it is."
"Maybe we've all gone mad."
"You're not going mad."
"Shut up!"
Scott forced himself to keep still. "Go on. Hit me if it'll make you feel better. Do it. I won't stop you. But know that I am never, ever, going to fight you in return. Not like this."
Gordon stared at him. His fist lowered a fraction and then flew forwards. Scott threw up a hand to block the punch before it could connect with the concrete wall. His palm ached from the impact and he dreaded to think how much damage Gordon could have done to himself.
For a second, neither of them moved. Silence weighed too heavily for any words to break it. Scott took a deep breath and tried to formulate a sentence that was anything other than a simple whispered please when Gordon's grip tightened in his shirt. He dropped his head to Scott's shoulder, trembling like a leaf in a hurricane, only he was the hurricane and all around the world was crumbling at his touch.
"Gordon," Scott murmured, voice wavering slightly with unease. He had the uncanny feeling that something was about to snap.
Gordon screamed.
Scott didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around him, holding him together, and, slowly, he guided them both to the ground. Gordon crumpled, curling in on himself like a wounded animal, raw cries shattering into agonised sobs.
And oh, how it hurt to witness the person who'd held them all together, forced a smile even in the darkness when no one wanted to listen to optimism, tear himself apart.
Scott was powerless to help. All he could do was hold him.
There were no whispered platitudes because those were lies.
There were only apologies.
Unnecessary, painful apologies.
"You're okay," Scott whispered, over and over as his little brother fell apart in his arms. "I know…"
"How can you know?" Gordon choked out. "I don't know anything anymore, so h-how can you.. stand there and t-try to… to… I don't… fuck."
"I don't know what you're feeling," Scott admitted after a moment. "But I know you."
"I don't even know me."
"Gordon, I helped raise you. If there's one thing I'm still confident about, it's that I know you."
"If you know me…" Gordon took a shuddering breath. "Then tell me how I fix this. How I fix me."
Scott sat back against the wall and studied his brother for a long minute. Gordon waited, still trembling, breathing shaky and knuckles weeping red tears. His eyes were blown wide, bloodshot. He was a collection of sharp edges turning their smooth sides to the outside world so as not to hurt anyone other than themselves.
Fix me, Gordon had asked, as if he was anything other than remarkable, as if he needed to be anyone other than himself to still be loved.
"I can't tell you how to fix yourself," Scott told him, "because I don't think fixing is the right word. But I can help you to heal. That's something I'm more familiar with. It doesn't get easier overnight and it doesn't go away forever. It hurts and some days the only thing pushing you forwards is the people around you. But it gets easier."
"Does it though?"
"Yes," Scott promised him because this was something that he did know. "It does."
Gordon sort of collapsed against him more than he did initiate a hug, but he clung on fiercely. He seemed very small and very young. Scott held him close, close enough to hear his heartbeat racing, and tightened his grip as he felt that familiar wave of overwhelming protectiveness, different to how it was with Virgil and John, because Gordon had still been so little when they'd lost Mom and then again with Dad, so really, truly, he was Scott's kid too, just like Alan was, and part of being a parent was knowing when words weren't the solution but being there and listening was.
"I want to stop hurting," Gordon whispered into Scott's shoulder, the words damp, and all twisted with a stifled sob. "How do I stop being scared? I'm terrified all the time. Especially now, knowing…"
"Here's what we do," Scott told him gently, because the slightest sudden move could break this fragile moment. "We go to Mars. We heal. We figure out each step as we go."
"Together?"
"Together."
There was blood on the floor and on the punching bag and it was smeared over Gordon's hands and Scott's shirt. There were bandages strewn over the mat. The light was flickering again. Gordon was still crying, too exhausted for words, for anything other than comfort and promises.
"Don't leave?"
Scott closed his eyes. Gordon was overly warm and still shaky in his arms.
"If you need me, no matter what, I'll be here."
Gordon sniffed. "Always?"
Scott didn't let go.
"Always."
Review?
Kat x
