Keeping to a regular posting schedule? Me? Um... Ah man, I'm sorry guys. Life is stressful. Also, I'm still emotionally recovering from a certain Spidey-related Marvel movie... Anyway, don't worry, I'll still be posting the next chapter on Friday!
Shockingly, this was a familiar situation. Not the part where they were stuck in Space unable to go anywhere due to the zombifying plague infesting their home planet and the only other colonised world denying them entry, but the rest of it. A difficult situation with high stakes and lives on the line? Yeah. That was familiar alright. All Scott needed was Thunderbird One back and he'd officially be in his element.
This was a solvable problem. They just had to find the correct solution, which shouldn't have been too difficult given they had the entire team at hand, including their resident geniuses – even if Brains was running on two hours of sleep and a granola bar and John looked on the verge of collapse yet again. Apparently those IQ points didn't count towards a basic understanding of self-care.
"What if we go into quarantine?" Penelope asked. She gestured to the cockpit around them. "We could even remain here for the duration if that would put them at ease."
Alan silently reached for the life support schematics and winced. "It would not be comfy, Lady P, I can tell you that."
John held up a hand for silence before they could travel any further down that line of inquiry. "Not an option. EOS already asked and they said no."
"What about Uncle Lee?" Alan set Three onto auto as it became clear that they weren't going anywhere anytime soon and twisted in his seat to join the conversation properly. "Can't he put in a good word for us?"
"I really wish it worked like that." John clenched a hand into a fist. "This is… fuck."
"Okay. New plan." Scott waited a moment until he was certain everyone had stopped spiralling. Space didn't take well to overthinking. It was too easy to get lost in the darkness unless you found a way to tether yourself to reality and none of them could afford to break down right now. "John, Brains, what's Five's status?"
Brains recognised the hidden plan in an instant. "Uh… t-theoretically, yes, Thunderbird Five could sustain all of us."
"Five is entirely self-sufficient," John continued, with that tiny note of pride in his voice. "It's a localised system. All maintenance is to ensure we obey NASA's safety guidelines or when we're updating IR tech. We switch over water tanks and deliver new food supplies as a luxury, not a necessity. So yes, theoretically it's possible for a larger group of people to live there without needing to trek back to Earth every month, it just wouldn't be comfortable. Stricter rations until we can get Kayo's farming plan implemented and… well, try not to think about recycled water too much. Just know that it's clean."
"Very c-clean," Brains muttered, a little sulkily. "I designed that filtration s-system."
Kayo clasped a hand to her mouth to stifle a laugh. "Sounds cosy."
"Oh my god," Alan whimpered. "I'm not drinking anyone's pee. That's so gross."
"Very clean water," Brains reiterated with a touch of venom. He nudged his glasses higher up his nose with an insulted sniff. "Best filtration in the world, actually."
"Off the world," John correctly quietly, shooting his friend a teasing look. Brains shook his head with a sigh, patting MAX's back as the robot shuffled over to him to offer support.
"Is no one else caught up on the water thing?" Alan flung out an arm dramatically. "Seriously? It's gross."
"Alan, you've stayed on Five with me before," John pointed out.
"Yeah, but I…" Alan's eyes went wide. "Oh my god. Ew. Ew, ew, ew, no, I didn't even think about that at the time. Dude, that's so gross, what the hell?"
"Allie, quit that," Kayo told him, jabbing her elbow into his ribs. "You're gonna make Brains cry over his filtration system." She lifted her boots onto the dash, folding her arms behind her head with a contented sigh. "Ah, look at us, trying to make light of the situation because we can only cope with stress through humour. Love that for us. We're doing so well. I'm so proud of us. I mean, I'm still down for throwing myself out the airlock at any given moment, but hey."
"Kayo," Scott muttered.
"Don't be boring, Scooter, let me make my terrible dark jokes."
Alan reached for the controls. "So… Five?"
"Five," Scott agreed, glimpsing John's thrilled smile in his peripheral vision. "Home time for some, I guess."
"Home time for some," John agreed, and clapped his hands together. "EOS, get the place warmed up for us, would you?"
From a distance, Five stood dark, forlorn, as abandoned as any other satellite cruising around the planet. She remained in the void, continuing her lonely passage as she held vigil over Earth without anyone left to save. And yet despite all of this, despite the cold and the lack of lights and stale air as EOS stirred the tanks for the first time in weeks, Five was a beacon in the emptiness, a guiding star. Five was the calming voice amid the fear. Five was safety. Five was to become a new home, although to some she had never been anything but just that – home.
It seemed appropriate really. After all the horrors John had gone through, he was the one who got to go home while the rest of them followed him like lost sheep. He seemed notably more relaxed, even when nursing the headache from hell, as they cruised closer and Alan guided Three in. The airlocks connected with a soft snicker. Green lights ignited across the controls.
Alan cut the engines and sat back in his chair. "So… do we just… go aboard?"
"Not yet. EOS is still bringing everything back online." John swung himself out of his chair and caught Scott's shoulder on his way to the hatch. "I want to check everything over. Coming?"
Scott grabbed his helmet. "Right behind you."
Brains' technology may have been far ahead of its time, but it still took a few minutes for the airlock pressure to stabilise. They waited in the cargo-bay, surrounded by their life packed up in crates. John kept fidgeting. Scott tried to focus on the task at hand. Solve one problem at a time, he reminded himself, but that didn't prevent the fear creeping in. They were going to push Five to her limits with this many people and, as confident as John was in his satellite, he clearly had his concerns too.
The pressure stabilised. Lights cleared. The hatch hissed open. For a second, John remained frozen. Scott didn't say anything, just kept quiet in his own little patch of zero-gee, because this wasn't his moment.
EOS's camera sped into view. John stepped back onto his Thunderbird for the first time in months.
EOS flashed green. "Welcome home, John."
There was a brief moment of pure silence, save for the gentle whisper of the oxygen tanks and that faint hum of the Gravity Ring. Then John lifted a hand and patted the very edge of EOS's camera.
"Thanks." He gave a light laugh. "Oh wow, it is so good to be back."
Scott stepped on board to let the airlock close behind him. It had been a long time since he'd seen John smile like that. Too long. He glanced at EOS's camera and found fond lilac lights observing him, clearly thinking the same thing.
"What?"
"Nothing."
John narrowed his eyes, looking from Scott to EOS. "This is going to end terribly. Alright, I'm announcing my first law – you two are not allowed to plot together."
"I would never plot against you," EOS protested. "Unless we're playing chess. Or if you threaten to throw my spare processors out the airlock. Or if you annoy me."
"I don't plot," Scott informed them both.
John stared at him. "Scott. I grew up with you. There's only two years between us. I remember you being the original prankster before Gordon came along."
"You like pranks?" EOS sounded ecstatic at this revelation. "Oh, I take it back. We can and we will plot."
John stalked on ahead. "I laid down the law, EOS!"
EOS sped after him. "I don't have to listen to you. That's called a dictatorship, John, and you told me those were bad."
"I'm not a dictator, I'm your creator."
"That doesn't mean I have to listen to you. It makes you my father-figure, not my god."
"Oh, dear lord, don't give me an existential crisis right now."
EOS giggled. "I think you've missed me."
John attempted to look stern and failed miserably. "An outrageous accusation. I would never miss you."
"Except you did."
"…Maybe."
"Aw," Scott chimed in, dodging to avoid John's elbow. "Hey! I'm just saying! It's sweet."
John side-eyed him. "I'm not sweet. I am the exact opposite of sweet. I'm the human equivalent of a salt-shaker."
Scott didn't even bother trying to stop himself from laughing. "Uh huh. Keep telling yourself that. You never know – one day it might actually come true."
EOS's laughter rang around the Gravity Ring.
The lights came on at the first hint of motion as the doors to the observation room parted. EOS had lit up the rest of the satellite, so this was the only area left to inspect. Life support was ticking along nicely and that faintly metallic taste to the air was being to ebb away as the tanks circulated. It was safe to remove their helmets at last, although there was a distinct bite to the air as the temperature regulators continued to warm the Thunderbird back to comfortable levels.
Scott rarely spent time on Five, especially not in the Observatory. John seemed more at ease floating in the vast space than he did on Earth. It was probably the absence of gravity and the abundance of stars. Whichever way Scott looked at it, it was very clear that John had come home and EOS, despite having spoken to him on a daily basis, seemed as thrilled to have him back as if they hadn't seen each other in years. It was a touching reunion, really.
It was odd to see the IR displays without any rescue alerts popping up. Scott left the observatory in favour of finding his feet back in the Gravity Ring. Earth span lazily below his feet, wounded and lost. He picked out the fine line of the Mexican coast through a rare gap in the clouds. It was harder to spot fires in the sunlight, but he had no doubts that they were there. Ruined cities plagued by the undead, filled with horrors unimaginable before now. He shivered.
John emerged from the Observatory and tracked him down. Scott had found his way to the kitchen and was attempting to chip ice off the countertops, knowing all too well that a family without food would not last very long without falling into civil war. He'd seen Kayo hangry in the past, and it was not a pretty sight.
John paused in the doorway. "What are you doing?"
Scott turned to waggle the blunt end of the knife at him. "Is there supposed to be ice in the kitchen?"
"In a freezer, yes." John stepped closer to peer over his shoulder. "Ah, crap. No, there's not meant to be ice all over the…. EOS." He gestured to the ice chippings scattering Scott's boots. "What happened?"
EOS sounded mildly guilty. "A slight miscalculation on my part."
"Automatic shutdown of systems means you're not supposed to get involved. Now I have to chip ice off my kitchen before it melts and floods the place." John grabbed another knife from the drawer Scott had managed to crank open, muttering foreign curses under his breath. "Unbelievable. EOS, if this has got into the wiring behind the fridge then there'll be hell to pay."
EOS sounded as though she was pouting. "You're perfectly capable of fixing it."
John wedged the blade under a thick chunk of ice blocking access to a cupboard. "I'm perfectly capable of a lot of things – doesn't mean I actually do them."
"Oh right," EOS teased. "Like socialising."
John tossed his knife in the sink in order to motion dramatically at her to leave. "Go and do something useful."
"Like what?"
"I'm sure you'll figure it out."
Scott watched the camera trail out of the room. John picked up his knife again and cautiously prised an intact sheet of ice away from the countertop, depositing it in the sink to melt safely. On the wall, an electronic display flickered into life, declaring that it had been over an hour since they'd first boarded.
"Hey." Scott stepped back to let John attack the final shards of ice. "Are you sure about this?"
"About what?" John summoned a cleaning bot with a snap of his fingers. "Bringing everyone here?" He propped himself against the counters. "Yes. Why wouldn't I be? It's going to be a tight squeeze, but we'll make it work. The hardest part will be getting food supplies sorted." He flipped his knife into the sink. "I'm claiming my own room, just so you know."
"What?" Scott trailed him out of the kitchen, arms aloft in outrage. "Why do you get your own room? I don't want to share either. No one does, but we have to."
John spun around to offer him a positively angelic smile. "Well, this is my Thunderbird…"
"You're insufferable." Scott made to swat him. "And you're still not getting your own room."
John looped an arm around Scott's shoulders. "Oh, but Scotty. I died."
"You can't use that as an excuse! And we are not joking about it!"
John just looked him.
Scott ran a hand down his face with a groan. "Oh, for fuck's sake."
"Is that a yes?"
"…it's a reluctant yes."
An executive decision was made to leave everything in the cargo bay for the time-being – with the exception of Sherbet and Alan's bearded dragons which were carefully set down in one of the bedrooms, where EOS remained fascinated by them and took it upon herself to observe their behaviour in Space. John just seemed relieved that his AI had something else to focus on.
There was the immediate issue of room-sharing. Scott didn't step in there, just let his family fight it out. John watched on with a sense of smug superiority stamped on his face. It was hard to be too annoyed with him when he was wincing at bright lights and casually covering his ears whenever anyone spoke too loudly. Eventually he gave in and retreated back to his room of which he remained the sole occupant.
Scott took him a glass of water and tracked down some painkillers left on board from pre-apocalypse times. The room was in darkness, but EOS illuminated it in a pale glow just bright enough for Scott to not trip over the discarded uniform on the floor – yet another red flag. He hadn't had chance to change out of his own suit yet, which enabled EOS to project a message on his wrist console.
Migraine. He'll try to sleep it off. Don't disturb him.
Scott left the water and meds on the side. There was a blanket crumpled at the end of the bed which he unfolded and tucked around John's shoulders, hesitating. His instincts were unsettled, a sense of unease prickling at the back of his mind. John was shivering, ever-so-slightly, almost imperceptible, but when Scott pressed a hand to his forehead, he could feel the heat coming off his brother in waves.
"EOS," he murmured. "Keep an eye on him for me?"
EOS dimmed the lights once more. Of course, her message read on his console. Scott picked up the discarded uniform so that it was no longer a trip hazard and glanced back a final time, but John was out for the count and showed no signs of stirring anytime soon.
Gordon met him in the corridor. Scott waited until John's door had sealed behind him before taking a few steps away and waiting for Gordon to break the silence. His brother just knitted his hands together, rocked back on his heels, and remained quiet.
"If you're here to say you told me so," Scott began at last, only mostly joking, "then you can wait until tomorrow."
Gordon wasn't quite quick enough to wipe the traces of hurt from his face. Scott mentally cursed himself.
"Sorry." He leant back against the wall and tried to ignore the beginnings of a stress headache pounding behind his eyes. "What's up?"
Gordon lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. "Um… nothing much. Just… uh… I'm guessing you're gonna share with Virg. But if not… I don't know… I'm just…" He ducked his head. "If you wanna share with me then I don't mind. I dunno. I sound like an idiot now."
"No, no, hold on." Scott caught Gordon's shoulder before he could flee. "What's this really about?"
Gordon inhaled sharply. "I don't want to wake up Alan with nightmares," he admitted in a rush. "Look, Kayo and Penelope are sharing, probably with Grandma too. Virgil will either go with Brains or you. That leaves me with Parker or Alan. And I'm pretty sure Parker hates me."
"Parker doesn't hate you."
"He's not my biggest fan. He thinks I'm the family idiot."
"That's not…"
Gordon waved a hand. "Not the point right now. Just… c'mon, man. You know what Alan's like. If he finds out just how screwed up I am at the moment, he'll freak. He'll spend his whole time stressing about me and his anxiety will go through the roof. I'm not doing that to him. I was gonna ask John to room share but he already claimed his own space."
Scott waited for his brother to laugh at the accidental Space joke. The lack of acknowledgement was possibly more concerning than the confession of nightmares.
"You're not screwed up," he said at last.
Gordon couldn't look him in the eye. "Yeah, well. That's how it is."
Scott resisted the urge to hug him, because Gordon looked about ten seconds away from punching a wall again and touching him in that state wasn't going to end well. He bit back words of comfort and fought for the logic instead.
"Let me speak to Virgil."
"'kay." Gordon hunched his shoulders. "Thanks, Scott," he said quietly.
Virgil was – surprise, surprise – sharing with Brains.
"John might back down about having his own room," he suggested, halfway through attempting to thaw some rations from storage. "Talk to him about it when he wakes up. If he'll share with anyone, it'll be you or Alan." He jabbed at the mixture dubiously with a spoon and grimaced. "How do astronauts eat this stuff day after day?"
Scott darted out a hand to prod the miscoloured contents. Virgil swatted him with the spoon.
"Quit that."
"Gee, fine." Scott rubbed his poor hand and attempted to glare at his brother. "God, Grandma."
"Grandma's awesome. That wasn't really an insult."
"I'm not stupid enough to disagree with you there."
There was a peaceful lull in conversation during which Scott moved to sit on the countertop and Virgil cautiously lowered the heat as the rations began to spit at him. Neither of them were willing to admit defeat and ask EOS for advice. This was pure stubbornness talking as it was becoming very obvious that the food was not going to be edible by the time they were done with it.
Virgil examined the contents. "Huh." He lifted the saucepan off the stove. "Check this out."
Scott watched as Virgil held the saucepan upside down. The mixture remained stuck fast. Not a single drop landed on the floor.
"Hm." Scott poked the tacky contents again. "Is it supposed to do that?"
Virgil chuckled nervously. "I'm gonna hazard a guess at no. Also, I think we just ruined the saucepan, so… you know… there's that too."
"This is not a 'we' scenario." Scott offered his brother a grin. "This one's on you, Virg. Don't drag me into your disaster zone."
"Thank you for your undying support." Virgil settled him with a deadpan stare. "Your brotherly concern is so touching."
"Sarcasm doesn't suit you, Vee."
"I will tip this over your head."
"Good luck," Scott announced. "It's stuck, remember?"
Virgil's glare promised a world of pain as he opened his mouth to begin a torrent of insults only to trail off as a movement flitted in the doorway. He dropped the pan into the sink and lifted an arm to let Alan skid across the tiles and settle against his side.
Scott lifted a hand. "Hey, kiddo."
Alan frowned. "Why're you on the countertop?"
"Because he's a menace to society," Virgil muttered.
Scott took a second to check that he was actually in socks rather than hard-soled shoes and then aimed a light kick at Virgil's knee. Virgil flipped him off out of Alan's sight. Scott laughed aloud, lost his balance on the countertop, and proceeded to slide onto the floor.
Virgil snorted. "Graceful."
"I do try."
"Huh." Alan watched them with a soft, unidentifiable expression formed of too many emotions to pin down. He tilted his head, smile genuine and warm. "You guys seem happier. It's nice."
Scott lost track of his thoughts. He caught Virgil's eye.
"I wouldn't count on it lasting," Virgil admitted, breaking the silence. "But for now… It's been a long time since I felt safe. Properly, you know? We don't have to check over our shoulders the entire time here."
Alan shoved his hands into his pockets with a loose shrug. He was back in jeans and a ratty old band tee that had once been Gordon's. "Just don't look down whenever you're in the Gravity Ring." He shifted onto a new topic without waiting for a reaction. "Hey, what happened here?" He wriggled out from under Virgil's arm to prod the abandoned saucepan. "Dude, what did you do? That's not how you eat space rations."
Virgil knocked his head against the cabinet with an audible thud. "Yes, thank you Alan, I think I might have just about worked that one out for myself."
"Uh huh." Alan gave a solemn nod. "I can see that."
"Are you making fun of me?"
"Nope. Nuh-uh. Not at all."
"C'mere."
Alan skidded out of reach, dodging Virgil's arm with a loud laugh. The tiles were still slightly damp from the traces of melted ice the cleaning bots hadn't found and the pair went careering across the room as though on roller-skates.
Scott sidestepped into the doorway to avoid being swept up in the chaos. For once, he wanted to observe rather than join in. It had been too long since he'd seen Alan laugh like this, too long since he'd seen Virgil genuinely smile. If he was honest with himself, he'd doubted whether they'd ever get this again – happiness, however fleeting. And where had they found it? In a Thunderbird, together. There was something very fitting about that.
It wouldn't last. Virgil was right about that. But with all the bad, just the tiniest smidgeon of the good was all the more precious.
Grandma weaselled her way into joining Penelope and Kayo, as predicted. This left Scott with Parker, Gordon and Alan all squabbling over roommates. Well, Alan was complaining. Parker just gave a grunt every few minutes and held his chin high, clearly irritated at the idea of losing his own space. Gordon remained quiet, eventually slipping away from the Observatory where they'd all gathered. Scott was the first to realise that he was gone. It took a brief tap to Virgil's elbow and a surreptitious nod to Gordon's vacated spot and then Scott excused himself from the ill-fated conversation to track his younger brother down.
It was always strange, walking the Gravity Ring. A single step carried an entire continent out of view and brought stars into clarity. It never took him long to get used to it, but the first few minutes were enough to make him dizzy.
EOS joined him. He could hear the whirr of her camera running along the tracks.
"How's John?"
EOS took a moment to organise her thoughts. "His temperature is still above the optimum levels for human function."
Scott glanced up at her camera. "Much higher?"
The lights flickered between white and purple. "Not too bad. Not cause for concern, anyway." She dipped her lens. "I'll keep an eye on him. If you're looking for Gordon, he's in one of the bedrooms. I can show you."
"Thanks."
EOS didn't try to fill the silence. She simply led the way, the pathfinder, lighting up each section of the Gravity Ring in a peaceful glow until she turned into one of the passages that turned into the living quarters of the satellite. She stopped in front of a closed door. The lock showed as open, but Scott wasn't about to disrespect his brother's boundaries unless he was given sufficient cause for concern, so he rapped his knuckles against the door and waited.
"Good luck," EOS whispered. "I'll give you some privacy."
It was a very human gesture. Progress, Scott thought, with a wave of fondness for the AI he would once have happily destroyed in a heartbeat. He lifted a hand in acknowledgement as she sped away, presumably returning to her creator's side.
The door opened. It was only a fraction, just enough for Scott to slip inside, but then it was closing again, and he was consumed by darkness. He blinked frantically, that familiar sense of unease at being temporarily blind crawling down his spine. A lamp switched on, faint, the lowest setting but enough to illuminate his surroundings.
The room was tiny. This was expected. Thunderbird Five wasn't built to hold more than a two-man crew at any time and the additional bedrooms were only meant for rescuees should Three be unavailable to transport them back to Earth – predating the Space Elevator's creation. And yet, somehow, Gordon managed to look small in a space he should have owned, retreating back to the bed and tucking himself into the corner so that he was safely held between two walls. He drew his knees up to his chest and watched, unblinking.
Scott let the silence settle. Light crept into the corners and pinned down the shadows until they were surrounded by nothing but warmth. He didn't want to rush into this conversation. He needed to assess the situation first. But equally he wasn't about to leave. Walking away wasn't an option. An aged instinct, honed by anxiety and years of brotherhood, whispered that something here was seriously wrong, and he needed to fix it right now. But in order to fix it, he first had to understand, and so…
Gordon yanked one of his sleeves over his hands and tugged at a loose string. At some point apparently everyone other than Scott (and Virgil, actually) had changed into civilian clothes. Gordon was in old jeans, bleached by sun and surf and salt. There was no sign of any bright shirts, only a tatty charcoal jumper that was fraying at the hem and cuffs. It swamped him, suggesting it had once had a different owner, or that he had somehow been skipping rations without anyone noticing. Christ, Scott really hoped it was the former.
"You were right," he said, keeping his voice quiet so as not to shatter the illusion of calm. He crossed to the bed and sank onto the edge of the mattress, keeping that slight distance between them in case Gordon wanted some space. "We didn't go to Mars." He forced a smile. "Does that make you a psychic or a genius?"
There was a brief silence.
Gordon cleared his throat. "How about both?" he asked, aiming for humour but his voice a little too croaky from raw emotion to reach that level. He rested his chin on his knees with a shiver that ran the length of his spine. "God. This isn't ideal."
"Not exactly," Scott agreed. "But we'll make it work."
"Yeah." Gordon's laugh was brittle and damp, and Scott wanted to run or to cry or just hold him and promise it would be okay. "We always do."
There was another silence.
Gordon rocked back against the wall and slid down a little to slump against the mattress. When he spoke, his voice was very small. "What's wrong with me, Scott?"
"There's nothing wrong with you…"
"No, don't start that bullshit. I'm serious. What's…" He waved a hand, gesturing vaguely to himself but also perhaps to the empty room around them, void of any human touch or memory of home. Lost, in a place of their own design. "I don't know what's going on with me."
"Finding out about the immunity," Scott began, but Gordon cut him off.
"It's not that. Well. That was like the tipping point, I guess, but it wasn't… I don't know what's wrong with me. Because I thought I was coping. I had a handle on everything. But then all of a sudden I just didn't."
"You're allowed to be scared," Scott said quietly.
Gordon wrapped his arms around himself.
"But I'm not scared," he whispered. "I wish I was because I can't feel anything. It's just… it's like I flipped the off switch on all my emotions, but I don't know how to turn them back on again. Everyone else gets to experience that relief right now, because we're safe, we're on Five, and that's bought us some time to figure out our next move, but I don't get that. I don't get anything. Alan's scared all the time and I feel like a complete asshole because I'm jealous." He bit his thumbnail, gaze flickering to the scuff marks from sand on the knees of his jeans, as if that old memory could spark a single second of feeling. "What the hell does that say about me? And it's weird, because yeah, I'm worried about everyone, but also… I don't feel it. It's like I know I'm worried, but I can't physically be worried. Does that make sense? I don't know, man, I'm going crazy."
"You're not crazy."
"Really? I sound like a fucking sociopath!"
"Trust me, you're not."
Gordon tore his thumb away from his mouth, the nail angry and bleeding and matching the tears in his eyes that he couldn't feel. "How the hell do you know?"
"Because this… This isn't sociopathy." Scott exhaled slowly. "This is emotional avoidance and it's a symptom of PTSD."
Gordon fell quiet. "Oh." He swallowed back his next words and just repeated that, very quietly, "oh."
"Yeah, oh." Scott reached out and tentatively put a hand on Gordon's shoulder. "It's not easy but we'll figure it out. You're not stuck like this. We'll work through it together."
"Are you sure?" Gordon shifted a little closer, eyes wide and shiny. "That I'm not… you know…" He waved a hand vaguely.
"Not what?"
He swallowed. "Broken."
"Gordon," Scott murmured, trying not to cry or perhaps punch a wall. "No. You're not broken, bud. I promise you."
"I feel like I am."
"I know. Believe me, I get that. Hey, look at me?" He wrapped an arm around Gordon's shoulders. "I get it. I've been there."
"I want it to stop," Gordon explained, in tiny, fragmented whispers. "I'm not me right now. Or at least I'm not your version of me. I don't think… How am I supposed to be a part of this family when I can't even…? I can't be proud of Alan for pushing through earlier and flying us here even after seeing Earth like that, and I know Virgil… he kinda just needs a hug, but he'll know I'm not being genuine and I want to be able to be happy for John because he's finally home… and… you know?" He took a deep breath. "How can people love me when I don't feel anything in return?"
That… was a lot to unpack.
"Because," Scott said eventually, "it's not an exchange. It's not a two-way street. If Alan turns eighteen and suddenly decides he doesn't want anything to do with me, it's not going to stop me from caring about him. We love freely and if we are loved in return, then that's great, that's the best possible scenario, but it's not a requirement. No matter what, you don't have to doubt that. You are always, always, going to be loved."
Review?
Kat x
