Imagine waking up on Christmas morning feeling kinda off only to get more and more ill as the days pass until you nearly end up in hospital... I have not had a fun couple of weeks. That being said, because I've skipped a few Fridays, this does now mean you're getting the Christmas chapter in freaking January... Oops! Sorry! I hope you enjoy it anyway :)


Virgil was incapable of keeping anything a secret for too long. Within forty-eight hours (which was impressive by Virgil's standards) Penelope learnt of their Christmas plans. She told Gordon who told Kayo and it spiralled from there. A sort of buzz infiltrated Five, infecting all of them with that festive excitement Scott hadn't truly felt since his childhood.

John revealed a box of decorations that he'd brought up to the satellite during his first ever year of duty. Scraps of tinsel found their way everywhere. Alan wrapped a string of it around Parker's neck when the man made the unfortunate decision to fall asleep in the kitchen. Parker finally emerged, grumbling, scrubbing at the scattering of glitter clinging to his shirt, but ultimately hiding a fond smile, tousling Alan's hair as he shoved the tinsel back into the kid's arms with a warning never to try that trick again.

"What colour would you like these lights?" EOS queried, filtering the strip of LEDs underlining the worktop in Brains' lab through emerald-green to a promising pearly hue. "How about multicoloured?"

"No," Virgil shouted, flailing as he nearly overbalanced, perched on the desk as he attempted to attach a garland of faux holly to the ceiling. "We're not even supposed to be decorating in here."

"And yet here we are," Scott remarked, tossing a bauble from one hand to the other. He caught Kayo's eye where his sister was lounged in a desk chair, smirking. "Funny how that happens, isn't it?"

Virgil pressed a hand to his forehead with a long sigh. "Just…" He waved a hand. A fake leaf twirled to the ground. "Be sensible. Go with green and gold."

"Green," Kayo repeated. "Ah. An interesting choice. I could make a joke. I want to make a joke."

"Don't," Virgil hissed.

Scott muffled a laugh in his sleeve. Virgil shot him a betrayed look. Kayo nudged a projector out of her way and balanced her feet on the table.

"Personally," she teased, "I think Virg should sing Mariah Carey to Brains. He'd love it."

"He'd hate it," Virgil growled. "I'm not doing that."

Kayo took on a wicked smile. "I dare you."

"I dare you too," Scott added, fixing an innocent look on his face as Virgil whirled on him in outrage.

"Traitor."

Scott lifted his hands in surrender. Kayo casually flicked a fake holly leaf across the floor where MAX pounced on it. EOS, camera in prime position above the door to observe them, sounded confused.

"What is Mariah Carey?"

There was a faint thud as Virgil dropped the garland. "You… Did John never play you Christmas music?"

Kayo clapped her hands together, utterly delighted. "Oh, now we have to play it."

"Mariah Carey wrote a song called All I Want For Christmas Is You," Scott explained as EOS's avatar popped up above his watch. "It came out decades ago, but everyone still listens to it at Christmas. Search for it."

EOS was silent for a moment. "Oh," she realised aloud. "It's this song."

Around the room, speakers murmured into life. A familiar tune danced off the walls. Kayo wriggled in her seat like a gleeful eel, revelling at Virgil's despondent complaints. She slid off the chair, bounding to her feet, and grabbed Scott's hands, pulling him upright.

"What's happening?" He set the bauble down on the desk before he could smash it over the pristine floor. "Kayo, I am scared."

"Dance party!"

"This family is a nightmare," Scott announced to the ceiling.

Kayo held out a hand, beckoning Virgil down from the table. "C'mon Vee, don't be a downer."

She motioned for EOS to turn up the volume. MAX scurried out from his corner, a pleased trill shivering from his camera to his hull as he slipped into pre-coded dance moves. EOS shifted the lights into bright greens and golds. Scott nearly lost his balance on the array of loose tinsel strands trailing from the box of decorations and Kayo used the momentum to send them both into a spin.

"You're both insane," Virgil informed them.

"Insanely awesome," Kayo corrected him, and promptly slid on the tinsel herself. Scott rescued her before she knock herself out on MAX's hull. EOS giggled. The song hit the chorus. Kayo made a wild flail for Virgil's hand and finally succeeded in dragging him down to their level.

"Give it up, Virg." Scott patted his brother's back, aiming for sympathetic but mostly just laughing at him. "You've lost. You're part of this now."

"Sing," Kayo cackled. "Sing, goddammit!"

"No," Virgil hissed. "Absolutely not. No way. Not happening."

"Give into the music," Scott chimed in. Kayo gave him a delighted high-five. "Do it. Sing. I dare you."

"We both dare you," Kayo taunted. "Chicken…"

"If I sing, will you shut up and actually help me with the decorations?"

Scott and Kayo exchanged a look. It was the look of that's not happening, but we'll pretend to go along with it. Scott stuck out a hand. Virgil examined it dubiously before shaking.

"Deal."

Kayo positively sniggered.

It was entirely possible that Brains walked into the room at the perfect moment. It was also entirely possible that Kayo and Scott casually slipped out of the door before Virgil could blame either of them. It was even more possible that Kayo asked EOS to project a hologram of mistletoe in the lab and that Scott didn't exactly discourage her, resulting in Virgil later hunting them down and listing an itinerary of festive threats and revenge – which wasn't intimidating in the slightest, because come on, this was Virgil, he was the family teddy bear. But what it was, was fun.


"Did you and Kayo really get Virg to sing Mariah Carey to Brains?"

Scott didn't register the words at first. He was staring at the ceiling, arms crossed beneath his head, imagining stories behind the spots in his vision induced by the semi-darkness encasing the room. It was getting on for midnight and he'd been trying to will himself into sleeping for the past hour at least. Now, as Gordon's voice filtered through his thoughts, he propped himself on an elbow.

"Sorry, what?"

On the other side of the room, Gordon was just about visible as a vague shape amid the gloom, wrapped up in a thick blanket and a pair of PJ trousers patterned with the Loch Ness monster – a joke present from Grandma years ago. He was curled on his side, chin resting on his folded arm, simply listening and waiting and wanting that sense of companionship that he usually only came looking for in the early hours.

"Kayo said you guys got Virgil to sing All I Want For Christmas to Brains," he repeated.

Scott smiled into the darkness. "Yeah," he admitted. "We didn't actually expect Brains to walk in but… yeah. It happened. Virgil claims he won't forgive us for the next decade, which means he'll be over it by the morning."

Gordon didn't reply. The silence was comfortable, but it was the sort of quiet that had a presence to it, like the calm before a storm, just waiting to snap as if someone had intended for it to break from the very beginning. Scott waited a moment longer before voicing his thoughts.

"How are you doing?"

Gordon didn't immediately answer. Then, faintly, but with enough honesty behind it to weigh the words down, he whispered, "like, genuinely?"

"Genuinely," Scott confirmed.

In response, Gordon reached out and switched on the Christmas lights. The room filled with a gentle glow, soothing silver with a hint of gold as it reflected off the tinsel. Scott flung an arm across his face with a pitiful whine at the sudden brightness. Gordon's chuckle was muted by blankets, but it was honest enough for Scott to brace himself against the lights and actually sit up to pay attention. This was different. They didn't speak openly like this beyond those post-nightmare shakes and sobs. Mostly because Gordon was the king of deflection, so for him to initiate this conversation… Yeah. Scott was going to listen.

"It's Christmas," Gordon said, very quietly. There was a tiny smile on his face that reached his eyes. He tilted his head, blinking owlishly in the lights.

"It's Christmas," Scott agreed. "Well, in a couple of days." He pulled a pillow into his lap to give his hands something to do other than tap. "How do you feel about that?"

"That's the thing," Gordon murmured, softly, almost awed. "I'm excited. I feel excited." He hid his face in his hands with an exhilarated little cry, muffled so as not to wake anyone else. "I forgot how good it feels to… well, to feel. I mean, I've felt stuff over the past month, obviously, but it was sort of muted, if that makes sense? But this is…" He exhaled, beaming. "This is real. Really real. And I never want it to stop."

The issue with feeling again was that while right now all that existed were good emotions, Scott was all too aware that the negative ones would soon come creeping back too. He wasn't entirely sure how Gordon was going to deal with those. History suggested repression would be top of his list of coping methods – which wasn't really a form of coping at all. But in this moment, in the bubble of Christmas lights and blankets and the collection of drawings – credited to both Virgil and Alan – that had found their way into every room on the satellite, it was safe to be grateful for happiness alone. They would deal with the demons when they came calling.

So.

"That's great," Scott said instead. "Really great."

Gordon flopped back against the mattress. "Hey, you don't have a thing against dogs, do you?"

"Do you even know me?" Scott tossed the pillow at his brother. "Gords, we had a dog when we still lived in Kansas. A chocolate lab, remember?"

"Not really," Gordon admitted. He rolled over to face Scott. "I guess I must have been too little. I think I've seen pictures though. Skipper, right?"

"Yep. He was a great dog." Suspicion dawned. "Wait, why are you asking?"

Gordon lifted his blanket to reveal a certain fluffy animal curled up against his hip. "Bertie's been following me around ever since we got here. He won't leave my side." He grinned. "I think Penny's jealous. It's kinda funny actually. She tries to be angry but she's not really angry, so she doesn't come across as scary, she's just cute."

Sherbet lifted his head, recognising his true owner's name. His collar – once premium leather with a polished medallion – was faintly worn at the back of his neck where someone had slipped their hand underneath and rubbed at it subconsciously, easing anxious energy. He snuffled at Gordon's hands, chasing pets, and clambered onto Gordon's chest, curling into a ball and flopping his head on his paws with a soft sigh. Gordon patted the dog's head.

"I'm going to challenge Pen for guardianship."

"Go for joint guardianship instead."

"Nope. All or nothing."

"Good luck," Scott quipped. "You'll need it."

Sherbet gave a little huff. Gordon returned to petting him, scratching the softer fur behind the dog's ears that made him melt. There was definitely something to be said about pets helping with recovery, Scott considered, watching the scene. It was enough to make him second-guess his plans. It had taken so long for them to reach this point, and they were still suffering with nightmares and sudden bouts of anxiety and that sudden rush of nauseating terror whenever Earth slipped into view. Part of him wanted to stay for good. How many answers could that satellite possibly hold?

"You're restless," Gordon noted.

"Am I?"

"Not right now. I mean in general." Gordon rested a hand on Sherbet's back. "You're leaving soon, aren't you?"

It wasn't really a question.

Scott stared at the ceiling. One of the strings of lights had come unstuck and was now gently waving in the flow of circulating air.

"I wouldn't call it leaving," he said at last. "Just… a mission. I'm coming back again. I just want to find out what's going on with that satellite. See what answers I can get. It might be a dead-end."

"Or it might take you back to Earth," Gordon pointed out.

Scott didn't know how to answer that. Mainly because Gordon was right but neither of them wanted to admit it. If Gordon was terrified to let them out of his sight, then Scott was equally as intimidated by the idea of leaving.

"We always knew that was a possibility." He kept his gaze on those lights, set adrift unintentionally, lost unless someone fixed them. His voice was all caught up, struggling to escape past the weight of the memories and his own imagination. "Even with the original plan… I was never supposed to stay on Mars forever. Fixing Earth has always been the endgame."

"What if we can't?"

This conversation had taken a very different turn that Scott had not been prepared for, especially when it was now approaching one in the morning and while he wasn't on the verge of falling asleep, there was that haze of tiredness clogging his mind. He stifled a sigh, stuffed a pillow behind his back, and sat up.

Gordon was watching him, eyes gleaming in the low light. Sherbet was asleep on his chest, snuffling with little snores. It would be far easier to exist without consciousness. Just look at that dog… relaxed. Happy. Unaware that this fragile normality around him was at risk of crashing down with a single wrong move.

"We don't know how quickly the parasite can spread," Gordon continued, quieter. "Without hosts, I mean. Obviously humans were part of the reason why it covered the globe. But if they start dying off… We don't even know if we can reverse this thing. Brains has been studying that sample ever since we first brought it back and Grandma's been offering medical advice too, but they're nowhere near close to understanding it, let alone inventing some sort of vaccine or cure. If we save Earth… what if that means destroying everyone else on it?" He inhaled sharply. "You already told me that you feel guilty about the ones you shot in New York. I'm guessing that extends to New Zealand. The ship. If the cost of saving Earth is killing every infected, can you live with that?"

"I'll cross that bridge if we get to it."

"No, you can't just-" Gordon gently set Sherbet aside and sat up, swinging his legs off the bed to sit on the side, elbows resting on his knees. "You can't just sweep this under the rug and pretend it's not an issue. Because it most likely will be, and we've already had this conversation to a certain extent. You and I both know that you can't live with that, if that is what it comes down to. And if you can't… then that's not an acceptable price. So, if you're not going to think about it, I will. I already have done. I've been thinking about it ever since we blew up that ship."

Gordon paused as footsteps swept past in the corridor. Parker was on the move. A second later there was that familiar hiss of the gym door opening and closing. Scott didn't say anything.

"Look," Gordon continued. He dropped his gaze to the floor, to the colourful bokeh reflecting off the tiles. "It's… if that's what it takes to rid the planet of the infection… what's the point in Earth without humanity? There wouldn't be enough people left for a functioning society. From my perspective if we can't reverse this thing, then that's it. We write Earth off as a lost cause. We track down survivors. If Mars still won't let us land – although I think Penny's making progress on that front - then we bring together these abandoned satellites, let Brains and John loose on them until we have places where people can actually live, and we rebuild."

"In Space."

Gordon gave him a tired smile. "Hey, we haven't done too badly for ourselves up here. No reason why other people can't do the same."

Scott slid down the wall to collapse across the bed again. He had the beginnings of a headache and pain pounded behind his eyes with a vengeance.

"It's a Plan B," he replied.

"Plan B," Gordon agreed readily. "Sure. I'd love to save Earth, but Scott, c'mon man, we've talked about this. If saving Earth means losing you, I'm not going to let that happen. Capiche?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake…"

"Say it, my dude."

Scott lifted his arm from where he'd draped it across his face and eyed his brother. "Capiche," he said at last, albeit grudgingly.

Gordon grinned. "Ha. Gotcha."

"I'm disowning you."

"You love me too much."

"You're the bane of my existence."

"Uh huh. Sure."

"Go to sleep."

Gordon switched off the lights. "We'll figure it out, right?"

"We'll figure it out," Scott agreed, halfway to dozing off.

Gordon was quiet for a moment. "FAB," he whispered for the first time in months, but it sounded familiar and hopeful and meant just as much as it had before the world ended.

Scott let himself smile in the darkness. "FAB," he whispered back.


In the Observatory, the holographic tree was in pride of place and Alan and Gordon had been given free range of the basic coding in order to change the colours of decorations and lights and festive garlands. Grandma was supervising, which translated as encouraging the chaos while Parker remained the only responsible adult in the room. MAX and Brains stuck close by in case Alan chose to be ambitious and attempted to change the more fundamental codes of the tree.

Tucked away in the kitchen, crowded around the table they'd dragged in there after rescuing it from Three's cargo bay, the sounds of laughter and music from the Observatory were muted. Kayo was lounging in a chair, Penelope's toes tucked under her friend's thighs while Kayo traced patterns across Penelope's ankles absently. The kettle was bubbling merrily. Cinnamon and sugar from old supply packets waited patiently in a bowl for baking endeavours to begin, because the one tradition Virgil refused to let die was Mom's cookie recipe, even if he was having to write it down from memory and kept getting confused with the measurements.

"That cannot be your favourite festive movie," Kayo was saying, swatting Penelope's ankle in outrage. "It's Hallmark crap!"

"It's watchable crap," Penelope tried to defend herself. She had a hand clasped to her face to hide her smile. "It's light-hearted. Sweet. The children are endearing."

"The children are hellions," Kayo announced, entirely serious. She twisted sideways to let Penelope brush a piece of fake snow – thank you to Brains for recreating that particular invention – off the shoulder of her borrowed sweater – soft and cashmere and a creamy white shade that she would never have been seen dead in before they came to Five and her wardrobe options became severely limited so that sneaking clothes from Penny's collection was actually conceivable. She craned her neck to glimpse Virgil behind her. "Hey, Vee, aren't children hellions?"

"No," Virgil replied, flicking cinnamon onto her forehead. "They're adorable."

Kayo hissed at him. "Goddam, y'all are annoying. I need someone on my wavelength. Where's Parker? He'd agree with me."

Penelope reached for her comm. "Parker? Are you there?"

There was a brief pause. "Always, M'Lady," Parker answered wearily.

"Do you find children endearing, or do you believe them to be hellions?"

"Hellions," Parker replied instantly without a single second of hesitation. There was a tone to his voice that suggested he was only a fraction of impulse control away from adding, obviously.

Kayo slammed a hand down on the table. "Ha! I told you!"

"Thank you, Parker," Penelope sighed, glowering at the comm. "That will be all. Enjoy decorating."

"Babysitting more like," Parker grunted. A distant voice screeched 'hey, we heard that!' and then the line cut out to the sounds of further chaos.

"Parker's fallen to the Terrible Two," Kayo deadpanned. "We all mourn our faithful comrade." She elbowed Virgil as he made to sprinkle more cinnamon into her hair. "Would you quit that? What did I ever do to you?"

"Changed my alarm to the Barbie theme tune this morning."

"Oh, right." Kayo smirked. "That was a good one."

"Made me sing Mariah Carey to Brains. Do you want me to keep going? Because I have a lot of examples."

Scott, hovering in the doorway deliberating whether or not to join them, recognised that glint in Kayo's eyes and wisely chose to back away. He nearly crashed into John in the corridor. Instinct had him grabbing his brother's shoulder as John swayed on his feet.

For a second, they just looked at each other. John put a hand out to steady himself against the wall and tried to play it off as casual. Scott stared at him.

"What was that?"

John chuckled nervously. "What was what?"

"That. Just then. You nearly fell over."

"Well, you did walk into me. I wasn't expecting it." John moved to lean against the wall. There was something slightly off about him, but whatever it was he was doing too good of a job at concealing it for Scott to be able to challenge him. "Really, it's your fault. Look where you're going. How have you made it this far in life without being hit by a bus?"

Scott took a moment to shift through that particular torrent of information. It only served to prove that there was definitely something wrong, because John was usually far better at deflecting than that.

"Here's an idea, how about you try the truth this time?"

"There's nothing to tell," John repeated, but he winced slightly as Scott stepped closer to examine him, moving away from where he'd been blocking the light.

"Do you have a headache?"

John glared at him. Behind his glasses, his eyes were faintly glazed. "A minor headache," he muttered, pinching his thumb and forefinger together to demonstrate. "Nothing to be concerned about."

"And a fever?"

"No."

Scott put out a hand. John batted it away.

"Would you stop? I'm fine. I'm not a five-year-old, you don't need to check my temperature."

"EOS?" Scott called.

"John is indeed running a fever," EOS confirmed, sounding immensely satisfied at this turn of events as if she'd been nagging her creator about telling someone for quite some time and had been overruled up until now. "It's not very high, but it is affecting balance and…"

"And thank you, EOS," John cut her off. "Traitor."

"One of my functions is to look after you," EOS replied with a not-so-secret trace of venom. "This includes going against your wishes if it's in your best interests, especially when you're behaving like an idiot."

"I'm going to recode you into a vending machine."

"John," Scott interjected before this little spat could degrade into an actual fight. EOS quietened immediately but her lights remained flushed with indignation. "Why didn't you tell me?"

John gave him a long look. "It's not important. I'm fine."

"Not important?"

"It's a one-off incident."

"It happened when we first got here too."

"…it is a second one-off incident." John pushed himself away from the wall, wavering for a fraction of a second. "Let it go. It's nothing to worry about. I'll take a nap and I'll be as good as new come morning."

Scott, reluctantly, against all his instincts, backed down. He knew from experience that if John had made his mind up, you wouldn't get anywhere. Besides, EOS was there to keep an eye on him. If there was anything seriously wrong, they'd soon find out about it. Still. Scott had a certain reputation of being a smother-hen to keep up, so he looped an arm around his brother.

"I am capable of walking by myself," John growled at him. "This is unnecessary."

"Probably," Scott admitted, waving a foot in front of the sensor to open the door to the bedroom compartments. "But let me help anyway. Think of it as a favour – I'll actually be able to sleep if I know you're in bed and not collapsed in the Gravity Ring somewhere."

"That wouldn't happen because I am fine."

"Isn't that usually my line?"

John trailed off. "Alright," he murmured, reaching up to trail a hand along tinsel.

It was rare for him to back down so easily and it didn't ease Scott's concern in the slightest. He tightened his grip on John, grateful that the others were all preoccupied elsewhere. It seemed to take an exorbitant amount of energy to reach John's room, where John promptly crashed face-down on the bed and showed no signs of moving.

"John," Scott said, quietly so as not to exacerbate that headache. "Hey." He placed a hand on his brother's back and retracted it, shocked at the sheer heat radiating off him in waves. "Shit, Johnny. You're really burning up again."

"Well done, Captain Obvious."

Apparently not burning up enough to stop the sarcastic quips from coming to mind though. Scott didn't know whether to be exasperated or simply concerned, because while John was cracking jokes that temperature was definitely rising.

"I'm telling Alan to stay with Gordon tonight," he said, reaching for the control to dim the lights.

John tilted his head slightly so that his words weren't lost in the pillow. "Where're you gonna sleep?"

"Here. I want to keep an eye on you."

John returned his face to the pillow. "Don't need a babysitter," he mumbled, and winced.

"What?"

"Headache."

"When did you last have any water?"

"Dunno."

"I'll be right back."

Virgil was the only one left in the kitchen when Scott slunk through the doorway. He was deep in the process of kneading cookie dough, but glanced up to greet him, freezing as he read the thoughts off Scott's face.

"What's wrong?"

Scott leaned over him to reach the cupboard. "John's sick." He retrieved a glass and held a hand under the tap to check it was cold.

Virgil frowned. "What, again?"

"Classic John. Only he could get sick in space. It's a ready-made quarantine for Christ's sake. It's only been a month since his last fever as well."

"A month?" Virgil double-took. "Scott, he was ill last Tuesday. He had another migraine a couple of days ago too. That's why he vanished halfway through Parker's poker game."

Scott set the glass down on the sideboard. "What?"

Virgil put the mixing-bowl on the table and washed his hands before sinking into a chair to give Scott his full attention. His voice was soft with that contradictory edge to it that always made itself known when he was truly, deeply concerned.

"I didn't know he was ill when we first arrived." He knitted his hands together, knuckles white with anxiety. "That's… shit, so how often has he been…?"

"How many times do you know of?" Scott propped himself against the counter and tangled a hand in his hair. "I know about the initial fever and then again today."

"Last Tuesday, the Wednesday through to Thursday before that," Virgil listed them off on his fingers, eyes widening with the realisation. "Scott, that's insane."

"Tell me about it." Was Scott angry that John had lied to him? Yes, abso-fucking-lutely he was, but right now the concern overwhelmed everything else. "That means he hasn't had a full week without being ill since we got here."

"No." Virgil shook his head. "Since he got bitten."

"But he's immune."

"I know."

"So… what the fuck then?"

"I don't know."

"Virgil…"

"I don't fucking know. Jesus. I didn't even realise we had a problem here until about five minutes ago. I'm not even a qualified doctor, Scott, what makes you think…."

"Grandma is."

"John would hate us."

Scott gripped the counter behind him hard enough so that his knuckles stung. "Quite frankly, I don't give a shit what he thinks. He can hate me all he wants, so long as he's okay."

Virgil studied the floor tiles. "It's probably the bacterial infection." He didn't sound convinced. "If the meds didn't completely kill it… it could have incubated in his system…"

"Yeah?"

Virgil pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. "I don't know," he whispered. "I genuinely don't know. But there's something wrong with him and it sounds like it's getting worse." He gave a damp laugh. It rang hollow. "It's Christmas Eve. Some gift this is."

Scott picked up the glass of water. "Talk to EOS if you get chance. She's been respecting John's wishes by not running to us every time he's sick, but she's still got those records. They might be useful."

"I'll ask her." Virgil half-heartedly held the mixing bowl out to him. "Want some?"

"What happened to swipers, no swiping?"

"What happened is that I always thought we got John back too easily and I've just been proved right and I don't know what the hell is going on anymore, so just steal some cookie dough like you do every year and make one thing normal before I start crying."

"Virg."

Virgil tilted the bowl. "Last chance…"

Scott swiped some of the cookie dough. It was very good, given half the ingredients were substitutes. "As great as ever."

Virgil's shoulders slumped. "Go. You should be with John right now. Fevers do crazy things to the mind, and he never admits when he's scared."

That… wasn't strictly true. Scott tightened his grip on the glass and willed the memories to leave. They never did, always playing in the background, whispering to him in the light of day and screaming whenever night fell.

John had shifted onto his back when Scott returned. He'd discarded the blanket and his t-shirt was soaked. He had an arm draped over his face, visibly tensing under waves of pain. Scott lost his grip on his anger, unable to feel anything other than concern, affection, and that undeniable touch of fear. He closed the door behind him and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Hey."

John didn't move. "Hey," he croaked at last. "Took your time."

Scott let the taunt slide. "Sit up. You need to drink this."

John let his arm fall to his side. He struck a rather pitiful sight, hair dark with sweat, shivering under his t-shirt despite the heat roasting his bones. In the dull light it was hard to tell, but his eyes were bright with not only with fever but with unshed tears.

"C'mon." Scott helped him sit upright. John leant heavily against his side, perception of balance once again off-kilter. "Alright?"

"Dizzy," John admitted. He closed his eyes for a second. "Shit." He swallowed and wrapped his fingers around the glass, hands shaky. "Alright." He took a tiny sip and winced. "Oh, god. I feel awful."

"Seems like a standard day for you recently then," Scott muttered and immediately regretted it as he felt John tense.

"…excuse me?"

"Nothing."

"What did EOS tell you?"

"EOS didn't tell me anything." Scott prodded the glass. "Drink up."

John hissed at him but obediently drained the water. "It's not a big deal."

"I think it is a big deal. I think you're pretending it isn't because you don't want to worry us, but also because you're scared of implications." Scott extracted the glass from John's tight grip and placed it safely out of reach. "But none of that matters right now."

John didn't answer. He attempted to lower himself back to the mattress only to collapse onto it. The shivers were easing up again, but he still radiated heat like a furnace. Scott eyed the temperature EOS helpfully projected onto his watch and winced. It was a wonder John was still lucid.

Darkness trickled in as the lights faded. Scott eased himself further onto the bed so that he could prop his back against the wall. John rolled onto his side, faintly trembling. He closed his eyes, shoulders hunched as if to protect himself from a threat that didn't exist, or at the very least couldn't reach him here. He tangled a hand in the thin sheet beneath him, seeking something unknown or intangible, shuffling closer subconsciously. His forehead was pressed to Scott's knee. Time ticked on.

"I'm sorry," John whispered, very suddenly, out of the blue, shakily. "I'm sorry I lied to you."

Scott carded a hand through John's hair. "Don't worry about that now."

"You were right."

That was a turn up for the books.

"About what?" Scott asked.

"When you said I didn't tell anyone because I'm scared of the implications. You were right. Because… well. We don't exactly have access to infinite medical supplies up here."

"We've got antibiotics."

"That's assuming it's a leftover from the bites."

"What else would it be?"

There was a pause.

"I don't know," John admitted. "That's what scares me."


Christmas Day dawned with EOS serenading everyone with Alan's festive playlist over the speakers. It wasn't an evil time of the morning – of course it wasn't, because using Christmas music as a wake-up alarm was Alan's idea and he was never seen before eight-thirty on a good day – but it was still earlier than Scott would have liked given the late hour he'd finally passed out the previous evening. He hauled himself upright, tiredness playing havoc with his senses, blinking the bleariness from his vision. Across the room, John yanked a pillow over his head with a groan.

"EOS, why?"

"Seriously," Scott echoed, rubbing his temples. "Why?"

EOS giggled. "Alan said it was a good idea."

"Since when do you listen to Alan?" John whimpered from underneath the pillow.

EOS considered. "Since he started teaching me about pranks. More pranks. Better pranks."

John muttered something filthy into the pillow. He tossed it aside and rolled over to peer at Scott, still groggy. "What time is it?"

Scott reached for his watch, stifling a yawn. "Dunno. Like nine?"

"You never sleep in, especially not to this degree." John eyed him with copious suspicion. "Are you dying?"

"Am I-?" Scott gestured wildly. "John. You're…" He ran a hand through his hair. "Fuckin' hell. I haven't had enough coffee for this."

"You haven't had any coffee," John noted.

"Well, there you go then." Scott rolled out of bed and nearly tripped over his own shoes, helpfully discarded across the tiles. "That explains everything." He toed one shoe on. "How are you feeling?"

John crossed his arms beneath his head and examined the ceiling. "Alright."

Scott just looked at him.

"A bit shaky," John admitted. He lifted a hand above his face and examined the faint tremors. "But I haven't eaten anything since… what day of the week is it?"

Scott turned and knocked his head against the nearest wall. "You've just knocked Alan out of first-place for causing me unnecessary stress. I didn't know that was possible."

"Don't worry." John offered him a teasing grin. "I'll pay for your hair dye."

Scott threw a pillow at him.


Virgil was back on mind-reader duty, it seemed, as he met them in the corridor with a plateful of various breakfast foods, most of which Scott hadn't even been aware they had in stock. He examined a slice of French Toast with the same wonder Alan had dedicated to Hailey's Comet.

"Is this real?" He gripped Virgil's shoulders. "You are a genius. I love you."

"You love my French Toast," Virgil corrected, with a healthy dose of pure sass.

"Yes, that too."

John snorted. "Nice one, Scott." He plucked a piece of the French Toast off the tray. "Oh, wow." His eyes went wide. "Virg… just… what. How?" He licked sugar from his thumb. "This has knocked bagels off the top of my list."

Virgil shoved the tray into John's hands with a good-natured sigh. "So, I've officially broken the universe then. Good to know."

"Bagels everywhere are crying," Scott announced.

John elbowed him. "Quit stealing all of it. I'm the one who hasn't eaten."

"Sounds like a you problem," Scott teased, but proceeded to slide most of the food onto John's side of the tray. "Are the others up?"

"Did you not hear Alan's playlist?" Virgil deadpanned. "They're in the Observatory. Kayo and Gordon are fighting over the movie sequence. Grandma's encouraging them. I think she's placing bets with Parker."

John peered over the toast, intrigued. "Who'd she bet on?"

Virgil made to place a hand on John's forehead. "Kayo, obviously. Are you feeling alright? Temperature back again? In what world would Grandma bet on Gordon over Kayo?"

"Swimming contest," John shot back instantly. "Chess. Shockingly enough, Blackjack." He batted Virgil's hand away. "Would you quit that? I'm not some lab specimen."

Virgil stole a bite of French Toast from Scott's side of the tray, ignoring any and all protests. "Actually, about that…"

"No." John polished off his final piece of toast and swept past. "Not happening."

"John. Don't be an idiot." Virgil attempted to chase after him.

"I'm not an idiot. It's actually impossible for me to be an idiot. Have you seen my IQ score?"

"Now you're just being a dick," Scott commented.

John glowered at him. "You don't get an opinion on idiocy. I've had to remote pilot Thunderbird One over four times because you didn't tell anyone about an injury or sickness."

"Do as I say, not as I do?" Scott tried. John didn't look impressed. "Okay, but in my defence…" He looked to Virgil.

Virgil shrugged. "Don't look at me. I've got nothing. I think you're both ridiculous."

John finally backed down. "No medical tests today. Can we just have this day? Let's enjoy Christmas. C'mon, even if you're angry at me, the others need this. You know they do. Especially Gordon."

Virgil didn't look happy but relented anyway. "Tomorrow. First thing."

"Deal." John stole the blanket Virgil had been wearing as cape. "I'm going to join that betting pool. Anyone else in?"

"We can't all bet on Kayo," Virgil protested, snatching the tray away from Scott as he attempted to inconspicuously lick the excess sugar baked onto the surface. "We'll hurt Gordon's feelings."

John shrugged. "Gordon's a grown man. He can handle it. But if you want to lose your money, feel free to bet on him."

"Money's meaningless nowadays," Scott pointed out. "Virgil, would you stop looking at me like that?"

"You're a mess. You were trying to lick sugar off the tray."

"We have limited resources. I didn't want to waste any."

"No, you're just a mess."

"You can't bully me, I have crappy mental health."

John openly laughed. Virgil yanked the blanket back and screamed into it, while Scott patted him on the back gleefully.

"This is going so well," John observed, pausing by the kitchen so that Virgil could leave the tray in the sink before re-joining them. "Hey, I have whiskey somewhere for later. Don't let me forget about that."

Scott nearly choked. "You have… since when?"

"Since Dad felt bad about banishing me up here for my birthday that one year."

Virgil frowned. "You never want to celebrate your birthday anyway. You barely agreed to let us make today a joint Christmas-belated-birthday party."

John's smile was fiendish. "Obviously, but Dad didn't seem to realise and hey, I wasn't about to turn down free alcohol. I've got three-quarters of a bottle stashed away. I figured we'd break it out tonight."

"I can't believe you had that hidden up here the entire time," Virgil said, partly incredulous but mostly admiring.

Scott looped an arm around John's shoulders. "It's always the quiet ones you have to watch."


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Kat x