Based on the following snippet from Life Signs (s3e6)
V: What can I say? All of Dad's drills must have paid off. Remember how he used to get us up at 5:00am - just to run contingency scenarios?
~
It had started as a way for Scott to burn energy without waking his Mom and then his brothers up.
Scott’s inability to sleep beyond around 4 am had at first despaired his parents but once they’d been reassured by the Paediatric doctor that while unusual his sleep – or lack of it – was nothing to worry about they had both adapted.
By the time John had been born their three-year-old had a routine that helped keep him out of trouble and out of Lucy’s hair…
Quite by accident Scott had discovered Jeff performing drills. He’d sat there, wide-eyed, and watched until Jeff had noticed him and shown him how to march in time and turn correctly.
Of course, it took more than one morning to teach him the precise movements needed. In fact it took weeks, but eventually by the time John had been born and Virgil was well on the way Scott knew the steps, knew how to count them and to turn smartly. He even knew how to salute.
It became a routine Jeff cherished. An hour around dawn if Jeff was planet-side the two would spend that time marching around the back yard if the weather was good or inside in the dining room if not, Jeff and his mini-me would drill and drill and drill.
Once Virgil was old enough to join in he delighted in the drilling too but John was totally uninterested. Getting Virgil up at 5 am was a difficult task even at 3 years of age, but most mornings he would be up and ready.
Except for Tuesdays. For some reason he simply couldn’t get up on Tuesday…
But now Jeff had retired from NASA and didn’t need the keep-fit or disciplinary aspect of the drills he turned them into something much more in keeping with where they lived.
They had lived through one of the worst tornadoes in Kansas history and had survived by the skin of their teeth, and Jeff was determined to get his boys prepared should the worst happen again.
So military drills switched to contingency drills.
Scott still kept up his marching, though. Now seven, he already knew that he wanted to be a soldier, like his Daddy, and was determined that he would be the best at marching.
Jeff looked on with a growing pride. His boys would be ready for anything!
He would often walk past while Scott was drilling and ruffle his boy’s hair, on occasion saying to him ‘Daddy’s Little Soldier’. Scott positively glowed under such praise, but as the business took off these occasions happened less and less.
At some point Virgil stopped getting up and Scott found himself alone in the yard practising. And his Dad was never around.
Sometimes it felt like he had lost something he couldn’t put into words. But as he got older and Dad’s business got bigger Scott felt like he’d lost a part of himself. School was getting more intense and soon there would be exams for moving forwards.
So Scott decided he needed to work harder to gain his Dad’s attention. He was due back at the weekend for at least a couple of weeks for the summer vacation. So Scott spent the evening researching what other things his Dad would have done alongside drilling.
Hmm…he could do that…
Scott wasn’t awake when his Dad got home, but he knew that he’d arrived because the car was out the front and that was when the Scott decided to test his new plan. Loading up his backpack with food and water and anything heavy enough to be the equivalent of 100 lb. He had to unpack and repack it several times before it was light enough for Scott to actually pick it up.
He set out to march.
Twelve miles would take him to town, to the bakery that Dad sometimes bought fresh bread from and back again, and so Scott set off. It was still early morning but already the heat was intense, and before long he wished he’d thought to bring a hat with him.
He’d been marching for what felt like hours before he decided it was time to stop and have a drink. Shrugging the pack off took a while and unloading even longer…and that was when he discovered that in repacking his bag he’d forgotten to put the water back in…
With a sigh Scott repacked his bag and dithered for a moment. Should he turn back? Go on? Another sigh and he carried on towards town.
He’d barely gone a few more feet when the sound of a car had him turning and hoping…
~
Jeff woke early and was immediately uneasy. Something was wrong.
Careful not to disturb Lucy, he tiptoed out of their room and down the stairs to make himself a coffee while he worked out what was wrong.
And immediately on seeing the kitchen his worry ramped up into fear.
Scott’s schoolbooks were scattered over the floor, as was a couple of bottles of water and some cookies. But of Scott or his backpack there was no sign.
Caution forgotten, Jeff ran around the house looking for his eldest son, and it quickly became evident that not only was Scott not in the house, he wasn’t even in the garden…
‘Jeff? What is it?’
‘Luce – I can’t find Scott.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘He’s gone. As is his backpack.’
Lucy paled.
‘Has he ran away?’
‘I – I don’t know. Talk to John – he might know. In the meantime I’m gonna drive into town and try and find him.’
‘Bring our baby back, Jeff. Please.’
He answered by kissing her soundly but briefly.
The drive into town wasn’t too long and Jeff was two-thirds there when he saw something lying in the dirt beside the roadway.
may i humbly request a virgil fic... big soft man with big brown eyes... comfort me.
if you do so just know i will walk about with a fic shaped lump in throat
Soft
With thanks to @mariashades
~
I wince.
I can’t help it.
Despite the care, the tenderness and gentleness the man in front of me is displaying, it still hurts.
His eyes swim with concern for me and he pauses in his treatment. I wiggle to try and get a little more comfortable and he takes my uninjured hand in both of his.
‘Take a breath.’
I blink. He nods encouragingly at me and breathes in, a very exaggerated breath. He holds it a little before breathing out. It’s quite ridiculous and I find myself smiling.
We breathe together for a while. The panic recedes. The pain too, a little anyway. It will never go away completely – I’m too disabled for that – but the breathing exercise does help me.
He releases my hands gently and picks up the wipe he’s using to clean the new cuts I’ve picked up from being thrown from my chair during the earthquake.
The earthquake.
I look around in a little bit of a panic. Surely there are more people to be rescued, more important injured that he should be paying more attention to, and I try to pull away from him but he gently but firmly holds my hand.
He doesn’t let go but he does frown at me.
‘Are you alright?’
‘I’m fine.’
At that he snorts a laugh and his face breaks out into a smile. At my raised eyebrow he looks faintly embarrassed.
‘Sorry, you just sounded so much like someone else I know.’
‘It’s only cuts and bruises. Surely you have others to attend to?’
‘Nope. You are the last one.’
‘Oh.’
The shock of that statement melts away any of the resistance I had been feeling, and with a broad grin he releases my hand and continues his ministrations.
I just sit there, perched on the infirmary bed in the massive green Thunderbird, and watch him. Every now and then he glances up at me to make sure I’m ok.
There’s something…compelling about those brown eyes.
They are full of vibrant emotions. Care, of course. Amusement certainly. A depth that I cannot quite put my finger on.
And then he’s finished fixing me up and he turns to my wheelchair.
One wheel has buckled. The other has lost its tire. It’s a mess but as I sit there and watch he’s pulled a drawer open and taken out some kind of multitool and he’s fixing it.
He wrestles the tire back on first before turning his attention to the other. It’s not budging though, even when he applies his (not inconsiderable) muscles to it. He drops the tool and frowns before hitting his green baldric.
‘Thunderbird Five?’
‘Yes, Thunderbird Two?’
‘I need a new wheel for this chair.’
‘Scanning…I think I can organise something. Give me 10 minutes.’
‘FAB.’
Putting my chair down my rescuer turns to me. Ten minutes feels like a very long time to sit here with a complete stranger. A nice one, to be sure, but still…
‘Do you like coffee?’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘Coffee. Would you like a cup?’
‘Oh. Oh, sorry! Yes, I’d love a cup.’
He grins again and moves to the other side of the room. I watch as he seems to create two mugs of steaming coffee from nothing and he returns, hands one to me and sits on the bed opposite me.
‘Thank you…I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.’
‘I’m Virgil.’
‘Thank you, Virgil.’
He smiles warmly at me and once more I am drawn to those gorgeous brown eyes.
We drink. We make light conversation. I tell him about my three cats at home and my love of a decent coffee. He tells me about his brothers.
Just as he’s finishing telling me about Scott, the one who also says “I’m fine” the way I do there’s a knock on the door. It opens to admit a shorter man in the same uniform but a yellow baldric.
‘Hi! I’m Gordon.’
But I’m not really listening to him. All I have eyes for is the chair he has brought with him.
It’s not my chair. It’s not even the same model of my chair. No – it’s the top-of-the-range wheelchair, one I could never ever hope to afford.
I am aware I am sitting there, staring and my mouth is hanging open.
Gordon grins, positions it beside my bed and leaves. But not without a wink at his brother that has Virgil blushing.
It’s endearing…
And then Virgil puts his cup down and takes mine. He helps me up, his hands on my hips and assisting me by taking my weight and letting me press down on his arms as he helps me into his chair. I wiggle around again, this time to get a feel for the chair and the new cushion.
‘Would you like us to take you home?’
‘Thank you, but that’s not necessary. I’m not that far away and it’s in the opposite direction from the quake zone. I’m sure you have more important things to do.’
‘Would you like me to help you outside?’
‘Please.’
Virgil wheels me outside. The devastation is not as bad here, away from the epicentre, and he takes me over to a nice flat area.
He watches as I try my new chair out, turning in circles and left and right before finally pulling sharply back and into a wheelie.
Ohhh this chair is amazing and I can’t help but let out a whoop. I turn to face him and Virgil is grinning widely.
He waves and then he’s gone.
I watch the ship lower and then turn and trundle away from me before it takes off straight up.
I never thought I’d ever see a Thunderbird, much less be rescued by one.
And I’ll never forget those soft brown eyes and gentle hands…
Hello Everybody! I have a question. Where do you guys buy the Thunderbirds action figures? I live in the US I can't really find anything even online :(
@whumperless-whump-event Day 14: The Final Straw: Grief / "You don't need to be okay right now."
Thunderbirds, Jeff & Scott Tracy
Part One: 200 words, Double Drabble
Part Two: 200 words, Double Drabble
~
‘And give my regards to your lovely wife.’
It had been kindly meant by a semi-regular customer but to Jeff it was the final straw.
All the walls he’d erected around his heart and his grief crumbled like a cookie dipped too long in milk.
He shattered.
Jeff drove home on autopilot, abandoned the car haphazardly in the driveway and locked himself in his study.
And he opened the whisky.
Scott stopped at the sight of the car. Alan, sitting on his shoulders, protested the sudden stop by tugging on his hair, but Scott ignored him and rushed inside, depositing the toddler in the playpen in the kitchen.
A gut wrenching howl had Scott running for the study and he banged on the door. When his dad didn’t answer Scott fetched the spare key and opened the door.
Jeff was sitting on the floor, the room in disarray and he was crying.
Scott immediately folded him into a hug, holding him tightly.
‘I’m sorry. I’m no good for any of you.’
‘You don’t have to be okay right now, Dad. You’re grieving.’
‘But…’
‘It’s okay. I’ve got them. I’ve got you.’
And Jeff cried himself to sleep in his son’s arms.
~~~~~
‘You don’t have to be okay right now, Son.’
Scott looked blankly at him. Jeff so wanted to fold his son into a hug, just as his boy had done for him all those years ago, but he couldn’t…
It was a miracle Scott had been found alive at all.
Jeff had grieved his death.
And then celebrated Scott’s rescue.
But the man in the bed was a Scott Jeff did not know, and a part of him grieved anew at the horrors his beautiful boy had been put through.
A door banged somewhere and Scott violently flinched. It triggered…something…and Scott began to scream, tearing at his bandages and IVs.
Jeff froze, then Scott was on him and he was being backed into the corner. The blows didn’t hurt but Jeff was worried Scott would reinjure himself. He kept speaking softly, trying to reach him.
The same could not be said of the nurses that rushed in. They grabbed Scott. He became more aggressive until he was restrained and a sedative administered.
Jeff held him carefully as the meds worked.
Their treatment was the final straw. As soon as he was settled Jeff started planning on getting them both home.
@whumperless-whump-event Day 22: "I didn't know where else to go."
Thunderbirds, Kayo, The Mechanic. 200 words, double drabble.
~
"I didn't know where else to go."
He stands there looking at her. His face is inscrutable and as the seconds tick over she begins to think this is a mistake.
But then he moves aside and she limps past him. He makes no move to help her, though, and he quickly glances up the street.
She wants to tell him not to worry.
He leads her to the kitchen, swiping everything off the table before helping her up. She lies back with a hissed curse.
Gently he removes the bloody cloth she’s been pressing against her side. He cleans and patches her up before helping her over to a chair.
‘You need sleep.’
‘No…no time…’
There’s a moment. He stands there, looking almost indecisive, before he strides across the room and begins opening cupboards. She can hear him pouring a drink and then he’s in front of her.
The Mechanic presses something into her hand and Kayo drinks it. He wraps a blanket around her and suddenly she knows something isn’t right.
She can’t fight the sleeping draught he’s hidden in the drink and she’s almost unconscious when she hears him speak.
He took his time finishing his meal, including a dessert and then coffee, before nonchalantly heading back to Tracy Towers and their - no, *his* - apartment.
Where he promptly threw up everything he’d eaten.
Once he’d cleaned up Jeff called John. His second eldest smiled in sympathy.
‘It’s done. Where is he, John?’
‘Not too far away. He’s holed up in Monkey Bar.’
Pouring himself a glass of water, Jeff slumped down at his desk. He fiddled with the comm button.
‘Dad…don’t back down now.’
‘I know…but it’s hard, John.’
‘I get it. I do. But you got to do this for Scott’s sake.’
‘Ok. Ok. You’re right…stay?’
‘Of course.’
Jeff hit the comm and input a number. He was asked to go through several security measures and only after that was he connected to a person.
‘Mr Tracy, good afternoon.’
‘Harley, afternoon.’
‘How can JP Morgan be of service today?’
‘I need a freeze of my son’s assets and credit cards.’
‘I see. All of them?’
‘All those not connected to his private income and his mother’s trust fund.’
‘There is a wage paid by Tracy Industries into the account you’re asking me to close.’
‘Leave it. He won’t be getting any wages. How soon can you implement this?’
‘I can freeze his credit cards immediately but the rest of his assets will take 24 hours.’
‘That’s fine. Thank you, Harley. And I know I can rely on your discretion?’
‘Of course!’
‘Excellent. Thank you.’
‘Pleasure doing business with you, Mr Tracy.’
Jeff expelled a noisy breath and looked to John’s hologram.
‘John, don’t ever do anything that’ll make me do that to you. I don’t think I could handle doing that again.’
But that thought barely registers as there’s a commotion outside. He can hear muffled yelling, at least three voices, and a struggle…
“Enough!”
There’s a crack and all sound stops.
As does Scott’s heart.
He knows what metal against bone sounds like.
Wary of what’s about to happen he tries to get his feet a little more solid beneath him, an impossible task since he’s hanging high enough so just the tips of his bare toes are touching the ground.
Scott keeps his head hanging as the door opens and blinding light floods the room. He has the self control not to flinch.
People move around the room and then leave. All but one. The door closes with a quiet “click” that sounds like a gunshot in the silence.
He doesn’t need to open his eyes to know the Hood is standing there, waiting for Scott to acknowledge his presence.
Scott’s good at this game, though. Four brothers and a sneaky sister had taught him well before Bereznik reenforced the lesson.
Eventually the Hood will grow tired and jab his heavy stick into Scott’s side as usual…
But it isn’t his side the stick is rammed into, and it’s not Scott who’s gasping.
Immediately Scott’s eyes fly open, wide and scared at the sound he knows almost as well as his own breathing.
Gordon is on his knees before him. The Hood’s hand is entangled in his mop of hair, tightly clenched.
There’s blood running down his temple from the whack earlier and Scott can feel his squid running concerned eyes over him.
Scott knows he must look a sight himself. But none of that matters as the fist yanks and Gordon gasps. The Hood keeps his hold up as Gordon collapses back against him, traitorous tears springing up.
‘Please. Please don’t do this. I’m….I’m begging you.’
‘Oh, I know.’ The Hood’s voice is smooth and satisfied. ‘I like it.’
And while Scott watches, trying to get out of his chains, trying to get to his brother, trying to do something, the Hood backs out of the room dragging Gordon with him.
@Maria asked: @augustofwhump 2025, Day 24 – Recovery, Gordon and @whumperless-whump-event Day Twenty: Here Comes Bad News: Scary diagnosis/ "I'll be right here the whole time."
~
Scott’s recovery wasn’t linear by any means. But being home, being around his family, gave Scott the one thing he’d been missing in the German hospital.
He was surrounded by people who loved him.
That love buoyed him up far more than the respect and treatment from the medical personnel.
Everyone rallied around him, both in person and long distance.
Virgil and John had needed to get back to their own lives. College was over for the semester and exams completed and John had to leave to go into quarantine for his next stint on the WSS. Scott had insisted they both go, that he would be fine and that they could talk frequently.
They still left reluctantly, Virgil flying them out and using the time to discuss strategy in regard to their big brother. All plans were pie in the sky, though, as they had no real way of knowing how it was going. Their Dad had promised to keep them informed but he wasn’t the most reliable when under stress.
And this was stressful. This was very stressful.
This was where Gordon and Alan had an opportunity to return all the love and care that their brother had shown them. They took their job seriously.
Very seriously.
Scott found that he didn’t get a moment alone.
He found it hard at first. There were nightmares where he woke up screaming to find his Dad was always there. And during the day one or other of his youngest brothers were with him, with Dad or Grandma hovering in the background.
Before…before Scott would have found it all too smothering but now, once he got used to the idea, he found it strengthening.
On bad days they were around but not near him. Sometimes hearing them messing around in the kitchen or watching an old Disney movie was enough to snap him out of whatever spiral he was going through.
The day he made it outside the farmhouse to watch Gordon swim in the pool out the back was a milestone that felt like an age in coming, but breathing the warm summer air and did something to him.
It lifted his heart and for the first time Scott felt like he actually had a chance of soaring again.
It was a turning point.
From that time on it was difficult to keep Scott inside. He spent mornings outside wandering the farmland and afternoons he’d spend time with Gordon and Alan. They’d walk to the wood and along the stream. The two boys would make sure that they were slow enough that Scott, still needing extensive physio for his injuries and using a cane to walk with, could keep up easily.
The fresh air and the daily exercise had Scott’s doctors making hopeful noises.
Eventually his daily walks expanded to outside their home. It was difficult at first – sudden noises still made him jump, he was nervous of people, even of people he’d known since they’d moved here.
But the townsfolk were kind people with long memories of how much Grant and Lucille Tracy had meant to them and with their help when he was out and about Scott began to progress even better.
Eight months to the day Scott had been brought home Gordon won gold in the Olympics and Scott was there in person to see it thanks to ear plugs and some light sedation that didn’t stop him celebrating along with his brothers.
The celebrations lasted more than one night…
But from the moment they arrived home Gordon switched from being Olympic obsessed to becoming a WASP. He’d have another seven months before his sixteenth birthday, the day he’d officially be old enough to join with his Father’s permission.
Jeff had listened to Gordon’s impassioned discussion on why WASP was a better fit than staying on at school and going to college. The service would ensure he finished his high school diploma and then went on to work on a degree of his choice.
So Gordon split his remaining time between helping Scott any way he could and prepping for his upcoming bootcamp prep day. Scott was a great help, and in going over his own experiences in the USAF it helped him to come to terms with his own trauma.
Scott had never been prouder when he saw Gordon descend the stairs in full WASP uniform, ready to leave for boot camp. He’d not donned the uniform since being rescued but that time was fast approaching – Scott needed to return to base and report in. There was talk of trials at the Hague, which he was frankly sick to his stomach about. His Dad had said not to worry about it but…how could he not?
All that was pushed out of his mind as his brother gave him the crispest salute, which he solemnly returned before pulling him into a tight, lingering hug. He whispered around the lump into Gordon’s ear.
‘I am so, so proud of you.’
‘Thank you. For everything, Scott.’
‘You’re welcome.’
‘I mean it, Scott. For always being there for me, for fighting my corner. For never leaving me.’
Scott pulled him closer and rested his cheek on Gordon’s cap for a moment, careful not to distort the headwear.
And then it was time for Gordon to leave.
Time passed.
Gordon graduated from NUB (non-useful body) to Dolphin quickly, acing the Officer school and coming top of his class, just as Scott had.
His progress within the service was meteoric.
As Gordon rose in the ranks Scott’s own progress was unfortunately nowhere near his brothers. Not that Scott was worried about that..
They both had news for their family.
Scott had been back to McConnell Air Force for almost a month. He was under assessment pending a review of his combat status. So far he was…managing. His flying was good but there were concerns regarding his behaviour while on the ground. Noises still startled him and he was withdrawn from the rest of his squad, preferring his own association.
When nothing improved by the end of the assessment period, when Scott was still refusing to see the mental health team, the brass reluctantly came to the same conclusion.
Meanwhile, Gordon’s went from strength to strength. So much so that they offered him a highly coveted role in the testing of new equipment while the kinks were being worked out of the latest sub for the fleet, Stingray.
The family had already began moving to the island, but this reunion was going to be the last one in Kansas. So Jeff had fired up the grill, Virgil had prepped the meat and Kayo and Sally had prepped salad sides. John, unfortunately was up in space, but he’d sent a message to both his brothers and a promise to be home in a couple of months if either of them were going to be around.
Scott flew into Eisenhower National Airport in Wichita first but Gordon wasn’t too far behind and the two took their family’s “hopper” plane home, the little runaround that had been their Mom’s until her death and that Dad had kept for when his boys needed to get home.
They were met on the farm runway by Alan, who hopped around them with the energy only a 11-year-old could have and talking so fast they couldn’t have got a word in even if they wanted to.
The meal was a great success and as evening turned to night and Scott carried Alan to bed, talk turned to how their respective careers were going.
Gordon was full of excitement but he knew that he couldn’t say what was going on, so he kept his news full of training exploits and downtime pranks. His enthusiasm and happiness was infectious though, and if anyone noticed Scott staying silent well, no one said anything. This was Gordon’s moment and his eldest brother was content to let him shine bright.
It didn’t fool Virgil or Jeff of course, and with a pointed look to their father Virgil eventually hauled the Squid off to bed.
They stayed on the porch, Jeff only disappearing to grab a bottle of whisky and two glasses. He poured them both a generous dose and they settled to watch the sky and Jeff waited for his son to open up.
It took another hour and two more glasses of scotch before Scott sighed and sat forwards, rolling the glass between his hands.
‘They’ll discharging me, Dad. Honourable discharge on medical grounds. They were very…nice about it.’
‘Scotty…’
‘What am I going to do, Dad? No one wants a washed-up pilot.’
‘I do.’
‘Dad…’
‘I’m serious, Son. You know we’ve been talking about International Rescue?’
‘Yeah. I remember.’
‘Virgil and I along with Brains – you remember Brains?’
‘I do.’
‘Well, we are well on the way to making this a reality.’
‘I thought that wouldn’t be happening for years yet.’
‘I know! But Brains is really a genius and coupled with Virgil’s know-how and John’s computer skills, we’re looking at being up and running in only a couple more years.’
Jeff rested a hand on Scott’s arm and smiled at him.
‘We’re going to need a test pilot quite quickly. And I want that to be you, Scott. There isn’t anyone else I’d rather have, even if we weren’t going to be secret.’
Scott blushed but smiled.
The rest of the night was spent discussing the rescue ships until Jeff yawned and Scott insisted they both go to bed.
Alan was ecstatic when Scott told them he was home for good so when Gordon left the blow was softened somewhat. The youngest was due to leave soon himself. He’d agreed to be boarded at Whartons Academy, a school in Massachusetts, one that would challenge him rather than the boring school he was currently attending. Alan had been gutted at not being allowed to stay home on the island but there was a little part of him that was excited to be out from his brothers’ shadows.
The next two months involved Scott helping move the rest of what they were taking to the island and talking to the rest of his brothers.
And then Gordon called home. While he couldn’t tell them what exactly he would be doing he could at least let them know roughly how long he’d be out of contact, and he managed to talk to everyone except John, whose return home had been delayed a couple of weeks.
They fully moved to the island a week later.
Jeff sat back and surveyed the ocean beyond the window. A sense of peace enveloped him and he sighed contentedly. Which meant he was a little annoyed when the phone rang. He was half-tempted to ignore it but suddenly a cold sensation washed over him and he couldn’t answer it quickly enough.
He hit the untested klaxon and his boys came running.
Ten minutes later they were flying as fast as Tracy One could go for Marineville.
They practically stormed the hospital. Thankfully Atlanta was there to meet them and take them through the layers of bureaucracy and to the room Gordon would be released to once his surgery would be over. He’d already been in for hours but they were still at it…
Atlanta kept them plied with decent coffee and easy-to-eat food and stayed with them throughout the rest of that day and the following night.
Eventually a very tired doctor appeared in the room. Everyone sat up, Alan firmly between Scott and Jeff and holding their hands tightly. Jeff gave his hand a squeeze before getting up to greet the doctor and Virgil immediately took his place and Alan’s hand.
‘Doctor. What news?’
‘Gordon is one tough cookie, Mr Tracy. He’s pulled through more than 14 hours of surgery but I have to warn you he’s nowhere near out of the woods yet. The next 24 hours will be touch and go…if he survives that it will still be an uphill battle.’
‘Understood.’
‘Mr Tracy, if you’ll come with me there’s paperwork for you to go through.’
Jeff looked at his boys and his Ma, who had been brought over during the night. Sally nodded and stood and the two left with the doctor.
The three eldest knew what the doctor had left unsaid. They were going to discuss Gordon’s injuries in more detail, something that they were very careful that Alan didn’t have to hear the details.
Speaking of Alan, he may have been eleven but right now he felt more like five, when their Mom had died and everyone was acting just like they were now. That same fear was welling up in him now and he resorted to the only thing he knew would help.
Alan practically crawled into Scott’s lap, buried his head into his big brother’s chest and burst into tears.
Scott’s arms immediately tightened around him and both John and Virgil added theirs so that Alan was enclosed in a brother sandwich. They stayed that way until their father came back.
Jeff couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride at how his boys rallied around each other, and he smiled at them when they noticed him.
‘Boys, your Grandma has gone to book a hotel. You’re all going to go there, get something to eat and grab some sleep. Wait!’
He paused as his older boys al began talking at once and waited for them to quieten down. Jeff chose to address Scott, knowing that the others would follow his lead.
‘Scott, we’re here for the long run and to be there for Gordon when he wakes up we need to be at our best. This is going to be a long, long road.’
‘Dad…that means you too.’
‘I know, Son. The hospital will only allow one person at a time to stay with Gordon until he’s fully conscious so we’ll create a rota. Alan? You can visit with any one of us but not on your own as you need to be over 16, ok?’
‘Yes.’
Jeff’s phone rang and he turned and spoke quietly into it. It was a short call and he sighed before turning back to his boys.
‘Grandma has found a hotel. You all go ahead and Scott, six hours’ time you can relieve me. Now I know, I know how hard this on us all. Sleep is not going to be easy but you need to try, ok? You need to try.’
There was a chorus of ‘okay’ and, after hugging him tightly, Jeff watched them leave. Scott hung back for a moment and Jeff pulled him in for a hug before briefly giving him a rundown of Gordon’s injuries. He hugged his boy tightly as tears threatened until Scott had pulled himself together to leave.
It set the pattern for the next six months.
The doctors kept Gordon in a medically induced coma for close to three weeks until the swelling on his brain reduced and they took the opportunity to do some of the numerous operations he needed.
Alan had gone with his Dad that first time but hadn’t stayed, bursting into tears at the sight of all the tubes and wires. They had prepared for that, and Scott, waiting outside, scooped him up and took him outside.
It was John who was sitting with Gordon when he first began to show signs of waking up but full awakening didn’t happen for another three days.
Scott was there when a frightened noise grabbed his attention and he leaned over for Gordon to see him while hitting the alarm. The doctors worked around him until it came time to remove the tube but in an unusual move they let Scott stay once Gordon had become visibly more upset when he’d been asked to leave.
It still took a little while for Gordon to be able to talk, but after a cup of ice chips he could at least whisper.
‘Wha…ha’p’n?’
‘You were in an accident.’
‘Th-the ‘foil?’
‘Yes.’
‘Tell me.’
He really didn’t want to, but Gordon was more like himself than Scott would have liked, so, leaning over so Gordon didn’t have to worry about moving his head, gently told his brother everything.
Gordon cried the entire time and Scott paused often, wiping his tears and holding his lesser damaged hand.
Eventually Gordon calmed down. He looked at his brother with eyes scared but trusting.
‘I’m scared, Scotty. I – I can’t move. My team are dead. My…my life is over.’
‘Hey! Hey, don’t talk like that. There’s still much healing you need to do. Nothing about your future is certain. You hear me?’
‘Ye-yeah. Scott?’
‘Yes, Fishie?’
‘Stay? Please? Don’t leave me?’
‘I’ll be right here the whole time. I’ll never leave you, Gordon. Never. Not now, not later, not ever.’
Recovery was going to be a bitch but Gordon knew if Scott could do it then he would be able to too.
