#mariashadow fic
Okay, WARNING, DO NOT read this if you sympathy puke.
@the-original-sineater and I were throwing ideas around again and got talking about chemicals. We started talking about fluorine compounds (which are terrifying) and ended talking about thioacetone, the same family of chemicals that skunks have weaponised.
Then I had ideas.
Enjoy.
“JOHN!”
Scott’s voice was strained, even strangled, as he radioed in from the site of Fischler’s latest enterprise- chemical manufacturing this time, investigating new polymer compounds. Something had gone terribly wrong (of course) with hundreds of distress calls suddenly lighting up the cell tower networks and with reports of a chemical spill from the factory, International Rescue had been dispatched. Scott had gotten there first to scout out the area and John had been waiting impatiently for the update since Fischler (typically) wasn’t answering his calls to explain what he’d been working on this time.
“Thunderbird One, rep…” John started to answer, but Scott cut him off.
“Get One out of here and tell Virgil to go back!” The words almost ran into each other as Scott tried to get them out as quickly as possible.
“What’s going on?” Confusion and concern warred with each other as John reached out to use One’s sensors to scan the area. Finding the Thunderbird out of range- chemical spill SOP being to position oneself well upwind for safety’s sake- he brought up the remote piloting controls to send Thunderbird One in for a closer look. Moments later he was thanking anyone listening that Scott’s answer came just before he could order the Thunderbird to go in.
“Thiolacetone!”
He heard Scott gag, then came the prelude gasp and the clicks of a helmet being unlocked. John, realising what was coming next and knowing he was a sympathy puker, swiped his hand through the ‘mute’ command just before he could be treated to the sound of the eldest throwing up.
“EOS! Pull One out of there before the wind changes and she gets contaminated!” John snapped out the command, then touched the icon for Thunderbird Two. “Virgil, do not approach the danger zone!”
“What’s going on?” Virgil’s hologram popped up. The third born was clearly baffled, but tracking showed him obediently killing Two’s forward momentum and switching into a hover.
“Fischler was using thioacetone at the factory.” John told him, fingers flying over his holograms as he hunted out the appropriate decontamination procedure.
“He was what?!” Virgil blurted out. “And Scott…?”
“Is currently throwing up.” John grimaced. “The molecule is considered ‘sticky’. He has to be considered as contaminated, I’m looking up the protocols now to see what we can do.”
“Someone want to clue me in here?” Gordon’s hologram came up. “We’ve got decontamination units on Two, why not use those?”
“Thiolacetone is the most offensive-smelling chemical known.” Virgil glanced over as he filled Gordon in. “Remember that polecat you met? That’s a mild example of what the thiol chemical family can be like. A single drop of thiolactone inside a building can be detected in seconds from a quarter mile away and it takes some serious work to shift that stuff, it lingers.”
Gordon blanched. “Ah, so, what do we do?” He asked, glancing between his siblings. “It’s not like we can just strap Scott to the hull and fly back with him that way.”
“It’s deeply unpleasant but not fatal.” John reported as he rapidly skimmed through the official Material Safety Data Sheet, found what he was looking for and brought up a map of the area. “The GDF can deal with this, but we need to get Scott out of there.” He touched the icon that linked him with Scott to bring him into the conversation. “Scott, I’ve got you on audio only, one way link. You need to go two streets north from your location, there’s a pool supply store at the intersection of Harris and Bluell. You want pool bleach containing calcium hypochlorite. When you have it, put your helmet back on and use it to scrub down your uniform as best as you can, it’ll neutralise the thiols. Give me two beeps with your bracer controller if you understand.”
Beep beep.
Assured that Scott understood and seeing his symbol starting to move in the right direction, John turned his attention back to Virgil and Gordon. “While Scott scrubs, go back to the island. I want a decontamination station set up on the landing pad at Mateo and get Alan to configure a helicopter POD to collect Scott. It’ll have to be ditched in the caldera for a month or so after we’re done, just to make sure none of it makes it home.”
“Copy that.” Virgil nodded. “What should we have set up?”
“Screens to mark out the ‘red’, ‘orange’ and ‘green’ zones, with the ‘green’ as up-wind as possible.” John instructed. “In the ‘red’ zone scrubbing brushes and a strong bath of calcium hypochlorite for Scott to soak in while in uniform, a fresh water wash station to rinse off with afterwards, and a biohazard self-incinerating container for his uniform- everything he’s wearing has to go. In the ‘orange’ more brushes, a second bath at skin-safe concentration with its own wash station and a chemical sniffer to see if there’s any traces of it left on him. In the ‘green’, towels and a fresh set of clothes, sealed in a box.”
“I can use the bio-degradable plastics that Brains just finished developing to fabricate it all.” Virgil nodded as he processed the instructions. “Once we’re done, I can send a clean POD to pick up Scott and remote pilot the dirty POD to knock everything into the sea before I scuttle it.”
“F.A.B.” John nodded. “Scott, did you copy all that?”
Beep beep, answered him, followed by a rapid cascade of beeps in Morse that spelled out S-M-O-N-E-M-R-D-R-F-I-S-C-H-L-E-R-P-L-S.
“Murder is bad, Scott. Too much paperwork.” John deadpanned in defiance of the smile that tugged at his face.
I-D-N-T-C-A-R-E
John wasn’t sure how Scott managed to use the monotone beeps to convey the sense of multiple exclamation marks to end that statement, but he did.
“I promise, I’ll do something, okay? Now, did you find the chemicals?” John asked, fingers dancing over his communications controls as he updated the GDF.
Beep beep.
“We’re on our way back to the island, the POD should be there in the next forty five minutes, just hold on, big brother.” Virgil jumped in.
Beep beep.
0o0o0
Three hours later a wan and weak Scott, his hair tousled and rough from the chemicals and still quite pink from the scrubbing he’d put himself through, was huddled in his ouch-wear on the green couch. He had a cup of ginger tea in hand, heavily sweetened with honey, and slowly sipped it as he recovered from vomiting up what had felt like everything he’d eaten for the past six months.
“How are you feeling, Scott?” John asked as he came into the lounge, still in his space suit, sat down next to the eldest and reached out to pat his back comfortingly.
“Getting better.” Scott rasped. “But I’ll take a decontam gel bath over thiol exposure any day.”
“Noted.” John shuddered, he loathedthe radiation decontamination gel baths. “But this should cheer you up.” He brought up a file on his bracer and turned it to show Scott. “The local workplace health and safety inspector sent this to me, Fischler Industries just copped a multi-million dollar fine for the spill and Langstrom himself is personally liable for a five million dollar fine, plus potential jail time if the prosecutor can make the charges stick. Which I’m pretty sure they will.” John preened, looking like the cat that got the cream.
“Fischler Industries will have to fold.” Scott perked up considerably. “But how can you be sure? The guy’s slipperier than an eel.” They’d tried something similar after the weather drones to shut down Fischler Industries, but while Langstrom was a second rate inventor, he was a first rate salesman and contract writer and could find the loopholes in pretty much any law. He could cause a disaster and walk away almost completely unscathed.
“The local authorities may have had some ah, help, finding the evidence before Fischler could wipe his hard drives.” John smirked.
“Good.” Scott grinned weakly, sipped his tea and said no more. He’d long ago learned that if he didn’t ask exactly what his brother had done, if Colonel Casey asked, he wouldn’t have to lie.
John and Virgil (with some EOS on the side)
“You don’t need to worry about me,” said A.
“Well, someone has to!” B paused - they didn’t mean to raise their voice. They sighed and continued “A.”
A rolled their eyes but B wasn’t deterred.
“When was the last time you ate? Slept?”
A got up abruptly, hoping to avoid a lecture. Their head spun and they reached for something to steady themself, almost crashing into the bookshelf…
SHREEE! SHREEE! SHREEE!
Virgil yelped and bolted upright, shocked out of a deep sleep by the louder-than-normal alarm. “What the hell, John!?” He half snarled, his customary reaction to being startled awake as he scrubbed the last vestiges of sleep from his eyes. They’d talked about this! Regular exposure to sudden loud alarms causes heart problems later in life, but scaling up in volume lets someone wake without the risk of long term damage.
“Virgil!”To his surprise it was EOS’ icon that flickered into life, not his brother’s image. “John’s collapsed! I can’t help him, I don’t have arms!” The AI wailed in her distress and panic.
“EOS, report, is John conscious?” Virgil rolled out of bed, yanked the space rated uniform out of his closet and struggled into it as he spoke, hoping to get the AI to stop panicking and focus.
“Negative, estimated GCS is eight- eyes one, voice two, motor five- as I cannot perform the pain response tests.” The panic had subsided, but it was still very much there under the surface. “He is breathing sufficiently and has a pulse, no visible injuries."
Virgil shoved his feet into his boots and translated the numbers- John wasn’t opening his eyes, made incomprehensible noises and wasn’t obeying commands. Anything GCS nine or under was an automatic priority one. “Is he on his side?” Was the next question as he pulled on his gloves and bracer.
“Affirmative, safe position protocol has been enacted.”
“Good.”
‘Safe position protocol’ was something that had been worked out while Five was still on the drawing board. Should Five’s computer detect a drop in John’s vital signs and activity levels that indicated unconsciousness, an automatic alarm would sound. If that didn’t wake John, the gravity ring would stop and the computer would signal Tracy Island while remotely activating the manoeuvring jets on John’s baldric to move him into position on his side, then the ring would reactivate so that vomit could safely drain and he wouldn’t choke on it or suffocate on his tongue. If he wasn’t wearing his baldric, the entire station would shift around him to achieve this. EOS controlled it now, but while they were working out the bugs John had had a couple of rude awakenings when he was in a deeper sleep than normal and accidentally tripped the protocol.
“Send down the space elevator and put his suit telemetry on my HUD.” Virgil ordered next as he clicked his helmet into place, ran out the door and made for the concealed elevator, stopping by the infirmary for the emergency bag on his way. He timed it perfectly, the elevator locking onto the docking mount as soon as he arrived at the platform. The vitals he could see - elevated heart rate and blood pressure- were typical for a body under stress for any number of reasons and he took the oxygen levels with a grain of salt- while they were sitting between 98 and 100%, Five had a similar protocol to their suits and would flood the occupied section with oxygen when certain vitals tripped pre-set levels. What stood out to him was the temperature- elevated at 39.8 Celsius.
Virgil tucked the bag into a safe spot, settled himself into the chair and tapped the control for the elevator to retract. “Okay EOS, show me what happened just before John collapsed.” He ordered as the seat reclined and the rockets fired.
A hologram started playing in response, the footage recorded from EOS’ perspective. John was in the bedroom section, sitting on his cot and carefully sipping what looked like juice.
“You don’t need to worry about me.” John told EOS, but the ginger was pale and moving carefully, one arm around his stomach in a guarding motion.
“Well someone has to!” Was EOS’ heated retort.
John’s eye roll was clear even through the fish-eye lens distortion.
“When was the last time you ate properly? Slept?” EOS continued. She was about to say more when John abruptly got up, staggered and collapsed, almost crashing into the opposite wall.
The video cut out. “He’s been off his normal diet for three days.” EOS supplied before Virgil could ask. “His sleeping patterns have been disrupted and he’s been in increasing levels of discomfort the entire time. He didn’t want me to tell anyone, he thought it was normal zero-g gastrointestinal issues and that he would recover on his own with more time under gravity. He has been taking paracetamol and ibuprofen for the pain, last dose 78 minutes ago.”
Virgil nodded as he processed the information and narrowed down his list of suspicions. It wasn’t unusual for astronauts to get GI issues because human bodies weren’t made for zero or micro-g and John tended to suffer from them if he turned off the gravity too soon after eating. Normally a day or two spent entirely under gravity helped, but clearly something else was going on. “What was John’s temperature before he took the last dose of paracetamol?” He asked.
“39.7”
Virgil frowned, his concern growing. For John’s temperature to have gone even higher despite the antipyretic effect of the paracetamol was very bad.
The elevator docked solidly with Five. Virgil snagged the medical kit and made for the bedroom section where John was sprawled awkwardly on his side, a puddle of vomit and spilled juice soaking his hair.
“John, it’s Virgil, you wanna open your eyes for me?” Virgil knelt beside John and shook his shoulder, getting a groan in response but nothing else. He unsealed John’s spacesuit next so he could get at a shoulder and dig his thumb into the trapezius muscle. That earned him an ineffective bat at his hand. “Okay, localises pain, GCS is confirmed at eight.” Virgil went through his kit and pulled out the medical scanner, playing it over John’s lanky body. He scrutinised the results, noting signs of inflammation in the lower abdomen, and his suspicions hardened. “John, you’re going to feel my hand on your belly, okay?” He reached out and gently rolled his hand across John’s abdomen, watching his face for any twitches. As soon as he pressed on the lower right side, just above the hip, John flinched, but it was lifting his hand up that got the groan and another attempted grab at his hand.
“You’re hurting him!” EOS protested, watching from over Virgil’s shoulder.
“I know, I’m sorry about that, but I had to see. It looks like appendicitis, rebound tenderness- lifting up hurts more than pressing down- is one of the classic signs.” Virgil explained. “Get us into position for a drop to Auckland Hospital, then resize John’s exosuit to fit me, I’ll ride down on the outside and escort him.”
“Understood.” EOS’ camera nodded to him and Virgil could feel the station rumble and shift as EOS changed their trajectory to hover over Auckland.
In the meantime, he moved John to the access hatch for the elevator, took a moment to wipe off the worst of the vomit and resealed his suit, setting John’s helmet into place and talking to him all the while. He was ready just before they were in geo-synchronous position. Once they were still, he loaded John into the elevator, strapped him down on his side, then went through the station to the stem so he could gear up in John’s exosuit. Brains, in his usual brilliance, had designed all their exos to be adaptable should another sibling need them. It still felt weird though, while he’d trained in it, he preferred flying inside of a Thunderbird.
Once he’d swooped around the station and grabbed the tether, he signalled EOS again. “Okay, drop us down gently and give me an R-40 through to Auckland ED.” He instructed, asking EOS for the encrypted radio call that would get him through to the radio unit at Auckland Emergency Department.
“Doing so now.” Was her response.
There was the usual tones of the two systems talking to each other and establishing connection, then a female voice filled his ears. “Auckland ED.”
“Auckland ED, this is International Rescue from Thunderbird Five, how do you copy?” Virgil responded, automatically switching to the rhythm of radio cadence as they started their descent. EOS helpfully put an ETA on his HUD.
“Reading you loud and clear, Thunderbird Five.” She responded after a split second startled pause.
Virgil could imagine the looks around the room that would be happening right now- they didn’t call often, but when they did it was bad. “Coming to you with a 29 year old male,” he began, “chief complaint suspected appendicitis. GCS of eight, made up of one, two, five, pain in lower right quadrant with rebound tenderness. Heart rate of 102, resps 20, saturating 99% on oxygen, blood pressure 174/103, temp 39.8 after paracetamol, no known allergies, be on the roof in seven minutes.”
There was another pause as boards were checked for bed space and a doctor waved over. “Copy, on the roof in seven. See you in rescus, ED out.”
“Copy, rescus.” Virgil replied, then tapped his bracer. “Virgil to Scott, come in.” He felt bad about waking Scott, he had a board meeting today and needed his sleep, but if he didn’t update Scott then their big brother would fume at him for at least a day.
“…Virgil? Wha’s’it?” Came the sleep-slurred response.
“I’m taking John to Auckland Hospital on the space elevator, appendicitis.” Virgil reported as they passed through the blanket of clouds and the lights of New Zealand rapidly filled his field of vision. “I’ll call back with an update once he’s checked into ED. Stay there and do the meeting, I’ve got this. I’ll call if we need anything.” He added, knowing Scott’s first instinct would have been to throw himself into One half-dressed and burn out the engine to get here.
“…F.A.B.” Medic’s orders to the Commander were acknowledged, and while Scott would have preferred to have been there to see for himself, Scott trusted Virgil completely. “I’ll get Gordon upstairs for dispatch.”
“Tell him to break out the biohaz cleaners while he’s there, bedroom section.” Virgil told him. “I’ll bring some lamingtons back for him.” He could see the helicopter landing pad at Auckland Hospital now, a couple of people already waiting well off to the side with a stretcher. “We’re about to land, I’ll call back shortly.”
“F.A.B.”
Virgil stepped off the elevator and flew the rest of the way down so he could be in position to climb into the capsule and carry John out. He laid him on the stretcher as soon as it was wheeled into position, following the team into the hospital and briefing the nurse as they walked.
0o0o0
Feeling weak, sore and an overall, hard to quantify sensation he liked to sum up as ‘broken meatsuit’, John blearily concluded that he hated waking up in medical facilities that weren’t theirs- the beeping of the different machines was always discordant, the hospital gowns itched and the beds were always uncomfortable. ”…what…?“ He squinted at the blurry blue blob at his bedside that slowly resolved into Virgil. “What happened? I was on Five…” John tried sitting up, but as soon as he tensed, his abdominal muscles immediately objected and he quickly abandoned the manoeuvre.
"Appendix decided it didn’t like you anymore.” Virgil told him from the seat he’d dragged over from somewhere, amusement and relief written across his face at the same time, then tapped a control on his bracer. “Someone wants to talk to you.”
EOS’ hologram popped up over Virgil’s wrist. “John! I told you so! Listen to me next time!” She snapped at him, but he was cognisant enough to read the undercurrent of worry in her tone.
“You gave her a bad fright.” Virgil first said to him, then turned to EOS’ hologram. “You heard the doctor, he’s fine, they got it out in time and there were no issues during surgery.”
EOS muttered something that neither of them could catch and her hologram blinked out.
“You gave me a fright too.” Virgil informed him, gentle rebuke in his tone. “Listen to her next time, okay?” He asked, his expression pulled into a mix between resignation and concern, knowing John’s habits.
“…fine.” John reluctantly conceded. “When can I leave?”
“Well,I’m leaving in thirty minutes to go across to the Cordis Hotel and get some sleep.” Virgil crossed his arms, Medic mode engaged as he issued orders to Thunderbird Five. “You’re going to stay here, be nice to the nurses andmaybeif everything is okay you can leave some time tomorrow. I’ll have Alan fly Tracy Two over to pick us up so you can be comfortable. Then it’s five days on Earth to make sure everything’s okay and maybe Grandma will let you go back upstairs.”
John nodded absently, then a thought occurred to him. “Where’s Scott?” He asked, wondering why the eldest wasn’t here and pestering everyone. Their smother-hen of a brother was usually the one to post himself at the door or bedside and guard them until they woke up (despite the hand picked security team that Kayo had on standby to attend whatever hospital a Tracy was in.)
“Is wrapping up the board meeting in New York, Kayo has orders to sit on him if he tries to fly back here afterwards.” Was the answer, amusement making Virgil’s mouth twitch despite his clear fatigue.
“Then who’s on Five?” John asked suspiciously.
“Gordon.”
“…you left Gordon alone on my station with EOS? And he’s going to be there for at least six days?” John groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “They’re going to kill each other.”
“They’re both too worried about you to fight.” Virgil chuckled. “Besides, she’s too busy dodging the hospital’s security systems to needle Gordon.” He pulled an overnight bag into view and took out John’s phone, handing it to him. “Kayo swung past with a care package. There’s a change of clothes in here for you, toiletries, that sort of thing.”
“Thanks.” John took the phone gratefully, immediately flicking a message of ‘I’m sorry’ to EOS. She read it, but didn’t deign to reply to him just yet. John frowned, he must have really scared her if she was giving him the cold shoulder. He’d need to get into the security logs and see what happened, his memory was fuzzier than he liked.
“John.” Virgil caught his attention and squared his shoulders- a younger brother preparing to upbraid an older one. “You and me need to finish that conversation that you and EOS were having just before you collapsed. You can’t push yourself like that- not eating properly, not sleeping properly. You’re living in the most hazardous environment out of all of us, you can’t afford to be not on the ball because you’re not well. And don’t you dare try use the example of the time Dad kept working through kidney stones because that was completely different- he was on the dark side of the Moon with a busted rocket, it was life or death. You’re on Five- we’re a radio call away and it’s an eight minute drop on the space elevator.” Virgil gave him the Look that he’d picked up from Grandma in full Doctor Tracy mode- arms crossed and right eyebrow raised, mouth set in a line and daring him to disagree. “You don’t have to power through things on your own. If you’re not well, just say something.”
John had to ruefully admit to himself that Virgil was getting way too good at anticipating his arguments before he could make them. “Can we talk about it later?” He tried.
Virgil nodded, but he wasn’t going to let the second eldest squirm out of it that easily. “We will be talking about it though. Understood?”
“Understood.” John knew when to pick his battles and now wasn’t the time.
The third born dropped Medic mode, leaned in and carefully hugged John as best as he could without being able to put his arms all the way around him. “You’re an idiot. Love you John.”
Heartened by the affection and the forgiveness that it implied, John returned the hug as best as he could. “Love you too.”
CW: Maybe tissues, but for a different reason…
Cross posting from Ao3
https://archiveofourown.org/works/39066474/chapters/97916445
More fluff! Space Bros this time
Cheering up
It was something that worked pretty much every time.
John was their polyglot, constantly learning and mastering new languages as he strove to communicate with everyone who called for help. Automatic translators helped a lot, but there was something to be said (heh) about being able to speak to someone in their own language, mastering nuance, regional accent and idiom. As a result of his learnings he collected strange words and phrases of interest, sharing them with his family.
There was one particular one that Alan had tucked away for days just like this.
It had been A Day. That was the only way to describe it. Just one of those days where every minute feels twice as long and by the end of it you feel drained and just so absolutely Done. There hadn’t even been anything particularly bad about it, just a bunch of Things that took more out of everyone than they had a right to and made everyone feel vaguely guilty for feeling this Done over Things that on their own were so little that they didn’t feel like they could justify being in such a mood about. Tempers had gotten short as people ran out of energy and once everyone got home, people just scattered to have their own bad moods in their own private little hidey holes- Virgil in his art studio, Gordon down at his favourite cove, Scott up on one of the peaks, Kayo to the gym. You could almost see the hovering storm clouds.
Alan sprawled outside on the still warm patio and looked up to where he could see the glint of reflected light that was Thunderbird 5 tracking across the night sky. John had had the worst day out of all of them, he’d hid it well, but Alan had learned to speak Big Bro #2 a long time ago- all the little shifts of eyes and shoulders and the nuance of tone that told him his fellow Space Bro was Really Done.
Time to fix that. Alan grinned as he rolled onto his belly, grabbed his phone to check the time -good, it was just before John’s scheduled bed time- and selected the audio-only link to Five.
Technically it wasn’t the actual Welsh word for ‘microwave’ but a colloquialism, but the sheer onomatopoeic nature of it amused John, so that made it worth remembering. He only deployed it occasionally, lest it lose its effectiveness, but today definitely called for it.
“Hey John?” Alan asked as soon as the connection was secure.
“Yes, Alan?” Though John did well to mostly hide it, every letter dripped with weariness.
“Popty ping.”
The muffled snort turned into a chuckle which turned into the rare full on laughter from John as his bad mood evaporated. Eventually it subsided but Alan could hear the smile lingering as John spoke again.
“Thanks Alan, I needed that.”
“You’re welcome, bro.” Alan grinned back. “Sleep well.”
“You too.”
Do not disturb
(I needed to write more fluff. Enjoy)
‘Do not disturb’ was the title of the alert that pinged up on everyone’s tablets, phones, bracer computers and HUDs one balmy afternoon on Tracy Island.
It was both a warning and a caption for the attached photo.
The photo in question was of the conversation pit in the lounge, a candid snap of Jeff and Scott.
It was utterly adorable.
Things had been hectic on both the TI and IR sides of life thanks to end of financial year coinciding with a swarm of tropical storms in the Caribbean sea and a tunnel fire in Sweden. While Jeff was in the process of taking back the role of CEO, he was still being brought up to speed on all the changes in both organisations and because Scott had been in charge for the previous year he still needed to be fully involved in the EOFY paperwork. Both of them had been burning the candle at both ends for a good few days.
So when Virgil had wandered into the lounge and found the two of them like that, he made sure to update the family so that they’d be left in peace.
Jeff had obviously been reading reports, going by the still active tablet sitting on his left knee. He was sitting on the green couch and the fact he was wedged into the corner was probably the main reason he was still mostly upright, his head back as he snored softly, deep asleep. Jeff’s right leg was occupied by Scott, the eldest fast asleep and using his father’s leg as a pillow. His long legs were hooked over the armrest, one arm dangling down onto the floor, the other draped over his eyes to block out the light.
What completed the picture was the protective hand that Jeff had placed on his son’s chest.
Virgil smiled at the sight, made a mental note to have some food on the desk for when they eventually woke up and tiptoed away
CW- brief mention of historical PTSD and drug use
Cross posted from Ao3
https://archiveofourown.org/works/39066474/chapters/97826178
Crossposting from Ao3
https://archiveofourown.org/works/39066474/chapters/97774128
Crossposting from Ao3
TAG AU- So a bunch of people asked very nicely for a continuation of the Lost Tracy chapter from the Fury challenge, then Sineater and my hubby let me bounce ideas off them and this is the result.
Be warned, this is why I was desperately needing to post fluff the other day because I finally finished this thing.
CW- mention of terrorist attack, dead body, historical injuries, Fury has his name for a reason, lots of emotional trauma, you’d better have heartstrings reinforced with cahelium
https://archiveofourown.org/works/39066474/chapters/97725201
Miscalculated- a sibling fluff snippet because I desperately needed to write one.
In which John picked a movie to watch with Alan. John didn’t pick well.
Running footsteps registered first, then his door banged open and a small figure bolted into his room, all but flew under the blankets and huddled up against him. Scott was awake enough to drape an arm over the trembling lump curled against his chest and look towards the open door as he became aware of a second set of running footsteps that heralded John, the second born looking sheepish.
“John?” Scott squinted against the light from the hallway. “Why is,” he paused to lift the blankets and check which small blond it was, “Alan in my bed?”
“I, uh, may have miscalculated.” John came in and crouched beside the bed to add his contribution to the comforting pats currently being delivered to the youngest.
“…miscalculated how?” Scott looked at him suspiciously.
“I, uh, may have let Alan watch Alien with me.” Was the reluctant admission.
Scott mentally face palmed. “Which Alien?” He asked. It’d been a pretty popular movie title over the years, but knowing his brother’s tastes as a classic sci-fi movie buff, he had suspicions.
“The 1979 one.” John admitted, looking down.
“The one with the facehuggers!?” Scott actually face palmed this time. “John! Why?”
“I forgot how bad it was!” John tried to defend himself. “We stopped before they got back on the ship.”
“John, you’re an idiot.” Scott sighed and pointed to the lump under his covers. “Did you forget this one is Alan who is seven. Se-ven. Gordon is the older one.” He shuffled back to make room, tugging Alan to move with him. “In. Help me fix this.”
“Understood.” John nodded and climbed in to help calm and comfort the understandably freaked out child.
In honour of Friday 13th and the fact that it’s almost a full moon, please enjoy this little fic @the-original-sineater encouraged me to write throwing pre-IR John into experiencing a trifecta- Friday (because drunks) + Friday 13th (weirdness) and full moon (more weirdness and busy)
All the cases that John referred to are real ones that either I’ve attended or a friend of mine has attended.
The Trifecta
“You’re not going to have time to eat that.”
John rolled his eyes and finished packing his dinner- leftover lasagna- into a container and put it into his insulated lunch bag. “I’ve told you already, it’s all confirmation bias and superstition, just like the ‘Q’ word. It’ll be fine, just like any other Friday night shift.”
“John, we’ve got the trifecta tonight. Friday night shifts in the city are bad enough, but it’s not just a Friday, it’s a Friday 13th and a full moon.” Scott got up off the couch, dug a handful of muesli bars out of the pantry and filled a thermos flask with coffee. “Look, just humour me, okay?” He said as he put them into John’s backpack. “If it’s all situation normal you can be smug, tell me ‘I told you so’ when you get back and I’ll never mention Friday 13th weirdness or the full moon crazy ever again. Deal?”
“Deal.” John nodded as he folded up his high viz vest and checked his small torch had a full charge before clipping it to his uniform shirt.
He, Scott and Virgil were in Auckland, New Zealand, finishing up a block of shifts as part of their paramedic studies. They were basing themselves out of the penthouse apartment on the Viaduct that Dad had bought years ago for when he had TI meetings here. Right now Virgil was on day shift at Rosedale Station, Scott was packing for his 8pm-8am shift in New Lynn and John had taken the 6pm-6am at Pitt St Station, right smack bang in the middle of the main nightclub area and bordering the red light district.
While he’d heard tales from his brothers, his lecturers and pretty much every paramedic and paramedicine student about full moon weirdness and Friday 13th chaos, the most pure-science minded of the siblings had chalked it all up to the strange things the human brain does in order to make sense of the irrational world around it. When he’d explained as such, citing studies that proved crews didn’t report more violence on full moons than on a standard Friday, in response almost everyone had asked if he’d ever worked a Friday 13th night shift or a Friday and full moon night shift. When he’d answered in the negative- until very recently he’d been needing full moons to make observations for one of his papers and had planned his shifts accordingly- they’d all smiled knowingly and uttered words to the effect of ‘wait and see’.
Tonight was the night he’d get to prove his claims.
“I might see you at Auckland ED.” John said in farewell as he pulled on a civilian coat to cover his green St John Ambulance uniform and swung his backpack over his shoulder. “Otherwise, see you in the morning.” He said as he went for the door.
“See you.” Scott waved, making up a second thermos of coffee for himself- unlike John he’d worked several Friday night shifts on a full moon- there was a very good reason he’d let John take the city shift and he’d taken the suburbs.
0o0o0
Two thirds of the way through the night, Scott was listening to the radio as he tidied up the back of the ambulance after their most recent patient. He paused as he heard the dispatcher sending City 1- John’s ambulance- to back up Fire at Aotea Square in the middle of the city, and grinned when he heard the note of dismay in his brother’s voice as he answered the dispatcher with ‘Responding.’
All the City trucks had been in high demand tonight, to the point where City 1 had two broken meal breaks before they got to have their first half hour break and dispatch had pulled ambulances in from Mt Wellington and the North Shore to meet the demand in town.
For a moment Scott considered texting John with ‘I told you so’, but decided against it.
It would be far more satisfying to say it in person.
0o0o0
It was quarter to ten by the time Scott made it back to the apartment- a late call at 7:34 am, before day shift arrived- took them deep into the Waitakere Ranges. It’d been a complicated call, extricating the patient down two flights of stairs had eaten up a lot of time and it’d taken quite a while to get the patient into a bed at Waitakere Hospital ED.
He knew Virgil wouldn’t be there, he had his second day shift, but to his surprise John was still up when he got inside, sitting sprawled on the couch and staring off into space.
“You okay John?” Scott asked as he dumped his bag and took off his boots (their ambulance boots never went further than the door- bodily fluids.)
“…I get it now.” John managed to scrape together enough brain cells to respond. “That… that thing. I get it now.” He shook his head and leaned forward to prop his elbows on his knees and rest his face in his hands. “We were so busy and so many cases were just…weird! There isn’t an option on the form to log ‘patient is weird’!” He shifted to peer at Scott from between his fingers. “That one in Aotea Square? Drunk woman who got stuck up a tree. And then we went to a guy with an eyelash stuck in his eye, the way he was carrying on you’d think he had a two by four through his head! And we got called to a guy with a blocked nostril! Just one! He called and said ‘I can’t breathe in and I can’t breathe out!’ and he insisted that he had to go to ED for that! Then someone wanted his toenails cut at three in the morning!” John made a noise of dismay and dragged his hands down his face. “Just… a whole night of that… no let up. I just…ugh…no. Not doing that again.”
“Told you so.” Scott couldn’t help himself as he reached down to help John to his feet. “Come on, go have a shower and sleep, you’ll feel better after a nap.”
“Yeah, I deserve that.” John ruefully accepted the help and let Scott shepherd him off to the nearest bathroom.
I know, I know, I said I was done, but I woke up with an idea and dearly needed to write some fluff.
Tracy puppy piles, Kayo reflected with a smile, were hazardous.
If brothers #1, #3, or #5 had clamped onto you during the night, there really was no escaping until they woke up, and if #2 had made an executive decision and silenced everyone’s alarms, when they woke would be anyone’s guess.
Lifting her head from where Virgil had tucked her against his side, she looked over the tangle of sleeping bodies to where an amused John was contemplating if he could escape the limpet in human form that was Alan- the youngest had both arms and a leg wrapped around John and his head burrowed against John’s stomach.
They’d all shifted around during the night from where they’d originally arranged themselves on Scott’s king-sized bed. He’d needed a king because of his height, but the not-quite-joke was that he’d upgraded to a full king, not a king single, because of how often things like this happened.
Right now Virgil was on his back in the middle of the bed and Scott was lying on top of Virgil, head on his chest. Virgil had one arm draped over Scott and the other locked around Kayo, keeping her close. Gordon was on his side with his head on Virgil’s shoulder and the rest of him wedged at the head of the bed, half curled up. John was just below Gordon, his head level with Virgil’s waist and on his side with Alan glommed onto him, squeezed into the space between Virgil and Scott’s legs and John.
“I could tickle Virgil.” Kayo softly offered to John, knowing that the middle brother was notoriously ticklish- as a child you’d just have to wiggle your fingers in his direction and he’d squeal and run, his arms wrapped protectively around his ribs.
“…no, he’ll throw Scott off.” John replied after a moment of contemplation. “Do you have anywhere you need to be?” He asked instead.
“No, not really.” She replied.
“Then go back to sleep. EOS is on dispatch, the world can wait for us for once.” Was John’s soft declaration as he laid his head back down and resettled himself, eyes closing and breathing out a long sigh as he relaxed into sleep.
That seemed like a remarkably good idea to Kayo and she stretched a little and did likewise, resting her forehead against Virgil’s side and feeling him wake just enough to give her a little squeeze.
In the space of a few breaths, they were all back to sleep.
