soniasrsstuff:

Spine of Steel

The One Prompt Thunderbird Challenge.

Write a story using this prompt:

“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…

You know I just had to do this

*********

Jeff was finally finding his earth legs once more and slowly moved around Tracy Island. Because being stuck in the infirmary was sooooo boring. And it didn’t help with his family - especially his mother doing the whole helicopter thing - telling him he needed to rest, build up his muscle tone blah blah blah etc.

But he overheard that a consignment of edible foods … his favourite ham and pineapple pizza (they’d had this discussion before and he won every. single. time) … had been delivered. At least it would be something different from the bland ‘health’ foods that were brought to him. At least those meals that didn’t have the additional dressings of burned flakes of something or other.

Plus, he knew how to turn the oven on. Unlike his mother, who pretended to know what she was doing. But it always always ended up a disaster.

`An offering to the Gods`, he’d joked, but received a withering glare in return.

And if he saw one more pot of jello, he swore he would fling it at the wall.

So, he swung his legs out of the bed, flexed his feet, before sliding them into a pair of slippers. Grabbed the cane and slowly made his way up to the kitchen. Access everywhere was easy, thanks to the hydraulics systems and elevators installed.

The swish was all but silent, as he felt the merest pull of gravity on his back. It always impressed him, just how well oiled everything had been kept.

As the door opened, he hadn’t realised what time it was, as the infirmary didn’t have windows but it was well lit.

It was dusk outside, and the pool was dotted with small spotlights. The windows were still closed, but if he opened them slightly, he’d get a faint whiff of rocket fuel from Thunderbird One. It was barely detectable, indicating that Scott had been home a while. And judging by the empty desk, had managed to sort out the paperwork too.

Tap tapping his way towards the kitchen, he didn’t see the figure until a flash of purple caught his eye.

His mother was slumped over the counter snoring softly. How long had she been there? He shook her shoulders and she looked up, bleary-eyed.

“Hey Ma, whatcha doing?” he said gently, “you should be in bed. It’s past your bedtime.”

She wiped her face and smiled sadly, then frowned.

“You should be in bed too my dear.”

Even in the overhanging lights, he couldn’t help but see the lines in her face and the bags under her eyes. The colour drained from his face. He’d been away for eight years and it left a huge burden, not just on his sons, but also on his own mother.

He placed gentle hands on her shoulders and smiled sadly at her.

“I’m home now, let me do the worrying … okay”

“You don’t need to worry about me,” she said wearily.

“Well, someone has to!” Jeff paused - he didn’t mean to raise his voice, this was his mother for gods sake. He sighed and continued. Sally rolled her eyes but he wasn’t deterred.

“When was the last time you ate? Slept?”

Sally ignored him and got up abruptly, hoping to avoid a lecture. She didn’t want, or need a battle of wits with her son. He’d been through enough. Heck, they all did. Gosh damn, her eldest grandson was a chip off the old block.

Her head spun, gosh, she was so bone tired, but she’d made a promise to herself that she would sit up and wait for everyone to come home. And by golly, she kept that promise.

Jeff tried to take her arm to steady her, but she shoved it away, slid off the chair and stumbled across the room. Just as she shuffled towards the edge of the counter, a wave of fatigue hit her and she reached for something to steady herself, almost crashing into the bookshelf.

Tagging@tracybirds for this prompt and thank you

gaviiadastra:

For the One Prompt Challenge @tracybirds, because I had to do a FishTank scene since it’s me. To make it different, though, I threw it in my Thunderteers Universe. So here’s a snippet for my Hold Fast, peeps. <3

(Gordon is A, Virgil is B)

“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…

Ao3
MoreThunderteers
Masterlist for the One Prompt Challenge here

*****

Blow Ye Winds, Blow

The ship lurched to the side, sending Virgil careening towards his desk and scattering the open books atop it as he caught himself with his hands. A vial of finely ground yellow-white powder rolled out of his grasp as he fell, though the cork stopper luckily kept its contents secure. The glass did not break with the drop, though it teetered on the edge of the table a moment before Virgil quickly righted himself and reached for it.

Keep reading

janetm74fics:

The One Prompt Challenge

@tracybirdsand@gumnut-logic set this challenge HERE. With thanks to @the-original-sineater for help with the title.

My mind immediately went to the rare!pair I wholly blame @the-lady-razorsharp for: Scott/Havoc

Prompt:

“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…

~

Usually when Scott opened the door to the cottage he was met first by the cold steel against his neck followed shortly by a hellcat in his arms.

Normally their meetings were short and intense, snatched moments between times.

She’d done her planning well.

Keep reading

the-original-sineater:

TLC

The One Prompt Thunderbird Challenge.

Just what it says on the tin. Write a story using this prompt:

“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…

The master post and spreadsheet may be found HERE
…
Sometimes it’s the rescuers that need the rescuing.

…

It had been a crappy rescue. One of the really bad ones, the ones that his brothers tried to protect him from. Protecting him to the point of locking him out of the z-band and banning him from the lounge. 

Being the youngest really sucked sometimes. 

It had been hours before they had come home. Hours that Alan had put to good use. He told EOS about the yellow boxes in the freezer of Five that weren’t on any inventory list. So when John finally stepped back from the rescue, there would be a plate of three pancakes with strawberry jam and a cup of chamomile tea waiting for him. 

Gordon would find a slice of still frozen French silk chocolate pie, with extra whipped cream and a bottle of carbonated water, cherry-flavored in his room.

Waiting in Virgil’s room was a coffee-flavored ice cream float with nuts. Enough for two helpings. 

Kayo would find a plate of sweet krupuk and a glass of cold cream tea.

Waiting for Scott was a slice of apple pie with cream to pour over it and a glass of cold water. Because oldest brother was a snob when it came to apple pie. 

At least that had been the plan. But no plan ever survives first contact. 

Alan drummed his fingers on his desk and glared at the icon that was stubbornly sitting in the locker area. Everyone else was in their beds. Even John, though that had taken an assist from EOS. Normally, Scott was the first one home, but not this time. This time he’d been last by almost an hour. 

Now the smart money was on getting Virgil or John to do the Scott wrangling. But Alan wasn’t about to disturb either of them. So he headed down to the locker room. He’d get Scott to bed somehow. Even if it meant playing the scared little brother card. 

What he hadn’t expected was to find Scott sitting on the bench, still in his undersuit, holding his head in his hands. He stayed in the doorway and studied the man in front of him. He didn’t like what he saw. The undersuit was loose in places, and there was a hunch to the posture that raised alarm bells. Time to do what Tracys do best: help. 

“Scott?”

Scott jerked upright, and in that split second, before the walls came up and the masks fell into place, Alan saw an exhausted man, one who looked to be at the end of his rope. 

“Alan? What are you still doing awake?” Scott swiped at his face and stretched out his back. 

“Checking on you.” Alan was worried enough not to sugar coat this. 

“You don’t need to worry about me.” 

“Well, someone has to!” Alan paused - he hadn’t meant to raise his voice. He sighed, “Scott -”

Scott rolled his eyes. 

Which made Alan wonder just who the actual adult here was. “When was the last time you ate? Or slept?”

The glare sent his way should have terrified him, but if anything, it made him feel more resolute. He took a step forward. 

Scott shot to his feet, mouth open as if to argue. But he blinked twice and his hand reached for the wall that was too far away for him to grab. Alan lunged forward and got his body between Scott and the floor as Scott crumpled. 

“Damnit, Scott! I’m the one that’s supposed to be stupid, not you!” Alan reached out with a foot, snagged the grey baldric, and pulled it close enough to grab. He hit the comm link with more force than he needed to. “EOS!”

“Alan? What is wrong?”

“Wake the others. I need help. Scott’s in trouble.”

Tagging@tracybirds

Prompt from here - was also inspired this morning by this prompt, so here is my offering with Scott and Jeff as our leading stars. One prompt - a million ways to write it, yeah?

Aftermath of Lucy’s death, a not particularly with-it Jeff and a warning for implied self-harm in the form of disordered eating / sleeping

Anyway someone get this Jeff to a therapist stat.

—

Scott jolted awake, the moonlight streaming into the room from the crack in the curtain. He wasn’t sure what had woken him – the light that fell across his bedspread, the scrape of a door over the swollen hardwood floors, the nervous presence of a brother hovering in the doorway.

He listened hard, straining his ears for even a whisper in the silent farmhouse.

Scott wanted nothing more than to turn over and ignore his prickling conscience, to burrow back into bed and hope that any night-time disturbance would gradually settle into the same warm feeling.

A muffled thud echoed in the dark and he sat upright, certain that he hadn’t been dreaming after all.

He bit back the groan as he stumbled from the bed, searching blindly for his socks, and pulled a robe tightly around him. He crept into the darkened hallway, expertly avoiding every creak he’d mapped out as a child, and paused outside each bedroom door. He hardly breathed, listening for the sounds of a brother in need before he gently pushed the door open.

John was slumped against the window where sleep had won out over the stars. His head was hardly visible under the curtain and condensation sprawled across the glass from his warm breaths. Virgil was snoring quietly, and Scott bit back a grin as he snorted and rolled over in his sleep.

Across the hallway, Gordon and Alan were curled up together, one bed abandoned for the prospect of more warmth. Gordon sighed as Scott stroked his hair, his usually cheeky grin softened by pleasant dreams. Alan murmured, his unheard whispers giving Scott a moment’s pause before he simply kissed his cheek and slipped out from the room.

There was one more room to check, the one Scott had been avoiding.

Sure enough, his dad’s room was empty.

Scott closed his eyes. The muffled sounds were louder now, as of course they must, reverberating up from the study directly below.

He turned and crept down the stairs, trying to ignore the way his intestines wrung and twisted as he walked.

Staring at the solid door, the dim light shining from underneath, he didn’t know what there was left to say.

He hated this, hated the way he was forced to parent not only his brothers but his father as well. He wanted his dad to be the one, standing in the door and demanding to know what he was still doing awake in the dead of the night. He wanted someone to come and tell him that it was enough, that it was time to rest, that he had school in the morning.

He wanted to scream at his mother for leaving them, and then at his father for running away from her.

There was no need to knock. He swallowed the bitterness and opened the door.

Jeff didn’t even glance at him, absorbed in a numbing world of numbers. He pored over documents that seemed to fly off the screens no sooner than they arrived, a dizzying display showcasing how much work he was drowning under.

His clothes hung from his shoulders and his skin sagged sallow in the blue cast of the holograms. Shadows seemed to sink into every hollow of his body and he scrubbed at his eyes, leaving bruising marks of exhaustion beneath them.

With a start, Scott realised they’d hardly seen him since the funeral six months ago.

“Dad,” he whispered, endless emotion compressing his voice into a thin note of sound.

Jeff didn’t look up.

“Dad!”

Jeff startled violently. The heavy desk chair slammed against the windowsill and he swore, standing helplessly torn between fixing the chair and his son. It should have been an easy fix, but Scott could see the doubt and confusion in his eyes as he turned between the two, trapped by indecision.

“I got it, Dad,” he said, walking over and straightening the chair.

He only hoped the crash hadn’t woken anyone else.

“Wha’re you…?”

Jeff screwed his eyes shut, letting his head fall in his hands.

“What am I doing up?” Scott guessed.

“Yeah.”

“I think that’s my question to ask, Dad.”

Jeff was silent, thinking over each word carefully to tug meaning from the simple sentence.

“It’s three in the morning,” he said suddenly.

“Yep,” said Scott. “I was asleep, I swear.”

“Good, good,” he murmured, letting his eyes fall shut. “You have school tomorrow.”

“It’s Sunday.”

“Sunday school?”

“We haven’t been to that since Gordon was born.”

“Your mom was so mad at her,” said Jeff, mind full with half-forgotten memories.

“Mad at… Look, Dad, it doesn’t matter.”

“It all matters, Scott, can’t you see that?”

“No! Dad, you’re scaring me!”

And he was, Scott realised. He was shrinking back from this shell that used to be his father. There was none of the easy joy there anymore, none of the confidence and certainty that had shaped his childhood. His dad could do anything, he’d always known it to be true. He just hadn’t realised that ‘anything’ wasn’t just reserved for the good things in life.

“Scaring you?” murmured Jeff, still looking far away. “No, you shouldn’t be scared. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Well, somebody has to,” retorted Scott, fear boiling over into anger. “Is this what she would have wanted? You can’t even take care of yourself, let alone your family and you promisedher.”

His dad cowered in front of him, refusing to look him in the eye, and he hates it, so he hates him.

“I’m calling Grandma,” he said abruptly.

“Scott, there’s no need for that.”

“Thereis,” Scott shouted, all thought of keeping quiet for his brothers’ sakes leaving his mind. “When was the last time you ate, Dad? Or slept in your own bed?”

“Scott, please.”

He stumbled out from behind the desk, shoulder catching on the bookshelf as he surged forward like a tidal wave, desperate and begging in a way Scott had never seen. In a way he wished he’d never known was possible.

“At least wait until the morning,” his father said, hopelessly trying to grab at his shoulders. “What can she do until then? You’ll only worry her.”

“Get off me.”

He shrunk back from his father’s grasp and didn’t move to help him as he groaned, slipping to the floor.

“Dizzy,” he murmured, not hearing his son’s sharp cry.

Scott’s anger subsided in an instant as he dropped to his knees.

“Dad?” he called, trying desperately not to panic. He should have known, he should have cared more, he couldn’t let an argument be the last thing his dad heard.

“Scott?”

“Virgil, get Dad’s phone, on the desk,” he snapped, not waiting to question his brother’s presence. “Make sure John keeps the littlies upstairs.”

“Is he alright?”

“I don’t know.”

“‘Mfine.”

“Stop talking,” snapped Scott.

The phone materialised in his hand and he noted with no small amount of relief that Virgil had disappeared upstairs without further question.

He swiped across Grandma’s name, pleading with her to hear him across the miles and pick up.

“Jeff?”

“Grandma!”

“Scott?! Where’s your father?”

Her confusion solidified in an instant into sharp questions and Scott answered them all, holding onto his dad the whole time. Jeff flinched every time he spoke, as though he wanted to protest but couldn’t find the energy.

“I’ll be there inside half an hour,” she promised, the soothing balm of her assurance spreading warm inside Scott’s chest. “I’ll stay on the line, just hold on, and don’t be shy to call an ambulance if anything changes.”

“It’s not that serious, Ma,” muttered Jeff.

“You’ll do as you’re told, Jefferson Tracy,” she demanded. “You hear me?”

“Yes, Ma.”

“Good. Scott, honey? Saltines and ginger beer. If he can’t hold his food, get help.”

Scott scrambled to do as she said, leaving the door ajar and trying not to hear the low voices that followed him down the hall.

Virgil was sat at the top of the stairs, hugging at his knees and looking much younger than his sixteen years.

“Was he drinking again?” he whispered in a tense voice.

“No,” said Scott, climbing up and sitting next to him. “Just overworked, exhausted and starving himself.”

“He’s going to kill himself.”

“Don’t say that,” said Scott sharply. “Grandma’s coming over, she’ll know what to do.”

Virgil bit his lip, clearly wishing he hadn’t said anything.

“Can I help?”

“No. He won’t want you to see him like that.”

“He won’t want you either.”

“Well, I’m all he’s got,” growled Scott, resentment flaring up again.

He breathed deeply, wrestling the anger back under control.

“Alan?” he asked instead.

“Still asleep. Gordon too. John’s sleeping in Alan’s bed now.”

“He shouldn’t need to do that.”

Virgil shrugged.

“You shouldn’t be up all night looking after Dad.”

Scott grimaced, but slowly nodded his agreement.

“Virgil,” he said quietly, nudging him. “Dad’s gonna be fine too, you know. All that stuff Grandma said, I know you were listening.”

Virgil blinked, screwing up his face, and Scott watched as worried tears dripped onto his folded arms.

“She said he might need an ambulance.”

“It’s just a precaution. He hasn’t, y’know, done anything.”

“But he might.”

“Grandma’s gonna get him help,” said Scott, wrapping an arm around him. “And we’ll help him too, you’ll see.”

“Okay,” said Virgil.

He wiped hurriedly at his eyes and swallowed back the terrible fear that Scott knew was threatening to envelop them all.

“If you say so, I’ll believe it.”

“I do,” said Scott, infusing every drop of confidence into the words.

He stood and stretched, reassuringly squeezing his brother’s shoulder one last time.

“Now, I gotta get saltines. Go to bed.”

“Yeah, okay.”

Scott slipped down the stairs, padding his way through the quiet house.

“Hey Scott,” whispered Virgil. “When you come up to bed, can you sleep in John’s bed?”

Scott smiled sadly.

“No problem, Virg.”

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.”