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John loved his job. What could be better than saving lives, respected by the whole world, surrounded by stars and galaxies, as well as not having to interact with humans? The view was breathtaking, iridescent pinpricks of light dotting inky darkness and the deep, swirling depths of the unknown. The endless expanse of peace was broken by planets spinning silently on an invisible axis, and galaxies hanging just out of reach, swirls of green, blue and purple. He could stand and just watch the world outside for hours on end, with the only thing stopping him being the stupidity of mankind.
Lost in his musings, John jumped as the sound of an incoming call came in. Cursing under his breath, he made his way to the ever-spinning globe, picking up the call of distress. When he saw who was calling him, John felt a headache starting to form behind his eyes.
“International Rescue, what is your-” John’s customary address was cut short by the panicked words of the man on his holoprojector.
“I work for Fischler, and one of his designs has gone wrong. Again. Please, International Rescue, come save us! We’re trapped, and I don’t know who is where,” he said rapidly, adjusting glasses on his nose slick with sweat. “He made a ray to try and harness energy from a comet tail, but now the machine has started trying to harness energy from humans!”
John pinched the bridge of his nose, cursing the stupidity of the radical scientist. If it were just Fischler in the building, John would have left him alone to save the world from more disasters, but he had to save his unwilling staff.
“International Rescue is on its way.” he said, hanging up and pulling information about the region.
Wincing, he set off the klaxon on the island, remembering how tiring the last rescue was. Sure enough, Scott was there, nursing a cup of coffee.
“Fischler. His machine is trying to harness the energy of humans.” said John blandly. “Don’t know what the hell is wrong with that guy.”
“Oh,” said Scott, stifling a yawn. “Wait - energy of humans? Is that even possible?”
John shuddered.
“Hypothetically, yes. Do I want to see it? No.”
Scott nodded, stretching and putting the coffee down. “I’ll get Virgil with me, send Kayo to London with Lady P to try and get him arrested.”
“One...step...ahead of...you..bro,” said Virgil, lumbering down the stairs.
To be honest, John and Scott were both surprised that he was up and walking before 2 PM.
┈┈┈┈․° ☣ °․┈┈┈┈
John remembered the last time he had talked to Fischler, alone. It was right after the failed C.I.R.R.U.S experiment where, after staying under 25G, he had to deal with the scientist and his stupid questions.
“Is this real?”
“Can I keep this?”
“Are you sure this works?”
And the constant nagging of how International Rescue was never there when the world needed them, of the people that International Rescue couldn’t save. It was a good thing that John could stay silent, because if he was as loud as his brothers then Fischler would be a cold, lifeless body in the expanse of space.
He didn’t need Fischler’s reminder of the people who weren’t saved. Heck, he was the one to talk to them until the darkness took over.
It was that night when John found Virgil standing in front of him, arms akimbo. Vaguely, he realised that Virgil was in space (Virgil hates space with a passion) but he had to keep his professional calm around him. After all, if he broke down now then who knows how many lives would be lost?
“Virgil. I wasn’t expecting you here.” he said, trying to run through the possible reasons he was here. Reprimanding him for his mistakes? Complaining about his absences? Lecturing him on the times when his professional mask slipped over the comms?
Virgil strode forward in three long strides, John flinching as he anticipated the incoming blow. He was surprised when instead of a fist, he was ensnared in one of Virgil’s bear hugs. Dimly, he registered his suit becoming wet with some solution, and Eos watching the two brothers from her tracks.
“I’m sorry you had to put yourself through that.” said Virgil, voice muffled by John’s shoulder.
John shrugged.
“Part of the job. I’m happy that no lives were lost today.” he said matter-of-factly.
Virgil pulled away, staring at him in astonishment.
“John, you nearly died today. 25 G? That’s insane. Scary. Dangerous.”
John suddenly felt very light headed. He slumped against Virgil’s comforting body mass, the dull throbbing in his head finally being known as waves of pain radiating around his body. He groaned softly, being carried bridal-style onto the space elevator and heading down to Earth.
“Johnny? Jay, you with me?” asked Virgil, his figure sliding in and out of focus.
John thought that the space elevator hadn’t left, and that he was awake the whole time, but that didn’t explain why he was opening his eyes or why the elevator was already dirtside. As the elevator doors opened, he felt a hand run through his hair, blue eyes filled with concern as he watched from above.
Ha. That was his job.
John laughed weakly, and Virgil and Scott exchanged worried glances. What the heck was so funny about the situation?
“You’re watching...watching...my job…” whispered John, gesturing vaguely at the Tracy patriarch.
Scott raised an eyebrow, brushing his hair. He saw John’s expression suddenly crumple, face falling and trying to worm his way out of Virgil’s arms.
“Five,” said John frantically. “I need to listen, need to hear, need to stay up there…”
Scott shook his head. “You nearly died up there. I’m not sending you back until you feel 100%.”
John whispered something that Scott and Virgil couldn’t hear, but they all saw the unshed tears gleaming in his eyes. Virgil gently placed him in the infirmary bed, and went to grab medical equipment. Scott carded his fingers through John’s hair.
“I didn’t catch what you said there. Space case.” he said, eliciting a response from the astronaut.
“If I was dying, would you listen to me?” he asked, looking so broken and lost that Scott felt his heart shatter. Who would dare make his baby brother feel so weak?
“Johnny, I will always listen to you, dying or not,” he said gently. “But what sparked this question?”
John closed his eyes, grimacing at the sensation of cold, wet tears on his cheeks.
“Fischler said that I was the reason so many people died each day. That I couldn’t save them. But I listen to them, Scott, I swear I do! They can’t all be saved, and I have to make the decision as to who to save without hurting you guys, and so I need to always be there because someone has to be listening and Alan is too young and no one else can and-”
Scott cut off his ramble, meeting eyes swirling with anguish and despair.
“You,” he growled, “are the best, most needed, most hardworking and most priceless member of International Rescue. You just put your body through hell and back, so don’t even think about going back to space. Alan can take over, he’s qualified enough. And it’s incredible that you stay with victims the whole time, so don’t you dare make yourself believe that you killed them.”
John was taking short, gasping breaths, his body catching up with the rest of the world.
“Don’t leave me.” he begged, weakly grasping at Scott’s hand. Scott took it, squeezing slightly.
“Never.”
┈┈┈┈․° ☣ °․┈┈┈┈
That event ended with Scott filing a lawsuit against Fischler, costing the scientist thousands of dollars. John was subject to much needed smothering and medical attention, as well as Virgil discovering how much time John actually spent in space. All in all, the Tracys were whole again, moving forward from the idiotic scientist.
So when John realised he was going to have to talk to Fischler directly after the success of the rescue, he was prepared. Pursing his lips and creating a face of steely anger, he called Fischler.
“No, the other side of the room! Yes, yes - Oh! International Rescue! Come to apologise for the inconvenience you caused to my company?” Fischler asked, glaring at the red head.
John raised an eyebrow.
“Actually, I’ve come to complain.”
“WHAT? You, complain about me?” screeched Fischler, incredulous.
John gave him a stiff nod.
“Your foolish actions and idiotic tendencies caused significant structural damage to the neighbouring city, injured dozens of civilians as well as your own staff and gave me a headache.” he stated cooly.
“Pah, what rubbish.” scoffed Fischler, motioning to end the call before John spoke again.
“Fischler, I’ve spoken to the International Federation of Business, and they agree that you are to be put on probation.” said John, watching the vein on the older man bulge.
“ME! ON PROBATION! YOU CAN’T DO THAT!” roared the man.
John smirked.
“Actually, in a matter of minutes, you will find official representatives from the IFB outside your building to oversee any new actions in your company. Good day, Mr Fishler. Please don't call again.” he finished, hanging up.
Immediately, a call from Tracy Island came in. John opened it, smiling at Scott’s expectant face.
“So, is he going to be less of a pain now?” asked Scott impatiently.
John nodded, laughing lightly. “And good riddance.” he said to himself, even though the half smile on Scott’s face told him who else heard.