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~✦~
“I don’t understand why this is so novel to you. You literally fly into space on a regular basis.”
“But Joooohn, it’s completely different!” Alan argues. “See, now I’m in the Oort cloud! When would we ever get the chance to see this?”
John’s hologram in the centre of the lounge hums in acknowledgement as the pop-up window projects the view. It’s been a quiet day, and Alan is using the downtime to show off his fancy new tech, the latest in advanced VR headsets.
Lifting the visor, Alan beams at John. “I bought this for the awesome games, but I’m seriously getting obsessed with the exploration side. You gotta give this a try next time you’re down. You can try swimming in the Mariana Trench!”
The astronaut scrunches up his nose in distaste. “I’m perfectly happy up here, thank you very much. The thought of being crushed by 714 million cubic kilometres of seawater is only appealing to Gordon.”
“Well excuse you, Johnny,” a loud voice interjects. “I don’t want to hear that from the man who spends his days floating in a deadly, freezing vacuum.”
“Speak of the devil,” Alan chirps, visibly brightening at the sight of his closest brother. Gordon’s hair is still damp, evidence of a swim and shower in the warm weather. “Over here, Gordy, I got something to show you~” he croons, waving the VR visor.
With a curious and slightly suspicious head tilt, Gordon trots into the circular lounge. Alan fits the visor onto the blond and makes sure it’s fastened.
“Choose an environment while it calibrates.”
“An environment? Like a coral reef?” Gordon asks, interest piqued.
“Aye, Captain, setting course for the Supreme Barrier Reef.” Alan taps on his tablet, and the black screen fades into an underwater paradise. Gordon gasps at the detailed corals, and spins around to track the myriad of fish darting about.
“This is amazing!”
“Right?!” Alan gushes. “Isn’t it cool?”
“Super cool!”
Seemingly forgotten, John pouts. “Gordon sees the real thing all the time, Alan. Show him the wonders of space instead.”
“Oh, so now you’re on-board.” Alan teases, but obligingly changes the scene.
The view spins slowly as it flies through a speckled cloud of dust, before revealing the marvellous sight of a purple planet surrounded by billions of twinkling stars. While usually less inclined to leave Earth's atmosphere, here Gordon does several child-like pirouettes in awe. After remembering where he is, he coughs in embarrassment.
“It’s not as good as the ocean, but I'll admit space can be pretty cool too.”
Alan and John exchange pleased looks. It's rare to hear the resident aquanaut speak positively about space.
Out of the blue, Gordon jolts.
“Woah, you okay?” Alan questions.
“Yeah, yeah I’m good. Go back to the reef! I want to see if they got all the marine life accurate.”
Alan laughs and switches it back.
“Um, why’s it merged together?” Gordon questions with furrowed eyebrows.
“What do you mean?”
“Everything’s all sparkly.”
“Huh? It doesn’t look like that on the projection. Oh man, don’t tell me it's broken already!”
Alan reaches over and takes the visor off, and wears it himself. But the view is normal.
A hint of uncertainty crosses John’s face as Gordon blinks absently, head turned up towards the corner of the room. “Gordon?”
Alan notices John’s concern and removes the visor.
“Gordy? What are you looking at?” He moves in front of the aquanaut, unnerved by the unnaturally jaded expression.
“It’s everywhere,” Gordon mutters.
“What is?”
“The stars.”
Then he jolts again, limbs jerking forcefully. He would have fallen if Alan’s quick reflexes hadn’t braced him.
“Gordon?!” Alan panics, the lack of response not helping one bit.
“Sit him down on the couch,” John orders firmly, helping to ground Alan into ‘rescue mode’. The hologram taps in the air as Alan eases Gordon onto the nearest couch. “Scott, Virgil, we have a situation in the lounge. Medscanner needed.”
“FAB,” Virgil’s response is instantaneous. Scott doesn’t reply, but the incoming rushed footfalls are enough.
Gordon finally seems to catch on that something isn’t quite right. He squeezes the arms holding him up.
“Allie?” The voice is soft and confused, and so unlike Gordon that Alan lets out a whimper of distress. He can’t lose it right now, Gordon is relying on him. But he’s so afraid. Even with all the rescues, this is nothing like he’s ever seen before, especially with his own brother.
Scott arrives, practically pushing Alan out of the way as he kneels in front of the couch. He takes in Gordon’s situation with a practised eye, and Alan is more than glad to relinquish control.
“Gordon, can you hear me?”
The words are barely registered by the other, his pupils dilated and unfocused. Scott grits his teeth.
“Okay Gordy, I’m going to lay you down on your side, nice and slow. Where’s Virgil?”
“Right here,” the man in question jogs in. Gordon doesn’t acknowledge Virgil at all, staying mute and blinking rhythmically.
“What happened, Alan?” he demands as he begins scanning.
Alan’s mind blanks.
“Focus on his head,” John’s hologram cuts in. “He was fine before using the VR visor, which displayed flickering stars. His body spasmed once, and he started to have visualisations of lights flashing. The visor was removed, but he immediately became dazed, and he spasmed again violently.” John pauses, jaw clenched. “I think he’s having a seizure.”
As if on cue, Gordon arches and stiffens, eyeballs rolling back as he starts convulsing in small fits. Scott swears but keeps a steady hold on the twitching shoulder, laser-focused and ready to back off if necessary.
Listening to the choked gurgles emitting from Gordon's lips is hell. Alan imagines this is what a person’s death throes are like, and a part of him truly believes Gordon is dying. He wants to scream, but he can’t move. Why aren't they doing anything? Gordon is suffering, and they are just useless bystanders surrendering their brother to a merciless fate.
It’s a long, dreadful minute for everyone.
Finally, Gordon shakes and shudders into limpness, head sinking into the cushions. Shallow respirations rock the tiny form. Scott’s trembling fingers brush golden strands of hair, away from quivering lashes.
The medscanner beeps, and Virgil’s grim stance doesn’t change. “It’s over for now. Initial scans aren’t showing anything other than recording abnormal brain activity typical with convulsions. I’m not certain, but if it was triggered by the VR headset, it’s probably epilepsy.”
Scott nods shakily, standing up and turning to Alan.
“Al. Alan, look at me.”
Alan is still in shock as he tears his gaze away from Gordon. Scott envelops him in a tight embrace. Even with all his attention on Gordon, the eldest brother can still tell that the youngest is distraught. “He’ll be okay, Allie. Take deep breaths.”
Alan shakes his head and tears up. The day had started so well. Now all he feels is overwhelmed and ashamed. He’s an adult now, and a fully-fledged International Rescue member. How could he have frozen up like that? Gordon needed him and he failed.
“It’s my fault.”
Knowing that Virgil could take care of Gordon, Scott leads Alan to a different couch and sits them down.
“It’s not your fault, Allie. This could have happened at any time, and thankfully not in the middle of a rescue. He’s safe here, and we will figure this out together. Okay?”
Alan nods minutely. Scott isn’t sure if his words got through, but a slight commotion catches their attention before he can say more, and the pair hurries back to the others. Gordon is awake, but disorientated and flailing around.
“Wuhh-was goin-on?” he slurs, motions becoming frantic.
“Hey, it’s alright, Gordon,” Virgil reassures, catching the aquanaut’s hands. “We’ve got you, you’re okay.”
To their relief, he soon calms down. Gordon glances around at the others in bewilderment before landing on Virgil.
“Um, did I faint or something?”
Virgil shares a glance with Scott, who nods. Thumbs move soothingly across pale skin.
“You had a seizure.”
Gordon’s jaw falls open. “What? But I’m not…”
“I know, Gordy. We’ll find the cause of this. Think you can stand up?”
“...I think so.”
With Virgil’s help, he eases into a sitting position, wincing. “Muscles are kinda sore.”
“Yeah I bet, your body was pretty tensed up.” Virgil gives a hollow smile. “Let’s get you down to the infirmary, okay?”
For once, Gordon complies without a fuss, exhaustion settling in. Scott moves to follow, but notices Alan standing stock still and head lowered. Scott gives a sigh of understanding.
“Why don’t you go look for Grandma and Kayo first? We’ll meet you downstairs.”
“...Okay.”
Honestly, the thought of talking about what happened is nerve-wracking. But he is even more scared to face Gordon himself. What if he blames Alan? This wouldn’t have happened if he didn’t show him the stupid VR. He doesn’t know how he could cope if Gordon resents him for it.
~✦~
The PRI machine whirls around him with soft humming and clicks, a vast difference from outdated MRI scanners. Gordon is even free to squirm about within the confines. The isolation also lets him chew over what had occurred in the lounge without his brothers around. It’s not that he doesn’t want them, but Tracys are notorious for being overly protective. Their behaviour reminds Gordon of the months after the hydrofoil. It’s devastating to witness it again, so he appreciates the brief moment of being alone.
Apart from the tender limbs and tiredness reminiscent of a good workout, Gordon feels fine. But even he knows that unexplained seizures are serious. It's already dawned on him that this isn’t something he can just brush off and hope it goes away. He’s not stupid, he knows that epilepsy is the most likely culprit. As to why he suddenly developed the disorder should be revealed by the PRI scans. He has a feeling he knows what it is though, and can’t stop the frustrated growl escaping.
“Gords? You okay?”
A small speaker projects Virgil’s worry. Gordon bites his lip. He didn’t expect to be heard over the machine’s noise.
“Yeah, sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Talk to me.”
Gordon rubs his hands over his face as the PRI machine quietens, having finished the scanning. Perhaps if it was only Virgil in the monitoring room, he might have voiced his suspicion. But he knows the whole family is there, or in John’s case, listening in from Thunderbird 5. Nothing is confirmed yet, so Gordon has no intention of bringing up the accident that seemed to traumatise his brothers even more than himself.
“It’s nothing. Can I get out of here now?”
Gordon hears the door click, and the cover slides open with a hiss. Virgil handles Gordon like fragile glass. He bites his tongue at that. The aquanaut doesn’t remember much, but it must have been terrifying for his brothers, watching him seize out of nowhere. He’ll just have to tolerate their excessive caretaking for now.
Speaking of, they are gathered around the scans when Gordon enters the monitoring room, even though only Brains and maybe Virgil can decipher them. He heads straight to Alan, giving him a nudge and a reassuring grin. Alan returns it, albeit waveringly.
“So what's the verdict, Brains? Has my famous squidsense been proven?” He cheers internally as the joke raises some eyebrows and lips.
“Well uh, it’s difficult to say 100%, and it will depend on how you fair in the next few days. But from the symptoms and the s-slight inconsistency here compared to your last check, it is highly likely to be, uh, post-traumatic epilepsy.”
A thick silence descends. Scott is the first to break it.
“How?”
“I think I can guess,” Gordon murmurs, shuffling uncomfortably. “A really old head injury?”
“That’s c-correct, Gordon. The area affected matches the trauma you sustained in your, uh, hydrofoil accident.”
He is the only one who doesn’t react outwardly to those taboo words.
“But why now?” Alan blurts out. “That was years ago!”
“Post-traumatic epilepsy can occur long after the initial event,” Virgil states in a purposefully detached tone, but the pain in his eyes gives it away. “It's not common, but it happens.”
No one talks for a while, absorbing the information with despondency. Only Gordon seems to be at ease. It isn’t just a facade either. Compared to when the doctors told him he would never walk again, this diagnosis is far less hopeless. He refuses to drown in sorrows over his own body’s condition. If he can overcome paralysis, he can conquer anything. He just has to convince his family of this fact.
“C’mon guys, I’ll be okay. Epilepsy can be treated pretty easily nowadays, can’t it?”
“Yes!” John’s hologram exclaims, having done his own extensive research on the matter and pleasantly surprised at Gordon’s knowledge of these medical advances. “Well, not easily, but while epilepsy itself can’t be cured yet, there are numerous methods where symptoms can be suppressed almost completely, with a huge success rate.”
The positive outlook displayed between Gordon and John is infectious, lifting the others' spirits.
“Right, of course,” Virgil affirms, determination overriding the anguish.
“I’m confident we can utilise the best solution for Squidy with little to no side effects,” John grins, and Brains nods in agreement. Gordon pokes his tongue out at John for the nickname while the rest start to relax.
“We need to confirm the diagnosis, though. There’s still a small chance it was a one-off seizure,” Virgil notes. “Gordon, you’ll have to be closely monitored for the next few days. With sudden onset epilepsy, you’re likely to have a second episode after 24 hours and within 4 days, even without visual stimulation. The biggest danger is that you can injure yourself from falling.”
As one, everyone focuses on Gordon, who groans dramatically. Great, trust Virgil to summon the smother-hens out. The aquanaut suspects he won’t be getting much alone time for a while.
~✦~
International Rescue goes on a temporary hiatus. Gordon thinks this is completely ridiculous, but the other Tracys aren’t taking any risks until epilepsy is confirmed and treatments start. The temptation to leave would be too much if they don’t redirect the calls to the GDF, especially if it involves the use of Thunderbird 4.
The 24-hour mark has gone by without any problems, so they just have to play the waiting game now. A game no one enjoys playing.
Gordon should be more high-strung. Lord knows everyone else is becoming increasingly on edge, almost by the minute, just waiting for the inevitable. They even banned him from swimming! The closest to it was relaxing by the poolside, which is his current location.
Yet the resident aquanaut isn’t very anxious. Though maybe it’s not so surprising that he is taking this so much better than the others. All they see is their precious brother hurt, and they can’t help fretting over it. But to Gordon, this is not so bad. Sure, he can no longer say he’s in perfect health. But his body isn’t damaged, his mind is lucid, and his position in International Rescue is assured. With his family supporting him and expecting successful treatments, that's all he needs to feel safe and content.
Gordon peeks at his current companion; partner-in-crime Alan Tracy. The youngster is playing a video game on his handheld, but it's obvious his heart isn’t in it. He’s just pressing buttons randomly, while making subtle checks on Gordon now and then. Alan was always a bit flighty, but now he would not stop fidgeting, and could barely look him in the eye for longer than 5 seconds.
Gordon understands that his little brother needs reassurance right now. And well, that’s what big brothers are for. He tries easing into it.
“Hey Allie, what game is that?”
Alan shoots up and does a terrible job at pretending to be casual. “Oh, uh, it’s just a random fighting game.”
“Can I see?” Gordon prods.
The response is Alan all but flinging the console into the pool, face white as a sheet.
“Alan,” Gordon breathes out. “Don’t be afraid, I’m not gonna go down every time I look at a screen.” He rests his chin on his fingers in thought. “Though, it might actually be a good idea to use your VR visor and try to trigger it again rather than waiting it out.”
It wasn’t the right thing to say. Alan flinches hard as if struck, curling into himself. Gordon swiftly shuffles over, pulling him into a comforting hug.
“Oh Allie, is that what’s got you so worked up? You know none of this is your fault, right? I should thank you for revealing my condition in the safety of Tracy Island rather than out on a dangerous rescue!”
A snort slips out from the bundle in his arms. “You sound like Scotty,” he mumbles.
“Scotty must be a very smart fellow then. It just goes to show that we are both right, and you can’t be blaming yourself for anything.”
Alan sniffs, uncurling. “But I caused you to have a se- a seizure! I hate it, hate that I did that to you.”
“Allie, you didn’t do anything to me,” Gordon declares. “Besides making me appreciate space more. Heck, I don't think I've ever seen so many stars before. It was beautiful, Al. I want to see more.”
“Really?” Alan’s eyes glisten with unshed tears.
“Of course.” Gordon gestures wide, face glowing. “The stars, the sea, and everything in between.”
~✦~
They’d all had a long discussion about their options for treatment. A VNS device is the best way to prevent seizures, either implanted or external. While still effective, using prescribed medication long-term is a last resort. For ordinary people, it would be the other way around, considering the costs. Money isn’t a problem for a Tracy, and the constant need for medication isn’t ideal in their line of work.
The notion of surgery isn’t something his siblings have warmed up to much, but an implant is Gordon’s preferred method. A VNS implant would be placed next to the vagus nerve in his neck, where it would monitor and control abnormal electrical impulses. Technological advances nowadays made them 98% effective at suppressing partial seizures, and 100% effective at preventing full convulsions.
The external version does basically the same thing, but would be attached to his neck with an adhesive. The drawback was that external devices were slightly less reliable, and had the chance to displace. Of course, the perk was no surgery. Gordon was likely to use one for a while regardless, to test his reaction to a VNS device before possibly implanting one permanently further down the track.
In fact, at this very moment, Brains is working on an external VNS device. It will take at least a month to design, order parts, build, and perform safety checks. He’ll have to rely on anti-seizure medication in the meantime. And before starting that, the diagnosis has to be confirmed. No one is holding out hope that this is anything but epilepsy, but they aren't willing to risk starting treatment in case it isn't. It's all prepared though, Scott had flown out to get a wide array of pills and injectables.
It’s the third day, and the current Gordon Guardians are Virgil and John. The latter came down yesterday in the space elevator to help with the mission. The mission, of course, being: Make Sure Gordon Doesn’t Fall Flat On His Face. At least, Gordon assumes that's their goal. It could also be: Make Gordon Go Insane With Constant Hovering. Fortunately, the family is aware of his distaste for crowding, so they try to keep only one or two people around at any stage he is up.
As a token of good faith, Gordon hasn’t complained at all. It’s actually really nice to have the space case here in person instead of a hologram. Especially since he is busily mixing up batter for blueberry waffles just for Squid boy. (It’s for everyone, but Gordon totally gets first dibs.)
Virgil sits next to him at the kitchen bench, distractedly painting watercolours onto his sketchbook. Gordon is amused at the similarities between Alan and Virgil’s attempts to keep watch of Gordon without making it obvious.
Thank god John could actually act normally, and it was up to them to get Virgil to loosen up before he pops a blood vessel or something.
“So. Waffles, pancakes, French toast or cereal. What’s the best sugary breakfast?”
“Pancakes, next question,” John replies without preamble, pouring in the blueberries.
Virgil raises his head with an affronted frown. “No way, it’s French toast. Pancakes and waffles are too sweet.”
“Then put less sugar in it,” John drawls back. “French toast is gross soggy egg bread.”
The plaid wearing brother gasps and clutches his chest. “You take that back right now. French toast is perfection and I will not have you insulting its deliciousness. Pancakes are just boring flat circles.”
John crosses his arms to look intimidating, which is slightly undercut by the frilly blue apron. “Pancakes are fluffy stacks of joy. I’m not arguing with someone who is so blatantly incorrect.”
“I think cereal is the best!” Gordon chimes in.
“Disgusting,” Virgil sneers. “You’re sullying this discussion.”
John snorts. “You called cereal ‘sadness incarnate’ and begged me to make blueberry waffles instead, Fishface.”
Gordon woefully traces circles on the benchtop. “Waffles are the superior breakfast, and everything else is trash. Poor flavourless nutritionally-void cereal never stood a chance.” He slumps over, forehead thumping onto marble.
“I’m sure cereal appreciates your heartfelt endorsement, no need to give yourself a headache,” Virgil comments dryly, patting the aquanaut’s back. It twitches under his ministrations, but no other signs of response appear.
There’s a clatter of utensils and urgent steps. “Virgil!”
“I know!” the medic hisses, quickly slipping an arm under the motionless figure and lifting him carefully.
“Oh shit,” John curses uncharacteristically as he stabilises Gordon’s neck on the way down. “He hit his head, Virg.”
“I know,” Virgil repeats, this time strained. The whole point of monitoring so closely was to prevent potential injuries, and they managed to mess it up. “Tilt him up so I can see.”
John wordlessly places palms on either side of the aquanaut's head and gently rolls it. Gordon’s eyelids flutter rapidly as Virgil examines the skin with trepidation, before relief surfaces. “It’s okay, he was likely still partially aware when he fell forward. There’s barely a mark.”
Gordon shivers, then contracts.
“Here we go.” John inhales sharply as the powerful convulsions commence. He ensures his hands aren’t restricting, only bracing enough so Gordon doesn’t knock his head into the tiled floor.
The two siblings bow over their downed brother like sentinels, marking the seconds going by. It’s no doubt awful to experience another seizure, but at last the fear of the unknown wanes. This is it. This is the signal they have all been waiting for. Now they can treat the epilepsy, and Gordon will never have to suffer again.
~✦~
“FAB, Thunderbird 4 is go,” Gordon merrily reports as his sub slides out of the module and cuts through the waves. Air bubbles cascade around him, cocooning his ship before releasing him into the silent ocean depths. As he sinks deeper, he turns his eyes up to the surface. The light refracts through the turbulent waters, shimmering and shining like a plethora of stars. It’s mesmerising.
Five months have passed since he was diagnosed with epilepsy. In that time, he hasn’t had a single episode, and it’s as if Gordon is as good as new. Except for one extra piece. He fiddles with the bandages wrapped around his neck that covers the stitched incision. The VNS device trials worked like a charm, and after lots of convincing with puppy-dog eyes, the family reluctantly agreed to the use of an implant.
For the aquanaut, this is the beginning of normality once again. No more icky medicine, no more itchy attachments. Just a mini machine under his skin, hidden to all and tirelessly operating forevermore.
Gordon casts one last look at the stars in the sea, closes his eyes, and whispers a bitter-sweet farewell.
~✦~