Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

More than anything, Tanusha wanted to fit in. 

Her father had always been friends with uncle Jeff, as long as she remembered. He had always been round their house, having a friendly chat over a cup of carefully brewed tea or holed away with her father in his private study. Every now and again they would receive an invite to his house in return and - since her father refused to leave her alone (she wasn't sure exactly why, but was pretty certain it had to do with why her mother had gone away) - she would go along with him. The two of them would disappear for hours at a time into Uncle Jeff's study, so she would have to amuse herself by exploring the house and its vast grounds.

Those long explorations were when she first ran into uncle Jeff's boys.

Confident, impulsive Scott seemed worlds away from her: not just in height, but in the way he behaved, with his grownup attitudes and complicated textbooks. She knew he was already at an age where he was considering university, which seemed lifetimes away for her, not anything that she would do for years and years. 

Quiet John was next, with his stargazing and astronomy books and posters of all the space missions since Vostok I. He kept mostly to himself, but every time they met he always took the time to ask her about her day. She thought he was nice.

Warm, steadfast Virgil came after him. He was an artist at heart, and brought the house alive with his music. Sometimes she would sit for hours, hidden in an alcove, just listening to his soft melodies. His paintings hung in pride of place along the hallways of the Tracy home.

Then there were the two youngest. Gordon was only a couple months older than her, all whirlwind energy and intense swimming schedule. He said he was going to win a gold medal at the Olympics when he was old enough. Somehow, she didn't doubt that some day he would. Alan was the youngest Tracy, only a few years old, with big blue eyes and a spray of freckles across his nose. She could tell he was the darling of the family from the way the oldest brothers doted on him. 

They were a tight-knit group, and she always felt out of place when she and her father visited Uncle Jeff. it wasn't that she disliked them (in fact, they seemed much better than the kids she was used to at her school). she just didn't know how to go about properly making friends. It meant she spent a lot of time wandering the corridors and sitting in empty rooms, unsure of what to do if she did happen to run into one of the Tracy boys.

Unfortunately for her they ended up going round to Jeff's house much more as she got older. Her father kept mentioning his new job, something about security, and she knew that whatever it was had something to do with her uncle. Not uncle Jeff, but her blood uncle. 

He hadn't visited them in a while now. Not since her mother had gone away.

Day visits to the Tracy household started to turn into sleepovers, which turned into long weekend trips which turned into week visits and fortnights and months. She was a little older now. She knew her home wasn't as safe as it had once been.

Ultimately, it meant she now was around five brothers, who were a rowdy, rag-tag group. They all called her Tintin (John told her it was after a comic character that Alan liked, and the rest of them had quickly caught on). It felt almost like a rite of passage, to receive a name from the family. She still didn't quite feel part of their group, though there were certain events that had brought them a bit closer over the years. She saw herself in Scott's reckless determination, Virgil's strength, her logical mind in John. She saw the loss of her mother at such a young age reflected in Gordon's eyes. She saw her desire to earn her place in the family in Alan.

Eventually, she and her father moved with the Tracy family when Jeff started international rescue. 

The island off the coast of Australia was... different, to say the least. For one thing, it was much hotter than the London suburbs of their old house, and a different sort of heat to the dry, baking-hot summers in the Tracy household. For another, it was massive. If the old Tracy house had felt big, it was nothing compared to an entire island all to themselves.

Because of the complete lack of any other people near Tracy island, she started boarding school too, along with the younger boys. She didn't see as much of the other Tracys any more. Scott was off in the Air Force (though he had recently decided to leave to help with iR) and Virgil was preparing for his course at Denver. John was studying at Oxford, with big plans to work up in the new Thunderbird Five after he finished. Gordon's swimming training was in full swing. Alan was fooling around in school, hanging out with friends and pranking teachers.

She was practising martial arts, learning how to hack through firewalls to access classified information. She knew that her uncle was out there, causing trouble, and if her father was putting so much time and energy into the hunt for him she'd be damned if she didn't try as well. She definitely felt like the odd one out now.

And then her blood uncle killed her real uncle, and it all fell apart.

Her father was inconsolable. Within a few months he had arranged his retirement and was packing to leave Tracy island for good, leaving the boys' grandmother to single-handedly raise five boys. (And her, apparently.) She, Alan and Gordon stayed on at boarding school for as long as they each could - though her and Gordon had nearly finished their school careers anyway. Gordon soon left to do a stint in WASP after competing in the Olympics, just as he'd always said he would. She threw all her effort into her studies, learning all she could about defence and security systems and - in her spare time - dissecting her father's security protocols, to gain the best understanding of them possible. 

During the holidays she begged Scott to teach her how to pilot the Thunderbirds, taking each for more secret joyrides than she cared to admit to. She was space rated by the time she left school, and - even though she never told Gordon - she was almost as good at piloting Four as he was. It was the easiest Thunderbird to take for a spin after all, and most useful when it came to incognito security sweeps of the island.

She was determined to be the best pilot she could. Once she was old enough (but you're old enough now, the tiny voice in her head argued, you've been old enough since Jeff died) she could go on rescues. She understood International Rescue inside and out. She could help out. (It's the least you can do after your blood uncle caused all this misery, the voice hissed.)

She may have felt like she didn't belong, but she'd be damned if she failed the Tracy family.

She finished her studies and took up her new role as security chief as quickly as she could, replacing her father - meaning that once again, a Kyrano held the role of the Tracys' guardian angel. All her martial arts had meant that shortly after Jeff's passing she had picked up a new name, courtesy of the time she floored Gordon in one blow: Kayo. it seemed to fit her well. She felt too old for the silly childhood nickname of Tintin, anyway. 

She shed her past name like an old skin, stepping into her new role. Security chief for the Tracy family. Role model and caretaker of the youngest brother. The shadow, appearing in the blink of an eye wherever she was needed. She would be anything except the niece of their hated enemy. 

She did long to just be the younger sister, sometimes. She did want to fit in. Sometimes more than anything else. But then something would remind her that her very blood was against her, and she would step back again, into one of the roles laid out for her, because they were safer. They would keep the Tracy family out of harm's way, even if it meant making some sacrifices.

She wouldn't - couldn't - risk the safety of the Tracy family. Even if she had to stay alone and apart to do it. 

Chapter Text

Being a member of International Rescue was hard.

John hadn’t quite realised that until his first shift in Thunderbird Five, when the communications array flashed red over south China and the panicked voice of a young woman crackled over the satellite’s speakers. He’d quickly responded, trying to reinforce the connection in the meantime, whilst making a quick assessment of the situation she was in.

It hadn’t looked good. 

He’d done his best to reassure her and informed her that he would be right back, before making the call to Tracy Island and relaying all the information he had so far to his father. He’d expected him to respond in kind, to tell him that Scott was en route in One, and lend him a hand in formulating some kind of plan for what to do once they arrived on scene.

Instead, his father had told him that he would take the call from there. John had passed over the controls to Tracy Island immediately, slightly baffled. He hadn’t realised what it had meant at the time.

When his father called him back half an hour later, he did.

“Sometimes,” he’d said gently, “there really is nothing we can do to save someone, son. Ahui was too far gone, and there was no way we would have reached her in time. Sometimes the only thing left to do is try and comfort them in their last moments. But the least I can do is protect you from the guilt of losing, for as long as I can. I can take those calls if you ever get them.”

John nodded. He didn’t think he’d heard such a heavy resignedness in his father’s voice since the avalanche a few years ago. If the video had been on as well, he was sure he’d have seen the same sorrow in his eyes.

“I wish I could protect you boys from all the sorrows in the world, sometimes,” his father continued - almost to himself. “I know I can’t do that forever, that one day you’ll see even more of the universe’s cruelty - that you’ll have to answer these calls alone, John - but I’m damned well going to protect you. As much I can, for as long as I can.”

And he did. His father had taken each and every call of that nature that had come through since they’d had that conversation, and John was glad. He felt a little guilty about that, but he did. The latent grief that had been with him since his mother’s passing, the pain of those International Rescue lost during rescues, his own internal struggles; they seemed like enough for him to carry for the time being - at least until he was more ready to shoulder the burden his father was holding for him.

Unfortunately, the universe did not seem to want to wait until he was ready.

The Zero-X crashed, and his family’s world was shaken down to its foundations. Suddenly Scott was the patriarch of the family, and International Rescue was barely clinging on. They had two kids and two teenagers to take care of, a multi-billion dollar company without its CEO, and a world that desperately needed its heroes back. 

For the first time in a long time, John could hear the calls of the lost causes again. For hours their pleas echoed around his lonely satellite - red lights flashed and swam before his eyes as emergency beacons blinked on all around him. He tried to bring some of them comfort - really, he did. Even after diverting as many of the calls as he could to the GDF, there were those that they couldn’t reach in time. Those who needed the Thunderbirds. Those who needed a miracle. Between managing International Rescue alone and trying to piece together the puzzle that was his father’s final moments, it was a miracle John could hear himself think at all.

He found himself almost wishing that the cacophony had remained after his grandmother took over for him, and the silence filled Five. His thoughts were louder than any distress signal ever could be.

So John was left to answer every call alone. He took every single one - no matter how dire, no matter how desperate, he was there. He was there for those who could be rescued, and he was there for those who couldn't. He never refused a call. If there were those who were just out of reach, or just too far away, or dying faster than they could heal them, he talked. He did his best to offer comfort or reassurance or remember last words or pass on messages. 

His father taught him to always help those in need. So he did. 

International Rescue did not let anyone die alone. 

John didn't tell anyone else about those calls. He suspected Scott (and maybe Virgil) knew that there were some calls he didn't relay to them - for all their technology they couldn't do everything, after all - but they never pried and John left it at that. They lost enough people on the scene already. No, the lost causes were his burden and his burden alone. He never forgot a single one of them, either. If International Rescue couldn't do something in life then the least he could do was honour their memory in death.

One shift, EOS woke him.

"Sorry to bother you, John, but there's a call coming through and I wasn't sure what to do," she told him as he blinked the sleep from his eyes (was that a hint of anxiety in her voice?). "I wouldn't have woken you, but I really could use a second opinion."

He pulled up the details as he blearily drifted into the conversatory. One person, trapped in a cave somewhere high in the Himalayas. An imprecise location due to interference from a storm in the area. The telemetry he was recieving was…not good.

This was a lost cause if he'd ever seen one. No wonder EOS had been at a loss; they had never dealt with a situation in which they truly could do nothing.

"EOS, are we still recieving an audio signal from the victim?"

"We are," she confirmed.

"Can you redirect the call to my room, please, and shut off the audio feed from there?"

EOS hesitated. "You don't want me to monitor the call?" 

"I'll explain in a bit. Can you…can you please just do it?" Something about John's demeanour must have alerted EOS to just how serious he was being, as she relented and did as he asked without another word. He drifted back into his room and waited until a few seconds after the door hissed shut before speaking to the person at the end of the line.

It was a tough call. The person's name was Tilly, she was a university student who had been studying geology for two years, and she accepted the fact that she was dying with incredible stoicism. He blinked back tears as her final breaths rattled over the comm, resting his head on the wall and turning his gaze to the vacuum of space as if the answer to the universe's cruelty would be scrawled there amongst the stars.

"John?"

Clearly EOS had disobeyed him to some extent; she was monitoring the call in some capacity. He let out a humourless chuckle. "You can come in if you want."

The doors slid open as her camera whirred along the tracks and into the room.

"Sometimes," he said, "we can't save everyone." John's mind flitted back to that day all those years ago, his father's words echoing in his head. "We're not fast enough, or can't reach far enough, or the person is too broken to fix. Sometimes the only thing we can do is offer someone comfort in their last moments."

EOS's LEDs blinked, pale lilac. "I see."

"My father took those calls for me back when I first started in International Rescue," John continued. "He wanted make sure I was ready, that I was prepared to take the lost causes, before he let me. I can do the same for you if that's what you want. It's not your job to deal with them yet."

"No, it's alright." He looked up at EOS. "It is my job to take care of you, John. Judging from your reactions from your last conversation, I think it may help you to have me there during those calls." He looked at her questioningly. "I have found that humans often benefit from having support from others in difficult situations. By being present I can make sure you have that support, and I am also doing my duty as part of International Rescue."

"Are you sure?"

"You taught me to always help those in need. I want to honour that."

The next time one of those calls came through, John watched EOS's soft blue and lilac LEDs flicker in a halo as he told a young boy a story of castles and dragons and a knight in shining armour.

Chapter Text

It was the middle of the night when Scott got back from his rescue. Most of the lights were off, everyone else long since in bed, but someone (most likely Grandma or Virgil) had left the lights on a dim setting in the Den for him. ᐰ bowl with a few popcorn kernels in it was left on the floor, blankets and cushions strewn around it - clearly there had been an impromptu movie night while he was out. He'd missed another one, Scott thought with mild disappointment. Oh well. There was always next time.

He trudged up the stairs towards his room, mind slightly fuzzy with fatigue. Scott was definitely looking forward to finally being able to lie down and actually sleep; rescues had been back-to-back recently, and between that and having both the Hood and the Mechanic on the loose now, iR was pretty busy. Being in his own bed sounded pretty great right about now.

ᐰs Scott wearily walked along the corridor, blue light spilling out from underneath one of the office doors caught his eye. Internally, he sighed. Despite all of their differences in personality, one thing he and his brothers all had in common was their tendency to work a) a lot, and b) at all hours. Which, apparently, included (he checked the display on his wrist communicator) 3ᐰM in the middle of the night. Externally, he simply walked over and pushed the door open, ready to chastise whichever of his brothers was still up this late and send them off to bed.

Surprisingly, it wasn't one of his brothers.

Kayo was sat cross-legged in her chair, poring over charts and sites and algorithms she had pulled up on various screens. The holograms were the only light source in the room, silhouetting her hunched figure in an unnatural pale blue. Her signature ponytail was absent, her hair tied out of the way in a half-hearted bun instead. She didn't react as he stepped into the room.

That set off the first warning bell in Scott's head. Kayo was the most noticing person he knew - except for maybe John - and definitely the hardest of his siblings to sneak up on. Usually she would have acknowledged his presence in some way. But as far as he could tell, she wasn't even aware that he was there.

"Kayo?" he said tentatively, taking another step towards her. She jumped. 

"When did you get there?" she asked, eyes still fixed on the screens. He padded over to the desk, eyes roving over the information on display as he tried to determine what exactly she was doing.

"Not long. I just got back."

"Huh."

"What're you doing?" Scott asked after a few seconds. Now that he was standing next to her, he could see dark smears under her eyes. ᐰnother warning bell sounded in his head.

"Looking for information on the Hood and the Mechanic's whereabouts," she replied distractedly. "I'm sure I'm onto something here..." She swiped at one of the screens, bringing up yet another dense wall of data.

"How long have you been looking?"

She shrugged.

Scott could see that Kayo was reluctant to stop working. He couldn't blame her, really - he wished both the Hood and the Mechanic were behind bars as well - but he could tell that she was too tired to still be up. Not only did she need sleep, but he knew from experience that it was hard to get anything done half as well as it could be done when it was three in the morning and you were running on nothing but willpower. 

"It's late," he said, resting a hand on her shoulder. 'Why don't you get some rest, and then you can carry on with this in the morning? ᐰfter you've slept."

But Kayo brushed him off. "I'm close to a breakthrough. Let me finish."

"It's three in the morning, Kayo," he pressed, "you need to sleep."

"I can sleep when my uncle is back in prison." There was venom in her voice, but her words were beginning to slur together slightly. How long had she been working? Scott tried to remember when he'd last seen her around the villa. He was too tired for this right now.

Scott reached across and switched the computer off.

"Hey! What the hell do you think you're doing, Scott?" Kayo finally turned to face him, and more warning bells sounded. She looked - for want of a better word - like shit .

"ᐰre you okay?" The words were out of his mouth before he could think, and her eyes narrowed.

"I'm fine. You don't have to worry about me," she dismissed him, waving a hand in what he guessed was supposed to be a nonchalant fashion.

"Well, someone has to!" he retorted. She blinked at him, and he realised that without meaning to, he'd almost shouted in her face. Whoops. 

In a quieter tone, Scott continued. "Kayo." She glowered at him, folding her arms. "When was the last time you ate? Slept?"

Kayo huffed at him, pushing back her chair and standing up abruptly. ᐰt least he'd gotten her to stop working, Scott thought tiredly, as she made as if to storm off. Then her hand went up to her head, and she staggered, and he was darting across the room as her knees buckled from under her.

"EOS, you there?" he called out, trying to cushion Kayo's head. The ᐰI responded in affirmation, and he sent out a silent thank you to whatever entities were up there. "Can you wake Virgil for me? Tell him to come down to the office. Tell him it's urgent."

"Of course, Scott." 

"Oh. Fuck." He looked back down at his sister, who was blinking blearily at him. "Nice catch, Scooter."

"For God's sakes, Kayo," he said exasperatedly, helping her to sit up straighter, "you're supposed to be one of the more responsible members of International Rescue."

She chuckled weakly. "Just keeping things interesting round here."

"Oh, things are plenty interesting without people needing to pass out on us and nearly give me a heart attack."

Kayo had the decency to look a little sheepish. "Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

"Just take care of yourself, idiot."

"Oh that's rich, coming from you."

"Hey." That was said without much conviction. Even he wasn't going to deny that there was more than a bit of hypocrisy present here (it was true that he had an awful habit of forgetting basic self-care in favour of work). Luckily at that point Virgil barrelled into the room, saving him from having to say anything else on the subject.

"What the hell happened?" he asked, eyes wide. 

" Someone passed out," Scott told him.

"You're wearing your bunny slippers," the someone in question chuckled drowsily.

Virgil pointed his medscanner - which he'd been clutching in his hand - at Kayo, eyes roving over the data that flashed up on the screen. "You're gonna need to come down to the medbay; I need to give you an IV." She pulled a face. He raised an eyebrow at her. "Don't give me that. If anything it's your own fault."

Kayo sighed. "Fine. Help me up, then." She was already struggling to her feet - that seemed to be another trait of the Tracys, unrelenting stubbornness - and Scott hurriedly helped to guide her up, Virgil moving round to support her other side. Between the three of them they made it down to the medbay without much difficulty, EOS's hologram popping up once they arrived. He felt a sudden fondness for the ᐰI; clearly she was at least a little concerned as to their wellbeing.

Virgil got to work in setting up an IV as Kayo settled down on one of the beds, Scott sitting on the adjacent one.

"Why haven't you been taking care of yourself?" he asked softly, and she looked across at him.

"I couldn't…I haven't been able to sleep recently," she replied quietly. Her hands twisted together in her lap. "I've been focused on trying to track down the Hood and the Mechanic. I guess I just forgot about eating and drinking as much as I should be. I didn't even notice I was doing it."

"One of us should have noticed sooner." Scott was kicking himself, to be honest. It was his job to look after everyone, and he'd failed at it. Some leader he was.

But Kayo was shaking her head. "We've been so busy with rescues, all of us. You can't do everything at once." He started to protest, but she silenced him with a look. "Stop blaming yourself. Seriously."

He sighed, and she lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Virgil came over at that point to fit the IV line, inserting the needle expertly into the crook of her arm and doing another scan just to make sure everything was fine. He gave Scott a quick smile before heading back over to the other side of the room, rifling through drawers and replacing equipment. Scott shifted so that he was lying comfortably on the bed he was occupying, propping himself up on his side.

"I thought it was over," Kayo murmured, impossibly quietly. "He'd been arrested, and that was it. He couldn't hurt any of us again, you know? But it isn't." She closed her eyes. "My uncle fucking ruins everything ."

"I'm sorry," he replied. "I wish he was gone too." ᐰnd he did. Scott knew he shouldn't let hatred fuel him as much as it did - he knew that bitterness and revenge were a slippery slope - but the Hood had damaged so much of everything he loved, and he felt nothing but rage towards the man. He hated him for taking away their father, for hurting his family, and he hated him for every cruel and corrupt scheme that he was responsible for.

Then he looked back up at his sister, already asleep next to him, and at his brother, who spotted him staring and gave him a small wave and a smile. 

The Hood couldn't ruin everything, Scott thought determinedly. He couldn't ruin this. He wouldn't let him.

Scott's eyes drifted shut. He let out a breath, head sinking into the pillow, and he decided to allow sleep to claim him.

Chapter Text

he liked to watch the stars go by.

it was a rare occurrence, but sometimes there was silence up in thunderbird five. no alerts, no chatter over the comms, no eos telling bad jokes and complaining when she lost the third chess game in a row. just complete, blissful silence. 

he cherished those moments. life as a fulltime monitor for international rescue was an incredible job and he would choose no other over it, but when it came the silence was wonderful. he let it settle like a blanket over him, would switch off the gravity, and just float. eos knew to leave him alone in those moments. it was just him and the view of the neverending vacuum of space through the reinforced glass of the gravity ring.

john had stargazed a lot as a child. he’d run up to his room when it was dark and clamber up onto the roof with his favourite blanket - soft navy, embroidered with the constellations - and he would just stare and stare as the milky way glittered above him. sometimes he’d seek out the millenia-old maps of heroes and monsters that had been drawn by civilisations long since dead. sometimes he would make up his own. sometimes he would seek out the manmade stars. it always thrilled him to see the international space station pass over in its orbit.

it was funny. he lived in space now, right amongst those same constellations, and yet he didn’t stargaze nearly as much as when he was a child. life was too full - of paperwork, business calls, distress calls, rescues - that there was almost never time to appreciate what he had, surrounded as he was by the celestial bodies that had captivated his interest back when both his parents were alive and he was just a kid living in a rural house in kansas. so he treasured these moments. allowed himself to bathe in the stardust for precious moments before they were snatched away from him by an inevitable crisis.

john loved the stars.

Chapter Text

"You've never ballroom danced before?'

Penelope's incredulous tone was accompanied by a raised eyebrow as she stared at Kayo in disbelief.

"Well - no," she admitted, shrugging. "I think I went to a few dance classes when I was little but that didn't last long. I ended up doing karate instead."

"I thought you practiced Wing Chun Kung Fu."

Kayo grinned mischievously. "What can I say? I'm a woman of many talents."

The two of them were seated in Penelope's drawing room, sipping tea and listening to a classical piece on Penny's vintage record player. It had become a bit of a tradition between them; what with Kayo's duties as chief of security of International Rescue and Penelope's double life as an aristocrat-stroke-secret-agent, Penelope had insisted on the two of them meeting up every now and again for some downtime. Kayo had been sceptical at first (what would she have to talk about with someone so different to her?) but she'd grown to look forward to the time they spent together. Penelope was extremely enjoyable company.

"You've really never ballroom danced before?" 

"I've never anything danced before, really."

"That settles it." Penelope placed her teacup and saucer down on the coffee table with a delicate clink and rose to her feet. "I shall simply have to teach you."

On second thoughts, Kayo wasn't enjoying her friend's company so much any more.

Before she could protest, Penny had grabbed her hand and tugged her up from the sofa, physically taking her teacup from her and setting it down beside the biscuits. Kayo eyed her apprehensively as she was dragged into the open space in the centre of the room.

"Now," Penny was telling her, "the basics are quite simple. One hand in mine, the other on my shoulder." She placed her own free hand on Kayo's waist. Startled, Kayo tensed at the contact, but Penelope simply chuckled lightly at her. "Really Kayo, just put your hand on my shoulder. I won't bite." Hesitantly, she did. "Good. Now we make a start with the steps. Step forward with your left foot first."

The classical music swept over the pair of them as Penelope guided Kayo through the dance. It was obvious that Penny had been dancing for years; she was effortlessly graceful in her movements, taking the lead as if it were second nature to her. Kayo was a quick learner herself as well so she soon found herself picking up the steps, making sure to listen to every single one of Penelope's comments on her posture and technique. After a while Kayo even found herself enjoying the dance. Penny was an excellent teacher.

"Now for the spin," Penelope told her, eyes twinkling. "Let go of my shoulder - good - and turn this way…" Kayo let her momentum carry her, the room whirling around her, her only anchor Penelope's hand in her own. Penelope caught her and swept her up in the dance again as she completed the turn, beaming. "You're a natural."

The dance came to a slow stop along with the music, the record spinning silently in its cradle as the final gentle piano notes echoed throughout the room.

Chapter Text

It was 11am on a Sunday, and Alan had not yet emerged from his room.

This was, in fact, not an uncommon occurrence. Barring early morning rescues, Alan tended to stay in bed until at least midday. Sometimes Grandma would go upstairs to physically drag him out of his room and downstairs to force-feed him breakfast and get him started on his schoolwork. Other days she chose to be merciful, and let the poor boy sleep in. Gordon suspected that had less to do with her lenient caretaking and more to do with their collectively erratic sleep schedules; they didn’t get to choose when people were in need of rescues, after all. So - in conclusion - for Alan to not be awake by 11 was not unusual.

What was unusual, however, was that Gordon had made pancakes over an hour ago and Alan hadn’t even come downstairs to see what was going on.

Alan was famous for his sweet tooth; the kid was a human hoover. Gordon had long since learned to have his own private stash of sweets and other such unhealthy foods, because as soon as the kitchen was restocked after a supply run Alan would pillage the place and eat a substantial portion of the food in an impressively short amount of time. Gordon was intensely aware of the fact that if one of the island’s other inhabitants did not force him to, the kid would live exclusively on crisps, instant ramen, and chocolate bars. 

To combat this, Gordon and Virgil - as the resident bakers of the island - would instead buy the ingredients they needed to make sugary stuff like cakes or brownies. Alan was a hopeless cook (the incident with Kayo’s birthday cake instantly sprung to Gordon’s mind) and couldn’t exactly eat raw flour without risking food poisoning. Plus, flour wasn’t exactly the best snack. But the ingenious plan of home baking also had its downfall, in that there was nothing stopping Alan from sneaking one or two or ten slices of whatever thing had been baked. And he had an uncanny ability to know when someone had done some baking, too. If he wasn’t out on a rescue, he would usually poke his head round the doorway about a half hour after the food was ready.

And that was why Gordon was worried: Alan was nowhere to be seen.

Having anticipated Alan’s inevitable appearance, Gordon had made a few extra pancakes out of the sheer goodness of his heart (take that Virgil, he’s totally a nice brother!) and left them on the side as he’d eaten his breakfast. The pancakes were still there, long since gone cold. Gordon had even done all the washing up while waiting for Alan to show up.

At the hour mark, he decided finally to go and investigate. Marching up the stairs, Gordon made his way down the hall, fingers idly tapping out a rhythm along the wall as he walked. He quickened his steps as he noticed the lack of video game sounds emenating from Alan's room.

Gordon poked his head around the door. Miraculously, the kid had somehow managed to stay in his bed overnight - rather than ending up in a heap on the floor, as was the usual - and was still bundled up in blankets, swerving one hand through the air as if it were a plane (or spaceship) and making engine noises. The lights were off and the curtains remained closed; clearly Alan hadn't moved from his bed in a while. And if Gordon was completely honest, the kid looked like shit. His hair hung in limp strands across his forehead - a far cry from his usual messy, sticky-uppy hedgehog look - and his cheeks were flushed an alarming red. Alan's eyes, when Gordon got a closer look at him, were slightly hazy and unfocused.

"Uh, Al? Whatcha doing?" he asked. 

Alan stared, dumbfounded - as if Gordon was the idiot for having no idea what was going on. "Flying m'spaceship," he helpfully informed him.

"Riiiiigght." Gordon flopped down on the end of the kid's bed. "And why are you still in bed?"

"S' comfy." Again, Alan seemed to be shocked that Gordon felt the need to ask. "Duh."

Gordon, being the mature older brother that he was, stuck his tongue out. Alan went back to making zooming noises.

"Hey, Al?"

"Mmm?"

"You feeling okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, m' great." 

Alan's body was soaked in sweat. Alan's speech was ever so slightly slurred.

Alan was clearly not great. 

Inwardly, Gordon was panicking just a bit. He was the last person Alan needed right now. Grandma obviously would know what she was doing, Scott held the title of smother-hen-in-chief - hell, he was practically Alan's second dad - and Virgil was a medic, for god's sake. Even John had more practice dealing with sick people; he was the one they called to handle Scott when no one else could. Compared to them, Gordon was kind of useless at this kind of thing.

But he was the one here right now. Everyone else was off doing something: rescues, trips off-island, hanging out in space, and so on. Gordon would have to handle this by himself.

He ended up thinking about his next move for longer than he cared to admit. "You wanna come down to the medbay with me?" Gordon tried eventually, deciding there was sometimes a beauty in simplicity. "I just want to make sure you're alright."

Alan waved his hand nonchalantly. Or tried to, anyway; it sort of flopped around in the air like a dying fish. "Nah, I'm good. Not sick or anything."

"You're not looking too great Allie." Gordon reached across then, placing the back of his hand on Alan's clammy forehead. It was alarmingly hot to the touch. Aw, hell. "You've got a fever."

"No, no." Alan wagged a finger at him. "If I was sick, could I do this?" 

Continuing the dying fish performance in expert fashion, Alan flopped off his bed and landed in a heap on the floor.

"O-kay, that's it." Enough was enough. Gordon leapt to his feet and scooped Alan up into his arms, blankets and all. The kid twisted half-heartedly in protest, but soon gave up trying to break free and rested his head in the crook of Gordon's arm. He was surprisingly light; no matter how much exercise he did in the gym (supervised and timed, of course) or rescues he went on, Alan was still just a gangly kid who still had years of growing and maturing to go.

"Eos, could you let Virgil know Alan's sick?" Gordon said as he walked, aware the AI was probably monitoring the situation. "Not if he's in the middle of a rescue, it's not urgent, but just… let him know soon, please?"

"Of course." The AI's voice was comforting in its own way. "He's headed back to the island already, so I'll let him know immediately."

"Thanks."

Gordon walked exceedingly carefully down the stairs. He'd almost reached the medbay by now - just a few more metres - and Alan was happily (though slightly deliriously) chattering away as the two of them passed through the doorway. The lights flickered on, a comforting amber glow illuminating the room instead of the usual clinical white. 

Alan happily snuggled up under the blanket Gordon gave him while he went in search of the advanced medscanner. A few scans later and he was sufficiently confident in his initial diagnosis of a simple fever. To be fair, you could never be too careful when everyone in the family was constantly flying all round the globe and potentially contracting who-knows-what.

"Hey Alan?" he asked again, prompting a sleepy response from his little brother. "When was the last time you ate?"

Alan shrugged. "Maybe…mmm…yesterday?"

"You hungry for pancakes?"

Alan's face lit up. He let out a quiet whoop.

"Why don't we get you into the den and you can lie down while I make some more?"

"Cool." His brother gave him a lopsided thumbs-up.

When Virgil arrived back home in a mild panic, it was to a slightly loopy yet cheery Alan taking little bites of pancake on the couch, curled up to Gordon's side, as Frozen played quietly on the TV. Every now and again Gordon stole a bit of Alan's pancake, but the kid didn't seem to mind at all.