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Once upon a time, Alan had believed that fear was the one true enemy in life. He wasn’t sure exactly how he’d stumbled across this theory, but it probably had something to do with the fact he’d been raised on old sci-fi films (courtesy of Grandma and Scott) and their relating books (courtesy of John, who refused to watch any movie adaption without reading the novel beforehand) and as a consequence had both read and watched Dune before he was really old enough to understand even a third of the plot anyway, making the entire venture pointless, but one phrase had stuck with him: fear is the mind-killer.
Back then, he’d been young enough to trust the lies, hadn’t become used to telling the difference between a disingenuous mask and authenticity, and so had genuinely believed that his family weren’t scared of anything. It was a lot to live up to. Too much to live up to, given at one time he’d been scared of everything. The world was full of danger and fate was cruel, even if you lived an ordinary life away from the hot zone of a volcanic eruption or earthquake epicentre or ran away from a fire at an industrial plant rather than heading into the flames to search for trapped victims. So, yes, he spent ninety percent of his time wrestling with anxiety which threatened to have him puking his guts up whenever any of his brothers left on rescue and dedicated the final ten percent to silently berating himself for giving into such fear in the first place.
Fear is the mind-killer, he reminded himself, tangled in a weighted blanket and staring at the hologram showing Two’s trajectory homeward. His eyes were stinging with exhaustion, but he remained too restless to fall asleep until he’d seen for himself that Virgil and Gordon were both okay. And so the saying made sense to him, because fear was what kept him awake on nights like those, dulling his senses come morning so that he spent lessons in a daze and nearly jumped out of his own skin at something as mundane as Gordon slamming the fridge door. No one else was scared, so why was he? And, more to the point, how was he supposed to overcome it?
And then came the epiphany – fear and bravery came hand-in-hand. It turned his worldview upside down and stamped it into the ground for good measure. And once he’d learnt the truth, it was easier to see past the masks, to notice when Gordon’s tapping was powered by nerves rather than mere excess energy, when Virgil kept fact-checking with John just in case, when John himself was unnerved by a situation but had no choice but to send the people he loved into that danger because International Rescue never left a call unanswered. Even Scott and Kayo got scared – Kayo betrayed by her hypervigilance and Scott second-guessing himself.
It didn’t matter if he was scared, Alan realised, just so long as he was brave too. If he let the fear stop him, then it was a problem.
“Of course we get scared,” Virgil confessed at one point.
They were holding a vigil in a hospital waiting room in which the lights were too bright and the chairs were uncomfortable and it was just the wrong side of too late to keep secrets under wraps. Alan kept shifting between drumming his heels or cracking his knuckles and both actions made Virgil cringe. He reached across and placed a hand on Alan’s knee to stop him fidgeting.
“Fear is natural. Healthy, even. You just can’t let it stop you. Bravery isn’t the absence of fear but acting in spite of it. Dad used to say that a lot.”
Alan lifted his feet onto the edge of the chair and wrapped his arms around his knees. “Do you really get scared?”
“All the time,” Virgil admitted, gaze soft as he lifted an arm to let Alan curl up against his side. “But I push past it. Besides, in our line of work fear isn’t the real enemy.”
There was no singular enemy, Alan would learn later, through both survival training and his own curious googling on sleepless nights – he never quite grew out of the fear of people not coming home (which was something he should probably speak to a therapist about someday but shh), and on nights when One, Two and Four were all scattered across the globe insomnia took him in a chokehold once again – but rather there were many, depending on your situation. He memorised the survival strategies – air, shelter, water, food – and their counteracting enemies and hoped against fate that he’d never have to use them. With all the technology he had at his fingertips, it seemed unlikely.
Until a solar flare knocked out the electronics on his entire ship and left him stranded on an asteroid. Without a co-pilot. Or the people he’d been sent to rescue because they were located on the other side of the godforsaken hunk of rock. Oh, and time was running out because aforementioned asteroid was distinctly less stable than when he’d initially landed. Because, you know, that was the sort of day he was having. Sometimes he questioned his life choices. On the plus side, he had a really cool view, so hey, at least there was a silver-lining, right?
Nowadays, he equated the word enemy with a certain international terrorist by the alias of The Hood. But in that moment, faced with a series of controls which were as dead as a dodo and a distinct lack of radio signal, he resorted back to that childhood belief for a split second – fear is the mind-killer. And for once it was true – fear was the real enemy here, because he knew how to solve this, how to fix Three and get her airborne again, to pick up some passengers and get the hell outta dodge before that next solar-flare hit, but right now his brain was tripping into overdrive and he couldn’t think past the fog of pure, primal fear.
He hated being alone. It knocked his anxiety into the realms of unmanageable. Normally it wasn’t a problem because he tended to leave the radio on and there was always someone talking – be that the familiar banter between Gordon and Virgil or simply John with a new update on their varying situations. The silence was deafening. He swore he could hear his own heartbeat like thunder in his ears, the ticking as engines cooled, low cracks of the rock below. When he placed a hand against the bulkhead, Three seemed to tremble.
“Okay,” he murmured, closing his eyes for a split second. “Okay. I can do this.”
Fear was the enemy. He was not going to let it win.
Getting Three online turned out to be relatively easy, aided by the fact he knew his ship better than the back of his own hand and had spent much of his early teenage years shadowing Brains in the lab (because come on, it was far more entertaining than online classes). The second he felt the engines roar into life he was back in his seat and coaxing Three into a smooth glide around the curved surface. The radio had yet to resurrect itself, but the navigation system was back up and running, which made it easier to locate his lost geologists on the far side of the rock.
Data suggested another solar flare was on the way. Geologists on board and checked for injuries – nothing other than a few scrapes and scratches which was to be expected and frankly they had gotten off lightly given the state of their crashed ship – he set course for Earth and flew like there was a fire on his tail – which there sort of was.
Returning to Earth was always an incredible sight. There was something deeply humbling about seeing the planet from afar. Home. It seemed impossibly vulnerable against the darkness of the Space, precious and unique. He was always struck by a wave of protectiveness as if it were possible to stuff the entire planet in his pocket and keep it safe from all harm – be that from chunks of space debris or threats closer to home such as whatever scheme the Hood had tucked up his sleeve. He slowed for re-entry, vaguely suspicious as to why it was EOS granting him clearance for final descent as opposed to John, but mostly focussed on the relief of making it back safe and sound.
He dropped off the geologists at the nearest spaceport given their good health and made it home within the hour. EOS was still managing the comms, but refused to share any details as to why, which did absolutely nothing to ease his nerves as his anxiety drew up several wild scenarios – almost all of them ended in a hospital – and by the time he landed Three he was about to go stir-crazy in his own Thunderbird. He nearly tipped over his own boots in a wild dash for the elevator and was saved from face-planting by Gordon’s hug.
“Um…” He attempted to wriggle free, but Gordon was like an octopus when it came to hugs – there was no escaping until he let you leave. “It’s good to see you too? Dude, I was gone, like, ten hours, max. That’s nothing. Did you really miss me that much?”
Gordon reluctantly relinquished his hold. “Radio silence, Al. Do you know how scary that shit is?”
Yes, because normally Alan was the one left in the dark. He understood all too well ‘how scary that shit was’ from personal experience. And now, in the aftermath of the adrenaline rush he’d been running for several hours straight, he was not only exhausted but shaken by the experience. He hadn’t had chance to process it until this point and it hit him like a brick wall.
Gordon looped an arm around his shoulders and hauled him towards the elevator. “Family dinner. Grandma didn’t cook, don’t worry. I’m pretty sure John’s been, like, stress baking or something. Not baking. Cooking. Stress cooking? Doesn’t sound right. Ironically enough it started after we learnt you were going to be alright. Go figure.”
And there it was – the jokester mask settling back into place, as if Alan hadn’t already been given a glimpse as to just how scared his brother had been through that hug alone. He didn’t call him out on it. His attention was caught by another detail.
“John’s here?”
“Yeah, came down after… uh…”
“You guys thought I got lost in Space?”
Gordon cringed. “Exactly. Do us all a favour? Don’t do that again.”
“Obviously.” Alan elbowed him with a grin. “I don’t think Scotty can afford the dye if I give him too many more grey hairs.”
Gordon actually cackled. “I’m telling him you said that.”
“Feel free, I’ll just blame you anyway.” Alan tipped his head back against the wall of the elevator and exhaled in a rush. “I was pretty freaked out up there too, you know?” he confessed in a murmur, closing his eyes against Gordon’s curious look.
“You made it home though.” Gordon’s smile was audible in his voice. “Totally kicked fear’s ass and everything.”
“Sometimes you say things and I can actually feel myself losing brain cells.”
“Alright, that’s it. Get outta here, shithead.”