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When Virgil Tracy had taken his first Rescue First Aid course, he had been under the impression that the ‘Golden Hour’ was a simple indisputable fact.
The first sixty minutes after a traumatic injury were what decided wether or not a victim survived. Get them the help they need in that precious hour and everything was going to be okay. Fail to reach the victim within that same hour and the rescue will become a recovery and you will spend the rest of your life wondering what would have happened if only you were fast enough.
As he grew older and started helping his Father with International Rescue, Virgil found that there was more nuance than that. He had victims that he pulled from rubble two days after traumatic injury alive and able to recover while he equally had victims that should have been fine decompensate within moments of getting to the hospital despite the fact that they were still in the Golden Hour.
It wasn’t a strict rule, it was a line of reasoning to help limit the guilt of rescuers if they were too late and, more importantly, it was a protocol that maintained higher levels of safety for the rescuers if there was an unlikelihood of saving human life from whatever had occurred because the Golden Hour had passed.
There was no point in risking more lives for dead men.
Virgil followed the Golden Hour as much as other rescuers did; Begrudgingly but understanding of its purpose and reasoning. If the Golden Hour is still in effect, use all resources available including lights, sirens, and be willing to take more risks to ensure that any victims still alive have a chance to stay alive. If the Golden Hour has passed, keep working. Complete the recovery with the respect that every single victim deserves while not risking the lives of rescuers unnecessarily.
You already have one dead man, there’s no reason to have more.
No lights. No sirens. Only respect and honour and patience in getting the body home, no matter how long it takes unless it is deemed too dangerous to proceed.
The Thunderbirds did not have lights and sirens, at least not like the average ambulance or police car did. But they still followed the Golden Hour rule. If the Golden Hour passes, the rescue becomes a recovery. Do not take unnecessary risk. Do not allow others to risk their lives, even as the family screams at you to help their loved one, especially as the family beats at your chest, begging you to not give up.
You are not giving up. You are being practical. The Golden Hour has passed. The likelihood of survival only diminishes from here. No lights. No sirens. Only respect.
Except, as the minutes ticked by, Virgil decided to hell with the Golden Hour. This was his little brother they were talking about and just because it had been fifty seven minutes since Gordon had hit the water did not mean that this rescue was going to become a recovery.
Virgil’s whole body was stiff as he held onto the cable, eyes focused on the shifting waves beneath Thunderbird 2. There was a diver somewhere deep down, their only tether to the land above being held by Virgil to ensure that it did not slip. The diver, an older man that Virgil did not remember the name in his panic to get Gordon back safe, was risking his own life right now but the moment the Golden Hour passes, he will be recalled and a pod will be sent down instead because there is no point in risking another life for a dead man.
But Gordon was not dead. It was still in the Golden Hour, Gordon was fine. The Schrödinger's Cat of little brothers Gordon was right now. Before he is brought up to the surface he is neither dead, nor alive.
“Fifty eight minutes.” A local police officer called.
Virgil’s grip tightened.
A distant part of him could understand that she was only doing her duty, she had been designated to keep watch after all as the most inexperienced rescuer there, but to have her constantly count down the minutes that Gordon had left made him absolutely loathe her.
“Virg,” Scott mumbled beside him, a hand on his own line that was connected to another diver below.
Virgil did not answer him. It had been Scott’s stupid plan in the first place for Gordon to go down there and try to get the researchers out of the sea floor hub. Those very same researchers were littered around the deck of Thunderbird 2, wrapped in blankets and being assessed by the doctors that had been picked up from the local hospital before they came on site.
Seven researchers that Gordon had saved, seven entire lives that were okay because of the bravery and ingenuity that only Gordon possessed. One of those researchers had been confused when they were brought up to the surface, babbling about some other crew member who was still trapped down there.
There weren’t any more crew members but Gordon hadn’t known that when he dived down again just like he hadn’t known that the research base was still shifting. John had shouted a warning over the comms, a warning that still rung in Virgil’s head, but he had been too late.
The base had fallen deeper into the ocean and Gordon had not resurfaced since, his rebreather still on Thunderbird 2’s deck.
The young police officer cleared her throat, tears prickling her eyes.
“Sixty minutes.” She said. “The Golden Hour has passed, divers please return. I repeat, divers please return.”
Fuck this.
“Virgil don’t you da-“
Scott’s voice faded as Virgil hit the water. Virgil’s helmet could provide him with air for a few minutes but without a full rebreather like Gordon had left on the deck, he wouldn’t have much time to get down to Gordon and find a way for him to get out.
There were shouts over the comms alongside all of Scott’s curses but Virgil ignored them, going deeper still.
One of the cables shifted beside him, the diver connected to it on their way back up. The diver stopped their ascent, locking eyes with Virgil.
“Did you find him?” Virgil demanded, yearning to go deeper.
The radio crackled for a second before…
“Yes.” The older diver said. “But he’s trapped. We can’t break through.”
Hope bloomed in Virgil’s chest. If they at least knew where Gordon was, Virgil could get to him all the faster.
“Thank you.” He said. “Get up there. The Golden Hour has…”
“No.” The diver said. “If you’re going down, I am too. He’s just a kid and he sure has hell saved too many lives today to just give up on him now.”
The second diver, the one connected to Scott’s cable, caught up to them now. They were a younger person, still probably a few years older than Scott. They held out a rebreather towards Virgil without a single word.
Virgil took it, connecting it to his helmet and not for the first time thanked Brains’ insistence on their gear being adaptable.
“You don’t have to risk your lives.” Virgil said firmly over the radio.
The divers glanced at each other. They went down again and Virgil followed them.
Weaving through the wreckage, Virgil felt his heart race. The diver had claimed to have found Gordon but he hadn’t mentioned Gordon’s condition. If he was trapped, was he injured also? The fact that the younger diver had passed Virgil a rebreather meant that it hadn’t instead been given to Gordon so could they even reach him? Had he been starved of oxygen this entire time?
Had Virgil been fooling himself in his hope that Gordon was even still alive?
As they picked through the destroyed research base, Virgil noticed that there was not a spare rebreather on the older divers belt and new hope rose within him. Maybe Gordon had been given the other rebreather and maybe he was going to be okay after all. But the divers would have said outright if they were certain that Gordon was alive; the Golden Hour is always ignored if there are signs of life.
There would have been no reason to ignore protocol.
“Virgil,” Scott’s voice echoed over the radio. “You get the fuck back up here, right now.”
“They found him Scott.” Virgil said.
The radio went silent.
“Is he…”
“I don’t know. We’re almost there.”
The two divers lead Virgil to the farthest part of the lab and Virgil’s blood ran cold.
Gordon was right there. He was half floating, half pinned under a steel bar. Gordon's eyes were closed and the rebreather connected to his helmet showed no sign that Gordon was actually breathing in any of its air.
“Gordie!” Virgil shoved passed the divers, desperate to get to his brothers side.
Gordon did not open his eyes. He did not give any response to Virgil’s voice, he simply just half floated there, otherwise unmoving. The steel bar was passed up against Gordon’s legs but there was no blood. He was trapped, yes, but at least it had not punctured his suit.
Most of Virgil’s equipment would not work down here, he normally specialised in cave rescues or providing support up on Thunderbird 2 while Gordon did water rescues. Virgil wasn’t wearing his exo-suit either so he couldn’t simply drag the beam off of Gordon.
There should be a laser on Gordon’s wrist, one that worked even under water.
Virgil grabbed Gordon’s hand, hating when Gordon didn’t so much as flinch. He just kept half floating there, his chest showing no sign of movement. The life sensors on Gordon’s suit must have been damaged or else John would have already reported wether or not Gordon was still alive.
The Golden Hour had passed but Virgil wasn’t going to give up on his brother, not yet.
Activating the laser, Virgil manoeuvred Gordon’s hand so that the laser focused on the steel beam. The two divers beside Virgil were ready to launch in to help at any moment but for now they just hung back watching them.
Scott wasn’t talking over the radio, no one was.
The laser was too weak. It barely even melted the surface of the beam, only heating up the water around Gordon. Virgil worked a little longer, holding back a curse as the laser stuttered and stopped functioning. It, too, must have been damaged in the collapse.
“Come on Gordie, hold on…” Virgil mumbled, swimming right up to the bar. “I’m going to get you out of here.”
Virgil pulled at the bar, trying not to think about how he may accidentally hurt Gordon more. The divers joined him, tugging at wherever they could grip onto the bar. Gordon still wasn’t moving but Virgil could not let himself think about that right now.
There was a loud creak of metal that echoed off the walls.
“Virgil,” Scott’s voice echoed once more. “John says the hubs integrity is failing. You need to get out of there.”
Virgil didn’t dignify him with a response.
Meeting the eyes of the two divers, the divers that were risking their lives for a stranger, and he nodded to them.
“Three.” He said. “Two. One.”
As one the three of them pulled at the steel bar and it at last shifted.
Gordon’s body floated up, eyes still closed, but Virgil took him into his arms and held him tightly.
“I’ve got you, little brother.” Virgil said. “I’ve got you.”
More metal creaked around them, the research hub struggling against the water. It was going to collapse full at any moment, trapping them in this watery grave.
“Go!” He yelled at the divers, watching as the way they had come in tremble.
“We go together.” The older driver said firmly.
The hub collapsed.
———————————————————————————————————————————
Scott was pacing the deck of Thunderbird 2. The cable he had been working had snapped off in that final collapse and no matter how many times he called Virgil’s name over the radio Virgil never replied. He yearned to jump in the water himself but one of the researchers had stopped him, holding him back and claiming that it would be suicide to try to save the others.
Scott didn’t care. He still wanted to go down there, he needed to go down there.
“Sir,” The police officer mumbled. “I am sorry but we are going to have to assume that-“
“No.” Scott snapped.
Gordon was not dead. Virgil was not dead. Those brave stupid divers were not dead. Everything was going to be fine, it had to be fine. Who gives a fuck about how the Golden Hour for Gordon had long since passed, Virgil’s hour had just begun and that had to count for something right?
They could still save him, they could still save everyone.
Scott stalked towards the spot Virgil had jumped from not fifteen minutes ago. He should just go. No one could be trusted with the lives of his brother but himself. Except Alan was still on his own mission in Thunderbird 3 and John was still watching the feed up on Thunderbird 5. If Scott jumped now and didn’t manage to save Virgil and Gordon while instead just getting himself killed, then Alan and John wouldn’t just lose two brothers, they would lose three.
The Golden Hour was to prevent the unnecessary loss of life for rescuers and Gordon’s hour had passed.
Maybe the poor police officer was right. Maybe Gordon was long dead and Virgil had needlessly given his own life to save him. Scott should have been able to warn Gordon that there were no researchers unaccounted for, Scott should have been able to warn Virgil that there was no way Gordon was still alive down there.
Scott had failed the both of them.
A head popped out from the water. Scott surged towards the head, reaching out his arm. It was the young diver, a person called Pidge. Their left arm was bleeding, tied up in a makeshift sling from some kind of fishing net so Scott pulled them up carefully, calling out for the doctors to come help them.
Scott gently took the divers helmet off, giving Pidge a few long moments to just breathe.
“Virgil, is he-“
Another three heads popped up from the water. A helmet identical to Pidge’s which meant it was the older diver Takashi, and two blue International Rescue helmets.
Scott scrambled over, leaving Pidge with the doctors, holding out his arms for Gordon. Gordon was being supported by both Virgil and Takashi and when Scott pulled him up onto the platform, Gordon was dead weight.
Letting someone else help Virgil and Takashi out of the water, Scott focused on getting Gordon’s helmet off. Gordon’s chest wasn’t moving.
Scott placed to hands over Gordon’s heart and pressed down firmly. And again. And again. He distantly registered that Virgil was now next to him, watching over carefully, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at him and focused solely on Gordon’s unmoving body beneath him.
The doctors were scrambling to get a monitor to them, one that will say for certain wether of not Gordon was still alive. Some stupid part of Scott didn’t want the monitor, didn’t want to confirm what he already knew. Gordon had been down there too long. Even with his rebreather he simply hadn’t been getting enough oxygen.
Scott pressed down harder on Gordon’s chest, his own heart seizing as he heard a crack of ribs.
“Scott,” Virgil said tightly beside him. “I-“
Water sprayed out from Gordon’s mouth. In an instant Scott put him onto his side, holding him as Gordon spluttered, his lungs struggling to breathe in real air. How water had even gotten through his mask Scott did not know nor did he care.
Gordon was alive.
Gordon was still coughing up more water and Virgil repositioned himself so that he was behind Gordon, rubbing hard circles into his back to bring up more water.
“That’s it,” Virgil mumbled. “That’s it. You’re okay.”
With one final splutter, Gordon’s eyes fluttered open, his body shaking.
“Hey there,” Scott greeted. “Just relax. Can I get a mask please? Oh, thank you.”
He accepted the oxygen mask that was already being held out to him, pressing it against Gordon’s mouth. Gordon stiffened, his eyes blowing wide, but Virgil kept rubbing his back.
“It’s okay Gordie,” Virgil said. “It’ll help.”
Gordon didn’t like oxygen masks at the best of times, it had taken him long enough to get used to rebreathers again after his time spent in hospital recovering from his Hydrofoil accident, but the fact that Gordon did not push the mask away just went to show how exhausted he was.
“Breathe, bud,” Scott said. “Just breathe.”
Amber eyes flicked up to Scott, recognition slowly dawning on Gordon’s face.
“Scott?” Gordon mumbled, his voice muffled by the mask.
“It’s me, Gordon. Virgil is here too. John’s on comms and we’re all glad that you’re okay.”
“I couldn’t find them…” Gordon said. “I looked everywhere but I couldn’t find them.”
“No one was there, Gordie,” Virgil said gently. “The researcher was simply confused due to shock.”
“Oh.” Gordon mumbled. “All the same… I’m glad everyone’s alright.”
Gordon’s eyes drooped closed and Scott had to fight the urge to check his pulse. Gordon was alive, he was simply exhausted and had nearly drowned. It was going to take time for him to recover. Then Gordon’s brows scrunched up and he
“I heard over the radio that the Golden Hour passed.”
Scott didn’t know wether he was more happy that Gordon had been conscious enough to listen in on the radio or devastated that Gordon had heard his own rescue nearly be relegated as a recovery.
“But you still came.”
“Of course I came.” Virgil said smoothly. “You’re my little brother.”
“Though I’m incredibly glad he ignored protocol,” Scott said, glancing up at Virgil. “Virgil will definitely be in big trouble for this. And you, young man, will need to repeat your training on checking manifests before diving into the ocean for people who aren’t there.”
Gordon hummed. Then, with the smallest of smiles, he let himself fall asleep.