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Scott liked to run.
It was one of his few quirks, something from a life he had left long ago.
When he wasn’t tied up with Tracy Industries or International Rescue, or spending time with his family, he’d go for a jog around the island.
Sometimes three times a day if he could manage it, but he always made time for at least a morning and evening run.
This evening was no different.
The sun was setting low over the horizon, painting the sky in soft shades of orange and yellow. The sea glowed gold beneath it. Scott’s shoes hit the sand in a steady rhythm as he ran along the beach.
That’s when he spotted Gordon, sitting near the shoreline.
One leg was stretched out, the other bent, and his shoulders were slumped forward. He looked off, not the usual Gordon after a swim.
Scott slowed, jogged over, and dropped down beside him.
“Hey,” he said quietly.
Gordon leaned against him with a soft groan.
“Bad day?” Scott asked.
Gordon just grunted in reply.
These days happened, when his body refused to cooperate. When his injuries, ones he’d picked up years ago now flared and screamed leaving him agony.
After a long moment, Gordon spoke, voice soft and unsteady. “Do you ever regret joining the service?”
Out of all the brothers, only the two of them had served in the military. The question hung between.
“Do you?” Scott asked back.
Gordon shrugged, then winced at the motion. “No… but I do regret joining so young.”
He gave a half laugh. It was humorless. “I’m twenty years old, and I’ve already had a severe back injury, broken nearly every bone in my body, and live with chronic pain.”
He looked up at Scott. “You didn’t answer me.”
Scott hummed lowly. “No, I don’t regret it. I feel like I did good with the years I was in. Sure with everything that happened…” He paused, drawing in a slow breath. “I was about your age when I was shot down…” he trailed off, “but hey” He tried to lighten the mood, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “My medal looks pretty cool.”
Gordon let out a soft huff. Both of them knew that smile didn’t reach Scott’s eyes. That POW medal, sat in a box in Scott’s closet, tucked away with the rest of his Air Force memories. He really did try to hide his time in the service.
“I know we went through different things,” Gordon said quietly, “but… how do you deal with it?”
Everyone on the island had heard Scott’s nightmares before. His screams that woke everyone up, they were loud and always made him sound like he was in pain. Only Virgil was allowed to help him.
But when morning came, Scott acted as if he hadn't just screamed his throat raw a few hours prior.
Scott took a long time to answer. When he did, he picked his words carefully.
“It’s hard,” he admitted. “I remember the pain from the crash, the fire, the noise. I was lucky to get her down as smoothly as I did.”
He sucked in a breath, steady but shaky. “At first… I was a shell of myself. I was getting better, slowly. Then Dad died.”
Gordon looked back up at him, quiet.
Scott’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Something snapped in me that day. I realized you guys only had me left. So I told myself I couldn’t fall again. Not while you all still needed me. That’s how I deal. You guys, this family, that’s what keeps me going.”
He paused, glancing out at the horizon. “Some days, I still wish I could just… slip. Some days, I almost do. But that’s normal. I think it’s normal.”
He looked back down at Gordon. “Does that answer your question?”
Gordon didn’t speak right away. Then he shifted closer, resting his head against Scott’s shoulder.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “It does.”
They sat like that for a while, listening to the waves and the soft wind moving through the trees behind them, until they heard Virgil shouting from the house.
“Dinner! You two coming or what?”
Scott huffed a small laugh and stood, brushing off the sand. He offered a hand down to Gordon.
“Shall we?”
Gordon took it, groaning as his back protested. “I’m fine,” he said quickly when Scott glanced down in concern.
They walked back up the beach in comfortable silence, the sound of the sea fading behind them. Just before they reached the steps to the house, Gordon mumbled under his breath, almost too quiet to hear.
“…Thanks, Dad.”
Scott froze for a second, then smiled softly.
“No problem,” he said quietly.
Then he followed behind and closed the door.