#it’s probably meant to conceal that the leg pieces are separate from the torso piece and obscure the actor’s bodysuit underneath BUT STILL

[cormancatacombs]

Saw this last night before bed and…

Ummmmm…

Does this monster have bush? 👀 😳

[misssquidtracy]

SOS Part 3

So I grabbed the whump bat last night, took aim at my boi’s head, then proceeded to wallop him into the exosphere like the kickass cricket player I’m most certainly not. If you happen to see a moving star tonight, chances are it’ll be Gordon completing his first orbit, not a wayward satellite.   

-x-

‘Gordon, you’ve activated your emergency code….Gordon? Gordon!’

Gordon stirred feebly, his head screaming in protest when he tried to raise it to follow his brother’s voice. He could hear movement outside what remained of Thunderbird Four, but knew he was in no condition to investigate the source.

Everything hurt so much.

Cracking an eye open, he spied Fuse retreating back to the Chaos Cruiser, Braman in his arms. Underwater distance distortion made separating one fuzzy shape from another hard, but the aquanaut possessed just enough visual strength to make out Havoc staring down at him from the safety of the cockpit.

She was smirking at him.

The coldness behind those blue eyes, so different yet so similar to Alan and Scott’s, filled Gordon with hopelessness. He was critically injured and had never so much as raised an eyebrow at Havoc or her brother, yet knew neither of them were going to lift a finger to help him.

Hopelessness turned to quiet despair when the Chaos Cruiser turned and began to make its way toward the surface. Using every ounce of willpower he possessed, Gordon managed to crack his eye open again, only to be met with pitch blackness. With the Chaos Cruiser’s spotlights gone, he was reminded of exactly how dark and isolated the seafloor really was.

He hoped he’d get to see his brother’s faces again. The way Scott frowned at him in concern if he left for a rescue without eating breakfast. The way Virgil smiled indulgently at him whenever he tested out a new joke. The way John sighed and shook his head at him when he asked if denial was a nice river in Egypt. The way Alan gawped at him in silent adoration every time he pulled a successful prank on one of their older brothers.  

It would be nice to see Brains, Kayo, Penelope and Grandma again as well. Despite bearing no relation to the first three, Gordon considered them family and had fond memories attached to all of them. The way Brains chastised him every time he brought a pod or Thunderbird Four back in less than mint condition. The way Kayo smartassed him if he ever made tasteless jokes about her being Scott’s girlfriend. The way Penelope tutted at him whenever he requested iced tea instead of ‘proper’ tea. The way Grandma fussed over him on his rare down days.

Yes, he’d like to see them all again.

-x-

A familiar voice roused Gordon from the depths of unconsciousness.

If possible, everything hurt even worse than before. He was vaguely aware of water entering the demolished remains of Thunderbird Four’s cockpit and gave himself a mental pat on the back for having the forethought to put his helmet on. At least drowning wasn’t a threat.

The unbearable pain in his head, neck, left arm and right leg definitely was, though. His suit didn’t feel like it was torn anywhere, but he was fairly certain he'd broken at least two major bones.

Opening his eyes was far too much effort. Plus, doing so would confirm his worst fear; that he was still trapped in the dark, cold, terrifying carcass of his beloved yellow submarine.

Maybe his brothers hadn’t picked up his SOS. Thunderbird Four’s systems were damaged beyond recognition, and his comm device was equally redundant.

“Gordon? This is your brother, John. I need you to sit tight, help is on the way.”

Gordon stirred in response to the voice that had dragged him back to a state of semi-consciousness. He tried to say his brother’s name, but lacked the strength. The pain in his neck was starting to make him feel sick.

“Virgil, Scott and Alan have just left Tracy Island. Their ETA is approximately six and a half minutes. I’m going to stay with you until they arrive, okay? You don’t have to answer, but know that you’re not alone anymore.”

A stray tear leaked out of an eye that still refused to open.

“I’m not getting any vitals from your suit, so can’t say for certain what shape you’re in,” John continued, his voice calm and soothing, “But I promise that we’ll get you out in one piece. I’m half hoping we’ll have to shave your head, then maybe I can be the one making fun of you for a change.”

Another tear leaked out.

“Hey, do you remember that donkey mom adopted?” John gave a laugh that sounded genuine and forced at the same time, “You were very young, so may not remember. We called him Brandy because of the way he weaved like a drunk whenever he came to the gate. He was a working animal from a neighbouring farm who ended up at the local auction house when he couldn’t plough in straight lines anymore. His owners couldn’t afford basic farm machinery and were ineligible for a government grant, so were in no position to get him veterinary treatment. Mom felt sorry for him, so bid on him as a companion for Apollo, who was dad’s horse at the time. Mom used to sit you on him and lead you around the paddock. Well, I say lead…poor Brandy was so wonky he usually just ended up dragging mom diagonally across the field, but you loved it. He died of a colic complication right before Alan was born, but we told you he’d gone to live with a wild donkey herd on Carrot Mountain instead.”

Two more tears managed to escape before John’s voice faded and nothingness descended once again.

“It’s okay, Gordon. I’m here.”

-x-

His head was resting on something soft and sweet-smelling.

“Hurry, Parker! Please.”

Penelope reminded him of a swan; beautiful yet dangerous. He wondered if she liked the colour yellow as much as he did.

More nothingness.

-x-

Gordon’s next brush with consciousness wasn’t pleasant.

He was being carried, which meant he wasn’t underwater anymore. Whoever was carrying him smelt familiar and was cradling him in a firm yet gentle grip. He hoped it was Penelope, but knew it was probably Scott or Virgil.

“…multiple broken bones, severe whiplash, moderate head trauma.”

John was around as well, though Gordon couldn’t tell if his presence was physical or holographic. The voices he could hear were hurting his ears.

“….Chaos Cruiser sighted three miles northwest. I recommend immediate evasion.”

Gordon suddenly saw Havoc’s cold smirk imprinted on the inside of his eyelids.

She’d wanted him dead.

Even after all the lives he’d saved, someone had wanted (and presumably still wanted) him dead.

The thought terrified him.

“Whoa, Gordon!” Scott cried, tightening his hold when the aquanaut suddenly began to thrash in fear, “Easy! You’re safe now!”

Gordon didn’t think he’d ever feel safe again. Ignoring the agony brought on by his shredded muscles and shattered bones, he began to spasm and jerk in Scott’s arms, his caramel eyes wide his fear.

“Virgil!” Scott yelled, swearing loudly when he almost dropped his crippled brother onto the floor, “A little help!”

Two sets of hands were suddenly restraining him. One yanked his helmet off so that he could breathe unencumbered, but the rush of cool air to the face only served to worsen his frenzied writhing. A bolt of unimaginable pain shot up his spine and exploded at the base of his skull, making his vision swim.

Hurk, hurk.

“Virg, you need to back off,” Scott suddenly instructed, his tone offering no room for negotiation as he lowered Gordon’s lower half onto the floor and propped his torso up against his knee, “He’s going to be sick.”

“Won’t he choke?” came Alan’s frightened voice.

“Not so long as he’s sat upright,” Scott replied, patting Gordon gently on the back when the aquanaut began to hyperventilate, “I’m more worried about what he’s doing to his existing injuries in this state. We need to calm him down somehow.”

“There are handcuffs and some olanzapine in the first aid kit,” Virgil yelled from Thunderbird Two’s cockpit, “Restrain him and give him a 10mg intramuscular shot after his stomach has settled. That should calm him down.”

Poor Scott was powerless to do anything as his second youngest brother proceeded to puke all over him. Granted, he’d had people throw up on him before (they all had), but this time was different. Gordon’s condition made movement impossible and Scott was acutely aware that the stress of vomiting was making the aquanaut’s pulse erratic.

“I’ve got you,” Scott reassured, rubbing his brother’s back, only to recoil in horror when his hand travelled too far north, the resultant pressure causing Gordon to scream in agony.

The next ten seconds passed in a blur of pain glazed stupor. Scott yelled something at Virgil. Virgil yelled something at Alan. Alan panicked and began to cry. John yelled something at Virgil. Virgil swore and abandoned his post in Thunderbird Two’s cockpit to fetch something from the medical bay. Scott took whatever Virgil had found and stabbed it through Gordon’s suit and into his bicep, apologising quietly as he depressed the plunger.

In the background, a familiar British accent cut through the mayhem.

“Oh, Gordon.”

-x-

Gordon’s eyes fluttered open.

White. Everywhere was white.

His left arm was shrouded by a sling.

The floor was white.

His right leg was encased in a cast.

The curtains were white.

His head was concealed by bandages.

The walls were white.

His right arm was hooked to an IV.

The lab coat on the kind looking lady studying his heartrate monitor was white.

White had always been Gordon’s least favourite colour, but not anymore. He had a sudden newfound hatred for the colour purple.

Specifically, the shade of Havoc’s armour.

Luckily, the flowers on his bedside table were yellow.

-x-

Gordon’s first week in intensive care was not smooth.

Nightmares plagued him every time sleep beckoned, images of dark water, purple armour and cold smirks tormenting him as he sought relief from the pain of his battered body.

Scott rarely left his side and asked the nurses to take shifts so that one was always in the room. They’d been happy to oblige, but had been less happy with Scott’s habit of falling asleep next to his brother’s bed.

Virgil took over the running of International Rescue while Scott stayed in the hospital. John answered distress calls that necessitated the use of Thunderbird One and Alan covered space monitor duty when his redheaded brother was earthbound. Sally channelled her worry into cooking and freezing enough homecooked dinners to fill Thunderbird Three’s cargo bay, while Kayo took out her fury on her kickboxing dummy.  

Scott was strict on visitors, mainly because Gordon tended to get emotional when he received them. Virgil visited every day with supplies for Scott. John came in every second day with bags full of Gordon’s favourite snacks. Penelope visited whenever her schedule permitted (which was quite often) and offered Sherbert as a form of pet therapy. Kayo and Sally took their turns after Virgil departed, their arms laden with homecooked culinary disasters and bunches of fresh hibiscus flowers from Tracy Island’s beach.

Alan wasn’t allowed to visit. His first proper time seeing Gordon had been three days after the aquanaut had been admitted. He’d landed the Helipod in the hospital’s car park, retrieved the stack of magazines he knew Gordon enjoyed reading from the backseat, asked a nice nurse for directions, found the correct room and pushed open the door, only to be met with the sight of his usually cheery brother having a full blown panic attack.

“OUT!” Scott had bellowed, releasing his hold on Gordon’s forearms to shove Alan back into the hallway. In the temporary absence of his oldest brother, it had taken the combined effort of two nurses to keep Gordon in bed.

Scott’s insistence that Alan not see Gordon for a bit was an exercise in futility, considering Alan had seen and heard everything in his brief six second visit. The youngest had received a tongue-lashing that was both unfair and unjustified, but he’d given Scott a free pass. The eldest Tracy was under a considerable amount of stress, which was further compounded by the late night vigils he held in a bid to alleviate Gordon’s night terrors.

It was two weeks before Alan learnt, second-hand from Virgil, about Gordon’s newfound fear of the Chaos Crew, specifically Havoc.

Unfortunately, it was another four weeks before Gordon recovered enough to tell them the reason for his fear.

Rage was an incredibly rare emotion to witness in the aquanaut, but when it happened, the world and his wife knew about it.

A common misconception outside of International Rescue was that it’s youngest operatives relied on their older brothers for protection. While Gordon wasn’t adverse to Scott or Virgil defending his honour, he could be quite the formidable foe when sufficiently provoked.

As Havoc would soon find out.