#john tracy

“How’s that feel?” Virgil asked as he gently flexed Scott’s ankle backwards. His brother was lying on his back on a gym mat, trying and failing to hide his pain.

“Tense.” He gritted out before a sharp inhale.

Scott, being one of the luckiest people Virgil knew, had gotten through the whole flying-one-hundred-metres-on-a-damaged-jetpack-in-an-explosion-after-a-plane-crash thing almost unscathed. Three cracked ribs, bruised, exhausted, shaken, and mentally drained. But Virgil would take that over camping out at Auckland City Hospital, which is what he thought he’d be doing after seeing that pyramid go up like one of Grandma’s pies. After one and a half weeks of downtime, even the injuries he did have weren’t bothering him as much. But that ankle just wouldn’t get with the programme.

“I can feel a lot of resistance.” Virgil agreed, beginning a deep tissue massage around the joint. Scott draped a forearm over his eyes and all but moaned in relief.

Truthfully, Virgil knew there was nothing physically wrong with the ankle. Well, apart from the metal pins going through it, but even they were in perfect condition. The extensive set of scans he’d done showed no fractures, no ligament or tendon tears, no bruising, and no general inflammation. He suspected the pain might be psychological, brought on by recent trauma. But that didn’t mean Scott wasn’t experiencing pain which deserved to be treated. Occasionally, he’d even noticed his brother use the handrails to get up the stairs – if that wasn’t a sign of real pain, he didn’t know what was. Maybe the massage might help relax all the muscles and stringy bits which had subconsciously tightened.

As Virgil pressed a knuckle into his Achilles, Scott inhaled sharply again. “You surviving down there?” He asked.

But Scott didn’t reply, and as he took another breath, Virgil saw his chest jump and heard a hitching rasp from his throat. Suddenly his medic senses were tingling. “Scott…?”

His brother’s inhalations were becoming fiercer, while his exhalations were getting shorter until Virgil wasn’t sure any air was actually leaving his lungs. Hyperventilation. Once he let go of Scott’s leg, they both bent up and pushed against the gym mat, every muscle taut.

“Sh…Shit…” Came a gasp, watery and trembling.

Virgil cursed himself and dropped down next to Scott. “This is a panic attack.” He said, not entirely sure who he was telling. “Try to breathe as deeply as you can, Scooter. Can I help you get into a better position?”

He barely caught the strangled “...Kay-”. But once he was sure Scott had agreed, he wrangled him onto his knees, forearms braced against the mat, forehead leaning on his arms. Throughout, Virgil kept a hand on his back and could feel his brother’s heart pounding like a racehorse, ribcage expanded to maximum but still not letting enough oxygen in. Scott’s face was wet with tears, but now wasn’t really the time to comment on that.

“You’re alright.” He tried to soothe. “You’re safe.”

Clearly his efforts didn’t impress Scott, as he managed to shoot Virgil a scathing look before blue eyes clenched shut as his chest shuddered erratically. On his wrist, Virgil’s watch vibrated, probably alerting him that Scott’s biometrics were tanking. Fine.

“Scott, if you don’t get your breathing under control, you’re gonna pass out.” He told his brother firmly, listening to the gasps filling the gym. Another shudder rattled through his body. “That adrenaline is hitting you no matter what. For once in your life, don’t fight it. Ride it out.”

Virgil was desperately trying not to freak out himself. He hated seeing Scott shake into a million pieces because his brain decided his body was under attack. Virgil had sat through countless panic attacks with John, Alan, Kayo and Brains. He and Gordon didn’t really experience them, more the I’m-so-stressed-I-can’t-open-my-mouth-let-alone-eat-anything anxiety. This wasn’t even the first panic attack he’d seen Scott have! But he still hated it. It never got easier. But in a tiny, tiny part of his heart, Virgil was glad he got to be here in this moment. Of course he wished his big brother wasn’t struggling to breathe, but Scott allowing him to be there was a gift itself. So while Virgil really wished that it didn’t have to be him, he will always bear it. Because if he was here, listening to Scott cry and try to regain control, it meant he didn’t have to worry about him going through it alone.

The fourth time he tried, Scott managed a deeper breath and maintained it long enough to follow up with an equally long exhale. Then again. And again. Virgil’s watch stopped buzzing, and he ran his hand up and down Scott’s bony spine.

“Good job. Just keep that going for me.”

Gradually, the shuddering exhales evened out, and within three minutes, Scott’s breathing returned to his normal range. Definitely at the top of his range, like when he gets back after running negative splits, but still in range. The whole attack lasted just over ten minutes, but it was clear Scott was sweaty, shaky, and utterly exhausted.

“Ugh…” He groaned, slumping back down onto the mats.

“Well, that was fun and interesting.” Virgil sighed unhappily, also tired from the experience. Beside him, Scott cocked him an incredulous eyebrow. Despite his breathing recovering his body was shivering with excess adrenaline.

“Would you prefer I said it was terrifying and awful?” He asked, to which his brother frowned. “Thought not.”

He was kind and gave Scott a few more minutes lying on the floor before he moved. “C’mon, we’ve earned a nap.”

Virgil grabbed one of Scott’s clammy hands and acted as a counterweight to get him onto his feet. He noticed his brother wasn’t favouring his ‘bad’ ankle and added it to his list of things to consider after a nap. That, along with what could have triggered Scott, and ‘holy-mole-in-a-mudslide-that-was-horrific-to-watch’. Thankfully, Scott didn’t argue as Virgil led him into the lift and down the corridor to the bedrooms. He pulled Scott into his own room, deposited him on the bed with a firm ‘stay’ before heading to Scott’s suite. Having located his earplugs and some clean clothes, he returned. Unsurprisingly, Scott had not stayed where he was and had gone to the bathroom, locking the door. Virgil could hear the tap running.

“You alright?” He called with a knock, stamping down his panic.

“Yeah.” A slightly breathless reply. “Just…taking a second.”

“I’ve got some fresh clothes for you, come out when you’re ready. Oh, and please use some of my deodorant. You stink!” He didn’t hear whatever reply Scott muttered back as he turned to get the bed ready.

Eventually, a less sweaty, nicer-smelling brother emerged. “I don’t need a nap, Virge.”

“Ha.” He responded sarcastically. “You sound like a toddler.”

Scott opened his mouth to complain, but his body betrayed him and fell into a jaw-popping yawn. Virgil knew if he made a demand, Scott wouldn’t be able to comply, so he chose his next best strategy: The Stare.

“Fine, I’ll lie down, but I won’t fall asleep.” A whole-body shudder raced through him.

“You don’t need to.” He agreed easily, handing over the earplugs. “Do you want the weighted blanket?”

“No, I’ll be fine witho—”

“But would you be better with it?” C’mon Scooter, allow yourself some comfort! Virgil didn’t like weighted blankets, but he kept the one Brains gifted them all. He knew Scott loved his and used it even in sweltering heat, giving him all the proprioceptive input he needed. He’d described it once as being able to relax knowing that his body was being held together and that his limbs wouldn’t float off like clouds the moment he stopped concentrating. ‘Helping him stay grounded’ – that was Virgil’s self-appointed job after all.

“You have control.” Alan announced.

“I have control.” Scott responded confidently as he gracefully took control of the yoke on his side of the cockpit. The hair on the back of Alan’s neck was still tingling with Kayo sitting behind them both - even though it was actually Scott she was assessing.

Their sister had demanded that Scott do a formal flight assessment before being allowed back in ‘One. He had argued, because he was Scott. But because Kayo was Kayo, she’d called him out. ‘If he was so sure it was unnecessary, then a little flight in the Cessna would be easy.’ With no way to back out, Scott had submitted. For Alan, watching the exchange had been like a tennis match until Kayo had roped him into her plot.

They had completed take-off without a hitch and rose to Kayo’s set altitude, following the flight path she’d laid out to a tee.

“Soo…” He began. “Anyone wanna play ‘I Spy’?”

“If the assessor allows it.” Scott replied a little snarkily.

“Denied.”

“Aw, what?!” Alan moaned, turning in his seat intending to pout. But Kayo looked stern, a lot more serious than the situation really demanded.

“This is a formal assessment. Not a joke.”

Even Scott tried his luck. “C’mon Kayo, lighten up!”

“No!” She snapped at them both. “I’m Head of Security, and we just had two security incidents in two weeks. If I just sit back and do nothing, whose to say this won’t happen again!”

Alan got the feeling Kayo had said more than she’d intended.

“You know you couldn’t have anticipated those fighter jets.” Scott tried more softly, probably feeling as bad as Alan did for teasing her when she was stressed out.

“I should have been keeping tabs on groups hostile to the GDF!”

“But didn’t your contact say that their existence hadn’t even been confirmed?” Alan countered.

“I still should have done something! Anything!”

“Like what, Kayo?” Scott pushed, and Alan sensed another sibling tennis match building. “Like arrive first on scene after the crash? Like call in a very big favour to find out who we were dealing with? Like continuing to help those people negotiate with the World Council?”

“I just—!” She took a breath and Alan imagined her counting to ten. “I just want you to be safe, Scott. It’s my job.”

“So this assessment is…?”

“Using every strategy I know to verify your security. I need to cover all my bases. I need to know that I’ve done everything I can.”

“You’re not responsible for what happened.” Scott told her, keeping his eyes rigorously trained on the sky around the Cessna.

“Sometimes knowing that doesn’t make you feel better.” Alan was shocked when he realised that he’d spoken. He wanted to defend his big sister because what Scott didn’t know was that he and Kayo had talked about this only a few days ago. He’d admitted to her that he’d felt useless for the last fortnight, and she had shockingly said the same.

“Allie?”

“Kayo’s right, Scott. When you crashed and we didn’t even know where you were, or who’d done it, or when you left again? It was like we failed you.” His brother looked absolutely heartbroken but Alan chanelled his inner Kyrano and held his ground. “But when I flew you home in ‘One, I felt like I was doing something helpful.”

“You were—”

“I know. But the important this was that I felt useful, you know? Like I’d finally found an area where I could help. And then I felt better about myself. That’s what Kayo is doing now!”

“So no ‘I Spy’, then?” Scott joked quietly and Alan noticed even Kayo smirked behind her assessment tablet.

They flew in a silence that Alan was surprised he didn’t find awkward. Scott completed all of Kayo’s tasks and deviations perfectly. After all, Alan thought, his brother was, like, the best pilot ever. The little Cessna’s engine kept puttering along, and he found it a bit silly that they’d had to do such a long assessment when ‘One could have been halfway across the world and back by now. Still, the extra time gave Alan an opportunity to build up the courage to admit something else to Scott.

“It was really scary.” He forced out. “All that stuff in Egypt.”

If Kayo hadn't dictated Scott keep both hands on the yoke, Alan was sure he would have reached over. “Sometimes scary stuff happens, Sprout. We’ve dealt with it, and I’m really proud of how well you coped.”

Alan frowned. “I cried like seven times.”

“So? When you were needed, you reacted. It doesn’t matter if you cried, does it Kayo?”

“Not at all.”

“And I’ll tell you the truth?” Scott continued. “I was really scared, too. I didn’t know what was happening, and then I was making decisions without really knowing why. I had to rely on you all, and that was hard for me to accept. But you didn’t let me down, none of you did.”

Behind him, Kayo inhaled sharply, voice sounding suspiciously wet. “Alright, let’s go home.”

Were it any other day, Alan would have asked her if her hay fever was acting up. But since he also might need an antihistamine, he elected to stay quiet. The landing was equally flawless as they coasted to a smooth stop on Thunderbird Two’s runway and taxied into the hangar.

“Hey, g-guys!” Brains greeted the three of them as they climbed out of Ladybird the Cessna. “Everything went well I-I ta-ke it?”

“He passed.” Kayo agreed, before squinting at Scott playfully. “This time.”

The engineer beamed and took a firm hold of Scott’s arm. “In t-tha-that case I have some new ideas for your h-helmet!” And then MAX was corralling the two of them away, giving Scott only enough time for a bemused wave.

“Hey, Al?” Kayo called as she finished storing the plane up. “Thanks for having my back up there.”

“It was nothing.”

“It wasn’t.” His sister insisted. “And saying what you said to Scott? Pretty brave.”

Before he could really process it, her arms were around his body and Alan rested his head on her shoulder as his own arms gripped around her back tightly.

“Are you hugging…voluntarily?” He couldn’t help but ask, just in case this was a new sneak-attack-ninja move she was testing.

“One word to anyone else and you’re dead, got it?”

But Alan just relaxed into her embrace, the end of her ponytail tickling his nose.

When Gordon had convinced Scott to go surfing with him that morning – rather than more running – he’d been praying to Poseidon, Neptune, Njӧrðr, and Tangaroa that they wouldn’t get into another argument. Then he had to open his big mouth.

“Hey! You’ve finally got some sea to go along with all that sun and sand!” He called as they paddled out to reach some bigger waves.

Thankfully, Scott had laughed and agreed, splashing him with water. But Gordon hadn’t reciprocated the water fight, riddled with regret that he’d brought up the last two weeks at all.

“Sorry.” He sighed. He was useless at this.

His brother frowned. “Sorry for what?”

“I thought you didn’t want to mention anything about… what happened? You’re just trying to have normalcy, and all I do is throw it back in your face!”

Scott was looking worriedly over at him, but Gordon couldn’t bring himself to return his gaze, knowing he’d see that astonished anger Scott had had last time. But then he felt him grab the side of his board and tug them both closer together as they bobbed on the waves.

“When I said I wanted normalcy, I meant I didn’t want my family to walk on eggshells around me. I knew that my PTSD was acting up, but I needed stability and routine to get it back under control, not to be wrapped in cotton wool.”

Gordon pursed his lips, eyes fixed on the deep blue below and the sensation of his ankle leash being pulled around by the odd currents. “I didn’t understand. We just made it worse, didn’t we?”

“Not worse.” Scott reassured, because of course he’s comforting Gordon right now. “I felt guilty that you all thought you had to treat me that way. Delicately. Dad was the same after Bereznik.”

He coughed in shock and whipped round to face his brother, mouth open in suspense. His wet hair slapped soggily against his forehead. But Scott was just smiling ruefully.

“You can say it, you know? Bereznik. I’m not gonna freak out just because I hear the name of a country I fly over almost every week.”

“But—”

“I don’t like to think about my time there and definitely wouldn’t appreciate it being brought up in general conversation. But you don’t need to avoid it.”

Gordon shook his head in disbelief. No way. That unwritten rule was ingrained too deeply.

“I promise nothing bad will happen, Squid.”

“...Bereznik?” He felt soooo stupid just saying it in isolation, staring at Scott as if he might have uttered a spell to make his brother disappear. Unfortunately, he must have had an equally stupid expression on his face because Scott gasped dramatically and patted his head and torso in mocking relief.

“I’m still here?!”

Gordon tipped him off his board without hesitation. “Shut up.” He mumbled, embarrassed but secretly basking in their brotherly antics. He’d kinda forgotten that Scott could be a menace when he was in the mood.

Once Scott had climbed back up, he sighed beneath his soaking hair. Gordon watched him scan the horizon line, where sea became sky. “You know it was never my idea to turn Bereznik into a taboo? It was dad’s… After I came home, he didn’t really know what to do with me?”

His brother sounded like he wasn’t sure of his own words. Like he was guessing their dad’s motivations. And from what Gordon remembered of dad, he was never particularly forthcoming in that regard.

“I was seeing my therapist. Maybe he figured since I was talking about it there, I didn’t want to talk about it at home. And I don’t. Not really. But I understand when I need to.”

“And none of us would.” Gordon concluded softly.

“You were scared. Bereznik traumatised you lot, too. I didn’t want to bring that up with you, so I waited for you to come to me. When even you and Allie never mentioned anything, I figured dad must’ve spoken to you all?”

He remembered that night before Scott came home from Stuttgart Medical. Dad had summoned everyone and given them a lecture of dos and don’ts. At the time Gordon had assumed that dad knew best and that this was what Scott had wanted. Now he was beginning to realise his big brother hadn’t gotten much say in the matter.

“He was very clear.” Gordon nodded. “No-one is to mention…Bereznik… Ever.”

Scott’s smile went sad. “Sounds like him. He was just trying to protect me. But that’s not what I needed. Do you understand?”

Dad had banned… Bereznik…to ensure Scott’s PTSD hadn’t been accidentally triggered. But in doing so, Scott felt like he had no-one to talk to and was pressured to hide any sign of an oncoming episode to spare his family more pain. Seeing them rush to hold his hand and wipe his nose at the smallest whiff of a wobble had only made Scott feel isolated.

“So when you say you want things to be ‘normal’?”

Scott swept his wet hair back like a shampoo model. “I guess I don’t want you to treat me differently compared to when there’s not been a trigger? Not unless I specifically ask. But I also want you all to feel like you’re able to talk to me about it too. About Bereznik, or the Sahara, or anything else. Is that okay?”

“Yeah!” Gordon was quick to answer. “Yeah, that’s fine! Well, not – you know – ‘great’ fine. But I understand and of course we can—”

“Come up for air, Squid.”

He took a gulp. “Thanks for explaining.”

“Honestly, I’m just glad we got through that relatively painlessly. I’m sorry for shouting the other day. And then eavesdropping on your comms.”

Gordon raised an eyebrow. “And then running away and nearly getting blown up in an ancient pyramid?”

“Yeah, that too… I guess.”

“You guess?! You have nooo idea how many dirty looks Virgil has given me!”

Scott laughed, and Gordon played up his exasperation just to keep his brother grinning.

“Think you have it bad? How many dirty looks do you think Virge has given me!? And John! And Alan!”

“Pfft. Alan isn’t old enough to give dirty looks!”

Scott was near pleading his case. “That’s what I thought too! But no! It was killer, dude!”

John had decided that today was the day he’d return to Thunderbird Five. He’d been dirtside for two whole weeks, the longest consecutive period on Earth since the Zero-X. But if he didn’t go soon, he knew his procrastination would keep pushing the deadline further and further away.

Besides, he was concerned that by hanging around on the Island, Scott might think John doesn’t trust him. That he needs to be watched or minded by the second brother just in case he… absconds again. But John does trust Scott. He trusts him with almost everything, just not his own wellbeing. His big brother certainly wasn’t suicidal by any means, but it was no secret that he valued his own life below his family. It was a fact John didn't particularly like to think about and normally placed it far away in his brain with other thoughts that made him want to hum nervously.

So, he’d informed the rest of the inhabitants of his plan a few nights ago, and while they seemed to take the news well, John has been feeling more and more anxious as the hours ticked down.

Deciding that a comfort bagel might be in order, as he often struggled to differentiate between stress and hunger, he made his way through the villa towards the kitchen. When he noticed Scott alone on the balcony watching the sunset, though, he felt the need to stop. His brother had been doing a lot better in the past few days, shaking off the groggy exhaustion of being caught in an exploding pyramid and had seemed more resigned to completing his new two-week leave. Perhaps it was because everyone had made an effort to let Scott choose the pace of his recovery, rather than try to slow him down. The result had been interesting, to say the least. Scott had periods where he behaved typically, making updates to ‘One, mediating between the Terrible Two’s latest prank war, and abseiling cliffs on the other side of the island at dawn. But there were other times when he would sink into himself, wander quietly on the beach, and massage his bad ankle as though the joint hadn’t been near-perfectly healed for seven years. So when John caught Scott leaning quietly on the balcony railing surveying the night sky, John had abandoned his Bagel Quest and headed over.

“Can I ask what you’re thinking about?” He questioned as he got closer.

Scott didn’t flinch but frowned as though he wasn’t sure how to answer. “Walruses.”

The eventual answer made John pause. It certainly wasn’t what he was expecting to hear. “The scientific name for walrus is Odobenus rosmarus which means ‘tooth-walking sea-horse.’”

“That’s not very accurate for a scientific name.” Scott commented with a small smile in his direction. But John was determined not to let Scott change his original line of inquiry by offering an info-dumping opportunity on binomial nomenclature.

“What made you think about walruses?”

“I think I was thinking about the crash? The one two weeks ago.” He specified quickly. “And I remembered having to drag myself out of ‘One through this hole in the cockpit before the fire reached me.”

John’s rigorously logical mind was whirring to find any kind of connection. “And the walruses were involved how…?”

“Well, I wasn’t very graceful about it!” Scott laughed at himself, cheeks turned pink with faint embarrassment. “And I remembered thinking that I probably looked like a walrus trying to get onto the beach, like in those documentaries? But, obviously there are no walruses in Egypt and…” He trailed off and shrugged helplessly.

John mirrored the action. “Walruses.” He concluded.

He sat with the information for a moment, knowing his brother wouldn’t judge him for his silent processing. Scott’s ADHD manifested in many different ways, with the impulsivity and demand avoidance being two of the biggest indicators. But he was usually pretty successful at tracing his associative thinking back to the root stimulus. In John’s opinion, it’s what made him such a good first responder – that his mind explored dozens of tangential ideas simultaneously to consider an appropriate strategy. Scott wasn’t thinking about walruses; he was thinking about escaping a burning aircraft injured and disorientated. But maybe this lack of masked thinking was a remnant of the last couple of weeks? Or maybe this was Scott testing the waters, seeing how John reacted to him when he wasn’t straightforward? Either way, he needed to ensure his response was accepting and reassuring.

“Walruses are incredibly resilient animals. They’ve developed many different behaviours to increase their chances of survival.” Was what he settled on.

Scott face-palmed with a groan. “Sorry, I’ve just realised how random that was.”

“You don’t need to apologise. You’re just being yourself.” Something you hardly ever allow yourself.

“O-oh.” He huffed a patronising laugh. “Just unbearable, then?”

John hated when Scott did this, but he knew he wasn’t to blame for his own internalised ableism. It was mum who helped Scott manage his ADHD, and when she was gone, dad hadn’t known what to do. Scott’s teachers said he was disruptive and unfocused. Dad shouted and grounded him. Scott shouted back, obviously. Finally, dad told him he’d never get into the Air Force with his attitude, and that’s when John began to notice the masking becoming more and more frequent. At school. At Resuce Scouts. At home. Until the other brothers barely remembered how Scott used to be. So yes, John hated it when Scott masked around him, but he hated whoever put that word in his mouth more – whoever told his brother he was ‘unbearable’ being himself.

“You’re not 'unbearable', Scott.” He had to reply. “Don’t force yourself to be someone you’re not. Not around me and the others.”

Because Alan was so accepting of who he was with ADHD, although he leaned more towards the hyperactivity and mind-wandering flavours than Scott did. And John knew that Alan’s confidence came from the way Scott raised him. Scott ensured that their baby brother never felt ashamed for being himself and strongly discouraged him from masking behaviour. John remembered when he and Virgil last talked with Scott about trialling some medication. Alan had had a prescription since he was quite young, but Scott had been vehemently against it himself. True, when Scott was Alan’s age, the World Council excluded anyone taking ADHD medication from pilot training. He’d had to jump through a lot of hoops to prove that his unmedicated diagnosis wasn’t ‘bad’ enough to prevent responsible flight behaviour. But that had all changed by the time Alan registered. Taking a World Council-approved medication, their little brother had faced almost no challenges. When John and Virgil had brought it up with Scott, he’d fallen into an anxiety attack at the thought of it, and neither of them had been brave enough to return to the topic.

“Sometimes it’s a habit. A bad habit, I know. But right now I just want my brain to do as I tell it.” Deep within his shinkansen-of-thought, John hadn’t noticed Scott turning around and resting his back against the balcony railing.

“Still feeling a little unravelled?”

“Mmm.”

“Do you want me to stay?” John offered, willing to postpone his return to ‘Five a few more days for Scott to balance himself out.

“I always want you to stay, Johnny. But I don’t need you to.” His big brother smiled in understanding. He would never keep him from space.