Following a failed mission, John's not acting like himself and his brothers notice.
Warnings: Swearing
Actions speak louder than words. In the field of communication, John had learnt that people rarely meant what they said, especially when in distress. The first rule of the job was that what sounded like anger – loud, harsh voices coupled with wild gestures and a lot of banging on nearby surfaces – that anger was masking the protective stances of fearful people who didn’t yet know how to be courageous.
John had looked courage dead in the eye every day since Thunderbird Five became his permanent home. He saw the quiet determination of mothers desperate to protect their children. He saw the soft touches of comfort between friends. He saw the steely resolve, the gentle encouragement, the endurance pushed to the limit and the sacrifice. John drew strength from it all. And he knew that for all his reassurances, his words meant nothing to the people below without his brothers fighting their way towards rescue. John had seen the shift people made towards the end as hope flickered out. The shift towards desperation, towards bargaining and anger. The shift towards a numbness where people found a calm acceptance and a desire to be heard and to be given false hope and to tell their story. John, with them to the end, passed on messages of love that provided no comfort to their families in their grief. So, John knew the old adage well, he knew that his brothers’ actions would always speak louder than his words.
Whenever life was lost, International Rescue had to be shut down. Officially, the GDF were running an investigation into the lead up, actions and decisions of IR members to determine liability. In reality, they were provided with enforced downtime and access to mental and physical health check-ups. John would come back to Earth, spending the first forty-eight hours secreted in his room. Then he would set to work.
A visit to the family, to talk with them about their loved ones, to convey the sorrow and loss, to pitch in if needed, to lend a listening ear as those around him grieved. He took their anger and saw underneath it all, through to their despair. John’s gift to those families was ensuring they had time for the pain and confusion to be felt. John’s penance was to avoid his own.
***
On Tracy Island the brothers tread carefully, lightly stepping over the cracks that were beginning to appear in John’s façade. John moved like a ghost and his brothers watched as he became snappish and withdrawn. John hated the prickly isolation he found himself in every time, counting down the days before he could escape to his stars. His desperate need for contact warred against the dread inside him that this would be the time where his brothers would finally realise that they couldn’t love a person with blood on their soul and anger bubbling under his skin. So, he ignored the growing trembling in his hands and locked himself in his room, waiting for some sign that these feelings would pass peacefully into oblivion.
“You know this can’t go on,” muttered Virgil to Scott as they both watched John staring blankly at the table in front of him in the living room. “This is killing him.”
“You want to be the one to tell him he’s grounded?” demanded Scott in a whisper. “He can’t pilot Five like this, but I don’t know what else to do.”
“He needs us to show him we still love him,” said Virgil.
“He’ll need to accept it from us first.”
A sudden shout of laughter could be heard from outside and John flinched away from the sound. A sour expression twisted itself onto John’s face and Gordon and Alan wandered into the room.
“Morning space brain,” said Gordon cheerfully. “How’s life on Planet John?”
“Go jump in the ocean.”
Gordon clutched his hands to his stomach and doubled over. “And the blow strikes true,” he said blithely. “What’s eating you?”
“Nothing,” snapped John. “Leave me alone.”
Alan stretched out his hand towards John and John smacked it away.
“Don’t, Alan,” he said, dark warning creeping into his voice. He unfolded himself from his seat and moved out of reach.
“John, what’s wrong?” asked Alan in concern.
“I’m fine,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’m going back to bed.”
Turning around, he spied Scott and Virgil from their position in the doorway.
“Move,” he said.
Virgil stepped out into the room. Scott merely raised an eyebrow.
John took a steadying breath and closed his eyes.
“Scott, could you get out of my way, please.”
The crack in John’s voice reverberated around the room and to John’s horror, every eye was on him as tears welled up unbidden and his resolve finally shattered in front of his brothers.
Scott caught him, as Scott always did. John felt himself being steered back to the sofa he had just vacated and gently pushed down. He kept his eyes squeezed tightly shut, as though that could hide the shuddering gasps or the shaking shoulders. His hands curled up over his ears, trying to block out the comforting hums Virgil was making and the constant reassurances from his baby brother who should never have seen him like this. Gordon was uncharacteristically silent.
When the sobs finally quietened and self-awareness bled back into John’s consciousness, he stilled as embarrassment flooded his body.
“That’s it, John,” said Scott mildly. “Back with us?”
John reluctantly opened his eyes, squinting a little in the late morning sun. He was sandwiched between Virgil and Scott. His knees were curled into his chest and Alan rested at his feet.
“Drink,” said Gordon, appearing with a glass of water in front of him.
John took the glass with trembling fingers and rested his head against the cool material.
“Idiot,” muttered Gordon. Virgil kicked him.
John ignored them both. He was becoming aware of the dehydration headache beginning to settle against his temples.
“Here,” said Scott quietly, offering him a straw. John took it gratefully and sipped at the water, nursing the ache in his chest and unsure of his next steps.
“You guys,” he started. The words seemed to stick in his throat, their magnitude too great for this fragile setting.
“I love you all,” he said quickly. “You need to know, in case I…”
die.
The air seemed to rush out of the room as the shared thought echoed around the room. No one would ever say it aloud, fearful of being the one to speak the unthinkable into existence.
“We know,” said Alan. His eyes were bright. “You show us that all the time.”
“Yeah, like every time you take one for the team and clean Gordon’s room,” said Virgil.
“How could you think we don’t know?” demanded Scott.
John shrugged. “I know you know. But I needed to know that you know.”
“That makes zero sense,” said Gordon.
“I just,” John said. “I don’t know. Or I do, but I don’t want to lose it again.”
“Of course not, we mustn’t find out that John has real life feelings,” muttered Gordon.
“You’re talking this out,” Scott told him while glaring over his head at Gordon. “I know you’d rather it was on your terms but we’ve waited long enough for this. So bad luck.”
John’s eyes drooped closed and Alan poked him in the leg.
“I’m not sleeping,” he said, crossly.
“Good, because you’re not getting out of this.” said Scott. “How long has this been building for?”
John was silent and, for a second, Scott thought he had drifted to sleep.
“I’m not sure,” he said, picking his words carefully. “This particular mood, since the asteroid mine.”
Scott shook his head. “You can’t blame yourself for that,” he said. “You said it was a miracle that they even got a call out and that you were nearby. The GDF reports confirm that.”
John huffed a choked sounding laugh. “You think I’m upset about the mission failure? What exactly do you think I do up there? It’s not the first mission failure I’ve seen.”
“Yes, but not first hand,” said Scott. Virgil could feel John squaring up for a fight next to him.
“Scott,” murmured Gordon, but Scott either couldn’t hear the warning or he just didn’t care.
“It’s different when you’re in the field,” insisted Scott. “It’s rawer, you can’t disconnect
yourself as easily.”“Be quiet Scott,” spat John. A chill permeated the air and Scott looked at his little brother, really looked at him. He saw an unfamiliar young man, fuming where he was normally a picture of calm, a raging storm of emotions and poised to strike. He watched as an odd expression flitted across his brother’s face and before his eyes, the passion seemed to bleed from John’s limbs.
“You have no idea,” breathed John. “I’m never disconnected from them, do you understand me? Not once, except unlike you, I can’t help them. And when you’re too late, when you find them dead. What do you think I was doing in the meantime?”
The living room was silent.
“I don’t shut down comms for anything,” said John hollowly. His eyes were staring blankly at the table again. “They tell me about themselves, they’re not nameless victims of freak accidents that you couldn’t reach in time. You say I’m disconnected? What was the name of that teenager in the Mexican caves last year? What did she plan to do in university? What was the names of her friends already dead around her? She had so much hope that you’d get to her, you know, but she was also so scared. And do you know what she did in the end? She apologised for wasting our time – those were her last words.”
John blinked, coming back into himself. He reached up to wipe the tears that were spilling once more down his face.
“That’s fucked up,” said Gordon, his voice too loud and too irreverent for what John had just revealed.
John snuffled wetly. “Yeah, Gordo, it is fucked up.”
“What did they say this time?” asked Alan.
“Nothing,” said John, looking down at his youngest brother. “They were already venting atmosphere by the time I connected our comm lines.” He leaned back against the sofa. “I could hear gasping. They weren’t dead just yet. I talked to them for twenty-three minutes until I got to them. They stopped breathing after two.”
“You did what you could Johnny,” said Scott quietly.
“And it wasn’t enough,” said Virgil. “When they die, it never feels like you did enough.”
“Even when there’s nothing more you could do,” said Gordon.
“I know that,” said John. “You’re not saying anything I haven’t already told myself before.”
Alan slowly got up and walked over to their Dad’s desk. Rifling through one of the drawers, he pulled out a tablet and deposited it into John’s lap.
“Kayo and I went up to clean up the wreckage for you last week,” he said. “And while we were there, we found that the mining probe was too small to carry the same kind of emergency gear required in Low Earth Orbit. Legally, it turns out that it’s the responsibility of operators to ensure their own safety as independent contractors. The company that employs them won’t take the hit.”
John eyed the tablet carefully.
“Those bastards,” swore Gordon.
“Can you do something with that?” asked Alan.
John’s pale and blotchy face twitched a little as he skimmed the files. It’s not much, but it helps. Knowing that he has something to do, something to make sure that the grieving family of Barnaby Jones will be gain restitution. And if EOS and him did a little digging of their own, left a few trails back to the Astra Corporation that had left him to die, and rewrote a few laws of their own – well, they could hardly be blamed for an afternoon’s hard work.
“Leave it with me,” he said, a sly glint flashing in his eyes. “I can do something all right.”
The brothers around him relaxed at the familiar sight of John absorbed in the work in front of him, and one by one, they started to drift away.
All but one.
“You don’t have to go back, you know,” said Scott, eyeing John carefully. “Not just yet.”
John’s sure hands faltered on the text in front of him.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Yes, you do.” Scott stood and stretched. “This whole thing isn’t like you John. You can fool the others but not me.”
He held up a hand against John’s choked stammering.
“You broke down, because up until two weeks ago, you never once stopped to think about the time where that was nearly you.”
“What do you want to hear, Scott? Yes, of course I’m terrified. I know with excruciating detail how easy it is for things to go wrong up there. There’s no margin for error, if something goes wrong and I don’t catch it. I’m dead and there’ll be nothing you or Alan or the others could do about it.”
“So, don’t go.”
“I have to,” said John, picking at the threads of his T-shirt. “Otherwise I never will.”
***
One day later, John was back in orbit. He had missed his home, suspended above the Earth and his still, silent stars. He now missed his brothers, forever torn between his family and his universe. He hoped they understood why he stayed away, selfishly hoped his service upon his greatest joy was enough for them to see how much he cared.
John floated serenely, counting down for yet another sunset. He would have forty-five minutes to enjoy the stars before the sun began to peek around the Earth once more as he fell endlessly towards the Earth.
“Hello John,” said EOS from beside him. She moved her camera array in front of him to ensure she had his full attention. “There are currently six developing situations across the globe. I am monitoring communications and redirecting authorities as first responders.”
“Thanks EOS,” said John.
“I also have one personal call on hold, and I have observed it has been seven hours since your last meal.”
“Who’s calling?”
“Alan Tracy, but he was very rude to me. May I keep him on hold while you fulfil your nutritional requirements?”
“No, you may not,” said John. “But I will promise to eat while I speak with him.”
“Multitasking will ensure suboptimal results in both conversation and digestion.”
“EOS.”
“Of course, John.” Her lights flashed blue and brightened to white. “Alan is waiting in the galley. I will leave you now for your perceived privacy.”
John pushed away from his display as the sun disappeared behind the Earth. Tracy Island was somewhere below him in the dark black of the ocean and their evening had already faded into night.
“Evening Alan,” he called out as he entered the galley.
“Hi John,” said Alan, bouncing up and down on the holoprojection. “How’s space?”
“Still cold and deadly,” said John calmly, pulling out his freeze-dried food and beginning to prepare his meal. “Is all well down on Tracy Island?”
Alan stopped jittering long enough to flop backwards on his chair. “I need help John,” he said with the barest hint of a whine. “This assignment on RLC circuits is killing me. I have the data from the experiment done but it doesn’t make any sense, and Virgil’s gone and put up the ‘get lost’ sign on his studio, and Gordon’s working on some environmental stressors paper, and Scott is…”
“Alan,” interrupted John, “Of course I’ll help you.”
Alan brightened immediately. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, I knew you loved me!”
“Go get it Ally,” said John with a fond eye roll. “This won’t take long.”
Perhaps, mused John as Alan flitted off screen, Alan was right. It was enough that he cared for his brothers in his own way and that they could see right through him in return. They knew why John stayed up in orbit better than anyone.
John’s actions always spoke louder than his words.