A/N: I am alive! Bloody hell, the last time I posted was ... THE 6TH JANUARY 2016? Flaming Nora, I didn't think it was that long. I guess life kind of got in the way. It's been a crazy few years, lemme tell ya! Anyhoo, here's a lil one-shot to get this ball rolling again. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't missed this.

"Alan, c'mon, open your eyes."

Alan groaned, swatting away the annoying hand which kept tapping is cheek.

"That's it, buddy! Stay with me now."

Alan cringed at how much the voice hurt his head. If only they would just be quiet, then he could sleep. It was Spring Break after all. He deserved a rest.

"Nuh uh, Sprout, it doesn't count unless you open your eyes and they stay open."

Alan frowned. Why couldn't he just have five more minutes? The irritating taps on his cheek returned and he let his eyes flicker open for just a second. Maybe that would keep them happy.

"Come on, Kiddo, you can do better than that."

Alan reluctantly peeled his eyes open to see Virgil's face spinning dangerously above his head, "There we go."

"Mm not a kid, 'm seventeen," He grumbled, trying to push himself up but feeling a hand push him back down again.

"Sure thing, Sprout. But just stay still for a minute, ok?" Virgil wiped a hand through his matted hair, "You gave me a real scare there, Al."

"Sorry," Alan grumbled, not exactly sure what he was apologising for. He frowned, looking around him and trying to piece together his situation. He was on the floor, outside a rather poor excuse for a building, laying rather uncomfortably on a slab on concrete which looked like it had once been apart of the building's crumbling wall.

Virgil saw his confused expression, "You fell through the roof," He informed, "the aftershock of the earthquake hit and you decided to take a dive. On your head."

Oh, so that's why his head felt like it was sandwiched in between two trucks.

"Honestly Alan, only you could fall two floors and only come away with a concussion."

"Where's Scott?" Alan asked, suddenly remembering the mission, his brothers tackling a group of houses in the west while he and Virgil searched the nearby apartments. "Gordon? John?"

Virgil smiled, "They're all good, as far as I'm aware. Should be on there way. I'm pretty sure Scott's worn the comms flat trying to get me to report every five seconds. Apparently John tried to-"

Alan slowly lifted a hand to rub his eyes, brushing the dust off of his face as he did so. He could vaguely make out what Virgil was saying but decided sleep was more attractive an option right then than listen to his brother. A small nap wouldn't hurt. Virg would probably still be talking when he woke up.

"Alan! Hey! Stay with me, buddy," Virgil flicked him hard this time, and Alan's eyes shot open.

"Wha's tha' for?" He slurred, rubbing his stinging cheek.

Virgil shrugged his shoulders, "Don't fall asleep, and I won't have to wake you. Simple as."

Alan would've rolled his eyes had it not been for how much that might have hurt for him to do so. The sounds of footsteps behind him caught his attention and a blurry Gordon soon appeared above him, stopping an inch away from his face and grinning down at him.

"You know Alan, you should leave the diving for the pool."

Alan opened his mouth to retort but was cut off when Scott practically fell to his knees beside him, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw Alan awake. Seconds later, a red-faced John stood over his shoulder.

"Alan, I'm going to kill you," Scott muttered darkly, falling back so that he sat cross-legged next to his younger brother's head.

Alan frowned, "What for?"

"Giving me grey hairs before I reach my thirties."

Gordon poked Scott's sweaty hair with a grimace on his face, "No, I can definitely see some already, Grandad."

John walked round to Alan's other side, "You ok Sprout?" He asked, looking concerned.

Alan swallowed, "Tired."

John nodded, "I know kiddo, but we'll be back home before you know it."

"And bored," Alan added, sending a pointed look towards Virgil, "He won't even let me sit up, John."

Virgil scowled, "Stop telling on me."

Alan gave his brother a lopsided grin, "Would I ever?"

Scott's watch beeped. He lifted it to his face, before twisting it once. "Authorities have said everyone's been accounted for. We're good to go,"

"FAB," said Virgil, shuffling to kneel the opposite side of Alan's head. With one practiced movement, he slid his hands behind his brother's neck and back. "On the count of three, we're gonna sit you up, Al. Ok?"

Alan mumbled a small 'yes', as John placed a hand on the back of his head.

"Ready? Three!"

Alan felt himself being hauled upright, and his head screamed in protest. Lights danced across his vision, and he squeezed his eyes shut, doing his best to hide the immense amount of pain pulsating through his head.

"Alan, keep those eyes open," Virgil's voice called from far away. But his eyelids had already become far too heavy to remain open, and no matter how hard he tried, Alan just couldn't get them to cooperate.

"Gordon, get the stretcher." That was Scott's voice, "And hurry."

Come on, Alan, just open your eyes.

Out of nowhere, nausea. Bile began to rise in his throat, and internally, Alan began to panic. He wanted to tell Virgil, he wanted someone to open his eyes so he could see what was going on. All of a sudden, the urge became too much and Alan felt the contents of last night's dinner force its way out of him. On the positive side, his eyes fluttered open at last; although maybe less positive as the image that greeted him wasn't exactly pleasant.

"Woah, easy there buddy," John began rubbing circles on his back, still supporting the heavy weight of his head, as Alan continued to throw up on the ground in front of him. Tears streamed down his face and his head burned. Why did it have to be him who fell through the roof?

"That's it, Al, calm down," Virgil soothed, as Alan finally stopped heaving and slumped, limp and exhausted, against John. As Virgil got to his feet, Gordon came charging into view, wincing at the mess that greeted him.

"Aren't concussions fun?" He asked aloud, laying the stretcher down on the ground, avoiding the pool of vomit.

Alan groaned, knowing what was coming next.

"Don't worry kiddo, the quicker we get this over with, the quicker we'll be home," Scott assured, looking down at him with sympathetic eyes. "I'll even let you off scrubbing the hangar for the rest of the week."

Alan gave a shaky laugh, "And next week too?"

Scott raised an eyebrow, "Don't push your luck, Sprout," He said, although his smirk told Alan that two weeks of avoiding chores was definitely on the table.

"The secret to avoiding chores all this time was having a concussion?" Gordon exclaimed, staring at Scott wide-eyed. "Quick, hit me with something."

"Right," Virgil placed a hand on Alan's shoulder, ignoring the conversation taking place behind him, "let's get you home."

John squeezed the back of Alan's neck, letting him know he had his head the entire time. Alan held his breath as he was laid back down on the concrete, Virgil grabbing his legs as Scott and John supported his head and torso. In one swift motion, he was lifted up from the concrete slab and placed carefully onto the stretcher.

Alan felt, rather than heard, the yell that escaped his mouth, his ears ringing and forehead throbbing from the sudden change in position. But no sooner had he been positioned on the board than he felt himself being hoisted into the air.

"Alan, keep those lovely blue eyes open for us, yeah?" Scott's voice encouraged somewhere to his left. It was dark again. He must have closed his eyes at some point.

"Almost there, Sprout," came another voice. Whether it was Virgil or John, he couldn't quite tell this time.

It seemed like hours before they finally stopped moving. He felt himself being lowered onto a hard, even surface as something cold and wet was pressed and held against his forehead, while a strap was buckled over his waist.

Claustrophobia hit him like a train, his chest tightening as he fought against the restraints keeping him in place. Alan wriggled relentlessly, whimpering, desperate to get free. Someone next to him shouted something incomprehensible and a hand began running through his hair. The motion helped soothe him a little, and Alan felt his breathing begin to slow back down.

Somewhere in the distance, he could hear the rumble of engines starting up, and felt his body become heavy as they took off from the ground. After a minute or two, he tried opening his eyes again, just about making out the blurry silhouette of one of his brothers.

"Who -" He began.

"Your favourite brother," came John's response, turning the wet towel over to the cooler side and reapplying it to his brother's forehead. Alan breathed a sigh, grateful for the moment of relief.

"That's not true!" Gordon shouted back to them, "tell him Alan."

Alan blinked lethargically, "I don't have favourites,"

John grinned, "How're you feeling?"

"Great!"

"Gordon, be quiet,"

Alan attempted to sit up, only to find the strap still securing him in place on the stretcher. When he began to fiddle with the buckle, John pulled his hands away.

John's eyes softened with sympathy, "I'm sorry, Al, but it's gotta stay, just until we land."

Alan didn't give up, pushing John's hands away and fighting to wriggle out of the strap. His head pounded in protest, his eyes watering from the pain. The buckle swam in front of him, or were there two buckles? He didn't remember two buckles.

"Alan, just relax, you're making it harder for yourself."

Alan gave in, his head falling back onto the stretcher as he caught his breath. Who knew fighting with a buckle could take so much out of you.

"That's it, Al," John soothed, pressing the towel back to Alan's sweaty brow, "less than half an hour and we'll be there. Keep talking to me, yeah?"

Alan swallowed hard, "What about?"

John was interrupted by a voice coming from his watch, "Tell us about you and TinTin, kiddo," Scott requested, "I'm lonely over here on 1, I need a good anecdote to keep me entertained."

Gordon materialised over John's shoulder, arms crossed. "You know, she's super friendly for someone who's just a friend."

John got to his feet, passing the damp towel to Gordon, "That's my queue to co-pilot with Virg," He said to Alan, "Don't let them annoy you too much, Sprout."

He turned, patting Gordon on the shoulder and mouthing a silent 'thank you'. If there was anyone that could keep his little brother awake, it was Gordon.

TBTBTBTBTBTB

"ETA one minute,"

"You hear that Alan?" Scott's voice rang through the watch placed next to Alan's head, "almost home."

Alan's eyes opened and closed lethargically. Gordon had taken to sprinkling droplets of water onto his face every time he resoaked the towel, causing Alan to jolt with each splash.

"You're lucky," Gordon stared at his brother, a dark look taking over his face, "You don't have to report back to Dad."

Alan grinned, "Good luck with that,"

Gordon didn't smile, shaking his head and looking up as the engines began to ease.

"Hey, sounds like we're home." He threw the towel to one side, holding Alan's head as still as possible as Thunderbird 2 came in to land. Alan bit his cheek as the ship bounced and bumped, gradually coming to a stop, the hatch doors next to him immediately opening.

Gordon patted Alan on the arm, "You did good, Sprout," and grabbed the bags as Virgil and John each took one end of the stretcher and lifted Alan carefully out of Thunderbird 2. Alan groaned, squeezing his eyes shut as the island sun beamed down on him. When the light eased behind his eyelids, he opened them again and found Scott walking beside him, one hand resting on the stretcher.

"Straight to the med-bay," Virgil instructed. Scott walked ahead, opening the doors for John and Virgil to carry Alan through.

"Uh oh," John said, looking to his right, "take cover."

"Alan!"

Alan started, "Dad?"

Ahead, he heard Scott and his Dad exchange raised voices while Virgil and John continued to carry him through the hangar doors and into the lifts.

"In a minute, Al," Virgil assured him, answering his unspoken question, "we've gotta get you checked out proper first."

"Dad would only get in the way," John sighed, before quickly adding, "Don't tell him I told you that."

The lift doors opened and Alan found himself in the familiar surroundings of the med-bay, the smell of disinfectant stinging his nose as he was placed on a bed. John unclipped the strap - much to Alan's delight - and together with Virgil, removed the stretcher from beneath him.

"Much better, eh?" John smiled down at his brother before looking at the doors. "Right, I'm outta here. Be back in a bit Al."

Virgil made to grab John by his uniform but John jogged past. "John!"

The med-bay doors slid open, Jeff charging in followed by a nervous looking Scott and an amused Gordon.

"I'm gonna go take a shower," Gordon announced, waving goodbye to Scott and Virgil, and skipping out of the doors.

Virgil turned to Alan, eyes wide. Alan smirked, "You or Scott gonna do the report?"

"By the way Dad's veins are about to pop out of his head, I'm gonna leave this one to Scott."

"Good idea," Alan agreed, "He is the oldest."

Virgil agreed, winking at his brother before suddenly busying himself with moving the stretcher to the other side of the room. Jeff abruptly took his place, cupping Alan's bruised face between his hands.

"Jesus, Al, what did you do this time?"

Alan looked at Scott who, in return, sent him a death stare.

Jeff turned around, following Alan's gaze, "Scott?"

Scott flicked his eyes to his father for the briefest of seconds, "Alan, er, decided to take a dive."