This was a fic started for Alan's Birthday back on 12th March 2020. It was supposed to be a short fic...it isn't. I've written most of it (I'm currently on Part Seven so there is more to come). I hadn't intended on archiving it yet because I'm sick of WIPs ending up here, but I had a request to do so and there is over 18,000 words written, so there is a considerable amount to share and I'm still writing. I hope you enjoy it and thank you for bearing with me.

Many thanks to scribbles97 i-am-chidorixblossom and olliepig for reading and listening to my wailing.

Spoilers for Season 3, angst, hurt/comfort, brothers, family.

-o-o-o-

It involved a fire.

An out of control fire was never a good thing, but an out of control fire in space was always a very bad thing.

Thunderbird Three was launched and Alan and Scott broke atmosphere at speed. John threw names and numbers at them. Firm Oxy-Baker again. This time an in-orbit facility harvesting space junk and recycling components and fuel.

Emphasis on the fuel as the fire was threatening to denotate the storage cylinders.

Scott made a mental note to take out Oxy-Baker on the stock market the first chance he had. He was sick of this poorly managed death trap of a company.

But his train of thought was heavily distracted as they pulled the three staff from the habitat just as the whole complex made like a sun and exploded.

He lost time for a moment there.

Consciousness found him spinning through space, his safety line dragging the three rescues along behind him.

"Scott!"

John. Thunderbird Five.

He blinked and forced his brain to work.

Earth spun past, alternating with starlit space.

"Thunderbird One, do you copy?"

"Uh?"

"Scott!"

John, perturbed. Not good.

"Thunderbird Five. I, uh, copy." He could stop the spinning, couldn't he?

He palmed his jetpack controls and did just that.

God, that was so much better.

"Scott, status!"

Damn, Johnny was a nag.

His three rescuees settled around him. One grabbed at his leg, her eyes wild and terrified.

Rescuees.

Shit.

He reached down and gently brought her closer, his brain struggling to function clearly enough to assess her condition. Suit seals, air supply. He moved from her to the next, who was still unconscious, but appeared secure. The third person at the very end of the safety line was not so lucky.

The terror on her face was forever frozen in the vacuum of space as her suit had been shredded.

Scott closed his eyes for just a split second.

"Scott-"

"Thunderbird Five, two out of three survivors." His voice was ever so parched. "Tell Alan-"

And his brain hit a non-sequitur.

Alan.

He had been beside him.

Where?

"Alan?"

Thunderbird Three was spinning slowly in the distance.

"Scott, I've lost contact with Alan."

"Alan?!"

Thunderbird Three did not answer, the red rocket continuing to slowly spin, her pilot who knew where.

"John, where is he?!"

"Shifting orbit to assist."

A sudden distant point on the Earth's curve swelled into the shape of Thunderbird Five, her thrusters fully deployed. She moved fast and loomed large above him.

He skipped a breath and nearly choked on nothing.

And John was there, blue and yellow and fiery jets. His space brother took control and the next thing he knew, he was safe inside Thunderbird Five, her silver padded interior too bright for his eyes.

So he closed them.

Alan.

His eyes opened in panic.

John darted past as the air pressurized around them and sound returned.

Someone was crying.

Alan.

John was hastily assessing the two survivors. Soft words of reassurance and instruction. Both were now conscious. One crying inconsolably.

Alan.

"John."

"I've lost his signal. Eos is looking for him."

As if hearing her name, Eos spoke up. "John, I have located Alan Tracy."

"Where is he?" Two brothers. One voice.

There followed the recovery of their unconscious brother. Scott would never forget the sight of John decked out in his exosuit cradling his little brother against his chest, terror in his eyes.

Alan's suit integrity was in place, but only because the material had melted down one side. The heat of the explosion…he had been too close.

His little brother had been burnt.

Part of Scott started screaming.

John took command. Scott forced his brain into procedure as Thunderbird Five realigned her path yet again and John took his exosuit out to Three and docked the abandoned, but thankfully undamaged craft.

Alan's face was so pale under the touch of his fingertips. His littlest brother…

"Scott?"

His father's voice echoed through Thunderbird Five. John was moving the rescuees to Three.

"Status? John reported Alan injured."

"Yes."

The scanner was in his hand and its readings hurt. Still his thoughts were sluggish.

"Scott? Your status?"

"He's burnt, Dad." Burnt. His little brother was burnt. Part of his uniform was fused to his thigh. Scott couldn't help him.

Help him.

A blue gloved hand reached over and took the scanner from his fingers. John. Turquoise eyes frowned at him and that same scanner was suddenly pointed at him. It whirred and flickered light.

"Scott, you need to sit down."

"Alan-"

"I've got, Alan. I'm going to transfer him to Three. You need to sit here and wait for me. Can you do that?" John's voice was ever so gentle.

A single nod. But then John was taking Alan away. Scott had to follow.

He was his littlest brother.

He was vaguely aware of John shooting him a worried look, but Scott's eyes were only for Alan. He trailed behind the hoverstretcher and the Thunderbird changed from Five to the red of Three.

John was strapping him into a chair beside Alan's docked stretcher. Blue fingers touched his cheek and Scott looked up.

"He is going to be okay, Scott."

Something knotted in his throat and the mental controls he grabbed for failed.

The whimper that passed his lips registered as horribly embarrassing in some corner of his mind, but he paid it no attention.

John's hand slipped to his shoulder and those turquoise eyes suddenly filled his vision. "Alan is going to be okay, Scott. I have to pilot. I need you to stay here. Can you do that?"

Scott struggled to straighten his shoulders. What the hell was wrong with him? What put that horrible fear in John's eyes?

John was his little brother, too.

"I can."

A gentle squeeze of that blue hand and John was gone.

Three roared and his world moved.

He lost time again.

Everything shook and shifted from red to green and Virgil appeared in front of him, brown eyes ever so worried. "Scott, you with me?"

"Alan!" He shot to his feet and Virgil grabbed him as the world took several steps to the left. His head screamed.

'Hey, he's okay. He's okay." Strong arms held him.

That green.

He was on Two. How?

"Mid-air transfer. We need to get you to a hospital."

"Alan. We need to get Alan to a hospital." He wilted. "He's burnt, Virgil. He's burnt."

Something flickered in those deep brown eyes. "I know, Scott, but he is going to be okay. I need to look after you now. C'mon, let's get you comfortable."

"Alan. Where's Alan?"

Virgil stepped to one side and there lay his little brother on a docked hover gurney. Sitting beside him was his father.

"Dad?"

Something inside just broke.

He was aware of Virgil grabbing him again as the world tipped on its side and his stomach heaved. Everything spun. He realised he was talking, saying something over and over again. "Sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Sorry…" He mumbled and mumbled and grey eyes caught his, doubled and wavered. "I'm sorry, Dad. Sorry. Allie got hurt. I'm sorry…"

A hand found his hair and he realised he was horizontal. Virgil was there. Dad was there. Dad. I'm sorry. Allie got hurt. I'm so sorry. Light flickered over him. Virgil's worried rumble. A hand inspecting his head.

Soft fingers on his cheek.

Dad.

I'm sorry.

His father's voice was ever so soft. "It's okay, Scotty. Not your fault. It's okay."

A single tear leaked out one eye.

Blue fingers gently wiped it away.

Dad was in uniform. His pale gold baldric shone dully in the lighting. Scott's eyes fixated on it as it doubled and wavered in and out of focus.

"I'm sorry, Dad."

His father's hand cupped the side of his face. "Not your fault, Scotty." Grey eyes bore it into him and Scott fixated on their determination.

But it didn't matter because they blurred, the greys all became black, and everything faded away.

-o-o-o-

End Part One