A/N: Hey guys, just taking a small break from effect. This is a standalone but if anyone wants another chapter just say and I can write one, I have a few ideas even though I think it works ok like this. Anyways, enjoy!

Forgotten.

It had been the first time John had been back on Earth for 7 months, an unusually long stint that had left him dead on his feet. He was glad to be home at last, a grin lit his face as he imagined Alan up in Thunderbird 5 probably bored out of his mind already.

John looked up at the blue sky, only a few shades lighter than his eyes, and the sun warmed his pale face. The sunlight reflected in his eyes and they shimmered in the sunlight. It hurt, his eyes were unused to the light. Sure, there was light on Thunderbird 5 but not to this intensity. He closed his eyes and let his shoulders slump.

He was exhausted and in desperately needed to sleep without any interruptions for at least 10 hours. Only God knows how much he needed it but he knew he wouldn't be allowed to. He'd be expected to go and dump his bag in his bedroom before spending the rest of the day with his family.

His Family, he loved them so much but he never felt like he really belonged. He felt like an outcast, almost like a stranger. He wasn't sure how to act around them anymore, he only saw Gordon, Virgil and Scott when they did a supply run up to the space station and even then they couldn't stay longer than to unload Thunderbird 3's cargo which probably didn't take longer than half an hour.

He opened his eyes after sensing someone was watching him. He was quite shocked to find a pair of old eyes boring into his face.

John knew why his Father kept him in Thunderbird 5 and he understood. Really, he did but it didn't mean he had to like it.

"Hello, Father." John almost whispered.

Jeff didn't acknowledge his words but instead turned and started back towards the house.

"Put your bag in your room then join your brothers in the games room." Jeff said before disappearing into the house.

John nodded although he knew his Father wouldn't have seen it. Even if he had John doubted if his Father would acknowledge the act.

He wondered how he had come to be stood next to the pool, why hadn't he just gone straight back to his room? It was a mystery even to him.

With his holdall in one hand and his other buried in his trouser pocket he made his way to his room.

When he arrived he noted that nothing had been where he had left it all those months ago. The room looked like it had been ransacked; clothes were strewn all over the place and all of his comics from when he had been a teen, he had kept them in a box at the back of his wardrobe, had been torn up and scattered everywhere.

John felt anger and an indescribable amount of grief well up in his chest. Anger because someone had deliberately wrecked his room and thrown everything around, leaving everything in total chaos, and grief because the comics were all he had left of his childhood. The comics, such insignificant items, held an important meaning and had played an important role in his childhood. Now they were nothing of what they used to be, just scraps of paper waiting to be picked up and thrown into the trash.

The comics were beyond help, just like he felt he was.

John closed the door to his room before dropping his holdall. He suddenly felt 10 years older, he felt as if he was going to collapse at that precise second.

He desperately wanted someone to talk to, to tell them all his darkest secrets and deepest fears. He wanted, no needed, a shoulder to cry on. Someone he could turn to and always be greeted with open arms. Someone who would never even dream of turning him away, someone to love him for who he was and be ready to get to know him instead of accepting him at face value.

He had had that person once before but now they were gone and he knew that he would never find another person like her.

He was an enigma, a mystery. Someone nobody really wanted to take the time to get to know. Who would actually do all of that for him? Who actually cared how he felt?

'No one.' He thought, bitterly. 'I'm only there when I'm needed, the rest of the time I'm dead as far as everyone else is concerned.'

John's own brothers didn't know him and he highly doubted that they cared for him. No one cared for him, he was untouchable. He was no one.

He missed his Mother; she had been the only one who had really loved him for who he was. All his quirks that his brothers and Father had found weird she had understood that they were what made him John.

She had been the one who would comfort him after episodes with bullies at school, she would fix him up and give him a smile before ushering him out of the bathroom with the promise she wouldn't tell his Father displayed clearly in her eyes and ready on her lips.

She had been the one to help him with his homework when everyone else was too busy to care. She would talk him through things and made sure he understood everything before leaving him to his own devices.

She had been the one to scold his brothers for picking on him instead of laughing and encouraging it like his Father would have. She would have wiped away the tears of hurt and held him close to her chest in a bone-crushing hug.

She had been the one to teach him about the stars. She used to take him once a month to the observatory in the next town over from theirs. It was their special time, just Mother and Son. She had shown him the constellations and would point out her favourite star on every visit.

She had been the only one to understand and that was why he had loved and trusted her so much. He had felt an unbreakable bond had been formed between them that he knew he would never share with another soul upon this Earth.

He sunk heavily onto his bed and curled himself into a ball. And for the first time since his Mother died all those years ago, he cried. His arms that covered his face muffled horrible, heart-wrenching sobs.

He just cried. For his lost youth, his present being and for what he was destined to become. Forgotten.