"I wanna go home, John."

John looked up at his little brother, a little surprised. He tried not to show his disbelief, instead turning his attention back to the long cut on Alan's arm. He gently wiped the skin around it with a washcloth to clear away the blood.

"If that's what you want," John said softly.

It was Alan's turn to look shocked. "You're not mad?" he asked timidly.

John sighed. I'm not mad at you, Al. I'm mad at myself. I tried to help you and all I've done is made things worse.

John kept his thoughts to himself. "I'd rather you didn't force yourself to endure anything that upsets you," he replied. Resting the cloth back on the kitchen bench, he soaked a square of gauze in antiseptic, gently taking hold of Alan's arm.

Perched on a high stool, Alan nervously fidgeted.

"Hold still, this won't take long," John gently encouraged him, pressing the gauze against the cut. Alan hissed and tensed in his grip.

"Alan, I know you are probably tired of having to answer this question. But you need to tell me how you feel. Physically and emotionally."

He hoped his calm approach would crack the eggshell around his little brother. Even thought it wasn't necessary, he held on to Alan's arm to keep him where he was.

Alan stayed quiet, but John didn't pressure him. He continued to tend to the wound, wrapping it carefully in a bandage.

"How did you do it?"

John glanced up, again surprised by what he saw. Alan looked like he was about to cry. John stopped what he was doing to perch on a stool directly in front of his brother, giving him his full attention. "How did I do what?"

Alan avoided his gaze. "Get back to normal after…your accident."

His accident. That was one way of putting it. Even mentioning it brought back images and memories.

"Thunderbird 5 to Tracy Island, mayday! Mayday!"

The deafening roar of the hull taking the impact. The searing flames that sent him flying backwards. Then silence. Waiting for the rescue that might not have come. Pain was his only company, and it reminded him of its presence mercilessly.

He should say something wise now. A remedy. But he couldn't find one. "You know what?" he told Alan. "I have no idea."

Alan looked disappointed, and tears welled up in his eyes. "What do I do?" he asked softly. It pained John to hear his little brother so weak and defeated. Alan leaned forward, holding his head in his hands. "What's wrong with me?"

No more words, John thought, wrapping Alan in a warm hug. His little brother shuddered with muffled sobs.

Soon, John couldn't bear the silence anymore. "Shhhh," he soothed, rubbing Alan's back like he used to when they were kids. It had been a long time since he had comforted Alan like this. The kid was always so stubbornly strong and withdrawn when it came to emotions. Although it was reassuring that he had accepted John's help, that fact meant that things were bad.

Suddenly, Alan sat up again, shifting out of John's arms. "Sorry," he mumbled.

John rubbed his arm. "You don't need to be sorry, Alan. It's okay to be scared."

"No it's not," Alan shook his head. "I'm supposed to be a Thunderbird."

"Thunderbirds get scared too, Alan," John assured.

"You don't."

John smiled at the comment. "After my accident, I was scared for a long time. I still am. I'm scared that it'll happen again. I'm sacred that it will happen to one of you. I'm scared that we won't be so lucky next time. But you know what?"

Alan looked up at him.

"If there's one thing I've learned from the experience, it's that dwelling on what could have been or what may be is a waste of time. You become detached and removed from reality and the ones you love. If you spend your time worrying about them, how can you treasure the time you spend with them?"

"It's still not right," said Alan. "I'm supposed to be brave, like you and Scott, and Virgil. I've never seen Gordon scared, not even after his hydrofoil accident. He was always making jokes."

John mused. "That's true, he was. That's how we knew he was terrified. Gordon's way of fighting his fear is by finding humour in his situation. It may not be practical or appropriate sometimes, but at least we know he hasn't given up. When Gordon stops joking, then things will be bad."

Alan cocked his head and screwed up his face. "Well…I dunno about that. The one about the choir boy and the cucumber is pretty bad."

"He's still cracking that one?"

"He can't get enough."

"But it's terrible!"

"I know!"

Before long both brothers were laughing. It felt great.

John became serious again. "Hey," he said, making sure Alan was looking at him. "I know that you're going through a rough time, and I know that it isn't going to disappear overnight. But just remember, without fear there cannot be courage. And you are by far the bravest of all of us."

It sounded corny, but he was rewarded with a small smile.

TBTBTBTBTBTBTB

"I told you!"

From the couch, Scott and Virgil exchanged an irritated glance, but Gordon ignored them. He continued to pace across the living room where the three of them waited for their little brother to return. It appeared that a couple of weeks cooped up in a stuffy space station had taken its toll on Alan, and their father had personally gone to bring him home. They were due back within the hour.

"John seemed to think he'd gotten through," said Virgil, ever the optimistic.

"He also said that Alan was suffering from intense claustrophobia. We might as well have shoved him into shipping crate!" Gordon fumed. I should never have left them up there.

Gordon had never won the title of "Best Mother Hen", but however much he tried to deny his tender side, his little brother was his Achilles Heel.

"Gordon, that's enough!" Scott commanded, taking control. "You heard John yourself. He's managed to talk to Alan, and amazingly Alan opened up. Whatever Alan is still fighting, we'll help him fight it, but at least now we have an idea about what's going on in his head."

Gordon sighed and leaned against the wall. "How long has it been since we rescued him from that basement? He's been suffering all this time and…" I did nothing.

The next thing he knew he was being enveloped by Scott's arms. He sighed again into his brother's shoulder. They pulled apart at the sound of the door opening. There, under his father's arm, was Alan.

The kid looked awful.

Scott was the first to approach Alan as he and Jeff walked into the room. He greeted him with a hug and a warm smile. "Welcome home, kiddo."

Gordon was shocked to see Alan return the hug. Virgil got up to join Scott, and began rubbing Alan's back. "It's gonna be okay, Sprout."

Alan looked up at him. "I know," he said softly.

Gordon wasn't so sure, but he knew he had to be strong. So he plastered a grin on his face as he strode towards the group. "So, Alan. This choir boy stands up in the middle of church with this cucumber…"

They were interrupted by the whooping alarm.

"Saved by the bell," grinned Scott.

Jeff smiled. "Come on boys, leave your brother in peace. We'll see you when we get back, Alan."

"No!"

They all stopped at Alan's cry.

"I'm coming with you."

TBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTB

He still couldn't believe he was here. Rescues had been the last thing on his mind when he'd returned home. But as soon as he heard that siren, he knew that it was his chance to regain some control. He was shaking and he was scared, but none of that mattered. Instead he concentrated on what was in front of him.

It's always the big ones that snap, thought Alan.

They were in the Atlantic, rescuing the crew of a fishing vessel that had been caught in a monster of a storm. On the boat, Gordon and Alan had been evacuating the fishermen. Above them, Thunderbird 2 held the rescue platform. Alan admired Virgil's piloting skills. Virgil's accuracy and skill in such conditions was astonishing. Gordon was strapping the rest of the crew into the rescue platform, waiting for Alan to join him.

The last member of the crew was large; more than three times Alan's weight, and he had lost control. As waves constantly pounded and flooded the boat, Alan struggled to keep a strong hold on the man.

From Thunderbird 1, Scott called over the radio. "Gordon, Alan, you need to hurry! The boat's going to go down any second!"

Alan was so busy concentrating on Scott's instructions, he unknowingly loosened his grip on the man's arm. Before he could regain control, the man struck him across the chest, knocking him onto the deck. Alan felt like he'd been hit by a baseball bat. Pulling himself to his feet, he grabbed the man's arm once again. "Sir, get onto the platform!" he instructed.

"Get away! We're going to die!" the man screamed.

The man was grabbing his flight suit, his hands nonsensically smothering Alan in an attempt to somehow save himself. The man's weight overpowered Alan, and before he knew it the man was on top of him. Now he was trying to pry Alan's helmet off.

"Save me! Save me!" the man screamed.

Gordon! Alan couldn't get away. A huge weight was pressing down on him and a familiar dread crept up his spine. I can't breathe! He thought. The walls began closing in again. All Alan was aware of was the weight on top of him and his own rising panic.

John's voice chose the perfect moment to whisper in his ear. "Without fear there cannot be courage."

It was then that something snapped inside Alan. He was in control, and he'd had enough. Drawing his fist back, he punched the man squarely in the face, sending him reeling backwards. The man yelled and clutched his face with one hand. Alan used the distraction to grab him by his lifejacket and throw him towards the rescue platform. Gordon had finally managed to reach him, and together they threw the man onto the platform.

"Are you okay?" Gordon called through the radio.

Pinning the man down with his own body, Alan nodded and called into the radio. "Get us up!"

Gordon took to the controls and slowly the platform was winched up into the belly of the massive Thunderbird. When the pod doors closed, the howling wind was effectively silenced. Alan leant against the railing of the pod, swallowing bile. The blow he had taken had revived old injuries, but it didn't matter. He had won the fight, just like John said he would. He felt a smile creep across his face for the first time in weeks, and it felt good.

He was brought back to the present by a hand on his shoulder. Alan nodded to Gordon and gave him a shaky thumbs-up to let him know he was okay. Together they unloaded the men into the passenger area and checked them for injuries. Within minutes they were joined by Virgil, who had donned a helmet to hide his face from their guests.

Virgil noticed that one man had a bloody nose. "What happened?" he asked Alan.

"He freaked out," replied Alan, trudging up to the cockpit. Gasping, he removed his helmet and pushed his fringe off his sweaty brow.

Virgil followed him and removed his own helmet. "You okay?" he asked, his brow creasing as he observed his brother.

Alan nodded, undoing the collar of his flight suit so that he could breathe easier. "I'm fine," Alan started to say, before realising that he wouldn't get away until he was honest. "The guy who freaked just…hit my chest and…" he couldn't finish for lack of breath.

Virgil took charge, leading Alan to the sickbay. "Sit down," he instructed, pulling Alan to the bed in the centre of the small room. "Take deep breaths."

When Alan shook his head to indicate that he couldn't, Virgil contacted Gordon through the comm. "Gordon, secure the passengers and report to the bridge. I need you to pilot Thunderbird 2."

"FAB Virgil," replied Gordon. "Is anything wrong?"

Alan interjected before Virgil could reply. "Of course not, Gordon. Now get to the wheel, I'll keep the mother hen distracted and I'll be counting on you to find every opportunity to scratch the paint!"

He could almost hear Gordon's smile. "FAB, Alan."

Alan returned his attention to Virgil, who was looking at him as if he had just sprouted antlers. Alan frowned. "You okay?"

Virgil snapped out of his trance and resumed his professional manner. "Unzip your suit. I want to take a quick look at those ribs."

Alan complied as Virgil turned away to began foraging for something in one of the cupboards. He could have sworn he'd seen his brother smile before he turned away. As he was undressing, Alan felt something inside one of his pockets. Frowning, he dug inside and pulled out a peg.

He sighed to himself. Oh, Gordon.

Alan looked at Virgil's turned back, then around to see if he was being watched by anyone else. With a skilled technique, he gently clipped the peg onto Virgil's suit. He succeeded just before his brother turned around, but not before grinning.

Virgil looked him up and down. "What?"

Alan tried to look innocent. "Nothing."

TBTBTBTBTBTBTB

When Virgil finished, he left his little brother in the infirmary and proceeded to return to the cockpit. The moment he was out of Alan's sight, he reached behind himself and felt his trouser leg. His fingers found the peg just under his right buttock, and he removed it with a smile.

"Good to have you back, Sprout," he whispered to himself, walking down the corridor with a bounce in his step.

Well, that's all folks!

Thankyou for being so patient and encouraging me to update!

Thankyou to all of you who reviewed, your criticism and compliments are invaluable!

Until next time!

Boann xx