Disclaimer: I do not own Thunderbirds. The following story has been written purely for entertainment purposes - no profit is being made by the author.

Gordon's First

He'd left his dirty uniform in a heap on his bedroom floor before showering and forgot all about it, until he returned later that evening. Cursing under his breath, he half-heartedly pulled out the crinkled orange sash from the pile - stopping dead in his tracks when he noticed the large, dark stain on the front of it. Blood, her blood. Almost immediately, images of events earlier that day came flooding back into his mind. With one hand stifling a sob, the other clutching the sash to his chest, he slumped down heavily on the edge of his bed. Oh, God, I didn't know!

…The freezing conditions were almost too much to bear, but he chose to go back for her - even if it did mean going against his brother's advice. He lay down next to her, gently squeezing her tiny hand, telling her everything was going to be okay and that she would soon be safe. Wrapping comforting arms around her shivering body, he was determined to get her out of there alive. But, by the time the others reached them, it was too late.…

The sound of someone knocking on his bedroom door and calling his name brought Gordon Tracy swiftly out of his thoughts.

"Go away!" he groaned irritably, brushing away a stray tear with the back of his hand.

At that moment, the door opened with a hiss and he looked up in disbelief as his eldest brother casually stepped into the room.

Gordon frowned and immediately protested the intrusion.

"Hey! I told you to go away. What are you, deaf?"

"No," said Scott calmly as the door closed behind him. "I heard you."

Keeping his gaze fixed upon his younger brother, Scott slowly folded his arms across his chest and leant back against the door. He wasn't going anywhere. His stern expression made Gordon fidget uncomfortably.

"Look, I just wanna be left alone, okay?"

"That's too bad."

Crap. Gordon lowered his head to avoid eye contact with his brother. He was twenty-four-years-old now, but somehow, Scott always had the ability to make him feel like a small, pathetic child whenever he did something wrong. Gordon hated him for that.

"There was no need for you to snap at Grandma like that, Gordon," Scott stated firmly. "She was only asking you if you were all right. You hardly touched your food, and she got all worked up after you stormed off." He stood squarely, hands on hips. "I should knock you on your ass for that."

Gordon inwardly cringed. Regardless of how he was feeling right now, he knew Scott was right, and the guilt began to surface.

"I'll apologise to Grandma later."

Scott pursed his lips, resisting the urge to further scold Gordon about his attitude during dinner; the last thing his younger brother needed right now was conflict.

"You'd better," he gently warned.

Scott's gaze then fell upon the sash in Gordon's hands. The rescue had been tough on all of them, but even more so for Gordon. Losing someone during a mission was the worst thing that could happen. But losing a child? Scott could only imagine what that felt like. He regarded his brother in silence for a few moments, then made his way over to the bed and sat down beside him.

"You feeling okay?" he asked softly.

"Never better. But thanks for your concern."

Scott sighed and shook his head. "There's no use playing the wise-guy routine on me, kiddo. I know you too well."

"Oh, really?" challenged Gordon. "Well, if you know me so well, why'd you need to ask?"

"Gordon-"

"You know, Scott, I watched an eight-year-old girl bleed to death right in front of my eyes earlier today, and I couldn't do a damn thing about it. So, how the hell do you think I feel, huh?"

Scott hesitated. He leaned forward, resting an elbow on each thigh and lacing his fingers as his hands came together.

"In all honesty, I don't know how you feel after what you've been through." He gave his brother a sideways glance. "And I won't pretend I do, either."

"Yeah," Gordon scoffed. "Well, I can tell you, it sucks. Big time."

"Wanna talk about it?"

"No."

"It might help."

I doubt it. Gordon knew he would almost certainly break down if he confided in Scott. A heavy, sickening, throb deep within his chest tormented him relentlessly, and right now, he didn't know how to stop it. He despised himself for feeling so vulnerable. His brothers had dealt with death on rescue missions before, and he never once recalled any of them getting emotional about it, not even Alan. If they can cope, why can't I?

Scott was the first to break the silence.

"Listen, what happened today wasn't your fault. There was no way we could've stopped the cable car falling, and you did the best you could for that little girl."

Gordon remained quiet, staring at the floor, not daring to look his brother in the eye for fear of losing his composure.

"But you should've listened to Virgil when he told you not to go back inside," Scott continued. "We could see the danger, you couldn't, and when the avalanche hit, we had to watch you being buried alive."

Gordon clenched his fists tightly around his sash, furious at his brother's apparent lack of understanding.

"I couldn't just leave her in there, Scott, I had to try! Isn't that what we're meant to do?" he demanded, glaring at his brother through narrowed eyes. "I got the other kids out in time, but she was pinned under the metal frame. I'm damn sure you would have done exactly the same thing if you were in my situation!"

Scott couldn't argue with that last part. Gordon was right.

"Yeah," he admitted, "I probably would have."

"Well then, I rest my case."

Gordon turned away, wishing he could stay angry. It was easier to stay angry. But he no longer had the energy to put up a fight. A wave of exhaustion washed over him. Every muscle in his body ached from exposure to the cold - he'd narrowly avoided hypothermia. I can't deal with this anymore, I just can't!

Sensing his brother's tension, Scott carefully placed a hand on Gordon's shoulder in an effort to put him at ease, and was pleasantly surprised when the young man didn't object.

Feeling reassured by his brother's warm touch, Gordon slowly began to relax. Deep down, he knew he wasn't capable of being strong like his brothers appeared to be, no matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise. And Scott would get him to talk sooner or later. Any attempt to resist would prove useless. It always did. Besides, would his eldest brother think any less of him if he did break down...?

It was time for Gordon to put stubbornness aside and relieve himself of his emotional burden. He drew in a long breath, and let it out slowly.

"Her name was Rosie."

"Cute name," Scott added mildly.

"Yeah, cute kid. Brave, too." Gordon lightly brushed his thumb over the blood stain on his sash. "They were on their way home from a school trip. She couldn't wait to tell her parents what a great time she'd had..." Feeling a sudden tightness in his throat, he swallowed hard. "When the avalanche hit, I covered her with my body as best I could, praying the outer panels wouldn't cave in on us. I haven't prayed that hard in a long time. I turned on my flashlight and kept her talking while we waited for you guys to get to us. She was scared, but she talked."

Closing his eyes briefly, Gordon took another deep breath. Man, this is tougher than I thought.

"She couldn't feel any pain. I guess the cold might have had something to do with that, I don't know. I hugged her, tried to keep her warm. She was so little. Her face grew paler as each minute went by. I thought she was in shock. I-I didn't see the blood..."

The heavy ache inside Gordon's chest intensified and threatened to overwhelm him. His eyes tingled as tears began to form, and he clamped his lips tightly shut to stop them trembling. Scott gently squeezed his shoulder and encouraged him to continue.

"After a little while, she started to cry. I wiped away her tears, didn't want them stinging the cuts on her face. I asked her what was wrong. She said she was upset because her new snow boots had gotten dirty..." Gordon's voice began to quiver. "The poor little kid was trapped inside a mangled-up cable car, buried under tons of snow, cold and scared, and all she could think about were her damn boots, can you believe that...?" He looked up at Scott, eyes swimming with tears. "I promised her I'd buy her a new pair once we got out. I promised. But it was already too late. She...she was gone..."

Gordon's face crumpled. Tears cascaded down his cheeks, his shoulders heaved and he began to sob.

Without a word, Scott slowly pulled the sash out from Gordon's grasp and placed it carefully on the bed. He then took the young man into his arms, holding him tight against his chest.

Gordon lifted his hands up around Scott's waist and clung onto his brother's shirt as if his life depended on it.

"I didn't know she was dying!" He pressed his face into Scott's shoulder, his cry of anguish muffled. "Oh, God! I-I didn't...I couldn't-"

"Shh, it's okay," Scott soothed, gently rocking the young man back and forth in his arms. "It's okay. I'm here. Just let it all go, I've got you."

Scott held his weeping brother for a long time, tenderly rubbing his back whilst murmuring words of comfort.

Gordon's sobs gradually reduced to snivels. The ache in his heart seemed to dwindle as he remained locked in his brother's warm embrace. Soon, he felt ready to start talking again.

"Carrying her body to the ambulance was all I could do for her in the end," he muttered, eyes half-closing as fatigue crept up on him once again.

Scott gently stroked the back of his neck. "There was nothing more you could've done," he said softly.

"Then, why does it hurt so bad?"

"It hurts because you care," Scott replied, resting his cheek on top of his brother's head. "We've all felt that way at some point."

"Really?"

"Sure. Remember the explosion at that chemical plant in England last summer?"

"Yeah, it was my turn up in Five when we got the call. Twelve people died, right?"

"Uh-huh. Virgil had a tough time dealing with that one. He blamed himself entirely for what happened, even though it wasn't his fault. I stayed with him in his room for most of that night. He cried for hours."

Gordon's eyes widened. "He did? Gee, and here I was thinking you guys were invincible."

Scott chuckled softly. "We're far from invincible, kiddo. Believe me."

"Even you?"

Scott sighed. "Even me. Virgil wasn't the only one who cried that night. I'm just as human as the rest of you." He lightly prodded Gordon's back with a finger. "But don't you dare go telling him I told you all that, okay?"

A smile tugged at Gordon's lips. "I won't."

"And promise me one more thing." Scott hugged his brother a little tighter. "Don't ever try to cope with anything like this on your own again. I'm always gonna be here for you, Gordon. We all are. Whether you like it or not."

"I promise," said Gordon, feeling his heart lighten all the more.

"Good." Scott took the young man by his shoulders, eased him back slightly. "You feeling okay now?" he asked, a slight uncertainty evident in his tone.

"I guess so." Gordon wiped his moist eyes with his sleeve. "I'm sorry, Scott," he added.

Scott tilted his head. "What for?"

"For ignoring Virgil's warning and making you guys worry. And for acting like a total jackass at dinner."

"Gordon, it's okay."

"No, it's not okay. I was rude to Grandma." Gordon looked down. "There's never a good enough excuse for doing something like that."

"Hey." Scott placed a finger under his brother's chin, gently lifted his head back up. "She knows you didn't mean it." He carefully studied the young man's tired eyes. "As soon as you feel up to it, go talk to her, okay?"

Gordon nodded. "I will."

Satisfied with the reply, Scott smiled and gave his brother's arm a reassuring squeeze. He eased himself up from the bed, took the sash and then gathered up the rest of his brother's uniform.

"Want me to take care of this lot for you?" he offered.

Gordon looked up. "Yeah, thanks."

Scott smiled fondly at him. "No problem." He then turned and headed towards the door.

Before making his exit, Scott glanced back over his shoulder. "Oh, and in case you're wondering where to find Grandma, try the kitchen."

~TB~

Gordon lingered outside the kitchen door, hands stuffed firmly in his trouser pockets. He anxiously looked back down the corridor to make sure no one else was around, especially his father - no doubt Jeff would want to voice his opinion about his son's outburst during dinner. At that moment, a loud crash came from behind the door. Gordon immediately rushed in.

A stack of dinner plates had fallen off the kitchen counter and onto the floor, shattering into hundreds of tiny pieces upon impact. His elderly grandmother stood with both hands on her hips, mournfully shaking her head as she surveyed the damage.

Gordon wasted no time and sprinted over to a tall cupboard at the far end of the room. He opened the door and reached for the broom.

"It's okay, Grandma. I'll take care of it."

It didn't take him long to clear up the mess. After putting the broom back in its rightful place, he turned to face his grandmother.

Ruth Tracy folded her arms and peered at Gordon over her silver-framed spectacles. He winced slightly. Now I know where Scott gets it from.

"Do you have something you wish to say to me, young man?" she asked, knowingly.

Gordon swallowed. "Yes, ma'am, I do." He took a small step forward. "I didn't mean to upset you earlier. I shouldn't have spoken to you the way I did. I was out of order. And I'm sorry."

Ruth's expression softened at the sincerity in the young man's statement. She never could stay angry with her grandchildren for long.

"Oh, sweetie. Come here."

She walked towards her troubled grandson, reaching out for him. Gordon wrapped his arms tightly around her petite frame and rested his head on her shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, Grandma," he whispered, fighting back tears of remorse. "The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt you."

"I know, honey, I know," Ruth soothed as she patted him softly on his back. "But it's all water under the bridge now, so let's not worry about it anymore."

As Gordon withdrew from her embrace, Ruth gently cupped his cheeks in her warm, delicate hands and looked into his watery eyes. She knew exactly what would help this particular grandson of hers feel a whole lot better.

"Now then, young man," she began, her voice tender and loving. "You go and sit yourself at the table while I fix you up a big batch of pancakes and a nice, hot cup of cocoa. We can't have you going hungry now, can we?"

Gordon smiled. He knew the memories of today's rescue would haunt him for a long time, but with the support of a loving family, he realised it wouldn't be so tough dealing with them.

He leaned forward and gently kissed his grandmother's cheek.

"I love you, Grandma."

"I love you, too, sweetie."

~The End~

Author's Notes: I've read a few stories in which writers have given the name of "Ruth" to Grandma. I'm not sure if this name is part of canon or fanon, but I decided to use it for this story because I like it - I think it suits her character - and also because I didn't want to keep referring to her simply as 'Grandma'.

And the title refers to Gordon witnessing a death up close and personal for the very first time, in case you were wondering.

Reviews will be most appreciated. Thanks.