A/N: Hello, people of the internet! After spending many a day and night reading a lot of Thunderbirds fanfic (meh, who needs sleep anyway?) I was inspired to write my own. This idea came to me at about 3 in the morning, so I apologise if it's bad!

Disclaimer: The lovely Thunderbirds belong to Gerry and Silvia Anderson. I'm just having a play around with them. I promise I'll give them back eventually!

All considering, he probably should be panicking. Or at least slightly worried. But, as his paralysed body continued to sink deeper into the cold depths, John Tracy found himself surprisingly calm. He knew this was wrong, yet at the same time, perfectly right.

Feeling the cold seeping into his body, he watched as the surface got further and further away, accepting that he would never break it ever again.

His mind was getting fuzzy now, as if wrapped in a warm blanket, and a sudden wave of tiredness hit him. Yes, sleep, that was what he needed, that was probably the best idea.

Dad... One last thought flitted through his mind as everything faded into darkness, barely registering the hand that grabbed him as he gratefully released his grip on consciousness.

He jolted back to awareness thanks to a bone-jarring thump between his shoulder blades, causing his whole body to convulse painfully, and before he knew it he found himself miserably spewing up foul-tasting water over everything in front of him.

A strong hand rubbed his back and a familiar voice soothed and encouraged as he continued to hurl. "That's it Johnny, that's it." His still foggy mind was confused, he knew that voice, so why couldn't he place it?

A shrill beeping echoed in his ears and the hand stopped rubbing, leaving his back momentarily. "I said not now, I'm busy." He heard the voice say before the hand returned, as he finally coughed up the last contents of his stomach, leaving him gasping painfully and his head swimming.

"That's better, well done! Here...Deep breaths, Johnny, deep breaths." The voice continued cheerfully. John heard shuffling and a mask was gently placed over his face, and he gratefully breathed in the cool flow of air coming from it.

As his fog in his head cleared and his breathing relaxed, he realised three things. One – He was lying in the recovery position on a grassy bank. Two – Everything really hurt. And three – He finally knew who the voice belonged to.

"Gords...?" He croaked hoarsely, surprised at the effort even a small word took. He opened his eyes, struggling to focus as a face swam into view, wet red hair sticking down across his forehead.

"In the flesh." A grin spread across his younger brother's face, who removed the mask, shifting to kneel in front of John. "Good to see you again."

"Hurts..."

"No doubt. You must have coughed up at least half the lake."

"Great..." John groaned as another part of his body spiked with pain. So far he had noted a busted jaw, split lip and sore ribs. "What...?"

"...Happened? You don't remember?" Gordon raised an eyebrow, his eyes full of concern.

"No..." John replied, racking his brains to try and remember something, anything about what had happened. He was in his uniform, so therefore they were on a rescue, so how on Earth did he end up battered and bruised next to a lakeside in the middle of a forest?

Gordon studied his older brother for a moment. Memory loss wasn't a good sign. "Well, let start from the beginning then." He said, settling down to fill John in on the details. They had been called out to a forest fire. The fire itself was was easy enough to get under control but some hikers, having got themselves trapped by a lake, had been in need of their help. He and John had been in the rescue platform, wrestling with the last casualty who was having a full blown panic attack. The rest of the party were already safely inside Thunderbird 2, which was being piloted by Virgil. John was trying to restrain the man whilst Gordon tried to sedate him, but the man was strongly built and John found it tough to keep him still on the wildly rocking platform. Just as Gordon had managed to slam the hypo-spray into the man's neck, he lashed out, hitting John squarely in the jaw, stunning him and throwing him off balance. The sudden movement had caused the platform to tip sideways, and before he could grab anything, John found himself tumbling out and back down to earth. Fuelled with anger at the man who had just injured his brother, Gordon pumped him with enough sedative to knock out an elephant, before turning and diving off the platform, following his blond-haired sibling into the cold waters of the lake below.

"You know, it was a good job we weren't too far up. Although judging by the size of the splash you made, I doubt you'll be able to move for at least a few days. I know I won't be able to." He absent-mindedly rubbed his lower back. "I was still wearing my breathing kit, and that doesn't make it easy to dive correctly... John?" At his last sentence, Gordon had noticed that the colour had completely drained out of his brother's already pale face.

"...Your back...? Aw...Gords...no...I'm sorry..." John croaked, his blue eyes wide with fear. He knew Gordon's back was delicate since his accident, and he wouldn't forgive himself if he was the cause of damaging it again.

"John, John, it's nothing some rest and some muscle rub won't fix. Trust me, it's not your fault." Gordon grinned reassuringly. "But when we're both up for it, you're having some diving lessons. I can see the style working, but the execution could use some practise! Plus, we need to think of a name for that move. I was thinking 'The Tracy Kabloogle.'"

John couldn't help but start laughing at the suggestion, instantly regretting it as his lungs protested and he launched into coughing fit. Rolling his eyes, Gordon shoved the mask back onto John's face, activating the air flow again, rubbing his brother's back with his free hand.

After a while, John's breathing came back under control, and Gordon breathed a sigh of relief, but didn't remove the mask this time. It was probably in John's best interest to keep it on for the time being.

"Aw, c'mon John, I've only just got you breathing again, don't go ruining it!" He quipped cheekily, before letting out another sigh as his watch once again emitted a shrill beeping sound. "Do you reckon I'll get away with not answering three times in a row?"

"Possibly not..." John replied quietly, his voice muffled. If he had got Gordon worried, he'd hate to think how Dad was holding up. Or Scott, for that matter. In fact, he was surprised a blue rocket wasn't already hovering around somewhere.

"Shame these things are waterproof, eh?" Gordon said, moving to press the button to activate his watch without removing the mask. Lifting his wrist to eye level, he steeled himself for the expected onslaught as soon as it burst into life.

"Ok, Dad." He cut in as soon as his father's face appeared on the small screen. "Look-"

"GORDON! How is he? Did you get him? Is he hurt? Is he awake? What-?" His father babbled, worry evident on his face.

"Da- Dad. Dad. DAD!" Gordon finally managed to stop his father mid-question. Not saying a word he twisted his arm so Jeff could clearly see John, mask and all, lying on his side, who waved back weakly, before bringing it back to face him. "See, he's fine. Sore, bruised, thrown up half a lake, but fine."

"Thank God!" Jeff let out an explosive breath that he didn't realise he was holding. Sometimes he hated being stuck at base. "Right, Scott's found a clearing about a mile away, he's currently crashing his way through the forest towards you. Virgil insisted on dropping off the walkers first, but he's on his way back. Once he's landed and found you, both he and Scott can help with the med-evac."

"What? No, no, that'll take too long. Just get Virge to send the platform down. We're both soaked to the skin, plus John almost drowned. The sooner we're warm and dry in the med-bay, the better. That water was cold." Seeing that his father was about to protest, he continued. "Look, I still had my breathing pack, so we've got O2, and Scott can help me move him carefully. We'll cope, I promise."

Jeff's lips tightened and he looked away from the screen. On one hand, Gordon had a point. John was looking deathly pale and was starting to shiver, and he could potentially get worse if he had to wait too long. Yet, on the other, John had not only been sucker punched right in the jaw, he had also fallen at least 30 feet before landing almost flat on the water, and Jeff knew that the impact would be similar to falling that distance onto concrete. He thanked his lucky stars that the platform hadn't risen too high, but he knew the distance could still have caused serious injuries, some that may not as yet be blindingly obvious.

Sighing, Jeff massaged his temples, before coming to a decision. "Ok, I'll get Virgil to send the plat. But if anything goes wrong, even if it's minor, you call it in immediately. That is an order. Understood?"

"Yes Sir."

"Good. Ok, Both Scott and Virgil should be arriving on scene any minute. As soon as you're aboard you're coming straight home, Brains has the infirmary all ready for your arrival, and you are to take John there as soon you've landed. I'll see you there. Base o-""

"...Dad..." Jeff's reluctant signing off was interrupted by a croaky voice calling out to him, and Gordon looked in surprise at his older brother. Surely he didn't feel like doing anything at the moment, let alone talk to their father. But judging by the look on the Space Monitor's face, he did.

"Hold on." Lifting the mask away and placing it next to John, Gordon carefully took a hold of his brother's wrist, his cold fingers fumbling with the strap. Carefully removing the watch, which seemed no worse for wear after the dip, unlike it's owner, Gordon keyed in the sequence to transfer the call from his timepiece, grinning as his father's face appeared with no problem, before holding it in front of John's face. Jeff couldn't help but gasp as he got a better look at his son, a large bruise forming up the side of his face, and coupled with a split lip that was still oozing, he did look a terrible sight.

"Son?" Jeff asked, his voice wavering sightly. He was trying desperately to keep it together, in fact he had been ever since the panicked shout from Scott, but now seeing his bruised and battered son alive and breathing, his emotions were threatening to overwhelm him.

"Dad...What about...Five..." John's voice was barely more than a hoarse whisper, and Jeff's heart broke at seeing the effort it was taking just to say a few words, but he couldn't help but smile at his son's first concern being the space station, it was his pride and joy after all.

"Oh John, don't worry about Five. Alan is perfectly capable to stay a a bit longer up there, and we can always stick it on auto and bring him back down if need be."

John groaned and closed his eyes at his father's words. He knew he was in no fit state to be blasting off into space for at least a few weeks, but knowing that he had to leave his beloved craft in the clumsy hands of his youngest brother for longer than intended didn't exactly fill him with joy.

Taking John's reaction to be of one of pain, Jeff took one last look at his bruised son, wanting to hold him right at that very moment, to run his hands through the pale blond hair of the child he so nearly lost just moments before. But he knew it wouldn't be much longer until he could do just that, and nobody was going to stop him running down to the silos even before Two had cut her engines. "Well, see you soon son. Gordon?"

"Yes?" Gordon asked, lifting the watch so his father could see him.

"Don't forget about yourself. Understood?"

"Yes Sir."

"Ok then, base out." And with that, John's watch went back to displaying the time, hiding the marvellous technology that hid beyond the face. In the sudden silence, the sound of someone crashing through the forest around them could be heard getting closer.

"Well then," Gordon said cheekily, carefully replacing the watch on John's wrist. "Are you ready to be smothered?"

John groaned once again. He, like all four of his brothers, hated being smothered, but it didn't stop them doing it to each other when any of them were hurt. But the four youngest agreed on one thing, Scott was most definitely the worst out of all of them.

Gordon patted his brother's shoulder in sympathy before picking up and replacing the mask again. He himself had plenty of experience when it came to Scott in his mother hen mode. In fact, it was only the timely intervention of John and Virgil bodily dragging Scott away that had stopped Gordon from putting another Tracy in the hospital. But he had to admit, it did however encourage him to get his legs working again, if only to run as far away as possible at the first opportunity.

"JOHN!" With a final crash through the foliage, narrowly ducking a low branch, Scott, his arms covered in scratches from his mad dash, stumbled onto the rocky beach, his heart skipping a beat at the prone form lying close to the water being attended to my his red-headed brother. Practically tripping over his feet in his haste, he skidded to a halt at John's side, automatically taking the oxygen mask from his younger brother, who scooted backwards out the way, knowing better than to resist.

Like his father before him, Scott had to reign in his emotions at the sight of his brother. His eyes immediately latching onto John's chest, which was rising and falling steadily and he visibly relaxed. Ever since he had seen John's limp body fall from the platform before hitting the water, closely followed by Gordon diving in, Scott couldn't stop the dark thoughts, and they had haunted him throughout his hurried landing and subsequent run through the forest. But as John's eyes slowly opened and slowly focused on Scott, all of the Field Commander's worst fears dissipated and he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Hey John." He said softly, using his free hand to gently shift his brother's wet hair from off of his forehead.

"...Hey..." John winced as his split lip twanged in protest, but considering that even breathing hurt at the moment, a split lip was nothing in comparison.

"How are you feeling?"

John groaned once again in reply, his eyelids slowly sliding shut. What he wouldn't do for some high strength painkillers right now.

"Oi, John, look at me! You know the drill, no sleeping on the job." Scott commanded, smiling as John reluctantly peeled back his eyelids to look at him again. "That bad huh?"

Scott definitely didn't need an answer for that question, the look he received spoke volumes. He shrugged off his backpack that contained the medi-kit from Thunderbird 1, handing it to Gordon, who's face lit up when he realised what it was. He opened it up, digging out two packages the size of a pack of cards, which when unfolded, were emergency thermal blankets, just what both he and John needed while they waited for the green workhorse that was Thunderbird 2 to arrive. Chucking one package at Scott, he unfolded and draped his around his shoulders before resuming his dig around in the backpack.

"God, John. I must have aged at least 10 years. Seriously. I'm sure I've gone grey." Scott joked as he unfolded and wrapped John in the blanket. "Next time leave the swimming to the family goldfish, eh?" He continued, waving a hand in Gordon's direction, just as his watch started vibrating and beeping. Bringing his arm back in, he activated the watch and was greeted by the sight of his remaining earth-bound brother.

"About time. Where the hell have you been?" He asked, forgoing protocol. It shouldn't have taken as long as it did for Virgil to drop off the casualties, the rendezvous point wasn't that far away.

"Sorry Scott. It took a bit longer than I thought to get a particular comatose hiker out of my bird. Man, how much did Gords inject him with?"

"Erm, it may have been the whole thing all at once." Gordon replied, loud enough for Virgil to hear it, who let out a long whistle.

"Damn, no wonder he was completely out. Anyway, I'm coming up on your position, you can probably hear me."

Turning his head, Scott listened for a moment. Virgil was right, he could hear a distinctive faint whine in the distance.

"Indeed I can. Has Dad given you the run-down?"

"Yep. Drop plat, let you get John on, raise plat, set auto-pilot, get John comfortable, head home, make a bee-line for the infirmary and drag you away when John decides he wants to strangle you."

Both Gordon and John let out a small chuckle at the last bit, the latter unfortunate enough to have it turn into a cough, groaning again as pain shot around his ribcage, weakly waving away Scott who started to fuss over him.

At seeing his two older brothers, Virgil couldn't help but smile. Scott was most definitely in full-on smothering mode. Manipulating the controls around him, he reduced his speed and prepared the rescue platform to drop. "Right Scott, See you in a minute. Thunderbird 2 out."

"FAB Virge." Scott muttered, not entirely impressed with his comment about dragging him away. He was not a mother hen, he just cared about his little brothers, that was all. And anyway, surely Dad was worse than him.

"Right then, let's get this show on the road." Gordon announced. Scott lifted his head to look at the red-head, noticing he had pulled out a pack of mild painkillers from the backpack. Frowning, Scott shook his head, surely his brother would realise John needed something stronger.

Gordon looked at his eldest brother for a second, not quite understanding what he was getting at. Looking down at the box he held, realisation dawned. Holding up a finger to signal to wait, the aquanaut popped out a couple of tablets, throwing them into his mouth and dry-swallowing them as quickly as possible, before grabbing a hypo-spray that contained a strong painkiller out of the bag and throwing it to Scott.

"Gords?" Scott asked, concern in his voice as he expertly caught the flying object with one hand.

"It's nothing Scott." Gordon replied. The last thing he needed was mother hen to start clucking over him as well.

"What is it? Is it your back?"

"Yeah. It's hard to dive whilst wearing a pack. But, as I said to Space Man here, it's nothing some rest and muscle rub won't fix."

Scott didn't look convinced, but before he could say anything the whine overhead became a roar as the green hulk of Thunderbird 2 came into view above the trees. Deciding that he would sort out Gordon later, he twisted the dosage dial on the hypo-spray in his hands, gently placing it on the side of his brother's neck, avoiding the livid bruise that was rapidly spreading.

"Ready?" He mouthed. The engines above him were too loud to for him to be heard.

John gave the barest of nods, steeling himself for what was coming next. Hypo-sprays weren't the most pain-free things at the best of time, but as they were quick and convenient, he could cope if it meant he had some long-term relief.

Checking the dosage one final time, Scott took at deep breath and pushed the plunger, feeling a pang of guilt as John jerked beneath him and screwed up his eyes. Even though he couldn't hear anything over the roar of the engines above him, he knew that John would be muttering curses fluently in multiple languages.

Gordon, having finally repacked the medi-kit, had slowly shifted to kneel next his brothers. Taking the used hypo-spray that was held out to him, he popped it back into the bag, before looking to Scott for the unspoken signal he knew was coming. On his nod, Gordon placed his hands on his blond brother's leg, and together with Scott, who removed the oxygen mask so he had both hands free, they carefully rolled John onto his back, keeping a careful eye out for any signs of him bringing up any more water that may be left inside him.

Having got John onto his back without incident, they both looked up at the aircraft above them, smiling at each other in relief as they saw the rescue platform descending towards them. As it brushed past the top-most branches they both looked at their brother, who grinned back at their concerned faces, the painkillers having well and truly kicked in. Shrugging their shoulders at each other, Scott pointed at the platform that was just about to touch down next to them, and Gordon nodded in understanding.

Taking a hold of John's legs as Scott grabbed him under the armpits, they carefully lifted him up off the ground, Gordon gritting his teeth as his back twanged. Despite the strong painkillers in his veins, John still hissed in pain as he was carried towards the platform which he had only recently exited. But this time, there was no chance he was going anywhere apart from into the Thunderbird currently hovering above the trees.

After what felt like an age, but in fact was only a few moments, John was carefully placed onto the cold metal floor of the platform, his head on Gordon's lap, who had sat on the floor with him, making it look like he was supporting his brother but his pale face was hinting otherwise. Scott walked out of the platform, and picked up the medi-kit and Gordon's oxygen pack, sending a signal to his brother in the pilot's seat that they were ready to go.

With a jolt, the platform started ascending upwards. Scott watched them go with a heavy heart. He wanted to be there with them, they were both in a bad way, even if Gordon wasn't admitting it yet, but Scott knew that he had to get Thunderbird 1 home as well. Well, at least in the faster craft he would probably be home before the others. Watching the platform until it passed into the belly of the green hulk, he turned to re-trace his steps through the forest, albeit at a slightly slower pace.

Back in the platform, the sudden silence as the doors shut left both John and Gordon's ears ringing. As the platform slowed to a halt, a chestnut-haired head popped over the railing, taking in the glad sight of the two faces looking straight back with wide grins, one of which was more drug-induced than anything.

"Ah, so you made it this time, did you?" Virgil joked, quickly assessing his brothers as he moved to open the gate, a hover stretcher at his side. John looked a right state as expected, but the painkilling shot Scott gave him seemed to be doing the job, and Gordon looked paler than normal, but that may have just been the whole situation catching up with him, he had just saved his brother's life after all.

"Yeah! Johnny boy decided to forgo the swim this time." Gordon joked back, his usual cheekiness not dampened by the increasing niggle that was forming in his spine. John rolled his eyes, not bothering to argue, he was feeling too out of it for that.

"Come on then, let's get you two settled in for the trip home." Virgil placed the stretcher on the floor as close as possible to his blond brother. "Gords? You up for one more lift?"

Gordon arched his back experimentally, grimacing as it clicked softly. "Yeah, I think so. Let's do it."

Taking a hold of John's legs, who was drifting quite happily in his pain-free state, Virgil helped Gordon gently move their brother onto the hover stretcher. Once John was safely secured, Virgil activated the stretcher and it slowly rose to waist height. Standing up, Virgil started to move towards the med-bay, before he realised Gordon was still sitting on the floor of the platform, a sheepish look on his face.

"Erm, could I have a hand?" He asked, his face turning the same shade as his hair in embarrassment. Here he was, young, fit and agile, yet unable to get up off the floor.

Unable to hide the amusement in his face, Virgil bent down and swiftly hauled the aquanaut to his feet, allowing him to lean on his shoulder as they moved the stretcher towards the med-bay. Even though Gordon had insisted to Scott he was fine, now that the adrenaline was leaving his system, he could tell he'd pulled a few muscles.

"You alright?" The medic asked, concerned but still finding the whole situation quite funny. Having noticed his brother's grimace, plus his need to be helped to his feet, Virgil realised that his paleness was due to his back. But seeing as he could still walk ok, it couldn't be too serious, but that wouldn't get him out of some prodding and poking later once John had been sorted.

"Nothing major, just pulled it a bit." Gordon admitted. He knew he wouldn't be able to hide anything from their field medic. "A few days off and I'll be right as rain."

"Ok." Virgil trusted his brother on issues relating to his back. He did know every niggle and ache it could throw at him, and if he said it was nothing major, then he was usually right. They had reached the med-bay, the door swishing open as they approached it. Manoeuvring both John and Gordon through the door, Virgil continued. "But prepare yourself for a double-smothering from both Scott and Dad if you're going to be out of action.

"Triple." A hoarse, yet sing-song voice came from the stretcher in front of them, and both of them looked down at John, who was grinning like a mad-man, definitely away with the fairies. "Dad, Scott aaand Virgie!"

Gordon hooted with laughter as Virgil's nostrils flared at the nickname Scott and John had given the middle child when he was a baby. Suddenly, a thoughtful smile came onto the medic's face, and he slotted the stretcher into the bay he had just reached, before moving to retrieve a hypo-spray containing a mild sedative and an oxygen mask from the supplies cupboard. Attaching the oxygen mask to John's face, he placed the hypo-spray onto John's neck, injecting just enough sedative to knock him out for the duration, not surprised at all when he didn't seem to feel it.

"There we go. Now, while you're taking a nap, I can sort Gords out. So when you wake up, you'll have all four of us ready to smother you! Isn't that nice, Mr Space Cadet?" Virgil asked, his voice syrupy sweet as he grinned evilly at his older brother.

As his mind went fuzzy once again, John realised what he had got himself into. As sleep finally took hold, he managed to utter a single fluent curse as his eyelids slid shut, much to the amusement of his brothers.

"What was that?" Gordon laughed. It wasn't very often Virgil had the upper hand on his two older brothers, especially John who was usually far away from the rest of them.

"Russian, I think." Virgil replied, inspecting the hypo-spray nonchalantly before placing it down on the cabinet next to him, before hooking up an array of monitors on his sleeping brother. "That should keep him quiet anyhow. Can't have him giving away all my embarrassing baby moments now can I?" Nudging his grinning brother towards the door and towards the cockpit, he grabbed a pack of paracetamol and a bottle of water from the same cupboard, placing them in Gordon's hands. "Come on, let's go home. We've got a couple of flapping hens to sort out!"