Name: Rain O'Cleary
E-mail: rain @ meianou.com
Title: I Know
Rating: PG
Summary: Scott's brotherly instincts are strong. Dancing shadows after midnight, the strength of brother and brother. Disclaimer: Thunderbirds belongs to Gerry Anderson, Carlton Entertainment and possibly other people as well. I do not claim that any of the characters or other related materials are mine.
Feedback: Will resort to begging.
~*~*~
The wood floor was cold beneath Scott's feet; his footsteps beat a steady rhythm in the darkness. He walked down the hallway, clad only in his pyjama bottoms. The air was cool against his bare skin; at the end of the hall the moon shone through the frosted glass. It was nothing more than a blurred shape, trying to bring light to the sombre night. Scott stifled a melancholy laugh; it was just past three in the morning, hardly nighttime.
He stilled outside the last bedroom on the hall; his fingers ghosted over the cold brass, his knuckles scraped against the wood panelling. He grasped the door handle and turned it, pushing the door open. The movement was controlled; he made sure not to make too much noise. Why should anyone else suffer just because he couldn't sleep? He closed the door silently, and he crept over to the bed, silent as a cat stalking its prey. The mattress dipped under his weight as he sat down, but John didn't stir from his slumber.
The bedspread was soft against Scott's skin as he reached across the bed; he took John's hand in his own. His breath escaped as a tiny sigh as he threaded his fingers with his brother's.
They had nearly lost him.
Scott's throat still constricted and his chest contorted painfully as the events played over again in his mind. A swirl of greys and blues; torrents of rain whipped up by furious winds. It had stung their skin, and had felt like a thousand needles all piercing their skins at once. Scott could still feel the pricks, stabbing into his skin. Whether the pain was real or imagined, he didn't know.
A blinding flash: a spear of lightening; thunder rolling across the city. Virgil's voice yelling through the maelstrom; a gust of wind tossing their blond haired brother in the air like a rag doll. Frantic scrambling, fingers grasping onto a concrete ledge. Blue eyes screaming up at Scott as winds buffeted the lightweight, lithe body.
Scott suppressed a shudder. Seeing John dangling five floors up, flames licking at his feet, held up only by a prayer… It was a sight Scott wouldn't wish upon anyone. It had been John's first rescue; he had come home with a concussion and a new fear in his eyes. There was something else though; the determination in John's mind had increased. He had never been one to back down from a challenge, always ready to defend and help the people around him… Scott, It's only a minor setback. Don't let it bother you. I'm certainly not letting it get to me. I'm not dead, you know. Scott tightened his grip on his brother's hand as the images danced before his eyes again. Would he ever forget? Would the sight's hellish ballet ever cease?
Pale lashes fluttered against a cheek, marred with purple and blue splotches. Blue eyes clouded with confusion fixed upon the intertwined fingers.
"Scott?" The voice was quiet, drifting in the silent darkness.
"I'm here, John." Scott said.
"Are you alright?" John asked, a hint of laughter in his voice.
John lifted his head a fraction of a centimetre above the pillow; he blinked to try to clear his bleary vision. Not that it mattered, he knew. It was too dark to see more than shadows waltzing on the illuminated window.
"Of course." Scott sighed. "I'm worried, though."
John's lips twitched at the corners. It was almost a smile, but the muscles were too tired to do much more.
"Don't."
Scott shook his head; some of his dark hair fell across his forehead. The answer sounded so simple. One syllable. A solitary word that rolled so easily off the tongue; if only it were really that straightforward…
"I have to." Scott pulled the errant strands of chocolate coloured hair back into their rightful place.
"I know." John's blue eyes swam with mirth, the thin moonlight shining off them.
John's fingers curled further around Scott's as his head fell back against the pillow. Pain thundered against his temples and his eyes closed once more; the effort to keep them open proved too much.
"I'm not dead." He said firmly, gripping Scott's hand harder.
John's voice was almost inaudible. If not for the silence of the night, Scott knew he would not have heard it. It was a quietly spoken confidence, more to reassure himself than Scott.
"I know."
Scott didn't want to think about how close his brother had come to death. How close the five Tracy brothers had been to becoming four. John had joked about it afterwards, saying he didn't think Death was such a bad guy. The almost undetectable waver in his voice gave it away. Scott had never been one to miss a trick, especially when it came to his brothers. He knew them all well; he knew their independent and unique body languages by heart. A seemingly meaningless swipe of a hand over a forehead; a bark of laughter to cover a fearful sob… He knew it all.
"You could have died." Scott said, bringing his other hand up to tuck stray blond locks behind John's ear.
"I know."
Time ticked by slowly in the silence. As fatigue threatened to engulf Scott, he began to unlace his fingers. John's hand refused to release the grip around them. Scott looked up; blue eyes met blue.
"Stay with me, until I fall back to sleep? Please?"
Scott could never turn away from that tone from anyone: small, reluctant to admit fear and need. It brought back too many memories for him. Being the eldest of four rambunctious brothers would never have been an easy task, even if their circumstances had been different.
"Of course."
"I love you." The words were quiet as John's mind let go of reality.
"I know." Scott said, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. "I know."
~*~*~
E-mail: rain @ meianou.com
Title: I Know
Rating: PG
Summary: Scott's brotherly instincts are strong. Dancing shadows after midnight, the strength of brother and brother. Disclaimer: Thunderbirds belongs to Gerry Anderson, Carlton Entertainment and possibly other people as well. I do not claim that any of the characters or other related materials are mine.
Feedback: Will resort to begging.
The wood floor was cold beneath Scott's feet; his footsteps beat a steady rhythm in the darkness. He walked down the hallway, clad only in his pyjama bottoms. The air was cool against his bare skin; at the end of the hall the moon shone through the frosted glass. It was nothing more than a blurred shape, trying to bring light to the sombre night. Scott stifled a melancholy laugh; it was just past three in the morning, hardly nighttime.
He stilled outside the last bedroom on the hall; his fingers ghosted over the cold brass, his knuckles scraped against the wood panelling. He grasped the door handle and turned it, pushing the door open. The movement was controlled; he made sure not to make too much noise. Why should anyone else suffer just because he couldn't sleep? He closed the door silently, and he crept over to the bed, silent as a cat stalking its prey. The mattress dipped under his weight as he sat down, but John didn't stir from his slumber.
The bedspread was soft against Scott's skin as he reached across the bed; he took John's hand in his own. His breath escaped as a tiny sigh as he threaded his fingers with his brother's.
They had nearly lost him.
Scott's throat still constricted and his chest contorted painfully as the events played over again in his mind. A swirl of greys and blues; torrents of rain whipped up by furious winds. It had stung their skin, and had felt like a thousand needles all piercing their skins at once. Scott could still feel the pricks, stabbing into his skin. Whether the pain was real or imagined, he didn't know.
A blinding flash: a spear of lightening; thunder rolling across the city. Virgil's voice yelling through the maelstrom; a gust of wind tossing their blond haired brother in the air like a rag doll. Frantic scrambling, fingers grasping onto a concrete ledge. Blue eyes screaming up at Scott as winds buffeted the lightweight, lithe body.
Scott suppressed a shudder. Seeing John dangling five floors up, flames licking at his feet, held up only by a prayer… It was a sight Scott wouldn't wish upon anyone. It had been John's first rescue; he had come home with a concussion and a new fear in his eyes. There was something else though; the determination in John's mind had increased. He had never been one to back down from a challenge, always ready to defend and help the people around him… Scott, It's only a minor setback. Don't let it bother you. I'm certainly not letting it get to me. I'm not dead, you know. Scott tightened his grip on his brother's hand as the images danced before his eyes again. Would he ever forget? Would the sight's hellish ballet ever cease?
Pale lashes fluttered against a cheek, marred with purple and blue splotches. Blue eyes clouded with confusion fixed upon the intertwined fingers.
"Scott?" The voice was quiet, drifting in the silent darkness.
"I'm here, John." Scott said.
"Are you alright?" John asked, a hint of laughter in his voice.
John lifted his head a fraction of a centimetre above the pillow; he blinked to try to clear his bleary vision. Not that it mattered, he knew. It was too dark to see more than shadows waltzing on the illuminated window.
"Of course." Scott sighed. "I'm worried, though."
John's lips twitched at the corners. It was almost a smile, but the muscles were too tired to do much more.
"Don't."
Scott shook his head; some of his dark hair fell across his forehead. The answer sounded so simple. One syllable. A solitary word that rolled so easily off the tongue; if only it were really that straightforward…
"I have to." Scott pulled the errant strands of chocolate coloured hair back into their rightful place.
"I know." John's blue eyes swam with mirth, the thin moonlight shining off them.
John's fingers curled further around Scott's as his head fell back against the pillow. Pain thundered against his temples and his eyes closed once more; the effort to keep them open proved too much.
"I'm not dead." He said firmly, gripping Scott's hand harder.
John's voice was almost inaudible. If not for the silence of the night, Scott knew he would not have heard it. It was a quietly spoken confidence, more to reassure himself than Scott.
"I know."
Scott didn't want to think about how close his brother had come to death. How close the five Tracy brothers had been to becoming four. John had joked about it afterwards, saying he didn't think Death was such a bad guy. The almost undetectable waver in his voice gave it away. Scott had never been one to miss a trick, especially when it came to his brothers. He knew them all well; he knew their independent and unique body languages by heart. A seemingly meaningless swipe of a hand over a forehead; a bark of laughter to cover a fearful sob… He knew it all.
"You could have died." Scott said, bringing his other hand up to tuck stray blond locks behind John's ear.
"I know."
Time ticked by slowly in the silence. As fatigue threatened to engulf Scott, he began to unlace his fingers. John's hand refused to release the grip around them. Scott looked up; blue eyes met blue.
"Stay with me, until I fall back to sleep? Please?"
Scott could never turn away from that tone from anyone: small, reluctant to admit fear and need. It brought back too many memories for him. Being the eldest of four rambunctious brothers would never have been an easy task, even if their circumstances had been different.
"Of course."
"I love you." The words were quiet as John's mind let go of reality.
"I know." Scott said, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. "I know."