Chapter Text
John Tracy blinked his eyes open, breath catching when he discovered the most beautiful thing in his universe mere centimetres from his face. A faint smile touched his lips as his gaze lingered like gentle fingers – traced a perfectly arched, raven eyebrow, trailed along exquisite cheekbones, idly riffled a strand of hair so black he could see the blue.
He felt his lover stir in his mind even before the pale, grey eyes opened, found John’s, latched on with a warmth that should have been impossible for such a cold colour. The astronaut found himself wondering, not for the first time, if Virgil would be able to capture that conflict on canvas. One day maybe he’d be able to ask.
“Morning, Casp,” he whispered, using an actual finger this time to slide the silky hair aside so he could ease in for a gentle kiss. Caspian’s lips met his and drew out the kiss until they were both softly breathless.
“Is it? Morning, I mean?” Caspian groaned, stretching contentedly under the light bio-blanket. “It’s been a long time since I felt this well. Thank you, Jay.”
“That delights me,” John smiled, “but it was just basic antibiotics and hydration. As for the injury it was you who formulated a catalyst and suggested the bonding agent that made a viable treatment even feasible. After years of failure on my part, I might add.”
“And all of your earlier work meant nothing of course,” Caspian teased. “Don’t be so hard on yourself – you’re an astrophysicist, not a chemist.” His face sobered. “Will it work?”
“I’m hopeful,” the astronaut offered, “but it’s too early to know for sure. And if it doesn’t we’ll just soldier on. We have the rest of our lives to figure it out.” Thoughtfully John played his fingers in a wave pattern along his partner’s much too prominent ribcage. “Obviously we’ll keep on with the treatments but we also need to increase your calorie intake. Gotta put some more weight on you so you can start doing gentle workouts in the gym.”
Caspian propped himself up on an elbow, his grin quirking up on one side as he rested his cheek on his fist. “That’s not likely to happen unless you put a proper kitchen in here,” he teased. “I know you swear by those prepack whatever-you-call-‘ems that your brother brings up, but – hey! What’s with the sudden forehead crunch, Jay?”
“Virgil’s doing a supply run today,” the astronaut sighed. “I completely forgot to tell him to bring extra …”
‘Excuse me, John, for interrupting. I have taken the liberty of requesting Virgil to double the consumables required.’
Caspian’s lips twitched as he smothered a chuckle. It was the first time he’d seen his normally eloquent partner at a loss for words. John found his voice quickly, though, and he didn’t sound pleased.
“Eos, what exactly did you tell him? To double everything?”
‘I simply stated the facts. 92% of inventoried edibles have fallen below acceptable levels.’
“Did Virgil ask you why?”
‘He did. You have requested me not to mention Caspian in any transmissions and I have not done so,’ Eos responded, her artificial voice managing to sound insulted. ‘However, the likelihood of Virgil making further inquiries is …’
“Eos, stop.” John gritted his teeth against the hundred-and-one other things he wanted to say, settling on “thank you.”
“So is this the day you introduce me to at least one brother?” Caspian wondered, a wisp of a smile teasing the corners of his lips.
John sighed. “It might be. Let’s see how it plays out.”
“Why so reluctant?” Caspian abruptly sat up, shoulder-length raven hair slanting across icy, grey eyes which were suddenly a degree or two colder. “Are you ashamed of me, John?”
“No! Of course not! I’m … it’s … there’s so many things my family doesn’t know …” Sea-green eyes pleaded for understanding. “Casp, I’m … I’m afraid. Not just about us but about the treatments. Virgil sacrificed so much …”
“Hey.” Caspian’s arms folded around John. “It’s okay, it’ll be fine.” The physical touch pulled the astronaut back to reality like a tether anchoring him from a drift in empty space. “From what you’ve told me about your brothers, I think they’ll understand. I want to meet them, get to know them, be part of your family. I’ve never had that in my life. Please tell me it’s gonna happen!”
“Yeah, of course.” John cupped the back of his partner’s head and drew it towards him so their foreheads touched. “I want that too, Casp, very much. I just need to take it one step at a time.”
“Okay, but don’t wait too long to take the first one,” Caspian cautioned with a deadly serious face. “I could use a bowl of ciorba de fasole …” His eyes glazed over, “oh, and papanasi with cream and blueberry jam!”
John snorted, his grin startling even himself. “I’ll see what I can do, you really need to gain some weight."
Caspian’s lips quirked. “Eos,” he addressed the station’s AI, “what’s Virgil’s ETA?”
‘Thunderbird 3 is scheduled to depart on time, Caspian. Docking in one hour and five minutes.’
“Mmm …” Caspian settled back, blue-black hair fanned out around his face on the bleach-white pillow. “Can I interest you in skipping breakfast, Starman?”
John sighed, losing himself in the sensation of running his fingers through inky, silky strands. “I am a little bored with bagels.”
Virgil hummed to himself, automatically adjusting the octave to compensate for the sound distortion inside his helmet. He released the heavily loaded hover-lift from its clamps and sent it toward Five’s docking hatch with a push of his pinkie finger. Space wasn’t his favourite hangout but he did enjoy the routine supply runs to Five – a chance to deliver a few special treats and spend some one-on-one with his elusive, space-dwelling brother.
Eos had been very clear when requesting twice the normal consumables. Virgil pondered the mystery as he effortlessly guided the lift towards the airlock. Five’s stock levels had been dipping below the minimums with alarming frequency over the past couple of months. Virgil had done the math and no matter how he juggled the numbers they refused to add up. So unless John had put on an extra five kilos, or Eos had evolved into a living-breathing-eating human, there were going to be some serious questions. After consuming the treats he’d brought, of course.
John met him at the airlock where they exchanged the usual one-armed hug, clap-on-the-back thing. Enough of a thing for Virgil to tell that his younger brother was his usual toned but extremely lithe self. He removed his helmet, clipping it to his baldric, as the astronaut half-walked, half-floated gracefully beside him. John had obviously increased gravity in the ring. Virgil estimated it at .7g, most likely an attempt to make him more comfortable.
Side by side they followed the hover lift towards cryo-storage with Eos now guiding it, her circle of blinking, white lights gliding silently on the track above them. “Been quiet lately,” Virgil offered to fill the silence, hesitant to touch John’s thoughts unless he made the effort first.
“Yeah. Can’t say I mind,” John admitted with a half-hearted shrug, choosing a verbal response without so much as a shiver of interest skittering across his mental shielding. Eos slipped the lift neatly into cryo-storage ahead of them. Working as a well-rehearsed team, the two men stacked its contents efficiently into the appropriate cubicles.
“Expecting an apocalypse?” Virgil inquired innocently as he hefted the last of the supplies off the lift. “This will easily last you for a couple of months, John. Not to mention your other odd requests, like the extra atmosphere suits I brought up on the last run. Seriously, bro, what secrets are you keeping up here?”
“Secrets!” John’s expression briefly slipped into alarm before returning to neutral. “I … uh … I’ve simply been adjusting the minimum stock levels.”
“Sure.” Virgil let it go – for the moment – and grabbed the insulated bag he’d stashed on the side. “Let’s eat. I hope you’re starving.”
“I am, actually. Skipped breakfast.” The astronaut conjured up a tentative smile as they headed towards Five’s tiny food prep area. “What did you bring?”
“Not telling, but I will say it earned the Terrible Two stamp of approval. Gords was a bit vocal at first about the lack of veggies but he came around pretty quick.” Virgil winced. “I’m afraid I might have gone just slightly overboard. Scott’s gonna freak when he gets the invoice.”
“So, not hamburgers and fries then?” John guessed, scrounging up some wilted but well-meant enthusiasm.
“Nope, not this time. And – as per Eos’ instructions – I brought twice as much as I usually do.”
“Wha … wh … why?”
Virgil openly stared at his space brother. Something was definitely going on with John. He simply did not stutter and he always had a precise explanation or a quirky comeback on the tip of his tongue no matter what was thrown at him.
“Are you okay, John? I’m serious. You’re not acting at all like yourself.” Virgil’s concern instinctively reached out to touch his brother telepathically. His mind brushed against an unexpected mountain of self-doubt and indecision that was quickly buried in a landslide of embarrassment.
“Please. Don’t.”
Virgil immediately pulled back behind his mental shielding. “Whatever’s going on, Johnny, you can talk to me. You know that, right?”
“I know, it’s just …”
“He-llo!” Virgil came to an abrupt halt as they reached the kitchen area and the slender, young man seated at the table self-consciously eased himself to his feet. John smothered an alarmed squawk and grabbed Virgil’s baldric, borrowing some of his brother’s solid bulk in order to stay upright.
“Virgil? I’m Caspian. It’s wonderful to finally meet you.” A skeletal hand poked out from one of John’s oversized NASA sweatshirts.
Virgil set down the bag and grasped the proffered hand with a bit less vigour than his usual handshake, afraid of crushing fragile bones if he wasn’t careful. A delighted smile spread across his face as all of John’s erratic behaviors suddenly slotted themselves neatly into places he hadn’t expected.
“It’s awesome to meet you too, Caspian. I hope you’re hungry, man, I brought enough grub for four.”
“That sounds great, right John? We were just talking about …” Caspian’s voice trailed off as he cast an imploring gaze at his lover. John opened his mouth to speak but all that emerged was a timid squeak.
Virgil pulled his brother into his side, clapping him lightly on the back. “Hey, bro, this is amazing! It’s about time.” Caspian’s face lit up, grey eyes flicking back and forth as he hopefully searched both of their faces. John was so rigid Virgil was afraid he might accidently snap in half. Clearing his throat, he let go of his brother. Caspian’s face fell.
Virgil could hear his Grandma’s voice as clearly as if she was there with them …
Now just sit down and have something nice to eat, boys. You’ll all feel better in no time.
“Let’s eat, guys.” Virgil reached into the insulated bag and pulled out a roll of bamboo which he spread out into a board almost as large as the tabletop. Thinly sliced, wagyu beef made an appearance, quickly followed by Iberian ham, smoked salmon, tuna sashimi, a slab of pale, crumbly cheese, various interesting crackers and hunks of rustic bread. An assortment of sauces, nuts and olives were extricated along with white soy sauce, wasabi and pickled ginger before Virgil slid out a six pack of beer with a sigh of satisfaction. “I thought about wine, but …”
“Virgil, this is a feast!” Caspian’s eyes darted from one delicacy to the next and then to his partner who had deflated like a day-old balloon and drifted down into a chair.
Virgil helped himself to a stray slice of wagyu, chasing it down with a long, satisfied swig of beer. “So, tell me, how did you two meet?”
“John rescued me,” Caspian explained casually, laying claim to a chunk of bread, a slice of ham and some cheese. A stray crumb alerted Five’s automatic vac system and was sucked up instantaneously.
Virgil’s forehead crumpled in confusion. He glanced at his brother, but John was totally engrossed in balancing a slice of raw tuna on a cracker as though the world’s survival depended on its precise alignment. It was, however, carelessly abandoned mid-air as one of the various IR alarms on the station sounded and John sprang out of his chair, vanishing at what had to be close to mach speed.
“Saved by the bell,” Virgil smirked, calmly observing cracker behaviour in .7g as he took another swig of beer and propped his boots up on John’s vacated chair. “So what’s up with my space bro, Caspian? He’s always private with his personal life but this seems extreme.”
“He’s not sure how you and your brothers will react when they find out he has a partner. A male partner to be specific,” Caspian answered honestly as he cracked open a beer for himself. “Has he even told you guys he’s bi?”
Virgil snorted. “For a genius, John can sometimes be a bit of a real life idiot. How long have you two known each other?”
“Just short of three months,” Caspian confessed. “Feels like a lot longer. I’m curious, though, how did you know we were a couple as soon as you met me?”
“John doesn’t exactly get a lot of drop-in company up here,” Virgil chuckled, “and if that’s all you were, we’d have known about it way before now. He’s been on the station for three consecutive months, though, so how the heck did you two even get the opportunity to meet? You said he rescued you?”
“Yeah, he actually did.” Caspian smiled fondly, then sighed. “I’m fine with telling you the whole story, Virgil, but I’d like John to be with us when I do.” He cleared his throat. “It’s a bit awkward, I mean knowing everything about you and your brothers while you know nothing about me.”
“Everything, huh?” Virgil chewed thoughtfully on a piece of ham as he contemplated the implications of that. Before he could ask the first of several burning questions, the station’s alarm volume shot up the decibel scale to deafening. Eos cut through the shrieking.
‘Impact with Station imminent. Prepare for possible hull breach.’
Virgil’s boots hit the deck as he transitioned into rescue mode before blinking. “Caspian, do you know where to find an emergency suit?”
“Yes. Go help John.” The young man was already moving and his quick reaction reassured Virgil that Caspian knew what to do. He snapped the helmet off his baldric and put it on, twisting it into lock position as he made his way as quickly as possible to the command sphere.
“Caspian’s gone for a suit,” he reassured his space brother before John had a chance to ask. “What can I do?”
“Find him, get back to Thunderbird 3 and launch,” John instructed calmly, his body horizontal in the comm sphere’s zero g, blue-gloved fingers moving rapidly through and across multiple streams of holographic information. “Ditch the protocols, Virg, just get as much distance between you and Five as you can. I’m not certain I can avoid a collision.”
Virgil didn’t know what they were about to collide with, nor did he need to. What he did know was that John was doing everything in his power to keep it from happening.
“FAB,” he growled, reluctantly turning his back on his brother and heading for the nearest suit-up station where he found John’s partner closing the last fastening on one of Five’s emergency suits. They were designed to fit all of the brothers, and since Caspian was even leaner than John he was almost lost in the baggy cloud of space-rated neoprene.
Virgil snatched a helmet, settled it onto Caspian’s suit latches and clicked it into place. “C’mon, let’s go!” He grabbed a fistful of loose suit and powered both of them towards the airlock.
“No!” Caspian writhed and twisted in his grip. “Let go of me! I’m not leaving John!”
Virgil half-plowed, half-swam forward, his expression a rigid mask of fear for his brother’s safety. “John’s doing his best to avoid a collision,” he asserted, trying to convince not only Caspian but himself. “We need to launch Thunderbird 3, keep her safe. If this goes sideways John’s gonna need our help.”
He was no match for Virgil’s muscular strength, but Caspian continued to struggle. “John!” he screamed. “Come with us! Please!”
“I have to try and save her, Casp!” The astronaut’s voice was icy, brittle, calm but close to cracking. “Virg, get outta here, now.”
“Working on it,” Virgil panted as they finally reached the airlock. His heart thrummed in his ribcage hard enough to bruise, every instinct telling him to turn around and help Caspian drag John, kicking and screaming, out of his beloved space station. But there wasn’t enough time and there weren’t enough words to change his brother’s mind. Virgil clung onto John’s partner instead, concentrated on getting his own breathing under control as he waited impatiently for the airlock to cycle. When it finally released them into Thunderbird Three’s zero g, he shoved a sobbing Caspian into the co-pilot’s seat and ruthlessly fastened every emergency restraint at his disposal.
Five’s thrusters were firing in small bursts as John executed frequent course corrections. Virgil eased himself sideways into the pilot’s seat, opting for a single restraint to anchor himself in place. Waving up flight control, he swiped the safety protocols off of his display and manually activated the docking ring. If all went according to plan, the rocket would separate from the station in 30 seconds.
There were scrabbling sounds as Caspian’s fingers, unfamiliar with the cumbersome, space-rated gloves, pawed awkwardly at the restraints. Virgil steeled himself for the comm call he was about to make.
“Thunderbird Three to Tracy Island. We have a situation.”
“Virgil?” Scott’s response was instantaneous, his tone conveying confused curiosity. “It’s a supply run. What’s happening?”
“Thunderbird Five’s on a collision course, I’m separating Three to keep her safe but John’s still onboard, hoping to diffuse the situation.”
“A collision course with what?” Scott demanded.
“Unknown. Stand by.”
“Stand by!? Wh …”
Virgil cut the channel. He’d answer to his field commander later, but right now he needed clear communication with John and there was nothing Scott could do from Earth.
“John …”
Two things happened instantaneously.
The station shuddered, Three quaking around him as the shock of a collision reverberated through her hull.
And Caspian managed to paw his way out of the last remaining restraint, his abrupt movements sending him into an out-of-control tumble across the cockpit.
Cahelium grated against cahelium in the partially rotated docking ring, amplifying the impact of the collision. Caspian’s pinwheel rapidly gained momentum. He collided with Three’s hull and rebounded, moving even faster.
Virgil released his single restraint with the same, smooth flow of movement that had fastened it. He was no ballet-dancer like John in zero g, but he’d suffered through enough training exercises to move effectively. The faintest of push-offs propelled him into a gentle float and he was able to reach Caspian with very little momentum. He folded his arms gently around the baggy atmosphere suit.
“Casp? Virg! Respond!”
“We’re okay, John,” Virgil confirmed, squinting against dizziness as the cockpit spun in slow motion around him. “What’s your status?”
“Glancing impact, seals holding, spaceframe intact. Your launch sequence has been aborted,” the astronaut recited mechanically before his voice cracked. “Caspian?”
“Went into a bit of a tumble and bounce but I have him. Is the airlock accessible, John?”
“Working on it.”
Virgil’s suit brushed gently against a seat back. He allowed his gloved fingertips to graze along it, first slowing, then stabilizing their erratic movement. The weightless body securely wrapped in his one-armed grip offered no resistance.
“Caspian, you with me, buddy?”
A raspy intake of breath.
“Everything’s fine, I’ve got you,” he reassured, rescue medic rising to the fore. “John’s okay, you’re okay, you just got the wind knocked out of you. Probably a bruise or two and a guaranteed shit load of disorientation.”
“I don’t … I think … maybe …” Caspian’s thin voice faded as John’s, tight and tense, sliced through comms.
“Virg, where did he take the hit? Precisely.”
“Relax, bro. There wasn’t enough force to do any serious dam …”
“There’s medical information you don’t have,” John interrupted urgently.
“Right side, shoulder and upper back,” the medic advised, instantly adjusting his grip on Caspian. He tapped their visors together gently, squinting through multiple layers of tinted plexi. “Shit. He’s unconscious, John.”
“Handle him gently, bro?” the astronaut pleaded.
They’d been through some intense situations together, but Virgil hadn’t heard that level of angst in his brother’s voice since Dad had been lost. He ripped his attention away from John back to Caspian, promising himself that Eos would be incorporating medical telemetry into the spare, emergency suits as soon as he could make it happen.
“Airlock activating now.”
The instant the seals hissed, John pushed off the frame directly towards them. Entirely at home in zero g, he aligned Caspian’s neck, back and left shoulder while Virgil took his lower body. Swiftly they brought the hover stretcher John had prepped underneath him and moved quickly to Five’s Medbay. It wasn’t large enough to qualify as a true infirmary but there were bio-locks and pressurized capsules for two stretchers across from a gleaming, metal worksurface and a row of sterile, sealed cabinets loaded with as many medical supplies as could possibly be crammed in.
After locking the stretcher in place, John eased Caspian’s helmet off while Virgil hastily removed his own, evaluating vital signs and scans holographically relayed via the bio-locks. His eyes widened in shock at the extent of deep trauma and internal tissue damage he was seeing. It was caused by something far more severe than bumping into things at zero g. Yanking off his cumbersome gloves the medic fiddled with the display, bringing up a more definitive scan.
“What the …” Virgil squinted but it didn’t alter what he was seeing. “Wait … that’s … he’s …”
“An ave,” John supplied. “He’s an ave, just like us.”