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tippystreasurebox · 9 months

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For better or worse

[Ao3]

Summary:

One-shot cause I really needed to write something XD

Gordon can't catch a break, but at least he has someone ready to pull him out of the fire.

Grit dug into his cheek as he lay across the asphalt, the burn of it raking across his skin not nearly as painful as the searing heat on his back. Head pounding, Gordon tried to push himself up from the torturous road, the need to reorient himself overshadowing the ringing of his ears and blurring of watery vision.

"Pen-" came out choked from smoke hanging in the air. She'd been right in front of him, but now he couldn't find her and that sent new waves of terror through his chest.

Gordon made it to his knees when hands grabbed his shoulders from behind, fingers wrapping into the fabric of his ruined shirt to guide him to his feet. He didn't have a chance to turn before he was led farther from the fiery wreckage. The heat difference was almost immediate as he was moved to the safety of another vehicle and he collapsed onto his rear to sit against the cool metal.

"Gordon?" Penelope's voice sent bright amber eyes wide as Gordon found her crouching in front of him.

"Pen!" Instinctively, his hand reached out to cradle her face, the image of red trickling past her ear catching his breath. "You okay?"

"Just fine, darling," she smiled, leaning into his touch. "You took most of the blast, I'm afraid."

The blast had been their rental car, one Gordon had greatly enjoyed driving up until getting in after the gala and hearing an ominous click. With his head clearing, he leaned over, peering around their cover to see the vehicle in flames. Wincing, the aquanaut turned back to the woman who'd pulled him far enough away before the bomb had detonated. "That was pretty close, huh?"

"Too close." Penelope took his improving state as a sign to join him against the car, leaning into his side as he wrapped an arm around her. "I'm sorry. I should've checked."

"No reason to check, you're not on assignment, remember?" Gordon placed a kiss on top of her disheveled curls. "Honeymoons don't usually come with assassination attempt warnings."

The cry of sirens in the distance was a welcome comfort as they both recognized the danger of a potential assassin still lurking, waiting to ensure the job was done. If someone was out there, though, Gordon doubted they would try again with the authorities on the way. The sound of a ship stealthily landing on a cleared area of the parking lot solidified that idea. Kayo emerged moments later, a med kit bumping against the aquanaut's leg as she assessed the situation.

"That was quick," Gordon teased as a wad of gauze pressed into his cheek. "Ow."

"Happened to be in the area," Kayo offered with a telling smile. She was there extra security - secret extra security apparently, but he wasn't about to complain. "Wish I could've been here sooner."

As he was encouraged to lean forward so she could examine his back, Gordon found himself wishing the same. Penelope's fingers interlacing with his own drew his attention away from those thoughts and he returned a gentle squeeze. Being a little singed was okay as long as they made it through the ordeal alive.

"Hey, it's our honeymoon," Gordon grinned. "Things are supposed to get hot."

And the subtle laughter from the woman in his arms was worth the body aches.

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #gordon tracy #lady penelope #penelope creighton ward #pen and ink #pen&ink #whump

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tippystreasurebox · 10 months

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Sudden Stop

Chapter 3 - Finale

Testing took longer than any of them expected. The first prototype worked, in that each piece connected, but with movements that would have definitely broken the users legs. When Gordon was ruled out as the culprit - he was eager to see the machine work, but breaking his limbs was not what was running through his head at the time - everyone went back to the drawing board. To the blonde, it seemed like a huge setback, but he didn't understand enough of the inner workings to see anything other than a long wait.

His wait had been moved off the island a week in, Alan taking him to Penelope's for a moment of relaxation. If it weren't for his girlfriend, Gordon was certain the stay would be anything but relaxing. The sight of her had calmed him the moment they landed. She was standing by the garage in a pair of gray leggings and the pink sweater he'd bought her on their last trip to New York. The tiny embroidered whale still lay barely visible against her hip.

So maybe he had needed a break and Penelope was the best option. While he let himself relax, his family worked. They sent him updates, because he couldn't help but call every few days. They were optimistic. They always wore smiles for him and he offered one back, regardless of what progress could be given. Patience. Gordon had waited this long. What was one more month?

[Read on Ao3]

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #gordon tracy #virgil tracy #whump

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tippystreasurebox · 10 months

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Sudden Stops

Chapter 2

"You made it pretty far today," John's voice was surprisingly upbeat in comparison to the five feet that Gordon had actually managed to make it with the assistance of his walker. It didn't help that the distance had left him breathless and aching, something he would expect after a marathon.

Maybe it was the exhaustion or the fact that he could lay down and make it a farther length than he'd walked, but Gordon snapped, regardless of the reason, "I didn't do shit, John!" The urge to throw the walker was thwarted by the fact he still needed it.

To his credit - and years of being communications central for iR - his brother didn't bite. What he did do, however, was catch Gordon as the wave of emotion took away the concentration needed to stay standing. John probably should have ended the session, called over the hover chair and sent the former-aquanaut on his away, but instead, he carefully lowered them both to the floor, a supportive hand on Gordon's back. They weren't going anywhere any time soon.

[Read on Ao3]

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #gordon tracy #john tracy #virgil tracy

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tippystreasurebox · 10 months

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Sudden Stop

Chapter 1

Summary:

Change can happen in the blink of an eye or the slamming of a brake. Gordon discovers just how different his world can become after one heart-stopping moment.

A/N: Holy moly its been a whiiiiiile! This fic took way to long to write XD So much thanks to @gaviiadastra for cheering me on! Hope yall enjoy it!

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

The problem with sudden stops had always been in their name. They're sudden and impossible to prepare for. Sure, a seat belt or safety harness can provide a more desired outcome, but that doesn't lessen the heart pounding effect that comes from the unexpected shock. Gordon had neither of those safety measures from his place on top of the runaway train, so when power began flowing back through its systems and hit the emergency brakes that were already initiated, the resulting screech was his only warning.

[Read on Ao3]

No call from above, no time to shout. Gordon was airborne with the sound of the train coming to a stop under the thundering of his heart in his ears. The world tilted as something in his mind told him to prepare for the crash. Protect his head, his neck, arms are expandable, legs can be fixed.

He hit on his right side, lungs losing the breath he'd been holding. The world spun as he bounced and pain took over conscious thought, arms splaying outward to stop his next impact. It came nonetheless, hard with the remaining momentum from the train and this time knives dug through his back until they reached his head. The rest of his fall was into sudden darkness and Gordon couldn't hear his heart anymore, or the calls coming through his comm, or the VTOL as Two landed way too close. He was gone for all of it and later he would consider that a good thing.

Gordon couldn't remember the first time he woke up, but there was a vague echo of groaning and words spoken through a tunnel that sounded more like a memory than consciousness. The first true moment of awareness, though, he wished he could go back under, away from the masked faces that kept asking him questions he didn't have answers for. Where were his brothers? They would know where he was, what day, can he feel that? Feel what? His head hurt too much to concentrate on anything more than breathing in and out. In and out until the fog rolled back in and he slept.

Awareness came back in waves, blurry images, fingers in his hand, low voices talking about technical things, simple things… about him. There were smells that connected him to faces, one of which he wanted to see, but the fog remained and the coffee faded.

Full awareness came not with a blinking away of bright lights or a dry throat that wouldn't let him talk, but with excruciating pain that radiated through his back. Gordon groaned out a whimper as tears sprang to clenched eyelids.

"Easy, kiddo," his father's voice was soft as his fingers laced into his son's. "Are you in pain?"

Yes… but all that came out was another groan.

"Alright, I've got you," the sound of a button clicked next to his head and he waited, breathing in and out as little as he could until the ache dulled and the fog sat at the edge of his mind. Gordon didn't fall back to sleep, though. Instead, amber eyes peeked out from behind heavy lids, blinking to clear away the haze across his father's face.

"D'd…"

"Hey, Fish. I'm here. Your brothers will be back soon."

"Wha'h'ppened?" Gordon whispered past a tongue that felt too big.

He father's smile wavered as he considered the answer, "Do you remember the train?"

"Mmhmm… outta c'ntrol."

A nod and Jeff continued, "There was an accident and you fell off. Hit your head. You cracked some ribs."

"Ah… that's why… it hurts," the pain medication was doing its job well enough as Gordon found it easier to focus on his words. "Anything else?"

At this, his father paused, lips thinning as his eyes shifted to the window. It was a simple tell, but it carried an uneasiness with it that Gordon felt in his gut. Jeff Tracy didn't falter often and, if he did, it wasn't for long. "The doctors have you scheduled for a few more surgeries if they think they're necessary."

"Necessary? Why can't they… tell now?" The thought of going under for any reason sent his nerves on end.

"They have to wait for the swelling to come down. It shouldn't take long." A glint of moisture sparkled in the light coming through the curtains, his father's tone lowering with the thick emotions, "We almost lost you, kiddo. Whatever happens, I'm just glad you're still with us."

A warm hand pushed back the blonde hair hanging over Gordon's forehead where bandages hadn't kept them in check. It was a comfort against the muted ache and groggy haze that was taking over. There were more questions to be asked, he knew, but his body was still tired, his father was there, and everything would be fine.

Gordon's eyes opened, but his company had changed and he realized he must have fallen asleep. Back was the smell of coffee and the image of Virgil gradually came into view. He looked as tired as Gordon felt, but the moment their eyes met, the weariness evaporated and his co-pilot was grabbing his hand.

"Hey, Gordon," the gentle squeeze of his fingers conveyed more emotion than Virgil's steady voice could. His brother was trying to be a comfort in a place Gordon hated. "Dad said you'd woken up earlier. How are you feeling?"

"Tired… hungry…" for the first time, his stomach rolled with a need for sustenance that an unconscious man couldn't get.

Virgil had the decency to look apologetic, "Sorry, little brother. Just water and ice chips for now." A pat of his arm and the raven-haired pilot moved across the room to grab a pitcher and cup. As he came back to sit, his finger pressed the call button, much to Gordon's confusion. "The doctor wanted to know when you woke up again… do some tests." A second later, a voice sounded from his bed and Virgil conveyed the message before returning to offer care to his brother, "Want some water?"

"If by water… you mean a hamburger… then sure…" Gordon smirked, taking the straw as it was offered to him. The cool liquid was a relief, nonetheless.

"Soon," Virgil chuckled. "I'll go get it myself."

Staying awake seemed easier this time around, either because of the water or something Gordon wasn't privy to, but it didn't take long for a knock on the door to reveal a white coated woman being followed by a few medical students. That had to make him special, at least.

Too bad that would be the end of his pleasant thoughts for the day. Week. Year, possibly.

Dr Brantley's tests had started off simple enough. Pain levels, memory questions, standard mental health stuff to make sure he hadn't hit his head hard enough to lose his baseline personality. Everything checked out as standard, meeting expectations after trauma.

The physical exam came last and Gordon hadn't been ready for the outcome. The doctor had been, however. She spouted off the next steps, possibilities for his future given enough time to heal. Virgil had sat quietly nodding along, not as prepared for the answers as the doctor had been, but he wasn't surprised. That's what happened when a person was given time to process bad news.

Gordon hadn't known… hadn't expected to fail such a simple task, so when it happened, it took all of his optimism, every ounce of resolve not to burst into tears. Not to dissolve into anger and yell at the people who knew and didn't warn him.

But… deep down, Gordon had figured it out and hadn't allowed himself to question why only his back hurt so much he could feel it in his fingers, his head… just, not his legs. He couldn't feel anything past the ache in his ribs. He should've known the first time he woke up and definitely the second. Denial - or stubborn will - was just too powerful.

"Gordon?" Virgil's voice was barely a whisper in the silent room, the two brothers left to discuss the aftermath of a failure to wiggle your toes for me. His name was still too loud in his ear and it shook free the first drop of moisture. Another joined it as a strong hand landed on his arm. "Hey… it's okay. You don't have to hold it all in. It's just us."

It was permission to do whatever his insides demanded - cry, scream, hit, throw something - but all that came were more tears and a humorless laugh that still made it easier to smile. His answer was gruff with emotions all the same, "Coulda been worse, right?"

Leave it to his wingman to pick up on the need for a mood shift, his lip ticking upwards as dark brown shimmered in the artificial lighting. "Yeah… could've been a lot worse... You fell off a train."

"Not a lot of people… can say that, huh?" Because anyone else would've probably died. Anyone else wouldn't have a high tech suit to hold them together. It could have been worse… but… it's still so bad… Before he could stop the thoughts, they hit him, the smile crumbling under the weight of realization. His prognosis was sinking in faster than he could catch it and the flood gates opened.

Words filled his ears as Gordon's hands came up to cover his face and smother the overwhelming sense of loss. Virgil was there, telling him it was okay. It was okay to be angry… upset… Gordon could flood the room with tears and it would be okay. For a moment, he thought he just might, but as his brother's hands squeezed his arm and rested on his head, the urge to let someone else be brave won out. He didn't have to pretend to be okay.

"Wha'do I do?" The question cut through a sob, muffled against his palms.

"You rest," Virgil answered. "You heal… and you stay as stubborn as you've always been." The engineer leaned forward, his forehead resting on Gordon's as he whispered with as much conviction as he could muster, "You've got this, Fish. I know you do."

***

That day had just been the beginning. A start to the unknown future. Gordon had gone into surgery the next day - a specialist that Dad had contacted - and a week later, he was being moved off the ICU. No, he still couldn't walk. He could barely feel the sweatpants against his skin… but he could feel them. That alone was a good sign. The surgeon had been surprisingly optimistic, citing Gordon's health and fitness level prior to the accident as a precursor to him being able to improve greatly with physical therapy. When Gordon had asked if that meant he would be able to walk again, the doctor had faltered for only a moment. He'd seen others achieve fairly normal function, but he didn't want to present false hope. Time would tell. It was a safe answer, but Gordon could appreciate some truth within the hope.

Someone was always with him in the following weeks, listening, keeping notes, keeping him company, and for a little while Gordon made a game out of seeing who stayed the longest or visited most often. He knew everyone in his family would have stayed if they could, but International Rescue hadn't stopped being needed. Eventually, Gordon stopped keeping track, mostly because he was fairly certain Dad had everyone beat, and the PT was leaving him too exhausted to think beyond the aches and pains.

He did have a favorite visitor, however. Of course, he was please to have anyone around to keep his mind occupied, but Gordon would be lying if he didn't admit that Penelope's visits were the best. When she wasn't working some top secret assignment, she would soundless glide into his room, set the gourmet pastry from whatever country she'd been in onto the side table, lean over to place a kiss to his forehead before peering into his soul. Gordon was pretty sure that's what she was doing, reading his every thought until she had her answer. That answer would result in one of two things, always ending the same. She would either tell him in the simplest of terms to move over, which he gladly did with the assistance of the bed equipment, or she would tell him to just relax before assisting him to shift just enough for her to climb in next to him. Then, they would lay there, watching shows or talking about whatever came up. Penelope always made the room feel and smell so much less like a hospital room. Just the two of them, cuddling like nothing was wrong.

Gordon adored her for that.

Four months later, the hospital room disappeared, replaced by the walls of Tracy One, until they landed and every inch of home hit him in the chest. Four brothers were there to wrap their arms - their support - around him as emotions took hold and he wept in a chair he was unfortunately becoming accustomed to.

"Welcome home, kiddo," his father offered his own embrace as the group released Gordon in order to grab his bags from the jet.

"No where like it," the blonde grinned through tear streaked cheeks. "When can we go to the beach?"

"Ah, so I guess the cats outta the bag," Jeff chuckled.

"Kinda obvious when Alan and Scott take turns asking me questions about the island and what food I miss and all that." Gordon smiled at the memories, some of the few pleasant ones. "Should I expect a chocolate fountain and those little cocktail weenies covered in barbecue sauce?"

"I'm afraid not," and this time it was Dad's turn to grin triumphantly. "Penny was much more covert than your brothers. She's brought in quite the spread."

"Ah, smart. Send the spy for Intel and the bros as decoys. Were they in on the plan?" Said brothers were currently exiting the plane with hospital bags full of gifts and letters from fans.

"Unfortunately, no. We thought it might be good practice for them. Thankfully, I was able to cancel the fountain before it shipped, but you've got about twenty pounds of mini sausages in the freezer." A pat on the blonde's shoulder and Jeff moved around to the back of the chair, guiding it with intent. Gordon was happy to indulge the help, knowing full well his family knew he could manage it on his own. He was home, legs be damned. That was an ordeal to face when the tropical sun, warm breeze and crash of the ocean waves faded. When all he had were his thoughts. Thoughts that dove off cliffs of rage and despair.

Those moments would come, but for now, Gordon was going to have some fun.

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #gordon tracy #virgil tracy #jeff tracy #whump #penandink #pen & ink

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tippystreasurebox · 11 months

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Fic: Sticking to the Landing - A Collab!

A/N: Hi Friends! @godsliltippy and I here for a oneshot fic collab. This was written with us taking the different voices, so everything Gordon is Tippy, and everything Virgil is me (with some Scott at the end). The co-creator tag may still be in progress on Ao3, but the fic is up if you prefer to read that method. 💛💚

For FishTank Week

Genre: General, Fluff

Characters: Virgil, Gordon

Word Count: 2.8K

Summary: Figure it out he says, Gordon whined to himself as he made the trek up the stairs, repeating Scott's instructions as he went. Off rotation, off the island, they just had to go somewhere and relax for at least seventy-two hours. For Gordon and his brothers, that was easier said than done.

Read on AO3 Here

*****

Sticking to the Landing

Figure it out he says, Gordon whined to himself as he made the trek up the stairs, repeating Scott's instructions as he went. Off rotation, off the island, they just had to go somewhere and relax for at least seventy-two hours. For Gordon and his brothers, that was easier said than done.

At the top of the stairs, his destination was a straight shot past their bedrooms and to their own personal workspaces. The thought of stopping in his own sanctuary to unpackage a new box of reclaimed gadgets from the early two-thousands was halted by the time-line big brother had given him.

Passing his sticker-covered door, Gordon found the one he'd been aimed to infiltrate, unable to help a smile as he contemplated knocking. Who would he be if he changed it up now? Not Gordon Tracy, that was for sure.

Hitting the code he shouldn't know, the door to Virgil's studio slid open. With the intent of an annoying little brother, he called out, "Hey, Virgil!"

Virgil startled, his brush hovering a millimeter from a fresh canvas, and it was only well honed reflexes that kept him from flinching and ruining the piece he’d only just started. The sketch foretold a cityscape, sharp lines and angles, without the fluidity of his landscapes, but as certain fish had no respect for his privacy or his time, he’d only gotten as far as shapeless base colors.

He sighed. Deeply.

He hadn’t really wanted the down time in the first place, not with the fact they’d already be down with Gordon out of commission. But if Scott was going to force him to take it, he planned on going no further than his own sanctuary, not far from where he could keep an eye on his errant younger brother. He could make his own fun easily, and it had been a long time since he’d been able to find himself in the place of creativity uninterrupted.

“Squid,” he acknowledged, ignoring for the moment that Gordon knew his key code. Virgil twirled his brush in a cup of water and let it rest there on the table with his palette, before turning to his sibling. The grays of the city in his mind dissipated with the onslaught of the neon orange of the cast at Gordon’s wrist.

One he’d put there with his negligence.

“Scott catch you? How’s the pain today?”

Shrugging off the expected concern that his medic brother had a hard time suppressing, Gordon waved the restrained limb. "Pain's all good. Doesn't even itch." As if to contradict his own statement, a tingling sensation ran across the skin of his forearm and prompted his other hand to try to ease it away. "Okay, it itches a little, but nothing I can't handle."

His broken wrist was the least of their worries, anyway. Gordon had grown up with his fair share of wrist fractures from all the adventures on a Kansas farm. They were likely the reason for the break after a short fall through the open cargo hold of a sinking ship.

The real problem… "So, whacha workin' on?" …could wait a little longer.

"Just experimenting." Virgil glanced over at his painting. It was a lot easier to explain it that way rather than walking the aquanaut through his actual creative process, which sometimes felt a little backward even in his own head. “Want to tell me what was worth breaking and entering for?”

"Technically, I didn't break anything," Gordon teased, preparing himself for the real reason he'd invaded. "But, I did run into Scott. He actually wanted to talk to both of us, so I told him I could relay the message."

"Uh? How about my peace and quiet?"

"Well, about that…" He shoved his good hand into his pocket, rocking back on his heels to lean against the wall. "Big bro thinks we'd have more peace and quiet off the island. Y'know, like a vacation."

"A vacation?" He raised his eyebrow. "With you?"

The general consensus among Tracy's was that Gordon was both the most fun and the most dangerous to be with during downtime. Virgil didn't mind the spontaneity the way it seemed to short-circuit John, or even Scott, but where Virgil's idea of spontaneous meant following the sunset with his paints, Gordon's ideas meant a festival or a party.

Been there, done that. Virgil did not want to relive college.

But also, Gordon was his copilot, and their time together lately had been quite specific to the rescue business. Virgil didn't remember the last time he was on the receiving end of an epic Gordon Tracy maritime rant, and that was a stark reminder of how busy they'd been lately.

Perhaps of how overworked, and a bit careless. Resulting in injured wrists.

"What did you have in mind?" Virgil smiled, repressing his sigh in favor of moving forward instead of focusing on his mistakes.

"Well, anywhere with water would be my first choice, but with this thing," Gordon waved the cast with a grimace, "I'd be more annoyed than relaxed. You have any ideas?"

“There are other places to relax,” Virgil responded, coming up beside him to clasp the back of his neck and rub where Gordon kept his stress. Being barred from the water meant he lacked his usual outlets, and a cooped up Gordon was a fish wound tight. "Pick a mountain range. Or a city?"

His shoulders drooped under the easing pressure on his underused muscles. Missing his morning laps was taking its toll. Sure, he could walk the island, but that lacked the intensity he was used to. So where on Earth could they go that offered more than what they already had on Tracy island?

"As much as I love a picturesque mountain range, I'm not as good at sitting still and enjoying it as you are. Maybe a city? Which one though?" The hustle and bustle would definitely keep them occupied, but there was always the security risk that would drive Kayo into a tizzy. Gordon's box of disguises hadn't eased her worries about the last trip they'd planned either.

"Somewhere we've been?" Virgil asked. "Or somewhere new? What about a place chosen at random. You like surprises."

Random? The word snagged on his mind and pulled him up from the flurry of ideas Gordon had been trying to narrow down.

Pushing off the wall, he caught his brother's eye with a look of mischief and a grin to match. "Random, huh? I think I've got an idea. C'mon." Without waiting, the blonde stepped past his co-pilot, his attempt the upper level of the lounge.

“Dubious." But, by the time Virgil could finish the word, Gordon was long gone from the studio, and only Virgil’s art supplies were nearby to hear him sigh.

He stepped into the hallway, following after the flash of neon from Gordon's cast, and listening for the cadence of footsteps he knew better than his own.

The bounce was back in his step.

That was the thing Virgil admired most about his brother. He was never knocked down for long.

Virgil followed him to the top floor of the lounge where, in a rare turn of circumstances, it was empty for once.

Gordon knew exactly where he would find what they needed, the ancient books surrounding it like walls of protection. His good hand pushed one set aside while his fingers protruding from his cast snagged the folded paper.

"Got it!" He announced with a wiggle of the parchment before clumsily unfolding it. A map, certainly an antique now, but definitely used often enough by their grandparents before the invention of GPS offered a view of the globe. "We can use darts or something. Random enough?"

“You want us to throw darts at a map?” Virgil raised an eyebrow. “And just go wherever it lands?”

That would be super random, even for him. Even for Gord- no, actually that was the exact type of random it seemed Gordon needed. A place where they wouldn't have time to stress about planning, wherever the wind took them. His bewilderment curled into a smile thinking that John would certainly lecture him that he would be letting gravity and physics make decisions for him. And not, in fact, the earthen breeze.

"I know where we can get darts." There was a set in Scott's private office near a poked through poster of corporate names their elder brother kept hung on the wall after stressful negotiations. Virgil even caught a Fischler and Lemaire on there at one point, but the names had been bulls-eyed into oblivion.

Barging into Scott's office was more Gordon's speed, so Virgil held up a hand to stop Gordon behind him before he entered. He held up a finger to his lips and gestured for Gordon to wait there.

With the creaking of the door, Scott eyed him warily, the earpiece linked to the computers flashing green in use. Don't ask Virgil mouthed, knowing Scott would get the gist.

He returned to the hall victorious, shutting the door behind him silently before Gordon's inevitable whoop could reach the ears of those on the other side of Scott's call.

"Awww spoil sport," Gordon teased at the obvious attempt at keeping big brother's meeting professional. "C'mon, we can set it up in my room." With the map tucked under his arm, the blonde led the way back up the stairs, past their bedrooms and to his studio, the stickered door sliding open without a keycode. Gordon liked to keep his space unlocked, ready to entertain any of his brother's who dared to venture in.

Inside, a stack of boxes were evident from the hallways glow. As he flicked on the light, the rest of the room came into view. The boxes had been leaned against the first of three shelving units, each housing trinkets he'd bought from treasure hunters. Some were his own finds, but that was a secret he'd learned to keep between himself and the crew he traveled with. Despite what his brother's thought of the hobby, Gordon took great strides to ensure junk yard owners were aware and compensated for the time spent on hunts.

The walls beyond held other types of treasures - trophies and ribbons that spanned the entire space. From his first races to his last, the little ribbon held just as much importance as the gold.

Further in were Gordon's tanks and he stopped briefly to check on his two new reef fish he'd discovered struggling to survive after one was injured and the other a host for a parasite. Another week and they'd be good to go back home.

The last wall held maps, none like the one under his arm, however. These held currents and ocean geographical locations. Pins and scribbled notes were dotted all around it in a rudimentary pattern of research. Of course, Gordon had the holographic maps with precise data, but there was always something nice about doing things the old way, just for the experience. It was as good a place as any to set up their game of vacation darts.

"Alright, let me do that," Virgil said, rolling his eyes fondly as Gordon fumbled with the map despite his cast. Once it was in hand, Virgil tacked it up with some of the already existing pins overtop Gordon's research. "You sure this won't mess up your studies?"

"They'll be fine," he smiled at the consideration of his work. "Plenty of holes already, shouldn't hurt to add a few more. Bonus points if we land one in a pin!" Gesturing to the map, his grin widened, "Age before beauty."

Right. Trust Gordon to turn it into another challenge. Virgil stepped back for a better view, making sure the map display was straight and sturdy. His gaze lingered on the tanks and displays as he turned back to his brother. On anyone else that mischievous grin would look like someone up to no good. On Gordon, it looked like a Tuesday.

“I’m not entirely convinced that you wouldn’t just aim for the ocean on principle. Nearest island city if we land in the drink?” he proposed, satisfied when Gordon nodded. Despite Gordon’s enthusiasm for random, Virgil secretly hoped they did land near a populated area if not for Gordon’s sanity, for his own. Entertaining a bored Gordon was not among the top of his resume.

The plan was to each throw a dart to find their options, and then they’d choose between the two. Internally, Virgil knew he wouldn’t be doing any choosing. It was Gordon who was injured and needing the change of scenery.

Virgil felt the weight of the darts in each of his palms and practiced the motion without releasing them to decide which throw felt more appropriate for his hands. He didn’t have Gordon’s sharpshooting aim, but he did have an advantage being ambidextrous.

Except, Gordon’s cast was on his dominant hand.

“Hold these,” he ordered, handing the darts to his brother, as he then stripped off his outer flannel and rolled the fabric up lengthwise so that it could fit around his head and then some. The longest point was the wingspan of the sleeves, which he tied behind his head as the world went dark. “Spin me.”

The sheer joy he felt at this turn of events left Gordon stunned for a moment, unable to take his eyes off his brother. It was only a short pause before he took full advantage of what Virgil had given him and began carefully turning him on the spot. At about the tenth turn - and a low grunt that told him that was plenty - Gordon positioned his brother back to facing his target.

Taking a step back to give Virgil plenty of room, he cheered, "You're all set!"

"See if I trust you ever again," Virgil mumbled while his stomach settled, though it was not packed with any heat. He knew what he was getting into by offering, and though his body rebelled at the spinning in his brain, he smiled at the laughter vibrating from the fish beside him.

Without thinking too much about it, he let the dart fly knowing that it was in Gordon's best interests to make sure he was facing the right way. It would be his own valuables at stake if he'd attempted any other trickery.

The small dart gave a satisfying thunk as it pierced through paper and corkboard. Virgil lifted the makeshift blindfold from his eyes, the curiosity getting the better of him while the world swam as it came back into view. Gordon was laughing beside him.

"Where'd I hit?"

Calming his laughter enough to speak, the blonde pointed, "In the ocean, just to the left of Tracy island. Not sure Scott would go for that one." Stepping forward, he nudged his brother out of the way. "I'll go and then you can try again."

Taking one of the darts, Gordon tried positioning it in the fingers protruding from his cast, finding his dexterity greatly inhibited. A noted glare from the medic beside him and he begrudgingly switched the dart to his left hand. For only a second, he considered the blindfold, but with his handicaps, he'd be lucky just to hit the wall. No, this was fair.

Aiming towards a small patch of islands he knew fondly for their beaches and street food, Gordon aimed and threw. The dart arced, bypassing the islands and landing to the left, of the coast of India.

"Ooh, it's been a while since we went to Sri Lanka. Alright, Virg, your turn."

Virgil accepted the dart and lowered his flannel blindfold for an attempt to land somewhere other than Tracy Island.

Over the next few minutes, they landed numerous pinpricks over the map, from Tokyo to Chicago, and had managed to plan their next three trips for times off duty.

Gordon was mid-turn on a dizzied Virgil when Scott came knocking on the door. He swiftly entered, knowing Gordon kept his study a welcoming space. After evaluating the scene - the world map on the wall, his darts a murder over Europe, his brother blindfolded with his own shirt - Scott sighed deeply, rubbing at his temples.

"What is going on in here?"

So wrapped up in the fun of spinning his co-pilot, Gordon startled with a quick laugh, "Oh, Hey, Scott! Um, well, we couldn't decide where to go for vacation, so we're leaving it up to darts and a map." He gestured to the wall in excitement. "You'll be pleased to know it's very productive."

"Hmm. Well, don't throw that yet, Virgil," Scott warned. He ducked under the path of Virgil's questionable aim and collected a number of his darts. "I'm going to need these back after the call I just had."

After a beat, he turned back towards them, flicked one of the darts into position and let it fly toward the world. "Actually, I'd rather come with you."

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