eastertag

[eastertag]

I don’t think I’m going to be able to run EasterTAG this year guys, I’m sorry but just have too much on my plate right now with study and stuff.

@janetm74 @gumnut-logic @godsliltippy @alexthefly @soniabigcheese @dragonoffantasyandreality @katblu42 @willow-salix @womble1 @tsarinatorment @the-lady-razorsharp @cg29 @misssquidtracy @myladykayo

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #EasterTAG #thunderfam

[eastertag]

Role Model

@fallenfurther gift for @willow-salix 

—

Gordon was standing at the door of John’s room, peering in with a smirk on his face. Alarms bells went off in Alan’s head as he headed over to investigate. Peeking over his brother’s shoulder, his eyes fell on the subject of Gordon’s curiosity. Knelt on the floor, in a sea of beauty products, was their nephew with Selene’s hand mirror lying before him. The child was staring into it with a purple pencil gripped in his hand. He glanced up at them and waved happily.

“Alan!”

Alan’s mouth dropped.

“It gets better every time he looks up.”

Gordon grinned while fighting to suppress his laughter, which might distract their nephew from his work. The boy turned back to his reflection, before dropping the pencil and picking up three more. Selene was not going to be happy if she saw this mess.

“Should we do something?”

“You mean beside laugh?”

“Selene’s going to be mad.”

Gordon strode boldly into the room and slipped his phone from his pocket. Crouching, he lowered the phone to the child’s level. Their nephew, seeing the camera, leant back and posed. He had a big proud smile that Gordon eagerly captured from various angles. He flicked through them quickly to confirm they were in focus, knowing he would show them to his nephew when he was older, before tapping on the messenger app and pulling up his chat with Selene.

Gordon: You might want to check your room sometime soon.

“She’ll be mad, alright,” Gordon confirmed with a smile, “but not with us. Scott has a LOT of grovelling to do.”

Alan just stared as Gordon casually retreated, leaving their nephew to continue. Hurried footsteps sounded behind them caused Alan to turn. Worry plastered his eldest brother’s face and Alan felt sorry for the man.

“Have you seen-”

Gordon strode out of John’s room, interrupting Scott and throwing his thumb over his shoulder.

“He’s in there.”

Scott rushed into the room only to halt at the sight of his son. The fear that had filled him when he’d first noticed his son missing was replaced with complete shock.

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes,” Gordon jeered from the door, not wanting to miss a second.

Scott would have glared at Gordon if he was able to tear his eyes away from his son. Kneeling down by the dresser, which the boy had somehow managed to climb, he reached forward and gently turned the child’s head to get a better look.

“Daddy!”

“What have you done?”

“I like Selene.”

The innocence of the response made Scott close his eyes and take a breath. He adored his son but sometimes it was hard. The child was a mess. It appeared he’d tried to replicate Selene getting all glammed up for a date, only without any of the skill needed to do so. What Scott suspected was mascara had been brushed through his eyebrows and across half his forehead. Red lipstick, which currently lay crushed on the floor, was plastered around his mouth, with a red streak on his front tooth. To top it all off, there were thick blue and purple smudges on his cheeks with large purple whiskers cutting across his face under his eyes. Then there was the mess on the floor. The child had managed to get hold of Selene’s makeup bag and up end it. Half the stuff had been opened, from three lipsticks, one destroyed and two with small fingerprints on, multiple pencils were scattered about, their colourful leads probably shattered inside. Palettes of powders were scattered, the colours blended with nail scratches in them. Those same powders dusted the floor, along with various other colourful streaks, made by the grubby fumbling fingers. There were very few items that had survived unscathed from the toddler’s eager hands. Scott didn’t know where to start. There was no way he could hide this from Selene, but maybe he could at least salvage something and clean up the floor before she found out. A cough from the door made him turn. He swallowed. The witch was standing at the door between his two brothers, hands on her hips.

“I can explain.”

Her eyebrow rose. Scott stood, ready to try and salvage the situation with a dimpled smile and some pleading, when his bottom knocked the dresser. Even his speedy reflexes were no match against gravity. One of the perfume bottles toppled, having been knocked to the edge by his son, and shattered against the floor filling the room with its floral scent.

“Uh oh,” chimed his son as Scott put his head in his hands, his heart beating fast at the thought of creating not just a mess but a hazard for his boy. He sighed, turning his blue eyes on the witch.

“I’m so sorry, Selene.”

Eyes on the floor, Scott quickly used his shoe to drag all the pieces of glass towards him and out of reach of his son. Glancing at the dresser, he moved a second perfume bottle away from the edge before crouching down and collecting up the shards in his hand. Footsteps walked around them, before returning with a sigh. A small binbag was held open before him and Scott carefully dropped the glass in before taking it so he could drop the smaller pieces in as he went. The whole time he’d had half an eye on his boy, who had paused with the change of atmosphere in the room. The perfume pooled on the wooden floor had become a new target of interest and his hand went straight into it. With glass in his own hands, Scott was powerless to stop it. Arms scooped up the child. Scott turned to see Selene balancing the boy on her hip and taking in the child’s face.

“I like you Selene.”

A smile crossed Selene’s lips. “I like you too.”

“I think he means ‘I look like you’.”

John stepped into the room, having assessed the scene from the doorway. He ignored the glare his wife sent his way. Glancing down at his brother’s guilty face confirmed it really had been just an accident. Though the presence of his youngest two brothers, and the smirk on Gordon’s face, suggested they hadn’t done anything to stop, or help, the matter. John slipped into the en-suite and grabbed a fresh roll of toilet paper and the makeup wipes. He passed the wipes to Selene, who took them and fell back onto the bed with the child. Expertly slipping a wipe out one-handedly, she started attacking the boy’s hands to stop him spreading the mess further. Ripping the roll open, John spiralled a load around his hand, before tearing it off and dropping it onto the pool of perfume. As much as it would evaporate away, he’d rather help it along, the smell already filling the room. Scott wiped up the boards with the tissue, throwing the sodden lumps on top of the glass when finished.

With the floor dry and clear of glass, John watched his brother tie the bag and dump it in the bin. John made a mental note to discard it immediately. A grunt from the bed had John turn around. Selene was now wiping their nephew’s face, who was very upset about it. John’s heart softened at his pleading, even though the child was the cause of all this, it was hard to be mad at him. Instead, John turned to the toddler’s father. He made the most of the extra few inches he had on his brother with a downwards stare. He held out his hand to the man.

“Phone.”

Scott sighed, slipping his mobile out of his pocket and placing it in his brother’s palm. Right now, he had to do everything to avoid John freezing all his accounts in revenge. His mobile was passed to Selene.

“I believe you know the access code for this. Order everything you need. Replacements for all that has been damaged as well as anything that takes your fancy, Scott owes you.”

Scott scooped up his son as Selene tapped the screen and immediately got to work.

“Come on, mister. Let’s finish cleaning you up. Order more wipes and remover, Selene. I’m going to need plenty to get all this muck off.”

“Already done.”

The witch didn’t even glance up. Carrying his son into his brother’s bathroom, he perused the various bottles on the side. He selected a bottle that appeared promising before plonking his son on the toilet seat. Selene had gotten the worst off, though there were still some faint whiskers from where the liner had been applied extra thick. Popping the lid off the bottle, Scott squeezed the cream onto a cotton pad and rubbed it against his son’s face. Hands pushed against his arms as distressed cries of ‘no’ filled the small room, the child really not happy that his hard work was being erased. Rubbing the pad along the black lines of mascara, it thankfully began to fade. The pad became darker with each wipe, and Scott relaxed slightly as he carefully scrubbed his toddler’s skin. After a few minutes he sat back and surveyed his son. The child was pouting but appeared clean. Rummaging in a drawer, Scott retrieved a clean flannel and dampened it with soapy water. One last wash for good measure and Scott was satisfied. He rung out the cloth, stepped out the bathroom and lobbed it into the laundry basket. Scott ignored John’s eyeroll, though the scattered makeup had been picked up and floor cleaned in Scott’s absence. He was going to be John’s least favourite brother for a while. Turning back to his son, who was just as grumpy as his uncle, Scott wanted to start the day again. Retrieving his son, he hoped the strop would be short-lived.

“Okay sweetie. Next time you want to look like Aunt Selene, you have to come and ask me, okay?”

The toddler nodded, excitement sparkling in his blue eyes. He was sitting cross-legged on the sofa, clutching a bag containing the ruined makeup. Selene turned to her best friend, who was perched on the table before her.

“We shall start with nails. Scott, I want my toes painted purple.”

Stretching out her leg, she unceremoniously plonked her foot in his lap. Selene watched the commander of International Rescue route around in her box of polish for all the shades of purple, before presenting them to her. She pondered for a moment.

“The deep purple with glitter.”

Scott put the rest back before shaking up the selected bottle. The polish had been a gift from a friend. The deep indigo paint contained a conservative amount of glitter, so it appeared like stars on her nails. It reminded her of a night sky. After unscrewing the cap, he placed his fingers around her ankle and carefully started to brush along her nails. His face was a picture of concentration. Happy he was going to do his best, Selene turned to her nephew. She held up the small selection of child safe nail polish John had ordered the previous month, after seeing the boy’s interest in hers. Gods, her man was amazing. Her nephew’s eyes widened as he reached out to touch the colourful bottles. His eyes flicked back to his father.

“Which colour do you want on your toes?”

“Like Selene.”

“You want purple too?”

He nodded, his eyes smiling up into hers. Selene singled out the lilac one in her hands and presented it to the boy.

“How about this purple?”

The child paused, a thoughtful expression on his face. He could see it wasn’t the same one she was having applied. Flicking between the two colours, he finally agreed with a nod.

“Perfect. Now, I’m going to need you to hold very still now. Your toes are small.”

She grabbed his ankles and pulled his feet onto her lap, forcing him to lie back in the process. He giggled as his head landed in John’s lap. Slipping off his shoes and socks, Selene could hold his foot in one hand. His nails were tiny, but she was skilled. After a quick shake of the bottle, she offered her other foot to Scott, before getting to work on her nephew. With a steady hand, she gave each nail a coat of colour.

“Keep your feet still while they dry, and I’ll do a rainbow on your fingers.”

With the boy’s feet held in her lap, she made the most of the colours that came in the set. His thumbs were painted red, then his fingers were orange, yellow, green and finally blue. The only colour that hadn’t been used was pink.

“How about we paint your Daddy’s nails with this one?”

Her nephew turned to Scott, uncertain glee in his eyes. A nod from Scott had the child giving her a dimpled grin. The man had no choice and offered his hands out in sacrifice. A quick check of the child’s nails confirmed they were dry. Slipping her nephew onto her lap and cuddling him close, she offered him the bottle.

“How about we do it together?”

“Please don’t,” groaned Scott, “if I have to have pink nails, at least make sure they are neat.”

“You don’t have a say in this,” John stated, not even glancing up from his tablet. Scott’s death stare bounced straight off her man.

Selene passed the brush to her nephew and encased his hand in hers. She guided it towards his father’s thumb. Chuckles bubbled out the child as they stroked the pink polish over the nail. It wasn’t easy, Selene had to push against her nephew at times, but it was fun. The uneven edges and accidental coating of the skin around the nail made it all the better. Once finished, Scott scrutinised his fingertips while slipping off his shoes.

“You might as well do my feet too.”

A socked foot landed in their lap. Her nephew screwed up his face.

“Ew. Smelly.”

Selene threw her head back, laughing at the betrayal as John sniggered beside them.

“Traitor.”

Her nephew stuck his tongue out at his father as he yanked off the sock. Scott’s feet didn’t actually smell that bad, and it wasn’t long until he had a complete set of badly painted toes. Giving the child a squeeze, she shifted him round to face her.

“Ready to look like me?”

“Just what we need, a mini-Selene.”

Selene shot her husband a glare, only to be softened by the affection held in those stunning emerald eyes. Damn. Dragging her eyes back to her nephew, she unzipped the bag of damaged makeup and retrieved an eyeshadow palette. John had done a marvellous job of cleaning them up and salvaging what he could. Within the slim case was an array of purple shades, with black and silver to the side. There were large gouges in the silver and darkest purple where little nails had gotten in. Selecting a light purple, she started dolling up the boy. He fidgeted, eyes screwing up each time she brushed his eyelids, but she managed to give them a reasonably even coat. A second palette contained shades of red, which she used as a blush on his cheeks. There was no way she was going to be able to line his eyes, so used the black eyeliner pencil to shape his eyebrows instead. Finally, she retrieved the bright red lipstick that was now half the length it had been that morning. A few gentle strokes against his soft lips and he was complete.

“Perfect!”

Reaching over, Selene stole John’s tablet and brought up the camera app. Her nephew smiled; his dimples enhanced by his rosy cheeks. She snapped a few photos before passing it back.

“Same colour again on your hands?”

“If you please, Scott.”

Selene held out her hands as her nephew crawled off her and over to John, who scooped him up into his own lap. Fingers prodded the tablet and whatever John had been doing was put to the side, as sound of a game came from the device. The kiss John planted into his nephew’s hair as he watched what the child was doing proved he didn’t mind the disruption. Selene knew how much the child meant to John, as well as every other Tracy on the Island.

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2004 #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds 1965 #Virgil Tracy #Scott Tracy #alan tracy #Gordon Tracy #John Tracy #easterTAG #submission

[eastertag]

Virgil Tracy, your head will be mine

@thunderbirds-are-fab gift for @rachfielden-xo  

—

Happy Easter to @rachfielden-xo who asked for a gift featuring midnight, hypnotised, and a villain in disguise - involving Virgil?! I’ve done my best with your prompts (had to take a bit of liberty with the hypnosis theme especially) but I hope that you enjoy this fic! For some non-essential context, I imagine this takes place before Season 3, but definitely after Season 1 and most of Season 2. Now, here’s some private musings from the best disguised villain in Thunderbirds as he plots his next nefarious scheme…

Midnight was the hour of change. If you were a believer of superstition or fairytales (in other words, a fool or a child) then this was because midnight held some sort of magical power. If you were more logical about it, then you realised that midnight was when today became yesterday and tomorrow became reality. A time when past mistakes could be put to bed, and new ideas rise from the ashes like brilliant newborn phoenix. The Hood liked midnight. In the stillness of the night he could meditate in peace, letting all his frustrations melt away like yesterday’s snow, and find a new world of opportunity ready to bloom just beneath the surface.  

Midnight was the hour of change.

Dawn was the hour of the executioner.

The Hood had never truly been short of a plan or a scheme to follow. How could he? Such a wickedly intelligent individual could never be less than three steps ahead of everyone else. There were no failures, only outcomes that led to other opportunities. A mastermind was never put off by any perceived obstacle, and relished in the challenge of attempting what no common criminal would dare to pull off. Why rob a bank when you could acquire one? He only aimed for the biggest prizes, the finished products, for they were the most rewarding prizes. There was nothing quite like walking into the world and just taking whatever your heart desired.

Of course, aiming high meant sometimes walking away empty handed. He could live with that. What made it harder was having someone standing in your way, interfering with your plans just for the sake of something petty, like ‘fairness’ or ‘justice’… He even had a name for people like that: International Rescue.

The Zero-X incident. That had been one such… setback, and a reminder that even a lone Tracy was still a competent adversary. But that had been Jeff, and Jeff wasn’t here anymore. Without their patriarch he’d dared to hope that International Rescue would be at their weakest, but predictably their reaction had been to close ranks and increase their guard. They rarely worked alone anymore, more often than not teaming up two or more at a time unless greatly overstretched, and always keeping in near-constant communication with each other. He’d worked so hard to worm his way past their defenses, to insinuate himself into the heart of their systems, and he’d come so close… he’d been there. Right there! On that island, with the Thunderbirds in his grasp, so close…

After that he’d tried to pretend that he hadn’t wanted it after all, but the thought of how close he’d come still crossed his mind. Still lingered, begging for reconsideration. Ultimately, in his contemplation, he’d come to realise that it wasn’t the technology, the place, the machines that he needed to infiltrate in order to assume control.

It was the family.

Tanusha had been the obvious point of entry for obvious reasons, but ultimately he had to accept that she was of no use to him now. She’d spent too long in the heart of that family, now too much ingrained into their cult of ideals and selfless sacrifice to ever contemplate the freedom he offered her. He’d learnt that the hard way. Nevertheless, he had to be impressed with the strength of her convictions – she never let past attachments distract her from future goals, and she never gave up. Just like him, really. Family after all.

This time he would take another approach. After all: if you can’t beat them, join them! How had he, the Hood, master of disguise, never considered it before? Perhaps it was too daring even for him, to think that he could walk into such an intimate group and assume his place amongst them – pretend to be a Tracy? And yet, the thrill of getting caught was possibly what emboldened him. What was the worst that could happen? Every setback he’d encountered so far had been recoverable. What did he have to lose?

So who then? To target the Grandmother as the weakest opponent felt unsportsmanlike, and it would hardly do credit to his reputation if he resorted to kidnapping old ladies and dressing up as them to fool their grandchildren. Little Red Riding Hood indeed.

The little engineer, then? Also a physically unthreatening foe, only a challenge to snatch and replace as he never seemed to leave the security of the island.

So that left the sons themselves.

He had to admit that he was wary of the oldest. Perhaps it was that he so reminded him of his father – the same fearlessness and honour-bound determination, but with the added unpredictability of a fiery temper not yet dampened by age. Although it had been amusing to look that one in the eyes and see the raw-edged fury, the temptation of revenge straining to break free of its moral bondage… No, there was too much risk in aiming directly for their leader again.

The Spaceman was out of the question. Space was not, he had to admit, the Hood’s favoured environment. To attack one’s enemy on their native territory without tactical advantage was foolhardy, and even with his skills he had to doubt his likelihood of being able to infiltrate Thunderbird 5 undetected. He’d rather not attract the attention of a certain murderous AI.

The little blonde ones… how many were there again? Too many. Too loud and annoying, certainly. He couldn’t even begin to think of how draining it would be to impersonate one of them, even just for a day. Although his ability for disguises was second to none, he preferred to choose more stoic characters to play. The less you had to talk, the less chance your façade would be broken.

So that left just one. Calmer, quieter, and far too caring. No doubt he would be strong and capable on his own, but he was also soft-hearted – a weakness the Hood knew how to exploit. It was easy to lure those who came running towards a cry for help too readily, like a moth to the flame or a fly to the spider’s web. A form of hypnosis, if you think about it. Yes, he could see it now… A minor distress call, small enough that he would go alone, involving heavy lifting… they would utilise Thunderbird 2 for that for sure. He’d come alone and reach out to that pathetic, begging little voice in the dark, and before he knew it the trap would be sprung. Then Virgil would come out again, mission accomplished, flying home, nothing to report…or so it would seem. Just play it subtly, play it slow so no-one suspected, and then he’d be in. On the inside of that island, of International rescue, like never before with so many delicious new opportunities to get whatever he wanted.

Yes. He’d begin sculpting the hologram mask immediately. He did his best work at midnight…

Virgil Tracy, your head will be mine.

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2004 #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds 1965 #Virgil Tracy #Scott Tracy #alan tracy #Gordon Tracy #John Tracy #easterTAG #submission

[eastertag]

@thatkidwholikesthunderbirds​ gift for @tsarinatorment

Prompt: Scott + protective little bros

Genre: fluff + whump

Little bro Gordon is trying his best to take care of big bro Scott after a tough rescue.

Sometimes all you need is a big hug.

I hope you like them and have an awesome Easter!!

💛💙

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2004 #thunderbirds 1965 #thunderbirds fanart #Gordon Tracy #Scott Tracy #easterTAG #submission

[eastertag]

double date gone wrong

@gordonthegreatesttracy gift for @godsliltippy

—

“This is Jeff Tracy of International Rescue. How may I be of assistance?”

Scott lets out a sigh, his father has been back in their lives now for eighteen months and this never gets old. Hearing his voice every day, listening to his stories from his eight years in deep space and just being able to go to him with any problems. Scott is no longer carrying the weight of four younger brothers’ problems on his shoulders.

“Dad, it’s John”

Scott’s heart skips a beat. John is supposed to be on holiday, a relaxing two week break away from the stresses and strains of international rescue.

“Go ahead John” Jeff replies, concern deepening the wrinkles in his forehead, his eyes focusing on the screen and the boy who has just popped out of the hologram projector on his desk.

“There has been a cave in up on the north end of the beach. Gordon and Penelope are both trapped and it is all my fault. We need Scott and Virgil. Now” John insists.

Scott is confused. How did that happen?

*TB*

Twelve hours earlier

“I could get used to this life” Ridley says to John as the pair lie under a shady umbrella on the beach looking out at the waves.

John smiles happily “I know what you mean, as much as I love Thunderbird Five just lying here with you makes my whole world feel complete”

Ridley smiles back and snuggles in closer, her head resting on his chest allowing her dark brown hair to flow loosely around her shoulders.

Yeah this is definitely the best holiday she has ever had.

The pair have just drifted off to sleep when a sudden shadow falls across them. Opening one eye, John groans at the sight in front of him.

“Hey bro, miss me?” a voice calls.

“No” John replies. “Why are you here Gordon?”

“Well Lady Penelope, you know, my girlfriend and I are here for a conference with the new ocean preservation society and I have been chosen to give the keynote speech” Gordon informs him, sitting down on the sand next to him and making himself at home.

“That does not mean that you are allowed to interrupt my afternoon, I took this vacation to get away from international rescue!” John reminds him.

“I was going to offer to take you to dinner, sort of a double date. I even swiped Scott’s credit card for the occasion but if you are going to be rude…” Gordon tails off.

“Okay fine” John replies, unwilling to miss out on a free meal!

“Awesome, meet me at the Grand Hotel in an hour” Gordon replies before walking away.

John makes it over to the designated hotel and is shown to a table set for four where Lady Penelope is sat awaiting their arrival.

Getting up she greets both warmly, smiling as she gives John a welcome kiss.

“Where is Gordon?” John asks looking around.

“You expected him to be on time?” Lady Penelope says with a grin.

Ridley is watching the friendly exchange with a dark look crossing her eyes. The pair are a little too friendly for her tastes. She reaches out and puts her hand on his shoulder possessively feeling anger rising up in her chest when he shrugs it off.

Does Lady Penelope need all five Tracys for herself? Surely she should be happy with the one she did snare and leave John for her?

“How many minutes late do you think Gordon is going to be?” Lady Penelope asks.

“Ten, shall we put a bet on it?” John replies laughing.

“Okay. I will say fifteen” Lady Penelope replies, she too is laughing.

“How about you Ridley?” John asks, turning towards her.

“Finally noticed that I am still here have you?” she says snottily.

“Excuse me?” Lady Penelope replies indignantly.

“Stop flirting with my boyfriend” Ridley says, her voice is low and menacing.

“WHAT?!” Gordon calls from behind Ridley’s head.

“She was flirting with your brother” Ridley says, rudely pointing to Lady Penelope.

“She has a name” Gordon says, equally rudely as he takes his seat next to Penny. “And she can flirt with whoever she wants, one I trust her and two she always returns to eat at home!”

John chokes on the bread stick he has just bitten into. “Ugh too much information Squid”

“What do you think we do at bedtime? Play paint by numbers?” Penelope adds grinning and wrapping her arms around Gordon’s shoulders and kissing his forehead.

John turns to Ridley. “See you have nothing to worry about, Lady Penelope has been one of my best friends since I was nine years old and we spent our first summer on the Island but her heart belongs to Gordon”

Ridley isn’t happy and she isn’t convinced, but she knows better than to show her hatred and jealousy of anyone who has the ability to take John from her and knows that she has to change the subject before the afternoon is ruined.

“What is everyone having for lunch? I hear they do really good lobster here”

Gordon untangles himself from Lady Penelope’s embrace to glare at his brother. “No. John you know that I am going to leave right now if anyone even think about eating an innocent lobster. The way they drop them into boiling water, I can’t John”

John does know. Remembering the time Gordon convinced Alan to break into a restaurant in California with him and free the lobsters back into the ocean still makes him laugh. The anger of their father and the unrepentant attitudes of his two younger brothers who only declared that they would happily to it again if they got the chance. Gordon doesn’t believe in killing and eating sea food! “Lobster is off the menu” he confirms with a reassuring glance at Gordon.

“Okay fine, I will have the grilled chicken salad” Ridley says after briefly studying the menu.

“Same” Lady Penelope adds.

“I will have the steak, rare, with the beer battered onion rings and chips” Gordon orders, tapping the screen in front of him to add his order.

“John?”

John is still reading the menu, nothing appeals to him but he knows sitting and watching his brother eat steak will make him hungry!

“I will have the steak too. Well done though, I don’t want it to still be mooing!”

The atmosphere starts to thaw out once the food arrives. Ridley watches Lady Penelope closely and she finds herself relaxing as she watches her with Gordon. Gordon is the one she really wants, maybe she did get it wrong.

“Hey John, can we get another bottle of wine?” Gordon asks. They have already consumed two full bottles and all four a little tipsy.

“Scott is paying, go ahead!” John replies with a grin.

“How did you get Scott’s card?” Ridley asks.

“Simple bit of swiping and using Alan as a distraction. You know when he was first born I thought that I would hate having a younger brother, but he definitely has his uses!” Gordon replies smiling before ordering a third bottle on the ordering app.

“Tell her about the time you talked him into painting Scott’s room pink” John says laughing.

“Oh yeah that was a classic!” Gordon laughs. “He was on a mission with Virgil in the artic. Something about the northern lights, I forget exactly what happened on the mission, but while they were away I had Alan paint Scott’s room neon pink. The trick to framing someone is to make sure you have an alibi”

“How to break the law, with Gordon Cooper Tracy” Lady Penelope breaks in.

“Ooh, I can use that as the title for my autobiography!” Gordon says.

Even Ridley laughs this time.

*TB*

“Okay so you guys stole my credit card and spent over eight hundred dollars on food and wine and Ridley got jealous, I don’t understand how Gordon and Lady Penelope getting stuck in a cave is your fault.” Scott is flying thunderbird one as fast as he knows how to get to their location while John tells the story.

“I am getting to it” John says rolling his eyes.

“Then get to it faster, what happened after dinner?”

*TB*

“Where are you guys going now?” Gordon asks.

“Well seeing as you interrupted our sunbathing session we are going back to that” John replies.

“Can we come?” Lady Penelope asks. “Make our double date last all day. It would be good to get to know you better Ridley”

Ridley allows herself a smile, she is feeling silly about her jealousy of the closeness between John and Lady Penelope. “It’s okay with me” she says happily.

“Can we build a sandcastle?” Gordon asks, once they have found a spot in the sun and have spread out towels.

“A sand space station” John suggests with a grin. Ridley nods enthusiastically.

“Can we make it a competition?” Gordon asks. His naturally competitive nature which helped him win an Olympic gold medal bursting out, his amber eyes are lit up in delight.

“Okay, but what is the prize for the winner?” John asks, he too has always loved a contest and he is not about to turn down a chance to beat a brother.

“The winner gets to decide where we are going for dinner, and can have Scott’s card to pay for it” Gordon fires back.

“You’re on fish face” John replies.

While the boys negotiate the terms of the competition, Lady Penelope and Ridley lie back on the beach towels talking.

“How did you meet John?” Ridley asks.

“We spent the summer together on Tracy Island when we were kids. That was the summer Gordon tried to feed Kayo to a snake and all they all got lost in a tropical storm” Lady Penelope replies.

“He tried to feed Kayo to a snake?!” Ridley exclaims in shock.

It is Gordon who answers her. “Yeah, but she deserved it. She was being mean to Alan and no one gets away with picking on my little brother but me. Toes passed away last year, but I went to visit him as often as I could after he got injured and had to go and live in a sanctuary in Australia”

“Toes?” Ridley asks.

“Yeah, I named him toes because he doesn’t have any” Gordon replies smiling.

John stops any further reminiscing by interrupting with the contest rules. “Okay we are ready. Rules are as followed apart from construction supplies you are not allowed to purchase anything. Scott will pay for the supplies. That is the only rule!”

Gordon nods, his teeth gritted in anticipation of a battle. “Sure, lets go. Pen RUN!” he shouts pointing over to the stall selling buckets and spades, while he wrestles John to the ground. “Eat sand Johnny!”

“Get off me!” John splutters, swinging his legs round and causing Gordon to fall who laughs as he gets back up onto his feet and looks around.

“Hey, where did the girls go?” he asks John.

“No idea, if you have frightened off another one of my girlfriends Fish-Face then I swear I will feed you to a shark” John replies rolling his eyes.

Gordon grins happily. “You know that is how I want to die right?”

“Excuse me?”

Turning round Gordon and John come face to face with Ridley and Lady Penelope who are both carrying bags with buckets and spades and looking at the boys as if they have never met them before.

“You want to be eaten by a shark?” Lady Penelope asks, her bright blue eyes are twinkling with amusement and she has momentarily forgotten their contest.

“Yep. If my death has to happen, then of course I want to be shark food!” Gordon replies. “My other life ambition apart from International Rescue and the Olympics has always been to be eaten by a shark”

*TB*

Scott is laughing despite the seriousness of the situation. His brother has always been crazy, but being eaten by a shark? Really Gordo?

“John, I am only minutes away now, please skip to how they got into the cave” Scott says, as he crosses over the coastline and starts to scan the beach for his brother’s location.

*TB*

Gordon and Lady Penelope’s “Sand Mansion” is a work of art. Virgil has always been the family artist, but Gordon has his own style that is shining through as he uses seaweed and shells he has gathered to make cladding and windows for the building. He has even added a moat and filled it with water.

Sitting back to admire his handywork, Lady Penelope runs her fingers through her hair, getting her nails tangled in her wet salty locks, but she doesn’t care. Not here with the only man she has ever loved. Watching with interest as the scarred muscles on his back heave with the effort of lugging buckets of water over for his moat. She knows that he is lucky to be here with her and not buried in a watery grave. Lying back on her towel, relaxing as the sun starts to sink down below the horizon causing the sky to glow and cast the beach in a red haze.

“Are you nearly done?” she asks him, aware that he has gotten carried away and isn’t even aware that she is still here!

“Nearly. But there is something missing. We need a flag!” Gordon replies, not even looking up from his masterpiece but jumping up onto his feet.

Gordon finally turns to Lady Penelope “Come on let’s go exploring for a flag”

Hand in hand the two walk past John and Ridley’s effort: a replica of thunderbird five including a gravity ring held in place with stray sticks they have found littering the sand.

“Hey it’s pretty good” Gordon says “Not as good as ours but not a bad effort big bro!”

“Thanks for the compliment Fish, where are you going?” John asks.

“To get some more stuff for the mansion, I would invite you along but you’re the competition!” it is Lady Penelope who answers him.

Ridley giggles. Finally realising that John and Lady Penelope are just friends, she can relax. John is hers and he knows it. Reaching out across their shared towel she curls into his side her head resting on his chest, as if the last seven hours have never happened. John has never been happier than he is right now. he has the woman he loves, and his brother is finally leaving them alone!

“Hey Pen, how about in here? we might not find a flag for the mansion but it is private!” Gordon says pointing out a small cave mouth in the hill at the edge of the beach.

Penny knows Gordon well enough to know why he wants the privacy! Grabbing his hand she drags him into the cave before throwing her arms around him and planting a kiss on his forehead her hands already moving to the drawstring on his shorts as she pushes him down onto the floor of the cave, neither caring about the wet and slimy ground as they are the only two people in the world.

“We can add this to the list with Thunderbird One and the Fire Flash” Gordon says laughing. “I thought Scott was going to murder us both when Virgil spilled the beans on that one!”

“Mmm. Have I told you recently just how much I love you?” Penny replies.

“No, tell me again!” Gordon replies with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

She doesn’t get the opportunity to speak however as there is a loud bang near by which sounds like a small explosion. Rocks rain down on both their heads and Gordon lies across Penelope desperate to protect her from harm. The cave is plunged into darkness as the entrance collapses. They’re trapped.

Finally the earth stills and she feels able to get up, only Gordon doesn’t move. His dark blonde hair has been dyed with the sticky red blood seeping from a wound in the back of his head. There is a brief moment of relief when she realises that he is still breathing but it doesn’t last long.

There are only two words running through her mind. Over and over again. Get. Help. Not wanting to move in case she causes further damage she manages to get to her phone calling the number that has never failed.

*TB*

John is starting to drift into a comfortable and relaxed sleep when he is suddenly bought back to full consciousness by Ridley’s urgent prodding.

“Wha’?” he mumbles sleepily.

“Your phone” Ridley replies, handing it over to him.

Flipping open the receiver Lady Penelope’s face pops out of the hologram transmitter. She has a cut above her right eyebrow which causes John to gasp in shock. “What happened?” he asks now wide awake.

“C-c-cave in. Gordon hurt. Help!” is all she can say, unable to stop the flow of tears.

John doesn’t ask for further details he is already on his feet, running down the beach, his bare feet burning as they beat down on the still warm sand as he races towards his brother’s weak life sign, followed by Ridley.

Coming upon the cave John let’s out a swear word he would never be brave enough to say in front of Grandma! It is buried.

*TB*

Lady Penelope is sitting on the floor, a deep cold has penetrated her heart and soul and she can’t stop shivering. Blaming herself for being so stupid for getting them into this situation she strokes a stray hair from Gordon’s face. His skin feels cold and his eyes are still tightly closed. Using the hand that isn’t stroking his hair, she takes his hand and gives it a gentle squeeze so he knows that he is not alone. That she has him, and she always will.

Gordon starts to squeeze back, his fingers closing ever so slightly and if she hadn’t been concentrating so hard she would never have felt them. This is the only way that he can let her know that he too is still with her.

*TB*

Outside in the warm evening air Virgil and Scott have arrived. Landing their respective Thunderbirds on the beach further away than they would have liked on John’s orders, as the ground around the cave is unstable and any further movement could cause even more damage.

Virgil drives a mole pod across the sandy terrain with Scott in the back up to where John is standing with Ridley.

“I have worked out the weak spots, use the drill through here” John tells them not even stopping to greet his two elder brothers. “I have spoken to Lady Penelope and Gordon has a serious head injury. You have to be careful in there”

“How did this happen?” Virgil asks. Looking around at the devastation on the beach, which has quickly been evacuated, and has been left covered in litter and stranded towels and beach umbrellas.

“According to the chief of police, there was a car crash, and the fuel ignited and caused the vehicle to explode. Luckily everyone was out of the car when it happened, but the shaking of the ground caused a minor earth tremor, which caused the cave in” John replies he knows that it was more complex than that, but he doesn’t have the time to go into details.

Virgil nods his face focused and determined on the task ahead of him. slowly he starts to drill at the solid rock formation in front of him, nervously he jumps at every noise, concern about further rock fall. The drill with the path John mapped for him makes the progress through the rock smooth and steady and in less than two minutes he is through.

He finds Lady Penelope still cradling Gordon’s head and to his relief his brother is awake.

“V-V-Virdy” Gordon stutters his whole body is shaking with the cold.

“No don’t speak, I will have you out of here and nice and warm and toasty soon just don’t move okay fish”

“Okay I w-w-won’t. Want to be e-e-eaten by a s-s-shark” Gordon mumbles, his eyes are glassy and unfocused.

Scott climbs out of the mole and starts to pull out a foldable stretcher. “Okay Fish you need to keep as still as possible, but this is going to hurt a lot” Scott tells him, as he slides the two halves into position under his body and clips them into position, apologising when Gordon lets out low painful moans as his feels his big brother manoeuvre his arms and legs before strapping him into place, leaving him feeling like he is in a straight jacket “Ready?” he asks but doesn’t give him time to answer as he nods to Virgil and they both pick up either end of the stretcher and place it on the flatbed attachment to the mole and lower the cover to keep him safe before they turn around and leave the cave which so very nearly became their tomb.

*TB*

“Jeff, they’re all going to be fine. Gordon is made from steel and you know he has been through worse. Stop fretting, Scott, John and Virgil know what they are doing” Grandma tells him, having watched her son pace the living room in frustration at not being able to help for the last hour. She too is terrified that something awful has happened, the longer the communications remain stoically silent.

“Why did I let him go? I should have known agreeing to let him go on that double date would end in disaster, from now on no dating off the island” Jeff decrees.

“But dad, I don’t even have a girlfriend how can I meet someone if I am not allowed of the Island?” Alan asks.

Jeff pauses his pacing and turns to look at his youngest son. “You are far too young to worry about that, you’re only eight”

Alan splutters indignantly. “Dad I am nineteen!” he reminds him.

Jeff is stopped from any further “decrees” when Virgil calls in. “Virgil, finally.”

“We have them dad, we are heading back to the Island. Prepare the sick bay” is all Virgil says before ringing off.

“You heard your brother, go” Jeff demands on Alan who scarpers from the room followed by both his father and Grandmother.

*TB*

Twenty-four hours later Gordon is sitting up in his bed propped up on several large white fluffy pillows, but he is in no pain thanks to a steady drip of morphine trickling into his arm. All four of his brothers are sitting in armchairs around him. there is a thick white bandage wrapped around his head, and he has been expertly stitched by Virgil and Grandma.

“Is this the first time I have fractured my skull?” he asks Virgil.

“Yeah, but it is not your first concussion so you young man will be remaining in that bed until I am satisfied that you are okay” it is grandma who answers him.

Gordon pouts briefly before he brightens up again as his sunny personality never allows him to remain down for long. “Can Penny stay with me?” he asks hopefully.

“You did say no more off the island dating dad” Alan reminds him.

Jeff eyes up his two youngest who are both giggling. “Sure, but you aren’t staying in the same room!”

“That’s okay we will just sleep in the cave in the cliff edge!” Gordon replies grinning as all four of his brothers simultaneously give him a face palm.

“I think on that note, we will let you get some rest” Grandma says herding his brothers out and leaving him alone where he snuggles down under the blanket and lets out a large yawn, the deep fatigue he has felt for the last day is bone deep and he can’t keep his eyes open for long.

Out in the sun Lady Penelope is sitting by the pool with Ridley, the small cut above her eyebrow has been covered with a plaster with dinosaurs on, which were chosen by Alan. “No offense Ridley, but I am never double dating with you and John ever again!”

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2004 #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds 1965 #Gordon Tracy #Virgil Tracy #Scott Tracy #alan tracy #John Tracy #jeff tracy #lady penelope #easterTAG #submission

[eastertag]

Choose your bandage colour

@gordonthegreatesttracy gift for @godsliltippy

—

Gordon hates school. It is so boring. Five days a week he is forced into this classroom and made to study when he just wants to be outside in the early autumn sunshine. He has just got a Spanish test back with a large D at the top corner which makes him smile as he has not studied in weeks yet has still passed!

He looks down at his watch and groans when he realises that he has only been sitting here for five minutes and there is another fifty to go. He is looking longingly out of the window at the gym class playing softball as another minute ticks by slowly and painfully.

At the front of the class his teacher, Mr Cooper, is droning on about verb conjugation and he wonders if he can fake a headache and escape to the nurse’s office just for something else to do! He rests his head on his fist and starts to daydream about the Olympics. His favourite daydream where he is standing on the podium being awarded a gold medal while his family look on and cheer. His eyes start to droop and before he knows it his head has slipped off his fist and hit the desk with a thud which wakes him up.

“Sorry” he mumbles to Mr Cooper.

Mr Cooper is not impressed, Gordon can tell. He maybe a terrible Spanish student but he can read the body language and the enmity coming from him. But it is really not his fault that the man is so boring!

“I will see you after class” Mr Cooper replies before getting back to his verbs.

Gordon groans and he just knows that this is detention the last place he wants to be and he spends the rest of the lesson thinking up excuses for how he can get out of it! Finally the bell rings and he watches the rest of his classmate’s stampede towards the door.

Flashing his most charming smile Gordon approaches the desk. “You wanted to see me sir” he says confidently.

“I won’t keep you long as I know it is time for your history nap, but you are disappointing everyone with your attitude, your brothers are wonderful students and if you would just apply yourself then I know that you could get good grades and even enjoy your time here” Mr Cooper tells him severely.

Gordon has heard it all before “Be more like his brothers, study harder, stop goofing around” and he is sick of it. no one cares that he can identify over a hundred species of fish just by looking at them briefly or that he has successfully nursed a sick frog back to health and is responsible for saving the delicate ecosystem of the school pond, or that he can swim the two hundred metre butterfly in one minute and fifty-nine seconds. Nothing he wants matters when he is compared to his brothers.

“Yes Sir” he mumbles “Can I go now?”

“You can, and if you fall asleep in my class again it’s detention” Mr Cooper tells him.

Gordon nods before fleeing the room.

He is late for History class, so decides to ditch to avoid any further trouble, sneaking out of the main entrance and down the pathway to his freedom. he starts to jog down the path, putting miles between himself and the school. It is warmer out here than he thought it was and he stops to take his hoodie off and ties it around his waist and looks around at his surroundings.

The pool is nearby and he has his emergency credit card to purchase a bathing suit and towel and heads to the changing room. He knows that there will be several hours before anyone notices he is gone and that gives him ample time to practise his diving.

*TB*

Jeff has been working from home all week while he recovers from a heavy cold which has left him irritable and short tempered. The phone on his desk rings and he curses loudly as the half cup of cold coffee spills all over his laptop when he reaches for the receiver.

“Jeff Tracy speaking” he barks into the receiver.

“Mr Tracy, hi I am calling from the school. Gordon has skipped his last two classes”

Jeff curses under his breath. It is always Gordon. Always!

“Okay, I will deal with it” Jeff replies eventually, and not for the first time he considers boarding school.

“Thank you, we will let you know if he returns”

Jeff hangs up the phone and starts to dial Gordon’s number but his phone goes straight to voicemail. Swearing loudly, he gets up from the desk and goes to get his car keys so he can spend the afternoon driving around town looking for his rebellious offspring!

Why is parenting so hard?! He thinks. “If Lucy was only still here” Lucy understood Gordon in a way Jeff just can’t. Fighting a stray tear Jeff drives towards the pool in inspiration pulling into a parking spot near the entrance he waits for a few minutes before switching off the engine and getting out the car.

The pool is noisy and crowded and Jeff can’t believe anyone would want to spend so much time here in other peoples sweat and dirt. Walking into the reception area, he can see Gordon from here, on top of the ten-metre dive board and he watches in awe as he leaps from the springboard and expertly executes a double somersault before entering the water at the perfect one-eighty-degree angle.

“Gordon” he calls once he has scrambled up out the pool.

The blonde looks back at him in surprise his eyes wide and Jeff can tell that a thousand excuses are running through his brain.

“Get over here now” Jeff demands and Gordon obeys. “Go and get your stuff and meet me in the car in five minutes and we will discuss this when we get home”

Gordon silently does as he is told, a slow walk to his inevitable doom. Rubbing his hair dry with the towel after he has finished dressing, he leaves the changing room and goes back out into the now chilly afternoon air.

But that chill is nothing to the frostiness emanating from his father, as he sits in the passenger seat in a deathly silence as his dad roars out the carpark and heads back to the farmhouse.

“Go to your room” Jeff announces the second they enter the house.

“Dad?” Gordon tries, maybe if he just explained what he was going through his dad would understand.

“NOW!” Jeff roars back grabbing his shoulders and forcing him towards the stairs. “I don’t want to hear any excuses I will discuss your punishment with your Grandmother later and I will let you know”

Gordon stomps up the stairs. His life is so unfair and no one in this house even understands him, if he had anywhere else to go he wouldn’t be here. He throws open his bedroom door, kicking dirty clothes out of the way and slamming the door loudly behind him and throwing himself down on top of the bed he starts to cry.

Once there are no more tears left in him, he gets up from the bed and goes over to the window seat and kneels down on the cushions and gazes out the window.

All four of his brothers are being treated to a barbecue and he can smell the burgers and hotdogs and hear their taunting laughter as they all have a good time without him. he rests his back on the wall and opens the window to try and get some fresh air.

“GET THAT WINDOW CLOSED” Jeff shouts up to him the moment he senses it open.

Gordon is done. Slamming the window so hard the pane shatters and showers him in broken glass, he puts his arms up to protect his face and a large shard slices through his forearm and he grits his teeth in pain before he gets down from the seat and tries to leave the room, but he father is already on the other side.

There is a fury in his father’s face that would usually render Gordon terrified, but he too angry too care. “What?!” he snarls rudely before he pushes his way past him and goes into the bathroom.

“Get back here and get his glass cleaned up, then you and I are going to have a serious talk about your attitude mister” Jeff tells him.

Gordon ignores him, his arm is bleeding into the sleeve of his hoodie, and it really hurts but not as much as his father’s lack of concern as he sinks back down on the bathroom floor and wraps a face cloth around his arm before using surgical tape he found in the medicine cabinet.

To his disappointment his father is still standing in his room.

“Clean this mess up, then you can sleep on the sofa until the window is fixed. You are grounded for the next two months. You don’t leave the house apart from to go to school, no television, no video games, no pool and no sweets or dessert. You will be doing all the laundry, and you will be responsible for the dishes. You set the table in the morning before every meal and you wash the dishes after. The money for the window is coming out of your allowance. You need to grow up and be more like your brothers” Jeff knows that he is being harsh, but he is done with Gordon and his antics.

But so is Gordon. His perfect brothers. Always his perfect brothers. He is never allowed to be himself around his father, without the pressure of being compared to his brothers.

“CLEAN IT UP YOURSELF!” he screams, before turning and running down the stairs and out the back door.

“GET BACK HERE!” Jeff follows him outside.

“I HATE YOU!” Gordon screams, still backing down the path. “LEAVE ME ALONE”

Virgil starts to follow him, he has no idea what has happened as his father refused to discuss it beyond announcing that Gordon was grounded. “Gordon?” he asks.

“I HATE YOU TOO. YOU ARE JUST LIKE HIM! I CAN’T DO ANYTHING RIGHT IN THIS SO-CALLED FAMILY! JOHN IS PERFECT, SCOTT IS A MINI DAD AND YOU…” Gordon trails off.

Scott has heard enough. Lifting Gordon up over his shoulder he marches back into the house with his fists flailing against his back and deposits him on the sofa.

“What is this about Gordon?” Scott asks.

“What do you mean?” he snaps in anger.

“You know what I mean. This isn’t you” Scott tells him.

“YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW ME” Gordon screams. “MY WHOLE LIFE REVOLVES AROUND YOU AND JOHN AND VIRGIL. MOST OF THE TIME DAD DOESN’T EVEN REMEMBER THAT I AM ALIVE”

“That is not true Gordon and you know it” Jeff says from the doorway. “You are grounded for skipping school, and if one of your brothers had skipped they would be grounded too”

Gordon rolls his eyes. “I HATE SCHOOL”

“Stop shouting Gordon, or I will start adding to your punishment” Jeff replies standing firm.

“I WISH IT WAS YOU WHO DIED AND NOT MOM” Gordon screams.

Jeff reels as if Gordon had slapped him. Scott is staring at him as if he has never seen him before.

The fight drains from Gordon, even now they don’t get it. This has nothing to do with school, this is about him and his father and his father will never understand him and how he feels. His arm aches and his head is pounding and he just wishes that they would all just leave him alone.

“Stop being such a spoiled brat” John says rolling his eyes. “Hey dad, I thought I would tell you that Alan has set grass on fire”

Jeff buries his face in his hands before leaving Gordon alone with Scott.

“See” Gordon says to Scott. “He doesn’t care”

Scott rolls his eyes. “See you later Gords, I will bring down your blanket and pillow, I suggest you get your homework done”

And Gordon is once again alone.

*TB*

A long night follows with very little sleep, as the sofa is not comfortable and his arm is throbbing in agony and he is relieved when his alarm blares the following morning. Getting up he leaves the blanket on the sofa and goes up to his room to get dressed and writes a note to his dad saying he was going to school early and sneaking out to the garage to get his bike.

The early morning sunlight is trying to break through the clouds as he cycles furiously through the sleepy backroads. He has no idea where he is going, he just knows that he needs to go. to put some space between him and the suffocation at home.

He is almost at the highway when his front tyre hits a pothole and explodes throwing him over the handlebars, his arms hit the ground first followed by his head which smacks the ground with enough force to knock him unconscious while his body snaps violently to the left before crumbling to the floor.

*TB*

Jeff is furious when he reads through the hastily scribbled note. Gordon was supposed to be here making breakfast for everyone, not sneaking out to avoid the consequences of his deplorable actions.

Jeff starts to bang boxes of cereal and bottles of milk on the table before shouting up the stairs to get his other children to come to life so he can drag them to school.

Scott is the first one downstairs, still in his pyjamas. “Where is the brat?” he asks as he sits down.

“Gone to school already, and don’t call him names” Jeff replies.

“Scott chokes on his coffee! “Are you joking? There is no way he has gone to school, my money is on the swimming pool since you banned him”

Jeff knows that is a much more reasonable explanation! “Eat your breakfast. VIRGIL, JOHN, ALAN GET DOWN HERE NOW!”

Footsteps pound overhead and down the stairs before Alan bursts into the room. “Morning daddy” he announces happily climbing onto his usual chair and starting to shovel food into his mouth like he has not eaten in a month.

“VIRGIL, JOHN I WON’T TELL YOU AGAIN. GET DOWN HERE OR YOU’RE BOTH BANNED FROM ART AND ASTRONOMY CLUB FOR A WEEK” Jeff shouts.

Ten minutes later they are all ready for school dressed, hair and teeth brushed and Alan is even wearing matching socks.

“Scott take Virgil to school” Jeff says throwing him his car keys.

Scott rolls his eyes, “Dad I always take Virgil to school. Come on Virgy”

“Scott, I am not six years old, stop calling me Virgy!” Virgil replies issuing his own eyeroll while Alan giggles.

“Just go” Jeff says.

Scott’s car needs to be cleaned inside and out. The floor is littered with sweet wrappers and fast-food debris.

“Ugh Scott, this car stinks” Virgil tells him, picking up an empty milkshake bottle and realising it is empty because the milk shake is all over the floor!

“You know where the bus stop is” Scott replies laughing. “Besides dad is always telling me off for the state of my room so I need somewhere I can just chill and be myself. It is why John studies, it is why you draw and play the piano and it is why Gordon swims. To get away from that expectation dad has of us. He is always on my back about my grades and studying and getting into a good college. He is a nightmare; I love him but he is hard work”

Virgil nods in agreement. “I know he is always pushing me too. Since Mom died he wants to show the world that he can raise us alone and that he doesn’t need help, but honestly there are times when I just want to run away and never return. He is always telling me I should spend more time outdoors like Gordon does or more time studying like John does. He is never happy to just let me be myself.”

They fall into silence as the journey continues both lost in their own bleak thoughts before they hit heavy traffic.

“Seriously” Scott groans. “I can’t be late for school again or I will wind up in detention, and don’t tell dad I was late on Monday because I dropped you off and then went into town to meet Bernie for a second breakfast. And You can NOT tell dad I have a girlfriend”

“I won’t say a thing, you know you can trust me” Virgil tells him reassuringly.

The traffic isn’t budging and they sit in silence for several minutes before Virgil’s phone buzzes.

“It’s dad, ten bucks he is stuck somewhere behind us with Alan and John, I will put him on speaker phone” Virgil says before swiping his finger across the answer button. “Hey dad”

“Virg hi. Are you guys stuck too?” Jeff says.

“Yep, we have not moved in ten minutes and Scott is having heart failure over his perfect attendance!” Virgil replies.

“So is John. I am going to turn back, if you guys want to join us” Jeff offers.

Scott shakes his head. “I am going to get out and see what is happening up there. If there has been an accident I might be able to help”

“Okay kids just don’t interfere” Jeff says before the line goes dead.

Scott joins the sea of abandoned vehicles and starts to walk up the side of the road, Virgil at his heels before stopping dead causing Virgil to walk straight into his back.

“Scott!” He complains, rubbing his forehead and looking around his elder brother to find out why he stopped so suddenly.

Virgil’s blood runs cold.

“Gordon?!” he gasps.

*TB*

As quickly as he stopped, Scott starts to run towards the scene in front of him.

“You kids can’t get any closer” A police officer assigned to crowd control tells the pair, not recognising the anguish on their faces.

“You don’t get it. That’s our brother” Scott tells him, still trying to battle his way past the officer.

“Okay come through” the officer says leading them to where the ambulance is parked.

“Gordon?” Virgil says quietly as his eyes fall upon the lifeless form of his younger brother. His skin is milky white apart from a river of red across his forehead. Blood has also seeped out onto his hair and the blonde is now a mess of matted dark red.

Virgil doesn’t even realise that he is still holding in his breath but let’s out a sigh of relief when he sees the steady movement of his brother’s breathing. Gordon is still alive.

Virgil’s eyes don’t leave Gordon’s face while he is loaded into the back of the ambulance for any small signs that his brother is waking up. He is rewarded when his eyelids start to flutter. “Gordy?”

“Virggy?” he mumbles back before falling still again.

No one chases Virgil out of the vehicle, and he has no idea where Scott has gone as the ambulance starts to move, the siren blaring as they make it onto the highway. “Can I hold his hand?” Virgil asks.

The driver nods. “But be very careful and try not to move him”

Virgil slides his fingers under Gordon’s using his thumb to gently massage the back of his hand, talking to him in a calm and soothing voice.

He doesn’t wake up again before they teach the hospital in the city centre. And the two are separated as Gordon is taken through into emergency surgery.

“Virgil?”

“Dad? How did you get here so fast?” Virgil asks.

“Police escort, it was so much fun” Alan replies.

“It was not fun” John interrupts “Where is Gordon?”

“I don’t know” Virgil replies, tears filling his eyes again.

“I will go and find out, you guys stay here together, Alan do not move from your brother’s sight at all times” Jeff demands.

Virgil leads John and Alan to three chairs in the emergency room and the three boys sit in a desperate silence. Not even Alan speaks until Scott arrives.

“Scott where were you?” Virgil asks.

“I had to go and get my car Virg” Scott replies. “Any news?”

“Nothing, dad hasn’t even come back” Virgil replies.

The wait drags for hours, Jeff pops back briefly and hands Scott his wallet asking him to go and get coffee and some lunch for everyone.

Scott doesn’t want to leave, but when his father is giving an order he knows that he can’t refuse it.

The coffee and the food is abandoned and cold before Jeff finally returns once again. He looks exhausted as he takes a seat next to Alan who climbs onto his lap and rests his head on his shoulder.

“Well he will live” Jeff says grimly.

“What happened?” Scott asks.

“Both his arms are broken, and he has a severe concussion. The doctors have decided to keep him sedated until the swelling on his brain goes down but they’re hopeful that he will make a complete recovery.” Jeff replies.

“Can we see him?” Scott asks.

“No” Jeff replies. “You guys are going to go home” he insists.

“Are you kidding me?” Virgil asks in shock. “You think we are just going to meekly go home and obey you. This is all your fault”

“Virgil, not now!” Scott hisses in his ear. But Virgil refuses to back down.

“You just don’t get it do you Jeff?” he spits in anger.

Scott grabs him and pulls him away before he can say something that they will all regret. “Gordon doesn’t need this right now. Now is not the time to blame dad. There will be plenty of time for that later!”

Virgil snorts with derision before walking back to his dad and brothers. “Sorry dad” he says without any hint of sincerity.

Jeff accepts it, the boys have all had a long day and they’re all tired. “Go home and get some sleep”

*TB*

Gordon is awake. His head is aching and his left arm is held in a steel cage suspended and an awkward angle above his body. His right arm is home to a boring white cast and he wishes he had never woken up.

“Hey Fish”

“Dad?” he croaks. His throat feels like it is on fire and just being able to say his father’s name exhausts him all over again.

Gordon doesn’t know it, but his father has barely left his side for the ten days he has been in a coma. “I’m sorry dad I…” He tries to apologise but Jeff cuts him off.

“No, you have nothing to apologise for Gordon, I have spoken to your brothers and everything you said was true, I have not been treating you fairly. You need to know that I am so proud of everything you have achieved, so you can’t speak Spanish believe it or not I can’t either!” Jeff tells him grinning. “I have also spoken to the school I promise you that I am going to try and stop comparing you to your brothers. I know this won’t help right now, but they feel the same way as you do.

“When you’re feeling better we are going to have a real family meeting, like we used to do when your mom was still alive” Jeff doesn’t need to add that Lucy would be disappointed with the way he has behaved with the boys, he knows that this is his fault. If he had been there for them then this would not have happened.

“I love you” Gordon says quietly.

Jeff takes the hand that is not enclosed in a steel cage and gives it a gentle squeeze.

“I love you too Squid. But the only thing you need to worry about is choosing a colour for your cast okay?” Jeff replies knowing that he will need something bright and colourful. “I have spoken to the doctor and they have said that they are happy for you to have a waterproof cast made from fibreglass, which means that you will be able to go swimming once you have been released from the cage!”

“Really?” Gordon asks visibly perking up now.

“Really. All you have to do is choose the colour!”

*TB*

“One green cast and one yellow cast?” Scott queries after Gordon has had his final operation.

“Yeah there is no way I was getting two the same colour. This is a step further than odd socks – odd casts!” He replies with a grin.

He has finally been allowed to come home and is lying on the sofa. There is a large gift-wrapped box near the TV with his name on it and he is dying from curiosity but knows better than to ask, he was bought up with manners!

 “Hey dad, can we put him out of his misery yet?” John asks, realising that Gordon has not taken his eyes off box.

“Go for it” Jeff replies, watching Gordon leap down from the couch and run across the room, ripping the paper from the box he comes face to face with a brand new bike.

“Really?” he asks excitedly.

“Well you need a new one!” Jeff tells him smiling. “I don’t know if Scott shows the photos but your old one is scrap metal.”

“Hey it is not, it is a work of art!” Virgil interrupts laughing. “I made it into a sculpture and I decided to call it “Choose the colour of your bandage!”

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2004 #thunderbirds 1965 #thunderbirds fanfiction #Virgil Tracy #Gordon Tracy #Scott Tracy #John Tracy #alan tracy #jeff tracy #easterTAG #submission

[eastertag]

@singmetothesun is running a bit behind on your gift @misssquidtracy so @godsliltippy drew you this so you had something for Easter 😄

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2004 #thunderbirds 1965 #thunderbirds fanart #Gordon Tracy #easterTAG

[eastertag]

Truth or Dare - prompt "you said make it challenging

@gordonthegreatesttracy gift for @godsliltippy

—

Gordon Tracy is bored. And a bored Gordon is a formidable opponent. They have not had a rescue in nearly two days and even Grandma has given up making them clean!

“Hey Virg, can we play truth or dare?” he asks his bear like brother who has been practising the same piece for the last three hours and is driving Gordon crazy.

“Absolutely not, the last time we played that you fell off the barn roof back in Kansas remember?” Virgil replies laughing.

“Yeah but I am older now and more mature”

Virgil snorts with laughter, Gordon will never be mature!

“PLEASE” Gordon pleads.

Those eyes shining on him, the ones Virgil has never been able to resist.

“Okay fine, but you do NOT tell Scott. Go and grab Allie and meet in my room in about five minutes.”

Gordon skips happily from the room and gathers up his younger brother and herds him into Virgil’s room and the pair get comfortable on Virgil’s bed.

“So what are we not telling Scott?”

“John! Stop doing that, you nearly gave me a heart attack!” Alan claims.

“Do you really want to know?” Gordon asks.

John pretends to think about it for a brief second before laughing and saying “No”

Virgil arrives a minute later carrying a tray with drinks and a plate of nachos.

“Ooo snacks” Gordon says brightly, claiming the nachos for himself!

“So what is this about?” Alan asks, still confused.

“Truth or dare!” Virgil replies with a grin.

“Can I go first?” Gordon asks.

“Fine. Gordon: truth or dare?” Virgil asks.

“Dare, and make it challenging!” Gordon replies.

Virgil thinks for a moment, “Okay I dare you to sneak into the hangars where Scott is working on Thunderbird one and steal his tools and replace them with Alan’s old toy toolbox right under his nose.”

Gordon smiles back “Easy. Be back in five minutes!”

Gordon leaves the room and enters Alan’s room for toy toolbox before sneaking down to the hangar where he finds his eldest brother dangling from the nose cone of his beloved plane. The toolbox is in plain sight, and he knows that Scott is distracted enough to swipe the box and replace it with the toy tools. Too easy!

The boxes are switched in seconds and he is home free. But that was a little bit too simple. He needs a challenge! Sneaking back down he goes over to Thunderbird Shadow and grabs a can of spray pain. Painting “Gordy was here!” in yellow on the rear wing, again unnoticed by Scott. “Perfect!” he thinks happily as he makes his way back to Virgil’s room.

“Well?” Alan asks in anticipation.

“Let’s see” Gordon replies flicking on Virgil’s television and turning to the security camera just as Scott reaches for a hammer.

His reaction makes all three burst out laughing as Scott roars with anger “GORDON!” he shouts angrily, stomping towards the elevator and back up into the lounge. “WHERE ARE YOU FISHBOY?”

“You called Scooter?” Gordon replies sarcastically, poking his head out of Virgil’s room.

“Where are my tools?” Scott demands.

“I don’t know” Gordon replies with a shrug, “where did you have them last?”

“Down in the hangar, but they have been replaced with plastic toys” Scott says in outrage.

“Well why don’t you ask the one who owns the toys” Gordon replies with a shrug.

“Oi, I am not going down for this. this was your dare!” Alan says.

“Don’t throw me under the bus Rocketboy!” Gordon replies but he is laughing now too.

“I will throw you both under the bus in a minute!” Scott growls. “Give me back my stuff!”

Gordon is saved from answering by Kayo bursting in through the door. “YOU!” she calls pining the aquanaut to the wall. “Get downstairs and get Thunderbird S repainted!”

“What, that was not part of the dare!” Alan says with a giggle.

“Yeah well, I told you to make it challenging!” Gordon replies, but he is saved from further arguments by John popping up. “Sorry guys but we have a situation” and everyone scarpers to get ready for another day as international rescue. Gordon gives Scott his tools back but doesn’t offer to repaint Thunderbird S!

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2004 #thunderbirds 1965 #thunderbirds fanfiction #Gordon Tracy #alan tracy #Scott Tracy #Virgil Tracy #John Tracy #kayo kyrano #submission

[eastertag]

The Scarecrow

@fallenfurther gift for @willow-salix

Drabble Number 12 (because I needed more inspiration)

********

“Can I be of assistance?” John asked.

“No,” growled an agitated, exhausted Virgil.

Virgil was currently strung up by his mangled exosuit, like some peculiar scarecrow. Brains was standing on MAX, attacking the mechanism unsuccessfully.

“Can people PLEASE stop boarding my ship without my authorisation?”

“Right. Let’s leave Brains to it.”

The grin Gordon had worn while piloting Two home, was still plastered on his face as he and his brothers were herded out. Selene felt sorry for the gentle artist. Stepping on a toolbox she raised her coffee mug to his lips. He sipped with sorry yet grateful eyes.

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2004 #thunderbirds 1965 #thunderbirds fanfiction #John Tracy #Virgil Tracy #Gordon Tracy #submission

[eastertag]

@willow-salix gift for @gordonthegreatesttracy

The only thing he was aware of was the pain, pain so great it felt like his entire body had been ripped apart and set on fire. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think, he wasn’t even sure if he was alive or dead.

A world of pain, beyond which nothing else existed. 

The heavy weight that had been pounding on his chest stopped, his lungs screamed in protest as he tried to suck air into them, fighting with him.

“I’ve got output!”

“He’s back!”

 -x-

THIRTY-SEVEN MINUTES EARLIER

“You’re so lucky!”

“I know,” Gordon grinned, something that had been an almost permanent fixture on his face for the past three days since he’d heard that he, a relative newcomer, had been picked over everyone else. It was such an honour, completely unexpected, but an honour nonetheless.

“How did you even pull it off? Did Daddy throw some cash their way?” Browns teased.

“Ha! You wish that was the reason, then you’d never have to admit that it’s all down to my superior skills and outlandish charm,” Gordon preened as he yanked at the left leg of his dry suit. It was cumbersome, far thicker than he was used to, a complete pain in the ass to drag on, but an essential bit of kit that he would not be allowed out without.

Browns helped him hoist the back up over his shoulders once he got his arms in the holes. Gordon rolled his shoulder, settling the stiff material in place as best he could. He still felt uncomfortable but it sure beat the alternative.

“Five minutes to go!” his commander called through the door. “You almost ready, Tracy?”

“I was born ready, sir.”

“Good lad, then get moving.”

Gordon tried his hardest not to run out of the door, so eager was he to get his butt in that seat. Some people would never understand his excitement, but to him it was a dream come true. He’d seen the way his eldest brother would practically vibrate with excitement whenever he called home and told them all about the latest plane he’d been called in to test drive and, Gordon had to admit, he’d never really understood what all the fuss had been about. Now it was his turn and he knew that he’d be grovelling to Scott in a few hours time, begging his forgiveness for all the times he’d teased him about his latest winged crush. He was just as guilty, except his crush had two sleek and sexy foils propping her out of the water like the majestic queen that she was. And he couldn’t wait to get his hands on her.

The next five minutes had flown by faster than he could track, people had surrounded him on all sides, all yanking and pushing and prodding him into place. One had helped him climb into the cockpit, carefully navigating so as not to knock his helmet on the metal bars of the reinforced frame that would encase him on both sides. Another had buckled him into his seat, bringing the safety straps down over his shoulders and clipping them into the buckle between his legs. Yet another had double checked the air supply to his suit, just in case.

The Navy hadn’t touched hydrofoils for almost a century after they had been deemed too expensive, too unpredictable and of no real use. Now WASP had taken up the challenge.

The project, codenamed Poiseiden, had seen the designing, building and now the testing of the Sea Skimmer hydrofoil, which looked set to be the next shining gem to come out of the experimental watercraft division. 

As long as it worked as it should, there was the potential for it to become a standard vehicle in all branches of WASP before the end of the year, making high speed sea rescues or pursuits all the easier. 

“Did you hear me, Tracy?” the engineer to his left asked again, making him jump.

“Yeah, sorry,” Gordon winced, cursing his lack of attention. 

“Are you sure you’re up to this?” 

“I’m good, I swear. I was just running a mental checklist and didn’t hear you the first time,” he lied smoothly, refusing to admit that he had been picturing the glory that he’d get from this once the programme was rolled out across the board. This was a career making opportunity and he couldn’t afford to blow it.

“Good,” the man patted the top of Gordon’s helmet affectionately, before bellowing over his shoulder; “Team, roll out!”

The flock of people that had been buzzing around the craft melted away, each person having already completed their specific task or moving to prepare for it, leaving Gordon alone.

His gloved hands flexed on the controls, impatient to get going. The silence around him was broken by the crackle of the radio then the unmistakable sound of a countdown. Thirty seconds to go...twenty...ten...five…

The second clearance was given he was off, easing the boat out of its covered dock and out into WASP’s test harbour. Once he was clear of the floating observation platforms he opened her up, moving her in a graceful figure eight, just letting her glide through the water as he got a feel for the way she handled while gradually increasing speed.

He was five miles per hour off the predicted speed when he felt the first hint of lift, the very thing he had been waiting for. He straightened out, deviating from his previous path to that of a straight line before pushing the throttle a little more. 

As her speed increased so did the lift, the foils doing their job perfectly, raising her hull out of the water, the foils beginning to skim just as they were supposed to. He couldn't help the little woop of excitement that escaped as the bow kept lifting higher and higher. It was only bloody working!

“You’re doing great, Tracy,” the voice over the radio said. “How does she feel?”

“Great, just great,” Gordon replied. “She’s handling like a dream, a little twitchy but nothing terrible. I can feel every little move that the water makes but not like a normal boat, more like when you’re surfing. She’s not plowing through the water, she’s skimming it just as she’s supposed to.”

“How much more can she take?”

Gordon glanced down at the speedometer, registering that she was already at just over two hundred miles per hour.

“Nothing in here, I'd need to take her to the open water.”

“Affirmative, carry on.”

Grinning widely, Gordon steered her straight for the opening that led to the stretch of ocean that was permanently closed to all marine traffic within a hundred and fifty square miles. He heard the safety boat following somewhere behind him but ignored it, they were professionals and would know to keep out of his way, he just had to concentrate on his own driving.

Once he was clear he pushed the throttle forward easing into the last third, ready to push her to her max. He watched as the speedometer readouts climbed ever higher, ten miles, twenty, thirty, she kept going, lifting higher and higher out of the water. He wasn't just feeling it, he could see it, the angle of the horizon line ahead of him changing before his eyes.

“Give her all she’s got, Tracy,” his commander encouraged and Gordon was only too happy to comply. It felt amazing, she was gliding, almost effortlessly, barely skimming the surface of the water as her sleek, aerodynamic foils sliced through all resistance like a hot knife through butter.

“Yes, sir!” 

He pushed the throttle forward that last few millimeters until it could go no more. The engines roared their approval as the numbers continued to tick over edging ever closer to that elusive three hundred mark…

“Yes!” he screamed in triumph as the two rolled into a three. 

“Well done, Tracy!” the voice over the radio praised. “How does she feel?” 

“Like she’s standing still,” Gordon enthused. “It’s effortless, I can barely feel her moving at all. Smooth as silk.”

“Give her one last go around and then start easing back into port.”

“Got it,” Gordon confirmed, moving to do just that.

What happened next was both too quick to register but also felt like it was happening in slow motion. His hand gripped the throttle, starting to ease it back in order to begin deceleration, meaning to execute a large sweeping curve to bring her back around to face port. The handle, which should have moved back as easily as it had moved forward, stayed exactly where it was.

The hydrofil was already coming into the turn and her nose lifted even further, suspending her almost bolt upright for a split second before she left the water completely, shooting up into the air.

She cartwheeled through the air, end over end for three full turns before she came crashing face down into the water. Somewhere during the second tumble Gordon had managed to locate and press the button on the side of the steering wheel that activated the emergency ejector seat. 

He felt the side of his helmet crack against the crumple cage, making his brain rattle in his skull as darkness overcame him.

“Move! Move! Move!” Commander Jennings bellowed as the safety boat he was on rushed to the scene. He could see the pilots seat in the distance, floating in the ocean not far from the wrecked craft. 

His instruments and readouts told him that the safety valves in Gordon’s dry suit had opened, meaning that the suit’s sensors had detected enough ejection force to initiate the rush of air that would fill the suit, acting as both a cushion and a stabilizing force to protect his body as it crashed into the sea like a rag doll. 

The sensors also told him that Gordon was not breathing.

They reached his side in less than a minute, paramedic divers already throwing themselves overboard to reach him before they had come to a complete stop. 

They turned him over, finding a deep crack in his helmet that extended to the visor which was letting in water, filling up the space his head currently occupied. They flipped open the visor, letting the majority of the water drain away, but the hoped for breath was never heard.

A hover stretcher appeared beside them as they released his safety harness and dragged him to the board. He was strapped down and hauled into the boat as quickly as possible.

The second he was aboard they wasted no time in releasing the safety catch on his helmet and removing it as carefully as possible. They knew that they were risking further damage to his neck or spine, its current condition unknown, but getting him breathing was their top priority.

Working in tandem one started rhythmic chest compressions, trying to force the water out of his lungs and air down into them. On the count of thirty the paramedic stopped allowing his partner to seal her mouth over Gordon’s pushing two breaths into his lungs. They waited a beat, eyes searching for any kind of response while another of the team held the medscanner over him, waiting for the verdict. Nothing. 

“Keep going, I’ll get this tube in him,” another ordered as they continued to work. Two rounds of chest compressions and mouth to mouth were completed as they readied the tube, chest compressions continuing as it was inserted.

They worked solidly for more than three minutes until finally, blessedly, the medscanner registered the faintest flicker of life. But it was enough.

-x-

The nurse hadn’t expected the sheer number of people that surged through the doors of her emergency room, all yelling one name and demanding to know what was going on, where he was, to be taken to him, to see his medical records and to talk to his doctor RIGHT THIS MINUTE.

“You can’t all be in here,” she started, trying to instill some kind of order into the chaos that was now clustered around the receptionist, who was blinking like a deer in headlights, unable to form words, her eyes darting from one to the other, trying to decide who to answer first.

“Are you in charge here?” the tallest man demanded to know, his eyes flicking from her face to her name tag, Senior Nurse Sophie Gardner. 

“I am,” she stated calmly, crossing her arms to show she meant business. She’d been on the receiving end of a large number of distressed family members and knew that they would pounce on her the second she showed even the slightest hint of weakness.

“Who are you here to see?”

“Gordon Tracy, he was brought in by air around 90 minutes ago,” Scott told her, trying his hardest not to snap. 

“And you are?”

“His brother.” 

“And the rest? It’s close family only, no friends allowed.”

“His brothers and our grandmother,” Scott answered, daring her to argue.

“All of you are family?”

“Yes! What do you need ID now?” Scott snapped, rapidly losing patience. 

“Can we see my grandson now, please?” Sally asked, inserting herself in front of Scott and into the conversation. 

“Let me just look him up,” Sophie said, moving to the computer to pull up his file. She remembered the state of him when they had brought him in, she had only just come on shift but had been there to do the handover. 

An air ambulance had arrived, landing on the helipad on the roof and he had immediately been rushed through her department, barely giving them time to complete the minimum of observations and take notes before he had been whisked away again. It wasn’t unusual, they were one of the most advanced military hospitals in the country, they were used to life or death cases. 

She could picture him, lying on the stretcher, strapped to a board, his uniform suit cut to ribbons both from scissors and from whatever had happened to him to cause so much damage. He was instantly fast tracked through her department and rushed on to the surgical team for scans and treatment. 

Now Sophie was faced with his scared and demanding family and it looked like it would be falling to her to deliver some of the bad news.

“He’s being prepped for surgery, he might even be in by now. The full extent of his injuries aren’t known but I can promise you we’re doing our best.”

“When can we see him?” Virgil asked, butting in for the first time, leaving John to continue texting Kayo who had stayed behind with Alan. Alan had not been happy with that decision, but the others had stood firm. They didn’t know what they were going to find when they got there, what state their brother would be in and the youngest didn’t need to see anything that would be hard for him to forget. Scott had tried to impose the same restriction on Sally but had quickly given up, knowing it had been a lost cause before he had even started.

“When he’s out of surgery and stable,” Sophie replied kindly, knowing that they didn’t mean to be so forceful and demanding, she wasn’t going to take it personally just yet. “If you’ll all follow me I’ll take you to the relatives room where you can wait for news, I’ll let the surgeons know that you’re here but I’m afraid you might be in for a long wait.”

“Waiting won’t be a problem,” Scott assured her as they stalked down the corridor after her.

It was a silent party that sat in that room all night long, sat for more than nine hours as their little brother underwent one gruelling surgery after another, the first of many trips into the theater that he would undergo over the next few days, or so they had been told.

The member of the surgical team, who had been called in to talk to them, had been kind and very sympathetic as he had delivered the crushing news, revealing the full extent of Grodon’s injuries. Each one more horrific than the last.

The immediate concern was his ruptured spleen, lacerated liver, punctured lung and depressed skull fracture. The plan was, if the current surgeries he was undergoing went well, to keep him in a medically induced coma as soon as he was out of surgery, give his body at least 24 hours to rest and strengthen before taking him back in to deal with the numerous fractures he had sustained.

Among those fractures were a broken nose, broken arm, a fractured wrist, a broken leg, fractured pelvis, numerous broken ribs and, most worrying of all was the two cracked vertebrae in his neck, two herniated discs and the pulled muscles that went along with them.

If the operations to fix and stabilize those broken bones went well, then he would be passed to the cosmetic surgery team who would do what they could for the deep lacerations that littered his skin, friction burns and the removal of any foreign objects that had entered his body due to flying shrapnel.

The nurse had kindly sent a porter in with hot drinks and sandwiches for them once the doctor had left but they remained untouched, none of them able to stomach the thought of eating. All they could do was watch the clock, counting down the minutes and, for some, praying to anyone they thought would listen. They bargained, they made promises, everything that could possibly help.

They had lost too many people in their family already, their grandfather and mother on the same day, their mothers parents a few years later and then, most recently, their father. The thought of losing another person, one so integral to their lives, was too horrible to even contemplate.

“He’ll be fine,” Scott said out loud, feeling the need to break the silence, knowing exactly what his family were thinking because he’d undoubtedly been having the same thoughts. “It’s Gordon, nothing keeps him down for long.”

“He’s made it this far,” John agreed. “I saw the report on the hydrofoil and-”

“Wait, how did you see that?” Virgil asked, happy to be distracted.

“I...well...I have my ways,” John stammered, his face slightly flushed, refusing to look at them.

“John?” Scott’s tone said it all.

John sighed defeately. “I wanted to know exactly what happened, I might have hacked into the accident report that WASP submitted an hour ago.”

“I can’t believe you did that!” Virgil groaned. Honestly, John was supposed to be the brother that he didn’t worry about, because it obviously wasn’t Gordon or Scott.

“I can,” Scott said, glaring at his younger brother who stared right back, undeterred by the look that had had many a young air force recruit shaking at the knees. 

“Are you telling me you don’t want to read it?” John asked innocently, waving his phone temptingly in his brother's direction.

“No, of course not, that’s highly illegal and-”

John wiggled the phone one last time.

“Give it here,” Scott growled, leaning over to snatch the phone. “Just to see if there is anything we can blame them for.”

“Of course,” John agreed placidly. “That was the only reason I looked.”

Virgil tried to hold in the small snort of laughter that bubbled up, feeling that it would be highly inappropriate, but his grandmother caught his eye, smiling softly.

Sally reached for one of the now cold cups of coffee that had been provided and, as always taking their cues from her, Virgil did the same.

“Eat up, boys,” Sally instructed, nodding to the plates of sandwiches. “When that boy comes through, and I’ve no doubt that he will, he’s going to need our strength. He’ll have a lot to deal with and we’re going to be there for him.”

“Yes, Grandma,” they agreed, dutifully reaching for a sandwich each. She was right, their brother was a fighter, he was a Tracy after all, there was no way on this earth or beyond that he would let something like this take him out.

-x-

The first thing Gordon noticed when he regained consciousness was the fact that his mouth was so dry his tongue felt like the inside of a hamster cage and he couldn’t seem to work up any spit. He concentrated hard and tried to swallow a couple of times but something was stopping him. 

He tried to lift his arm to touch his mouth but that one tiny movement was enough to wake up his body as well as his mind. Pain the likes of which he had never felt before engulfed him from head to toe, not one part of him seemed to be free of it. Even his eyeballs hurt. He couldn’t help the little whimper that escaped his nose and, when he tried to speak, to call out for any kind of help at all, he was once again hampered.

“Hey, hey, you’re OK, just calm down for a second, let me get a doctor,” someone said, their voice soothing and gentle, as was the cool hand they placed on his forehead. A buzzer sounded somewhere nearby and he forced his eyes open to see what was happening.

“Try not to talk or move,” said a new voice that was accompanied by a blurry face. “You were in an accident and you’re in hospital. You’ve been through a lot but you’re responding really well, you’ve got a breathing tube but your lungs seem to be working fine so just sit tight for a few minutes and we’ll see about getting that out for you.”

Gordon allowed himself to relax as best he could as the first person to have spoken returned.

“Are you feeling any pain?”

He nodded as best he could with what felt like a neck brace holding him still and even that little movement hurt. How could something as simple as moving his head take so much energy? How could it be such an effort?

“I’ll just give your epidural a little top up, you’ll soon feel better. We had to reduce your medication a little to bring you round and it's always a bit of a balancing act to get the right amount to keep someone comfortable.”

He, Gordon could tell it was a male now, was as good as his word and soon the aching in his body dulled from a screaming roar to a low rumble, far more manageable than it had been before.

“I’m Doctor Clark,” another new voice announced, introducing himself. “I was your surgeon and I’m here to see about getting that tube out of you, but I need to just check you over first, is that alright? Don’t try to nod, just lift your hand or even a finger if that’s all you can do.”

Gordon tried to nod anyway but gave up and commanded his right hand to move, finding it a little easier now that he could barely feel it. The doctor could do whatever he needed to, as long as he got that damn tube out of him and let him have a drink.

Dr Clark checked the readouts, made him breathe deeply a number of times, listened to his chest and, after attaching a suction device to the end of his tube, made him cough a few times to clear his lungs, then listened to his chest again. 

“OK, you’re sounding good, can you just open your mouth for me?” 

Gordon did as he was told and the doctor suctioned away with little moisture he’d managed to produce with his coughing, cut away the tape holding the tube in place and took hold of the end.

“I’m just going to deflate the air cuff inside, you might feel a small easing of pressure but don’t worry if you can’t.”

Gordon felt nothing but assumed that the doctor had done as he said he would.

“I need you to take two deep breaths for me and then when I tell you, I need you to give me a couple of good coughs, can you do that?”

Gordon attempted a thumbs up as nodding or moving his head much was making him dizzy, but he couldn’t move enough to do so and had to settle for just a brief one finger lift.

“Alright, deep breaths, one...and two...and now cough, nice big cough…”

As Gordon coughed the doctor tugged gently on the tube. He felt it slide up his throat, hitting his tonsils on the way out, making him gag and cough as he fought to keep calm. 

“All done,” the doctor praised, and immediately an oxygen mask was slapped over his nose and mouth, easing his breathing just a little. “You did good, how do you feel?”

Gordon tried to swallow, to speak but his throat felt like it was on fire and all he could do was croak. 

“Mouth dry?” 

He coughed again, wincing at the pain in his throat. 

“We can’t let you drink yet, but we can try to make you a little more comfortable.”

The nurse took his mask off again and inserted something wet into his mouth which she swirled around, coating the inside of his mouth. It felt horrible, like a wet slug rolling around in there, but it at least gave his parched tongue a little relief, although it was nowhere near enough.

“What happened?” he rasped after clearing his throat a few times and drinking a little more.

“You’ve been in an accident, but you’re safe now,” Dr Clark told him.

Gordon frowned, although the action made his head hurt. “Was I...mission?” He must have been doing something, there was no way he could have any kind of accident of this magnitude on his island home with his family present… his thoughts skidded to a halt.

“Family?” he managed to whisper, his eyes darting around the room. Had something happened to them?  Had they been in a plane somewhere?

“They are all in the relatives room, waiting for you to wake up,” the nurse told him.

“They...OK?”

“Yes, they weren’t involved,” the nurse answered, obviously used to the way that patients' minds could work. Gordon closed his eyes, relaxing now that he knew his family were safe. That meant that he must have been doing something with his unit.

“Team?” he rasped.

“I’m sorry?” the nurse obviously couldn’t decipher that one.

“My team...hurt?”

“Oh, no, it was just you.”

That gave him a little peace of mind, knowing that no one else had been hurt, but that still begged the question of what the hell had he been up to?

“What happened...to me?

“Some kind of boat crash,” Dr Clark explained, looking up from the notes he was adding to the tablet at the end of his bed. “I didn’t ask too many details, I just got to work. I patch up people, not machinery.”

“Boat?” 

“Yes,” the doctor nodded. “I hear your family are rather anxious to see you, would you feel up to seeing one of them?”

Gordon nodded as hard as he was able, even though he’d been told not to. There was nothing he wanted more in the world than to see a familiar face.

-x-

“He’s awake,” the nurse told the waiting Tracys who had become an almost permanent fixture in the relatives room over the last ten days. Sometimes there would be just one of them, more often than not only two, but now there were six of them waiting with baited breath to find out the news.

A sigh of relief rippled around the room as they all let out the breaths they had been holding.

“Can we see him?”

“Is he talking?”

“Does he remember anything?”

The questions came thick and fast as they often did. Grace had gotten used to one or more of them popping up without any notice and demanding information. They had managed to pull some major strings and gotten hold of his medical records, how she did not know, and had sat there poring over them until they knew as much about his case and treatment as she did. The grandmother, it transpired, was a retired surgeon that still kept her hand in now and then, and so she had taken it upon herself to pelt them with questions on an hourly basis when she was there.

“Yes, you can see him,” Grace started, picking the easiest question to answer, clearing her throat to get their attention back when they broke out in excited chattering. “But only one at a time. He’s been through an ordeal and he’s not strong enough to deal with too much excitement.”

“Only one?” Virgil asked.

“Yes, just one,” Grace insisted, giving them that look they referred to as her matron glare. 

They argued back and forth for a few moments, something she’d noticed they did a lot, before coming to their decision. 

Grace led Mrs Tracy into the private room where her Grandson rested. In the brief time that she had been gone it seemed that Gordon had drifted off to sleep again, something that would happen quite often over the next few days as his body rested and the drugs that were keeping him pain free did their job.

“I’ll just sit here and wait,” Sally told Grace, using the same no nonsense tone that Grace herself used with difficult patients and she knew it would be useless to argue.

“I’ll get you a chair,” Grace said, giving in gracefully.

“Thank you, dear.” 

-x-

Gordon didn’t know how long he’d slept for, or if he’d even slept at all. His mind was fuzzier than his first hangover and he had no clue if it was night or day. There were no curtains open in the room he was in, no hint of an outside world, just the clinical bleakness of the white ceiling and the ever present beeping of the machines monitoring him.

Thankfully he was still floating on a blissfully cloud of oblivion, feeling detached from every part of his body, like it didn’t even belong to him. He coughed to clear his throat, his mouth feeling ever so dry once again.

He tried to turn his head, to lift his arm to reach for the glass of wet swabs that had been there earlier, but another hand beat him to it, it’s arm encased in a familiar purple velour fabric.

“Gr-grandma?”

“Right here, son” she said softly, aware that he might not appreciate her speaking too loudly. She nodded for him to open his mouth and with practiced ease, swirled his weird water lollipop around his tongue and the roof of his mouth.

“Better?” she asked. “Had enough for now?” Seeing his small nod she set the glass aside and turned back to face him. “You had us all very worried, young man.”

“Sorry,” he rasped, wincing when it hurt his throat. “What...ha-happened? They said...boat.”

“You don’t remember? Nothing at all?”

“No.”

“You were test driving the new hydrofoil for the experiential watercrafts division.”

“I was?” he paused to cough, the action pulling at his chest, a sharp stabbing pain shooting through him from his ribs and abused lung. “Guess I didn’t do too well with it, huh?” 

“I’m sure it wasn’t anything you did,” she assured him.

“How long was I out?” he asked. The more he was talking the easier it was getting, although his throat still felt like he’d been swallowing razor blades. He must have been asleep a good few hours to feel this weak and woosey.

Sally took a deep breath before delivering the news. “Sweetheart, you were in a coma for ten days.”

Gordon blinked, unable to fully comprehend what she had just said.

“Ten...ten days?” How badly had he been hurt? He tried to lift his head, tried to look down at his body to assess the damage. A gentle hand on his chest stopped him from straining too much, but not before he registered the fact that both of his arms were in casts, so too was his leg and, now that he wiggled, he could feel something like a large stiff belt around his stomach and between his legs. His eyes widened in shock, his eyes darting down to his midsection, his face turning white with fright when he saw the bandages. Had...had something happened to little Gordon? Oh God, please say no!

“How bad?” he demanded to know and, although his voice was shaking, Sally knew he needed to hear the truth. Knowing it would be better coming from her she didn’t mince her words, quickly and clinically rattling off his list of injuries and the treatments he’d had so far.

“Quick bone fusion for the right arm, left wrist and left leg. They reset your nose at the same time. Your pelvis wasn’t as badly damaged as they had feared and didn’t need pinning, just a little lasering, though it is immobilised for no-”

“Just my pelvis? Nothing...else?” he winced, not wanting to talk about such things to his grandma but needing to know all the same.

“Just your pelvis,” she assured him with a knowing smile. 

“What else?” he asked, breathing a sigh of relief at the news that he was still whole...down stairs.

“They repaired the torn ligaments in your shoulder, have immobilised your neck due to two cervical fractures of the vertebrae-”

“That’s not...I’m not...can I walk?” he tried to wiggle his toes and thought he felt movement but he couldn’t see to be sure.

“It’s not paralysing, no. No damage from that at all.”

“What else?”

“Apart from the fractures you’ve got two herniated discs and pulled muscles there too.”

Gordon gestured with one finger for her to continue.

“You’ve got a number of cracked ribs from the CPR-”

“CPR?” 

“You hit the water face down, from what we were told it was due to your helmet filling up from a crack in the visor.”

“So I basically drowned out there?”

Sally nodded, keeping her eyes focused on his. With anyone else she would have fudged a little, maybe broken it to them a little more gently and eased them in. But Gordon was, first and foremost, a Tracy, and they liked the facts, all of them, because that made it easier to fight back. And she had zero doubts that he would do just that.

Gordon took a deep breath trying to wrap his head around all the information she was laying out for him. He’d taken it all in so far, like it was happening to someone else, but that, the knowledge that he could have lost his life to the thing he loved most, the sea...well that was just too hard to think about.

“And the rest?” he asked, wanting to know all there was, no nasty surprises in his future.

“Depressed skull fracture, fractured eye socket that will heal on its own, punctured lung from your ribs and the CPR, a particle splenectomy from a reputed spleen and a repaired liver laceration. You’ve also had a number of stautures and some skin grafts already but I’m afraid you might still need more.”

“Is that all? One more stamp and I could have gotten a free cup of coffee.”

Sally didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or cry when he made such a bad, but totally Gordon, attempt at a joke. There had been a moment, during that long, long first day of his accident, that she had honestly thought that she might never hear his voice again, let alone have him cracking a joke less than four hours after waking from a coma. It was more than she had ever dared to dream but she knew from experience that, when it came to her grandsons, nothing was impossible.

A noise near the door made them both glance over. The sight of Scott’s face pressed against the window greeted them.

“I guess I’m popular today.”

“Yeah, I guess you are,” Sally agreed. “I could do with stretching my legs, so I’ll let him in. He's  been waiting a long time.”

-x-

A steady stream of family trickled in one after the other to see their miracle sibling, but soon he was yawning, dropping off midconversation and when the nurses had their shift change the Tracys were ushered out and told to come back the next day.

Now he was sitting there, alone, unable to get up, unable to do anything to amuse himself, left alone with his thoughts. As was so often the way, he’d been tired and napping on and off while his family had been there, but the moment they had left he’d developed some kind of second wind energy rush and was now wide awake.

He tried closing his eyes and willing himself to sleep, he’d tried counting sky squids like his mother had told him to do as a child, he’d tried thinking about the most boring of Brains’ lectures, but nothing had worked.

Everytime he tried to focus on boring things or to clear his mind in order to relax, his brain insisted on replaying back the information that Grandma had given him. 

He wasn’t an idiot, he knew that he was lucky to even be alive after a wreck like he’d had. He’d forced John and Scott, against their better judgement, to tell him all they knew about the accident. He’d needed to know. He needed it to try to remember exactly what it was that had happened to him and how it had gone so wrong.

The lack of memories was disturbing, to know that something had gone wrong, horrendously wrong but to have no recollection of it, it was beyond frustrating. He had a body that was effectively broken, one that, according to his doctor, would take upwards of a year to fully heal from, if such a thing was even possible. He’d been warned, as had they all, that the likelihood of him having complications was all too real and that he had better prepare himself for it.

It wasn’t just the things that he had been told and the prospect of months of painful rehabilitation that was weighing heavily on his mind, it was the thing that no one had spoken of. It was the fact that he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that his career, the one that he had worked so hard to achieve, would be over.

Oh, he’d get an honourable discharge on medical grounds. But he'd be leaving in a whisper rather than the blaze of glory that his father and then his brother had done before him. He’d been on track for greatness, just as they had. He’d been the stand out star of his recruitment year, his olympic training and subsequent fitness levels and endurance had given him a fantastic platform from which to dive in with. He’d quickly risen up the ranks, making a name for himself as one of youngest but brightest in his class.

His desire to learn as well as his passion for marine biology and conservation had led to him taking a slightly different path to his fellow recruits. Many had passed on the offer, thinking it too boring but he had jumped at the chance to spend a year in command of his own bathescape studying underwater farming methods with a small but dedicated crew that had quickly become like family to him. 

Any emergency at that depth could have the potential to turn into a matter of life or death and, when one of their generators had malfunctioned, taking along with it half their air filtration works, putting strain on the remaining one, they had found themselves plunged into just such a situation.

He’d had to think fast and stay calm. They had pulled up the schematics and managed to bypass the fault on a temporary basis while waiting for a supply of spare parts to be delivered. He had led his team well, he had kept them from panicking and kept the mission on track. And, in doing so, saved the research grant budget the expense of failing and having to surface to try again the next year when the migration season started again.

His determination, dedication, resourcefulness and persistence had been noted, along with his ability to stay calm under pressure. It had gained him a promotion and fast tracked his offer to join the team on the experimental watercraft division, something he’d always dreamed of. 

Now it seemed that that dream had well and truly come back to bite him on the ass in the form of the hydrofoil that had apparently just wrecked all his hopes for the future in one fell swoop. What was the point of anything anymore?

A wave of hopelessness washed over him like a tidal wave, stealing his breath and the last of his control. The brave face he’d been holding on to all day while in the presence of his family faded away, giving way to heartbroken tears.

“Why?” he asked out loud to no one in particular, was he talking to God, to whatever guardian angel that had been by his side that day or to whatever sick twisted fate it was that had chosen him to pick on. “Why did you let me live?”

-x-

“It’s been a week and he’s barely made any progress,” Scott sighed to John as they walked the short distance to Gordon’s room in the recovery wing from the roof where they had been given permission to land. 

They were the ones on shift for today's stint of what they were all secretly calling ‘Squid Watch’. Now that he was out of immediate danger they had given up the hotel rooms they had occupied for the first two weeks and had begun commuting from the island for the designated visiting hours. They had learnt that the freedom to come and go as they pleased and to stay for long portions of the day had gone once Gordon had been moved from the ICU to the more cheerful surrounds of the high dependency ward.

“Still?” 

Scott nodded. “Nurse Donna told Virgil that he was barely eating, just enough to stave off the threat of another tube down his nose, he hasn’t even attempted any of the bed bound exercises he’s been given and he’s refusing to see the Physio to discuss his long term plans.”

“Stubborn brat,” John huffed.

“Well, he is a Tracy,” Scott shrugged, unable to do much else. “You know that nothing can make us do something we don’t want to.”

“Then we have to make him want to,” John replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Yeah, right,” Scott scoffed. “We’ll just walk right on in as normal and say ‘Hey, Gordo, we know that your life as you knew it is basically over but hey, you’re still here. I mean, you can’t do anything you want to and you’re stuck in that bed for God knows how long but eat up your greens, there’s a good boy.’ That’ll go down real well.”

“Obviously we won’t say that,” John scowled, his tone telling Scott that he was being as much of an idiot as Gordon at that moment in time. “It’s obvious that he’s lost his drive, he’s feeling hopeless, which is perfectly understandable.”

“Yes,” Scott sighed, “it is.”

“So we need to give him something to bring him hope, something to work hard for.”

“You’d think the thought of walking again would be enough for him.”

“Would it be for you?” John asked quietly. “Think about it. If you had crashed one of those jets you tested, and you had ended up as hurt as he is, or worse, and you were looking down a long tunnel to an unknown future, one that very likely, won’t match up to the one you had mapped out in your head, would you have any desire to move towards it?”

Scott opened his mouth to answer, but closed it again without speaking. He wanted to say yes, of course he would, because any future was better than not having one. But he tried hard to never lie to himself or his family. 

“Probably not,” he admitted quietly. It was true, if he had crashed and was facing the prospect of never flying again, of never seeing the ground vanishing beneath him as he soared up through the clouds into a brilliant blue sky, he would find it hard to accept it and carry on.

“So we need to show him what he’s missing,” John continued. “I think we need to show him the Silverfin.”

Scott sucked in a breath, letting it out through pursed lips in a long whistle.

“That's risky.”

“I know.”

“It could seriously backfire, you know that, right?”

“I’m aware of that fact, yes.”

“Because if he sees it, if he listens to our plans and then ends up unable to join in as he’d want, that could make things even worse for him.”

“I know. But, as you just said, he’s a Tracy.”

“It could be the push he needs,” Scott conceded.

“It will be the push he needs,” John promised. “We know him, we know that he can do anything he puts his mind to.”

“He’s stronger than he thinks,” Scott agreed. “Stronger than any of us give him credit for. Look at how much he’s achieved in what, just over two years in WASP? He’s done more in his career than many could ever dream of let alone hope to achieve.”

“He has,” John started walking again and Scott had no choice but to follow along or get left behind. You didn’t argue with John when he was on a mission.

“You heard Grandma, this is the most crucial part of his recovery,”John continued, assuming correctly that Scott would keep up with him. “The first steps. This is make or break time. His injuries are severe, yes, but not hopeless, not by a long shot. People have recovered from worse, he just needs to push himself to do it. It doesn’t matter how well they put him back together if he doesn’t work on holding it all in place.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“I usually am,” John shrugged, no hint of boasting in his tone, just John saying the facts as he saw them.

“Yeah, right,” Scott laughed, because he was his brother and everyone knew that you didn’t ever admit to your younger siblings being right more than once in a week if you could help it. “We’re really going to do this?”

“I don’t see that we have a choice.”

Gordon was lying down in bed when they walked in, not too unexpected given the circumstances, it wasn’t like they had been expecting to see him doing much at all, but they had hoped he’d at least be sitting up since the doctor’s had cleared him for gentle movements.

“Hey, Squid boy,” Scott greeted as cheerfully as he could. “How you doing today?”

“Oh, I’m just peachy, I took a little trip to the beach, caught some waves and then I decided I needed a nap,” Gordon drawled sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “What are you two doing here, anyway?”

“We told you we’d be coming,” John answered, picking up the tablet from its holder at the end of Gordon’s bed to study it.

“And I told you not to brother, it’s not like I’m the most entertaining company at the moment and I don’t feel like having visitors,” Gordon closed his eyes again, intending on ignoring them until they went away.

“Have you eaten much today?” Scott asked, ignoring his brother’s blatant dismissal of them.

“Yes.”

“It says here you refused breakfast, you only had a yogurt for lunch and didn’t complete your order form for your evening meal,” John told him, while busily flicking through the notes.

“Hey!” Gordon opened his eyes again to glare at his brother. “Do you mind? That’s my private medical records, it’s none of your business.”

“Of course it is.” John finished his reading and returned the tablet to its rightful spot.

“Gordo, you have to eat,” Scott sighed, sinking into one of the visitor's chairs that sat beside the bed. “How can you expect to get your strength back if you aren’t fueling your body properly?”

“It’s not like I could do anything with the strength if I had it,” Gordon growled out. “I’m stuck in this bed for the foreseeable future. So tell me, oh great and powerful, Scott, just what do I need to do anything for?”

John glanced at Scott, who nodded, answering the unspoken question. Time to enact their plan. He shrugged off his backpack and opened it, pulling out his tablet. With a few quick swipes he found what he was looking for and held it up for Gordon to see.

“What’s that?”

“Our secret project,” Scott told him.

“I can’t see it from there, bring it closer.”

“No,” John stayed right where he was at the foot of the bed. “Sit up and look for yourself.”

Gordon huffed and stubbornly stayed horizontal, but his eyes kept straying to the tablet. He could barely see it, but what he could see looked vaguely familiar. Curiosity and just a touch of boredom won out.

He fumbled with the bed controls, located the remote and pushed the button to lift the head of the bed until he was brought to a sitting position.

“There, happy? Now let me see it.”

John moved closer and offered the tablet.

Gordon automatically reached out for it with his left hand, forgetting that it was encased in an air cast due to the fractured wrist. Growling in frustration he tried again with the right and took the tablet. Unable to hold it with only one hand he lifted his ‘good’ leg which, although unbroken, was covered in bruising, none of which made it an easy task but eventually he was able to prop the tablet against his thigh and scroll with his right hand.

His eyes widened as he took in the images displayed there.

“This is a Silverfin, isn't it?”

“Yep,” Scott grinned.

“But WASP didn’t continue the development, they deemed them too small and slow to be of any use and decided to focus on the Stingray.”

“We know, but Brains saw the potential in her that they didn’t. She might not have been of any use for patrolling the seas but for moving around them like we’d need, she’d be perfect.”

“He’s adapting her?” Gordon’s eyes scanned the pictures, the first one showing the Silverfin in her original form, half completed and scrapped, the funding and enthusiasm for her having dried up. The second showed her to clearly be in some kind of dry dock that was being used as a workshop. She’d been stripped back to little more than a shell, some engine parts and a turbine or two. The third and last pictures showed what looked to be new panels being test fitted and an adapted nose cone. Instead of the elongated nose she’d had originally there sat the cutest little snub nose he’d ever seen, reminding him of an upturned pigs snout.

"With Virgil's help, yes," John said. 

"Why? Has he decided to branch out into contract work now that the work on the space station is almost complete?" 

"Nope," John answered. 

“Then what's this for?” he couldn’t help but ask, his eyes feasting on every little detail he could see. She was barely anything at the moment, but damn she could be beautiful if she was given the love and attention she had always deserved.

“For you,” Scott said quietly. John had been right, the way that Gordon had gone from apathy to interest in a matter of seconds was proof of that.

“Me?” Gordon scoffed. Even though his brother's tone had been completely serious he still couldn't believe it wasn't some kind of sick joke. “You’d need a pretty big bathtub to float her in, because that's the only kind of boat I’ll ever be around again.”

“With that attitude it will,” John said mildly, taking the second seat next to Scott. 

“So do something about it,” Scott pushed. “Look at her, just look.” He stabbed a finger at the screen. “That there will be the next in our fleet, and she’ll need a pilot.”

“Me? You seriously think I’d ever be able to do anything like that, while I’m like this? You’re crazy.” Gordon pushed the tablet away, not wanting to look at it any more. That was the unobtainable right there. That was yet another reminder of what could have been but never would.

“No, not while you’re like that,” Scott sighed, sounding defeated even to his own ears. 

“So do something about it,” John said curtly. “It’s your choice, we're just hoping you make the right one.” Without saying anything else he took the tablet and placed it on the bedside table. “Come on, Scott, let’s go and get a coffee before we head home.”

Scott looked from Gordon to John, taking in the frustration and sadness on one and then the calm dismissive demeanor of the other as John turned to the door.

"I told you it wasn't worth you coming," Gordon sneered, lowering the bed again. 

"You're always worth it," Scott promised him before following John out the door. 

The fast food restaurant just offsite wasn't the best and the coffee was far below their usual standards but it was welcome after the day they had had. 

Scott and Virgil had been called out early in the morning and their relatively simple rescue had turned out to be far more complicated than they had anticipated. When they had returned they were tired, filthy and aching all over. Scott had come straight from the shower, leaving Kayo on call with Virgil, and he and John had left for the hospital. 

Now their attempts at motivating their little brother had fallen flatter than one of Grandma's cakes and they were both feeling like they had done more harm than good. 

"Did we just screw up?" Scott asked quietly, playing with the rim of his cup but not making any move to drink from it. 

"Possibly," John sighed, sipping his own drink and making a face at the taste. "Only time will tell. We've done our best, it's up to him now. He's the only one that can decide if he's going to fight or give up entirely."

They lapsed into silence, both lost in their own thoughts. It had been so hard the first time they had walked in to see Gordon after his first life saving operation. His face had been a puffy, bruised mess from his broken nose and fractured eye socket, his eyes almost swollen shut.

He'd had a bandage around his head where they had shaved off some of his hair to examine his skull fracture and close the wound there. Both of his arms and one of his legs  in air casts to keep them stable until the next day and his torso a mass of bandages and blood tinged gauze from a combination of lacerations and the two operation sites from fixing his spleen and liver. 

He'd looked so small, not in stature maybe, but in energy, his aura if you will. So still and so quiet, something that Gordon only ever was when he was asleep, and that didn't happen very often with his tendency of mumbling in his sleep and turning a full rotation of the bed in a single night.

Then he had been silent, the only sound was the steady beeping of the heart monitor and the whoosh, hiss of the machine that was providing him with oxygen and regulating his breathing as he slept the deep sleep of the heavily sedated. 

Over the next few days they had sat in the relatives room and prayed every time his tired body had undergone yet another operation, the surgeons doing all they could to fix his body for him. 

Now they were hoping and praying that his mind could be fixed too. 

"What was that?" Scott said when a beep broke the quiet, clearly looking for a distraction. 

"My phone," John answered, pulling it out to check it. 

"Who is it?" Scott asked, seeing the confused expression on his brother's face. 

"I apparently sent myself an email."

"Huh?"

The confusion quickly morphed into a wide smile as John's eyes scanned the words. 

"It was sent from my tablet."

"And?"

"It reads 'Bring me up a burger and fries when you've finished your coffees, then you can tell me more about this Silverfin."

-x-

The walk down to the hangars had never seemed to take as long as it was now. He knew it was down there, but he’d been banned from seeing anything of it since those first four pictures. It was supposed to be a surprise. 

He’d tried to sneak in numerous times, he’d tried to hack into the files, he’d tried bribery, guilt tripping and sulking but nothing had worked. 

He couldn't say that he minded, not really, because he knew it was there. He'd known that somewhere deep below their villa, in the center of their island, his baby had been taking shape. He’d not been allowed any input in the shape, the visuals or anything else to do with her design, but her functions, that he’d been allowed to have a say in. 

Brains had spent countless hours on video calls with him, discussing everything that Gordon insisted his craft needed, from her dry tubes to her mechanical arms, the type of sonar she was using to the consoles and onboard technology. And he just knew she would be spectacular. WASP might have their Stingray, but he’d have his little Thunderbird, now dubbed Thunderbird Four after John’s space station had been upgraded and become a fully fledged craft itself, going from a stationary satellite to a fully maneuverable ship.

Sometimes the thought of his girl taking shape, waiting for him, had been the only thing keeping him going through his painful, exhausting and sometimes seemingly hopeless recovery process. 

It hadn’t been easy, on either his mind or his body and he wasn't ashamed to admit that, for a significant portion of that time, he had been the worst patient ever. Once the initial excitement of the Silverfin development had worn off and he had been staring down the long tunnel of recovery to his still quite uncertain future, he'd had times where he hadn’t been sure that it was possible to regain even half of his previous physicality, let alone get back to the full strength that would be needed to be of any use to International Rescue.

He didn’t want to be a dead weight to his family, he didn’t want them to be picking up the slack of his inadequacies, to spend more of their time rescuing his ass than the people they were trying to help.

Depression wasn’t something he had ever considered as a possibility in his life. He was the upbeat one, the one that kept the spirits up of those around him, so to not even be able to rise a smile for himself…let’s just say that there had been some very dark moments over his long months of recovery where he had not recognised himself and hadn’t been sure that there would ever be a time when he felt happy again.

He’d wanted to give up, he’d been so close to it so many times, yet somewhere, buried deep inside, covered in dust and rust, nestled a tiny nugget of steely determination. He’d found that nugget and chipped away at its bonds, had polished it and nurtured it as best he could until finally he had succeeded.

His recovery list had been almost as extensive as his injuries. He’d undergone all the common therapies such as targeted physiotherapy, smaller follow on surgeries, several aborted attempts at hydrotherapy and a rather surprising foray into hippotherapy, along with daily strengthening exercises. 

But all of that had been just about bearable, physical pain and endurance was almost second nature to him, it was the mental side that had been the hardest to push past. Slowly, slowly, day by day he had become physically stronger while growing mentally weaker.

The more his body healed, the longer he was out of hospital, the more of his memories he'd regained, and with them came the darkness. Counselling had been arranged, PTSD had been diagnosed and he’d faced yet another uphill battle to rediscover the person he truly was.

He sighed, stopping for a moment to rest before he entered the hangar itself. Could he honestly say that he felt like himself again? The answer was no. No one could go through the trauma that he had suffered and not change in some way or another. No one could face death head on, shake it by the hand, politely decline its invitation and still be one hundred present themselves.

You need to find your new normal, you need to find yourself again. That had been the words that his third therapist had told him. Joel had been the only therapist he had clicked with, the only one that truly seemed to understand him and the way his brain worked, that or he was the only one to have bothered trying.

Finding your new normal, giving yourself permission to change, adapt and accept that something horrific had happened to you and that you would come out the other side a different person to the one that had gone in, that was to be expected. Joel had helped him see that, along with his family, friends and the medical staff that had supported him on his long, winding journey.

He’d gotten a little lost along the way a time or two, he’d back tracked, stopped to rest and had to drag himself back to his feet more times that he could count. But he’d done it. He hadn’t given up no matter how many times he had wanted to, no matter how many times he had been tempted to just roll over and let life continue to screw him over.

This was it, the moment of truth, the moment where he would sink or swim, the moment where he would decide once and for all if all his hard work had been worth it.

He took a deep breath and rounded the corner, leaving the shelter and protection of the tunnel corridor behind him, stepping into the hangars for the first time since he’d left the island 18 months ago, after his annual leave, preparing to return to WASP. 18 months that could be broken down into two months in the testing division, four months in hospital and twelve gruelling months of recovery. All leading up to this moment.

He walked in, Alan, Scott and John moving in formation to flank him, solid and dependable, as they had always been. They continued the distance as one, a close knit group that he knew would always have his back. The only one missing was Virgil.

“You ready, little bro?” on cue the booming bass of his brother’s voice came over the external speakers of Two to fill the hangar.

Knowing Virgil wouldn’t be able to hear him he settled for a double thumbs up. He was practically vibrating with anticipation, having to fight the urge to bounce up and down in excitement. 

He heard the mechanical whirring as Two began her assent, lifting up on her support struts to reveal the door to the module, one that was painted with a big, white number Four. Slowly, almost as if it were happening in slow motion, the door lowered, creating the ramp way that the pod vehicles would descend. 

His breath caught in his throat as the inside lights of the module turned on, revealing its contents. 

“It’s...she’s....so yellow,” he stuttered, unable to think of anything else to say. There she was, his little bird, painted a bright, cheery yellow, her fin sticking bolt upright like a happy tail. The same little snub nose that had so enchanted him was now fitted out with high powered lights that would allow him to see in the darkest of depths. She was bright, she was gorgeous, she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. She was…

“Perfect,” he breathed. 

He couldn’t look away, not to take in the happy and somewhat relieved smiles on his siblings faces, not to look at Brains who seemed to have magically materialised by his side to start giving him a technical rundown, not for anything. 

Nothing could compare to this. 

“So, was she worth it?” Scott asked as Gordon reached out to lovingly stroke the curved perfection of one engine.

Gordon nodded, not trusting himself to speak. The past year might have been the worst of his life, he knew that he would carry those memories with him forever, that he would continue to dream of waking up in that hospital bed again. He knew that things would never be the same for him, he was forever changed but, out of the darkness of his worst memories there was his little sub of hope.

“This is the best day of my life,” he sighed to himself as he settled in her seat, feeling the way it seemed to mould to his body with his exact specifications. This feeling right here, this made it all worth it. And he knew that one day in the not too distant future someone out there would see a flash of bright yellow in the darkness and know that same feeling of hope. They would know that help was on the way. 

Because that's what International Rescue did, they defied the odds, they did the impossible and they never gave up.

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2004 #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds 1965 #Gordon Tracy #grandma tracy #Scott Tracy #John Tracy #Virgil Tracy #alan tracy

[eastertag]

Phoenix

@janetm74 gift for @katblu42

the prompts: 1) Lee Taylor, 2) rising like a phoenix and 3) a bird with a broken wing, preferably a Thunderbird.

‘Uncle Lee, Uncle Lee!’ the twins shouted, rushing up to him and throwing themselves around his legs. He bent and scooped them up as their parents followed them at a more sedate pace, bemused smiles on their faces.

‘Tina, Vincent,’ Lee said, inclining his head to them as they all made their way back into the house, and the grins broadened. Some things would never change. As Lee sat down, one child on each knee, Kayo disappeared to get supper ready while Virgil entertained their guest. 

Or rather, while their guest entertained them.

Lucy Ruth and Grant Jefferson Tracy loved their Uncle Lee. Even if he couldn’t get their names, or their parents’ names right, he told the best stories. They didn’t get to see him as often as they would like, but every time he visited the island he made sure to spend some time with them.

Virgil came over and held his arms out for one of his children. ‘Come on, bed time,’ he said, taking Grant as Lee stood up with Lucy. This was often the highlight of his visit, and Lee wouldn’t swap this opportunity for anything.

Putting the youngsters to bed, Virgil and Lee exchanged glances, waiting for the inevitable request, and Grant didn’t fail to deliver. ‘Story, Uncle Lee! Story!’ he clamoured, his sister joining in. Lee grinned. ‘Which one do you want to hear?’ The children shared a glance, then squealed together: ‘The phoenix! Tell us about the phoenix!’

Lee chuckled. He’d lost count of how often they requested this one and he sat in the chair between the two beds while Virgil disappeared to assist his wife in the kitchen, safe in the knowledge that his two would be well looked after.

‘Well, Lana and Gerry, have you ever seen a phoenix?’ he started, and as usual both children nodded and pointed at him. He rolled his right sleeve up to reveal the faded tattoo. The phoenix, rising from the flames and ashes, screaming defiance to the sky. ‘That’s right. I got this after a particularly difficult rescue…

‘Damn it, Lee, that was too close!’ Jeff yelled, pulling Thunderbird Two up and away sharply.  The corresponding swearing told him that Lee was alright, if a bit shaken. The voice of his eldest came over the comms: ‘careful, Uncle Lee. We don’t want those roughneckers thinking you’re one of them rather than one of us rescuers!’ Jeff chuckled as Lee retorted rather sharply, ‘careful yourself, Spencer, we wouldn’t want you to…’ whatever he was saying was cut off by another explosion on the rig. 

Ribbing would have to wait, and both Lee and Virgil got the rescue platform ready for its’ last run, while Jeff used Two and Scott used One to stabilise the platform enough to get the last lot of workers off. John confirmed from Five that all emergency protocols had been initiated, and that capping the well now only required the special missile Brains had put together.

Scott fired the missile once the rescue platform was safely away in Two, and both ’birds headed back to the mainland. Two dropped off the workers at the hospital and they headed back home, Virgil flying and his dad co-piloting him. 

Not long after the four men could be found relaxing by the pool. International Rescue was still very new, that rescue had counted as their last single digit. Nine rescues in eight weeks. Sure they had started slowly, but as news spread about the organisation rescues were picking up. With all three of his eldest on board since the start, having had some background training in their respective fields beforehand, Virgil was now starting to go out and put his engineering skills to use. Jeff had made it very clear to his son that Two was his, but he needed some more training on the rescuing side before his dad would hand over control completely.

That was why Lee was here. Jeff and Scott may be pilots, but Lee was the engineer, as was Virgil, and Jeff had thought that his old friend and fellow astronaut would be ideal to help Virgil learn how to assess and react on the fly, as it were. Scott was an excellent commander, and could make snap decisions that were 99.9% right, but he wasn’t an engineer, and some of the decisions involving structural integrity and stability Virgil already knew how to call. It was what would make Scott and Virgil such a brilliant team – their respective skills complemented each other perfectly, they just needed honing.

Lee spent the next couple of days going over simulations with both boys, drills being run again and again until the two worked as one and they ‘won’ every time. They were fast studies, and Lee was more than happy at the way ‘Vincent’ picked up making decisions quickly, and his confidence at telling ‘Spencer’ when he was wrong or needed to take account of a variable.

He was preparing to return to Alpha Moon Base in two days. They spent his penultimate night with a barbeque, retelling how their dad and Lee had made the Mars landing, how Lee had needed to engineer a solution within seconds while Jeff was fighting to pilot the craft, how they barely made it. Sure, with every telling Lee embellished some part or other, but the overall story was not lost on Scott and Virgil. Always be aware of what you can use around you, think on your feet, Never Give Up.

The next morning all four were torn from their sleep by the emergency klaxon. 2:30 am was not a time any of them were used to getting up, but the ability to jump out of bed, dress and present oneself to the lounge for briefing Virgil was gradually getting used to. Scott never had a problem with this, his military training more than enough to prepare for this. John also didn’t have an issue with his NASA background. 

It was, so far, their third early morning call. Getting into the lounge last was not unusual, but at least he was awake. Scott passed him a coffee that he seemed to magic from nowhere, and he gratefully sipped the scalding drink while John filled them all in. 

A mine collapse in England with several workers trapped. However, the good news was that they had had notice, so the majority of workers had been able to get away. Scott was dispatched immediately, while Brains, Lee and Virgil poured over the plans of the mine and surrounding areas, checking geology and if there was going to be any surprises.  The only thing they worried about was that there were several ventilation shafts dug out over the larger area, which was a forest, and the possibility of an explosion of the gases that naturally built up was quite high. With that knowledge in mind, Two set off with the Mole, Jeff piloting and Virgil co-piloting.

It took Scott no time at all to reach the mine, and his report confirmed everything that they had already known and prepared for. As he set about organising what he could on the ground, Virgil and Lee went over the geology again, mulling over potential issues and discussing contingency measures. Jeff listened in, his confidence and pride in how quickly his son had assimilated to his role growing.

Lee and Virgil took the mole down, and it was a textbook rescue. Five miners, minor injuries only, it took around an hour to get them all loaded on the mole. The injured were loaded onto the waiting ambulances and International Rescue were thanked profusely. As they cleared away the equipment and loaded everything, Jeff looked at Lee and he nodded. It was time. As the four returned to the ’birds, Virgil was surprised when his dad walked past Two and carried on to One with Scott. Scott glanced back at his brother, grinning madly, and gave him a thumbs-up. 

‘Dad?’ called Virgil after them, uncertain despite his brother’s obvious glee. Jeff turned around and came over to his middle son, placing his hands on his son’s shoulders. ‘Virgil, you performed really well on this rescue, both Lee and Brains said you made the recommendations yourself, you decided where to drill, you looked out the potential danger sites. You’ve more than earnt the right to fly your ’bird home without your old man standing over your shoulder.’ He thumbed over his shoulder to a waiting Scott, ‘that’s your brother’s privilege today.’ Scott mock-scowled, but he really couldn’t keep the grin off his face, and neither could anyone else.

One shot off into the distance. Virgil knew his brother would be waiting for him, but for the moment One was out of sight, and Lee huffed something about ‘show-off flyboys’ and ‘like father like son.’ Virgil just grinned. They were all flyboys really, well, except possibly Gordon but even he could fly competently (not that their eldest brother would ever admit that), only Scott seemed to have inherited their father’s love of speed so far. Alan may have, but he was too young to earn his wings yet.

Two rose more slowly – majestically was the phrase Virgil preferred, thank you very much – but she had her own turn of speed. The take-off may not be as impressive as her sister but compared to other aircraft his girl was fantastic. Using her VTOL’s to gain enough lift to engage her main engine, both Virgil and Lee kept an eye on the forest around them so they didn’t set fire to any trees. Trying to ensure he didn’t, Virgil nudged Two forward as she rose.

They hadn’t got far into the air when Lee suddenly shouted. But whatever he was shouting about was lost in the roar of an explosion that rocked Two violently, catching her back and left side, causing her to spin out of control.

Lee came too with several voices yelling for him and Vincent, er…Virgil. He wasn’t sure what had happened, but at the moment his concentration was all on shutting the voices up to stop his head from hurting. Oh, yeah. He needed to open his eyes to do that, and boy was that a mistake. Bright light assaulted him, followed closely by the smell of burning…he knew that smell, it was familiar to him. The smell of burning electrics!

It was the jolt he needed to get himself moving. Unbuckling his belt, he quickly checked himself over, nope, no injuries other than the cracked head and possible whiplash. He wiped the blood off his forehead while he stood up.

Second big mistake. He immediately doubled over and vomited. Ok, make that cracked head, possible whiplash and a concussion. But there was something more important he needed to do. The shouting was still shrill in his head and ear, but he ignored it, hauling himself over to check on Vinc…Virgil. The young man was out cold, a similar gash to his head.

It was the fire all around them that worried him. There was an extinguisher – Brains ever the overcautious, but this was extensive and he knew he needed to get them both out of there quicker than treating the flames would allow for. But as he tried the upper exit the resultant failure to open was no surprise. They would need to get out of the cockpit and the side door.

One of the advantages of being ‘space-trained’, as Lee often termed it, was that it taught you to think on the fly and to use whatever was to hand. And what was on hand, just outside the cockpit, was a prototype suit Brains was in the middle of designing for Virgil, to assist with heavy lifting. At the moment the bare bones were there, and it would be the best thing to use. Even if opening the door was easy, they would be surrounded by debris.

Good job he was strong, Lee reflected, hoisting Jeff’s middle boy into a fireman’s carry. This boy was heavy! He staggered out of the cockpit and into the service way, stopping before the entrance to the pod. The exosuit was housed here, a small area set aside for her, and Lee was thankful that he and Vincent were the same height as he carefully laid the lad down and got into the suit.

As with everything Brains created, the suit adjusted to fit him, and Lee marvelled at the engineering behind it. With a whirl of gears and pistons lee was moving, Vinny over his shoulder, over to the doorway. Thankfully this one slid open easily, Cahelium being so very tough, but outside the ’bird the forest was ablaze.

No sooner had Two got caught up in the fireball, Five had notified One, and a horrified pair of rescuers turned around and raced back in time to see her crash. Training taking over familial responsibilities, they set about using One’s cannon to blast the rapidly spreading fire. Jeff knew that One didn’t carry enough to douse this and directed John to call the local fire services. Scott set One down some distance away, both men inwardly seething at the distance needed because of the fire.

Their priority was to get Lee and Virgil out, so donning their fireproof suits Jeff grabbed two spare oxygen tanks while Scott grabbed extra fire extinguishing tanks, and the two set off while John constantly called to the downed men.

As Jeff and Scott burst through the forest they were met by an astonishing sight. Lee Taylor, resplendent in the exosuit prototype, Virgil over his shoulder, both bathed in the flames around them. The exosuit, still unpainted in this testing phase, shone reds and yellows. They appeared almost in slow motion.

Later, later Scott would mention how like the phoenix Lee looked appearing so suddenly. But right now, all their attention was focused on rescuing Lee and Virgil and putting out the fire.

…and once your Uncle Scott mentioned the Phoenix, that was it. Of course, that was the seed sown, but I didn’t get the tattoo straight away. Returning to Alphie was next on the cards, and it wasn’t until several years later, when your Grandpa Jeff was missing. When your Uncles Spencer and Alvin came to rescue me and Alphie was destroyed I felt that my life as an astronaut was over. Then Spencer gave me another chance when we went to Mars.

When Tina, your mom, came and found me I felt that I was given a second chance at life at my age, and I remembered Spencer remarking about the phoenix and I thought “that’s me, that’s my life.” Your uncles gave me my life back, a second life just like the phoenix. Then they went and rescued your Grandpa, and my third life began, teaching the next generation of Mars settlers.’

By the time Lee had finished both children were asleep, and Virgil and Kayo were wrapped around each other in the doorway. Hearing how their weird Uncle Lee saved their dad’s life never failed to fascinate the pair, and they loved the tattoo. Virgil had been honoured when he’d been asked to design it.

The three adults retired to the living room to reminisce. 

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2004 #thunderbirds 1965 #thunderbirds fanfiction #Virgil Tracy #Scott Tracy #Gordon Tracy #John Tracy #alan tracy #lee taylor #jeff tracy #submission

[eastertag]

Nothing In This World

@bonsaiiiiiii gift for @myladykayo

prompts:

•anything Scayo

•Dance/Dancing

•“I need a hug.”

AN:

heyo there! I am your…Easter buddy…(?) well, here is my gift for you with the 3 prompts you gave me! it’s quite short but fluffy. I apologize in advance if this might be a bit of a trash but I really couldn’t find my inspiration these days and it’s been quite hard, I have to admit.

~

“My head is killing me.” Kayo snorted, hearing in response a playful scoff, Scott approaching her and assuming her own position, elbows lent against the balustrade and gaze lost in the lights of New York.

She changed position, leaning with her back to the balustrade. She looked for a moment at the large sliding glass window that gave inside, the breathtaking view of New York behind her. Then she looked out of the corner of her eye at Scott. “You know that. I should be anywhere but here.”

1½ hours earlier

“I understand that you wanted to take me on a date so badly, but was this necessary?” Kayo whispered nervously in Scott’s ear, clumsily clinging to her dress. She had chosen the dress of the most neutral color and that gave as little in the eye as possible, despite the attempts, failed, of Sally and Lady Penelope to make her choose something more flashy.

She still remembered the moment that morning; Lady Penelope attached to her right arm, Sally attached to her left arm, dragging her to shops, perfumeries, and so on. They had sailed their way between sequins, hoop earrings, golden eye shadows, scents of the rarest exotic flowers and, above all, very tight and very showy clothes. In the end Kayo had chosen a black dress, a little tight and long sleeved, with bare sides and the zip behind. Simple and without glitter, pailettes and other nonsense, even if this cost a bitter price. That was a makeup session.

“Well, because I thought this event would be a perfect date!” Scott responded by putting on an innocent smile, stretching out his hand as to show the ballroom imbued with people.

Kayo looked up at the large crystal chandelier to avoid the sight of all those people, then looked back at Scott without telling him anything.

“How about dancing to break the ice a little bit?” Scott asked, leaning his hand toward her.

She thought about it for a moment. “Okay.” She took his hand, letting him drag her to the ballroom. Only that the path was interrupted by an obstacle, or rather a friend.

“Scott! Kayo! What a pleasure to see you here. Good thing you made it.” Colonel Casey appeared in all her usual beauty, her various medals shining under the warm lights.

“Colonel, thank you for inviting us.” Kayo politely responded, although she didn’t have that much desire to come.

“Please, make yourself comfortable and feel free to have a glass of champagne or some appetizers. So how is…work going?” Casey asked, quickly changing subject in view of a gentleman who was approaching them.

After cordially greeting the man who turned out to be an important mayor, it was Scott who took the lead in the speech. “Tiring as always, although I must say it’s going much quieter than in the past few weeks.”

“I can tell by the white hair you wear, kid! Tell me, what do you do for a living?” The mayor commented, observing both him and her, that refrained from rolling her eyes exasperated.

“I work as a pilot for a major rescue organization.” He answered dryly but smiling, avoiding to omit more details than necessary.

“Ah, I understand…something serious then. My son tried to save lives, too, you know, as a doctor, but he realized it’s not for him anymore.”

“Oh, I get it.”

“Eh, that’s the way life is! We’re not all as good as International Rescue, are we?”

Although she had no desire to participate in the conversation, Kayo found herself grinning, of course always trying to pass unnoticed; meanwhile the others laughed at the joke, to then continue the speech. Noticing that it was taking a long turn, she excused herself to go out. Scott looked at her for a moment, then turned back to the group of people who had gathered around him and continued the conversation. Kayo took the opportunity to do the same thing that the Colonel did, which was to disappear from view, heading for the large balcony overlooking the fantastic view of New York.

She pushed the glass door to the side that gave access to the terrace and then closed it behind her, slowly walking towards the balcony and resting her elbows on the balustrade. The cool evening wind tickled her bare hips and legs, giving her some short shivers along her back. The view that she had in front of her was magnificent, and if there was one thing that she had to thank Scott for, it was this very view; she would have done it once she got back, possibly if he had been free from groups of people who had been following him. And it’s a good thing they didn’t know that he was the commander of International Rescue, otherwise Scott wouldn’t have survived a horde of people by now.

Kayo sighed heavily, looking towards an isolated spot where they had left Thunderbird 1 to rest. As much as she loved traveling with her Shadow they both preferred to save space, traveling together on 1. Although now she couldn’t see the blue rocket, she still laid eyes on it, hoping to teleport there and fly away.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a presence approaching from behind her. She knew that presence well, so she avoided turning around and kept looking at that dark spot. “My head is killing me.” Kayo snorted, hearing in response a playful scoff, him approaching her and assuming her own position, elbows lent against the balustrade and gaze lost in the lights of New York.

She changed position, leaning with her back to the balustrade. She looked for a moment at the large sliding glass window that gave inside, the breathtaking view of New York behind her. Then she looked out of the corner of her eye at Scott. “You know that. I should be anywhere but here.”

“And where exactly?”

“Home, for example! The hood is still out there, don’t forget.” She paused, passing one hand over her communicator, this time a thin silver bracelet with floral theme -according to Lady Penelope, the other bracelet, the one she usually wore, was too crude for the occasion-.

“In fact, now I’m going to search for-”

“No.” Scott interrupted her. “We’re not here to search.”

“But-”

“You’re at a party, and you might as well have a good time, right?”

The hologram Kayo summoned vanished from view, her looking at his blue eyes seriously.

“Well…I’m not exactly the type to party…”

“Start now. In the meantime, you owe me a dance.”

Kayo sighed, nodding and taking his hand, letting herself be carried back into the great hall, where all the couples danced embraced at a slow dance.

“Of course you have perfect timing.” Kayo smiled as she passed between the dancing couples, her hand intertwined to Scott’s.

“It’s a natural gift.” Scott smiled back, stopping in the center of the room, right under a glittering chandelier. He turned Kayo to him, who shyly approached him. “Ready to have fun like never before in your life?”

Kayo laughed, and for the first time in a long time her laughter was neither forced nor mocked. Just spontaneous. “But if this is a slow dance!”

“Then that means you’re gonna have to hold onto me.”

“That’s ok. I really need a hug right now.” Kayo approached him further, laying her hands on his shoulders, Scott doing the same with her hips. They both hugged each other, swaying in time with the music, while the whole world around them danced at the same melody.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds 2004 #thunderbirds 1965 #thunderbirds fanfiction #Scott Tracy #kayo kyrano #submission

[eastertag]

@rachfielden-xo gift for @womble1​

For Womble1 - my Easter art :D

prompts used: Virgil and Tourist

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2004 #thunderbirds 1965 #thunderbirds fanart #Virgil Tracy #gordon tracy #submission

[eastertag]

Life Through a Yellow Lens

@misssquidtracy gift for @fallenfurther

Hola! Please find below my Easter TAG submission. I’ve incorporated my prompts into a poem, as I think they lend themselves quite nicely to one :)

Main character(s): Gordon Tracy (POV) 💛

Prompts: Rain & daffodils 🌼

Recipient: fallenfurther 💙

-x-

The weather is warming,

We’re welcoming spring. 

The days are getting longer,

How my heart wants to sing.

I love yellow daffodils,

That carpet the ground.

The birds start their singing,

Oh how I adore that sound.

The rain when it falls,

No longer feels cold.

The goodness it brings,

Gives new life to old.

My sash is yellow,

Like the springtime blooms.

My job is to rescue,

From the clutches of doom.

I excel in the water,

And love under the sea.

But in springtime on land,

Is where I want to be.

I have a sensitive side,

That I don’t keep hidden.

It is not a weakness,

And it is definitely not forbidden.

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2004 #thunderbirds 1965 #thunderbirds fanfiction #Gordon Tracy #easterTAG #submission

[eastertag]

@myladykayo gift for @thatkidwholikesthunderbirds

Hi! This is my entry for Thatkidwholikesthunderbirds. My prompts were:

Sunshine

Flowers

Friendship/siblings

I might have cheated a bit by using sunflowers for the first two but there’s definitely friendship and siblings in the picture. 😊

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2004 #thunderbirds 1965 #thunderbirds fanart #Gordon Tracy #alan tracy #easterTAG #submission

[eastertag]

Take A Chance On Me

@tsarinatorment gift for @singmetothesun

—

So, my person is @singmetothesun, who gave me some rather contradictory prompts, although I still tried to at least nod to all of them:

1. “TAG Scott & Alan with Dad!Scott because I love their relationship” - twisted a lot but I hope it still counts 2. “Anything 2004 Movieverse because it’s my fav universe 😇” - check! 3. “TAG Gordon - maybe whump, but my fav bean being a badass” - uhh… the spirit was there when I was writing?

Without further ado, here we go and I hope you like it!

—–

Thirteen.  Scott, John, Virgil and Gordon had all had their first flying lesson when they turned thirteen, but when it was Alan’s turn, Dad said no.

On a completely unrelated note, Scott is the world’s best big brother.

 It wasn’t fair.  He was thirteen now, but Dad still insisted on treating him like a child.  Alan had been looking forwards to spring break ever since his birthday, knowing that now he was thirteen he, like his brothers before him, would take his first steps towards flying a plane.

Flying a Thunderbird, and joining his brothers in the ranks of International Rescue.  One step closer to his dream, and he couldn’t wait.

Except…  Except Dad had said no.

No.

You’re still too young.

Once your grades improve.

There had also been a reminder about the chemistry accident that had got him expelled and shuffled over to Wharton’s, which Alan hated on so many levels.  The sole positive was at least none of his teachers were comparing him to his brothers anymore.  Even Fermat coming with him wasn’t a positive – not because he didn’t want his best friend with him, but because it meant new people for the smaller boy, new potential bullies, new people who didn’t look past the stutter to see how awesome he was.  He was glad he wasn’t alone, but he hated that he’d inflicted that on Fermat – all because his chemistry teacher had a grudge against Gordon that he’d imposed onto Alan.

It wasn’t fair, he hadn’t meant to explode the lab, but no-one believed him and now his Dad thought that meant he couldn’t handle a plane?  Alan wasn’t a baby any more, but there were tears of frustration in his eyes, running down his cheeks, dripping salt on his lips.

He’d already screamed himself hoarse at his bedroom door, and with another throaty yell, he snatched up the nearest object and hurtled it at the door, just as it started to open.

Lightning-fast reflexes caught his phone just before it smashed into his brother’s face.  Blue eyes widened at the projectile in his hand, before Scott pushed the door the rest of the way open.

“Hey, Al,” he said, nudging past the threshold despite Alan not saying he could.

“Not in the mood, Scott,” he retorted, looking away.  “Leave me alone.”

His eldest brother sighed.  “If that’s what you want,” he said, in a tone that clearly said he didn’t think Alan wanted that.  “But if I leave you now, there won’t be time.”

Despite knowing it was one of Scott’s tricks, Alan couldn’t help his curiosity.  “Time for what?” he asked, keeping his gaze firmly fixed on the wall and nowhere near his invading brother.

“I organised a welcome home for you,” Scott told him.  “Do you want to come?”

Alan hadn’t grown up with four older brothers not to recognise scheming when he heard it.  If it was Gordon, he’d have thrown whatever else he could at him until he left, because it wouldn’t end well and Dad would get mad.  But Scott wasn’t like that.  Was he?

“Right now?”  It couldn’t wait until after he was over the betrayal of not getting the same privileges as his brothers?

“Now’s the only chance,” Scott said, an apologetic smile on his face.  “You don’t have to hang around for long if you don’t want to.  Just give it a go?”

Scott was still holding onto his phone.  Alan glanced at it, and then back at his brother.  He knew Scott was planning something, because having four older brothers meant he wasn’t stupid, but also… it was Scott.  Scott didn’t pick on him the same way their other brothers did.

Dad had let him down, but maybe he could still trust Scott.

With a great show of reluctance, he padded across the floor to where Scott was waiting, that smile still on his face.

“You’ll need shoes, Al,” he said.  “Not those.”

Alan glanced down at the crocs he was wearing, and then at Scott’s feet.  His brother was wearing boots, despite the rule of no boots indoors.

Seeing Scott break one of Dad’s nonsensical rules made Alan feel a little better, even if something bitter swelled in his chest.  If Scott got caught breaking rules, he’d just get told not to do it again.  Alan would get all his failures thrown straight in his face.

But Scott was telling him to.  Surely Scott wouldn’t let Dad yell at him if it was his fault?

Scott glanced at his watch, and Alan got the message.  Some weird time limit on welcoming him home, as though he hadn’t already had a welcome home from his family the moment he’d set foot on the island.

Still, Alan was curious enough to investigate, and kicked off his crocs before hunting down socks and his boots from where one had somehow slipped under his bed.  Scott stayed by the door, almost seeming like he was standing guard.  He kept glancing at his watch, and then down the hallway.  Either he was waiting for something… or he was hoping something wouldn’t happen.

Alan’s curiosity was peaked further.

“Well?” he demanded, tucking the laces in rather than tying them up in the interest of time.  Blue eyes zeroed in on the action and Scott rolled his eyes.  It did, however, get him away from the door as he crouched down to tie Alan’s boots properly, like he was five again.  “Scott, I thought you were in a hurry?”

“Hurrying won’t get us anywhere if you trip up,” Scott reprimanded lightly, tying the laces in perfectly neat, symmetrical bows.  Alan had never understood how he did that.  “There you go.”  He straightened, and with a grin that looked almost like it belonged on Gordon’s face – almost – he headed for the door.  “Come on, then.”

Still curious what Scott was planning, and not willing to be caught wearing the boots without his brother there to take the blame, Alan darted to join him.

“What’s the hurry, anyway?” he asked.  Scott glanced at his watch again.

“Dad’s in a meeting,” he said, voice just a little quieter than normal.

It didn’t take Alan long to connect the dots.

“We’re dodging Dad?” he asked, voice maybe a little too loud, judging by the way Scott shh’d him.

His brother didn’t reply, but he grinned a little wider and Alan relaxed.  If it was something Dad wouldn’t be happy about…  Well, at least Scott wouldn’t sell him out.

Scott led them down familiar hallways, and then stopped at an even more familiar doorway.  The no entry, Alan if I catch you in here without me you’ll be grounded until you’re twenty one doorway.  Alan watched him glance around – no-one was there – before he keyed a number into the pad.

He didn’t hide it from Alan.  Dad always made him look away, but Scott just punched it in as though there was nothing to hide.  Naturally, Alan watched and memorised it.  It was randomised – no meaning that he could discern – but he’d always had a good memory.  Once was enough.

Shouldn’t Scott know that?

The door opened, and Scott stepped through, beckoning for him to follow.  The thrill of disobeying Dad – and the safety net of a big brother to pin the blame on if Dad found out – found him bounding in immediately, straight into the elevator down to the hangars.

Not just any hangars.  The Thunderbird hangars.

Alan had never been down there without Dad gripping his shoulder in a vice-like grip.  Scott kept his hands to himself.

“Before we get there, I need you to promise two things, Alan.”

He looked up at his brother, who was regarding him with a serious expression.  Considering where they were going, Alan would promise anything to get there.

“What?” he asked, just to be sure Scott wasn’t pulling his leg.

“Number one – don’t tell Dad about any of this.”

Dad would yell and be furious if he found out.  Alan had no problems promising that.  “And the other?”

“Don’t come here without me.”

The elevator came to a stop, the doors sliding open to reveal the locked door of a silo.

Thunderbird One’s silo.

Alan had never been in Thunderbird One’s silo.  Dad always deemed it too dangerous whenever he asked.  When you’re older.

“Alan.”

He looked away from the door, its small viewing window showing the same silver he’d seen countless times erupting from the pool, but never this close.  Scott’s blue eyes had lost all their humour and were looking at him with nothing but seriousness.

Alan wasn’t a kid anymore.  He understood.  If Dad ever caught him in here…  The shouting match from earlier would be nothing.  Scott would get in trouble, too.  Big trouble.  He was taking a risk.  For him.

To cheer him up, he realised.

Sure, he didn’t always get on with his brothers, and Scott was almost twice his age – an age gap dramatic enough that he didn’t understand him all the time – but he still loved them.  Even if they had an annoying habit of picking on him because he was the youngest.  He’d still never loved Scott quite like this before.

“I promise,” he said, solemn and serious to match his brother because this?  This was huge.

Scott smiled at him, and Alan watched breathlessly as he punched in the access code.  Again, not bothering to try and hide it, and now Alan knew – it wasn’t that Scott didn’t know he’d memorise it, Scott trusted him with the knowledge.

Scott was treating him like an adult.

The door slid open, and Scott stepped in.

“Watch your step,” he said.  “It’s a long way down.”

Alan followed, and glanced down.  The mesh gantry floor beneath his feet was suspended far, far in the air.  Beneath him, he could see those white letters.  Thunderbird 1.  The T was as big as he was.

“Beautiful, isn’t she?”

His gaze snapped to Scott, who was watching him with something Alan would call nervousness if it wasn’t Scott.  His hand was resting on the silver hull of the jet, a soft caress Alan didn’t need to see to know how much his brother loved his Thunderbird.

Maybe he was a little nervous as he waited for Alan’s first impressions.  His judgement of the plane his brother loved so much.

Alan had always loved Thunderbird One.  Maybe it was because she was the one he saw launch the most – right in front of the villa, impossible to miss.  Maybe it was her speed, the roar she made as she vanished in the blink of an eye.  Maybe it was just that little flash of red at her nose.  It wasn’t so little now he was standing on the gantry and it towered above him, at least the height of the brother still standing there, still touching his Thunderbird with a love he’d only ever seen aimed towards family.

“Wow,” was all he could manage.  Scott smiled, clearly delighted with his simple, one-word response.

“I can’t teach you to pilot a plane,” he said, an apologetic note in his voice.  “I can’t take that from Dad.”

Alan scowled, not liking the sudden reminder of the argument, how Dad had told him he wasn’t good enough to learn even though the rest of his brothers all got to learn aged thirteen – even Gordon, who barely cared about anything that wasn’t aquatic – but then Scott kept talking and his jaw dropped to the floor.

“But I can teach you to pilot a Thunderbird.  What do you say, Al?”

What did he say?  What could he say to that?  Scott…  Scott-  Was Scott offering to teach him to pilot Thunderbird One?

His mouth opened but no sound came out.  Scott laughed and moved forwards, hand dropping from Thunderbird One’s hull and instead finding its way onto Alan’s shoulder.

“Well?” he asked, and he was smiling like he was the happiest man in the world.

Alan tried again.  His voice squeaked and he flushed red as words he didn’t mean to say tumbled out.  “Isn’t she yours, though?”

He wanted to swallow them back straight away.  He was supposed to be saying yes, not giving Scott reasons to change his mind!

Scott chuckled.

“Of course she’s mine,” he said.  “But we all know how to operate each others’ ‘birds, Al.  You’ll need to know them all, too.”

He said it simply, as though it was a plain fact of life.  One day Alan would need to know how to operate all the Thunderbirds.  One day Alan would be a Thunderbird.

Scott was still smiling at him.  Dad might be saying no but Scott was saying yes and Alan knew Dad’s word was final, but if Scott was so sure…

Alan knew enough about the command structure of International Rescue to know Scott was second in command, and maybe he’d secretly accused his biggest brother of being a rule stickler and a suck-up because he always seemed to do whatever Dad said anyway, but this wasn’t obeying Dad.

If Scott could teach him to pilot Thunderbird One without Dad’s permission, then maybe, one day, Scott could bring him into International Rescue anyway.

“Come on,” his brother said, and Alan’s eyes widened as a panel moved aside, revealing the interior of Thunderbird One.

He’d never seen it before.  Despite the windows surrounding the cockpit, her launch speed never gave him a chance to peer inside, and even if he happened to catch Scott landing again, it was pretty difficult to make out the interior.

There were four seats.  Pilot, co-pilot, and two passenger behind.  Scott slipped inside first, gripping onto hand-holds and stepping on struts until he was in the far seat.  From what Alan knew of planes, that was the- the co-pilot’s seat.

Why was Scott in the co-pilot’s seat of his own Thunderbird?

He edged cautiously over to the Thunderbird, reaching out tentatively to touch her hull.  Part of him was sure he had to be dreaming, that there was nothing there and he’d wake up the moment he tried to make contact.

The rest of him met Scott’s eyes, his brother’s matching blue full of encouragement, and with a deep breath he made contact.

He didn’t wake up.  Dad didn’t appear out of nowhere and start yelling.  His fingers didn’t slip through.

The metal was cool, confirmation that she hadn’t launched in a while.  Alan knew that, followed his brothers’ rescues with an avid enough obsession that he was gaining a reputation for it at school.  Thunderbird Three had responded to a manned satellite in distress yesterday, but it had been three days since Thunderbird One had last launched.

A hand reached for him, and he blinked.  Scott was leaning over, across the pilot’s seat and offering him his hand.

“Ready, Al?” he asked.  Alan eyed the hand, and then his brother.  Scott looked excited, and he realised his big brother was looking forward to teaching him.

He took the hand.

“Watch where you step,” Scott cautioned.  “See the bar by your right foot?”  Alan looked down and nodded.  “Step on it.”

One hand in Scott’s firm grip, and the other fumbling to catch the edge of the cockpit door, Alan obeyed.  Scott’s smile widened.

“Now the bar above your head,” he said, and step by step, Alan followed his instructions until he was sat in the seat.

It felt weird, but in a comfortable way.  Like laying on his bedroom floor but hooking his feet on his bed.

“Welcome to the best ‘bird in the fleet,” Scott said, and Alan could hear both the smugness that always accompanied his brothers’ insistences that their ‘bird was the best and the same love he’d seen in the caress.

One of his other brothers might make a quip then, and if Alan wasn’t so awestruck about finally being inside a Thunderbird, he would, too.  Something about there being too much blue for Thunderbird Three.

Instead, he sent his big brother the biggest grin he could muster, feeling moisture welling in the corners of his eyes.  If Scott noticed, he didn’t comment.

“The first lesson’s a bit boring, I’m afraid,” he said, and while he still sounded light-hearted, his face was a little more serious.  “But it’s necessary, so I need you to pay really close attention, okay?  We can’t move on until you’ve completely mastered it.”

There was more and more seriousness in his voice as he spoke, until the humour was all but gone, and Alan nodded his understanding.

He wasn’t a child anymore.  Whatever Scott had to teach him about piloting Thunderbird One – Thunderbird One! – it was important.

“Okay.”  Scott reached over to something above his head, and Alan craned his neck to see a solid blue harness that looked like it belonged on a roller coaster just before it swung down and locked in front of him.  “Safety features.”

Alan muffled his groan.  Scott had said it would be boring, but he’d still been hoping for something a little less mind-numbing.

Luckily, Scott wasn’t in such a serious mode that he couldn’t crack a small smile as he pulled his own harness down.

“I know,” he said, somewhat sympathetically.  “But we can’t rescue anyone if we get in trouble ourselves, so you’re going to have to learn this stuff until you don’t even have to think about it.”  His small smile widened into a grin.  “If you pay attention, it won’t take too long.”

And with those encouraging words, the lecture began.

There was a lot of safety rules.

Alan was also pretty sure Scott’s definition of won’t take too long was not the same as his, but despite it all being to do with safety, his big brother managed to at least make it interesting.  The knowledge that he wouldn’t let Alan do anything else – let alone start learning to actually pilot – until he learnt it all was also powerful motivation.

Halfway through an explanation on which rules changed depending on whether or not the sweep wings were extended, Scott’s communicator bleeped.  His brother cut off, and motioned for Alan to be quiet.

He held his breath, determined not to let a single sound out.

“Time’s up.”  Gordon was talking quietly, and hurriedly.  “The meeting ended early.”

Scott inhaled sharply, and Alan had to fight not to do the same.  The only meeting he knew of was Dad’s, and if that was over…  If Dad found them – him – in Thunderbird One-

“Distract him.”  There was an edge to Scott’s voice Alan hadn’t heard before.  It was a bit like his get out of the pool, Gordon voice, when he was pulling big brother rank to get a younger brother to obey, but wasn’t quite the same.  A little sharper.  Crisper.

He was throwing Gordon under the bus.  There was no way Gordon would-

“F.A.B.”

-obey that.

Gordon’s voice had been similar.  Serious in a way his immediate brother rarely was.

Professional.

The call ended as Alan reeled from the realisation those had been their International Rescue voices – Field Commander and Operative.  Dad had never let him near Command and Control, not for briefings, rescues or debriefs.  He’d never heard his brothers when they were in International Rescue mode.

Scott slithered around him, hands and feet finding the holds without seeming to even think about it, and then he was standing on the gantry, hands reaching for him.  “Sorry, Al,” he said.  “That’s all for today.”

With the safety lecture still ringing in his ears, Alan accepted the help back out of the Thunderbird.  He didn’t know how long Gordon could distract Dad for before he realised two of his sons were not where they should be, and just the thought of Dad finding out terrified him.

Scott’s fingers flew over a panel, and the entrance to the Thunderbird slid shut seamlessly.  His brother did a few more checks, presumably to make sure there was no sign of access, and then a hand was on his shoulder, nudging him out of the silo and back to the elevator.

“John, we’re out of the silo.”

“F.A.B.” his second-eldest brother said, all business – and that voice Alan did recognise, because it had interrupted his calls to John for homework help often enough.  There was a pause.  “All cleared.”

Some rigidness seemed to seep from Scott’s shoulder as the elevator rose, and Alan blinked as a warm arm wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him snugly against his brother.

“Sorry about the abrupt ending,” Scott apologised.  “We’ll pick back up again next time, okay?”

Next time?

Alan squeaked, and Scott smiled widely.

“You didn’t think you were going to learn everything on one go, did you?” he asked, sounding amused.  “I can’t promise a schedule – we’ll have to work around whenever Dad’s too busy to notice – but you’ll learn to fly her, I promise.”

Words failed Alan, and there was that moisture in his eyes again, so he did the only thing he could think of and twisted in his brother’s hold until he could wrap his arms around Scott tightly enough his brother was forced to exhale a quiet oof.

Scott chuckled fondly, and Alan felt him return the hug.  “You’re welcome, Al.”

The elevator docked and Alan slithered out of his brother’s hold as the doors slid open, only to freeze at the sight awaiting them.

Virgil said nothing, and for one dreadful moment Alan feared that was it, Dad knew.  Then his brother winked at him, a grin breaking across his face.  As he tentatively followed Scott out, he saw that the hallway was otherwise clear.

Then there was a hand on his head, mussing up his perfectly styled hair, and he sent a glower at the culprit.  Virgil just grinned at him again, before looking over his head at Scott.

“Gordon says he can hold him five minutes,” he said.  “That was three minutes ago, so you’d better hurry.”

“F.A.B.” Scott replied.  “Come on, Al.  Let’s go.”

Alan let himself be led away, his brain spinning.  First Gordon, then John.  Now Virgil.  Were… were all his brothers in on it?

Had they planned it?

They arrived at his bedroom door before he could figure out a way to ask.

“Boots,” Scott muttered, nudging him into his room.  “And remember: don’t tell Dad, and not without me.”

Alan nodded his promise again, and watched as Scott darted off in the direction of his own room, presumably to take his own boots off.

He yanked his off, stuffing them back in the closet where they lived, before collapsing onto his bed.  Something dug into his hip, and he scrabbled at it until it was retrieved.

It was his phone, no doubt dropped there by Scott when he’d fussed over his laces.

Alan stared at it.  The temptation to tell Fermat what his brother – brothers – had done was strong, but while Scott hadn’t told him he shouldn’t… the more people that knew, the more likely Dad was to find out.  Besides, Fermat would be with Brains, and they were probably too busy talking geek to listen to him even if he tried.

And maybe Alan was looking forwards to the day he could surprise his best friend with the knowledge he could pilot Thunderbird One.

Scott kept his word.  Lessons were sporadic, lengths varying depending on how long Dad could be distracted for by either work or a combination of his brothers, but they kept happening as often as his brother seemed to be able to wrangle it.

By the end of Spring Break, he had a decent grasp of the basic controls.

Summer Break, and he successfully ran through the sims without a single mistake.  Scott had beamed with pride.  Virgil had made noises, and Alan had been introduced to Thunderbird Two.

Winter Break, and Gordon staked his own claim.  All the years of scuba diving at his brother’s insistence had paid off, and the thought crept into his head that his brothers had been prepping him for far longer than he’d realised.

Then came the Worst Spring Break Ever.

Alan had been angry – angry at his brothers, at his Dad, at anything and everything – and he’d broken his promise.  He’d gone to Thunderbird One without Scott, and from there, everything went wrong.

Too wrong to think about, but underneath it all was the underlying thank fuck that Scott had disobeyed Dad last year.  Thankfulness that his brothers had taught him to pilot their ‘birds, thankfulness that it meant the Hood didn’t get his way and kill all those people while sullying International Rescue’s name.  His family’s name.

But Dad had acknowledged him.  Him, and Fermat, and Tin-Tin.  The pin on his shirt was heavy, an unfamiliar weight he’d been waiting for for as long as he could remember.  A member of International Rescue.  Technically a trainee, but thanks to Scott and his other brothers he’d been an unofficial trainee for a year already.  Finally, Dad had let him in.

Alan had almost forgotten how it had all started, until after Lady Penelope had gone back home to England, citing something important or other that needed to be done.  Spy things.

Then Dad struck.

“Alan.”  He was familiar with that tone – too familiar.  That was disapproving Dad, in a very sudden change from the proud father he’d been enjoying in the hours earlier.  His brothers – all four of them, with John still rarely down on Earth – stilled where they’d been teasing each other.  They knew the tone, too.

Alan had become used to Scott’s presence, and didn’t need to look to know his biggest brother had positioned himself just behind him in silent support.  He didn’t lean into him, but the temptation was there.

“You never told me how you knew Thunderbird One’s access codes,” Dad said.  Compared to the warmth of earlier, the words were ice cold and doused Alan with a harsh dose of reality.  He’d broken his promise to Scott and Dad had found out.  That was both promises broken.  “And I’d like to know when you learnt to pilot the Thunderbirds.”

Alan had messed up.  He’d messed up big time, but he was a Tracy and he might have broken his promises, but the only thing running through his mind right then was that he couldn’t let Scott take the fall.  A year ago, he’d been more than happy to hide behind his eldest brother, but Alan was older now.

Or maybe he couldn’t bear the idea of Scott getting in trouble after the hell they’d all had.

“I hacked the sims,” he said, pushing all the bravado he could muster into the words and meeting his father dead in the eye, daring him to doubt him.

“And the access codes?”  If looks could kill, Alan would have been zapped on the spot.

“I guessed.”

“First time?” Dad said, doubt clearly oozing from every pore.  Alan refused to cower.  He couldn’t cower.  He had to protect Scott, make sure Dad didn’t find out that Scott had disobeyed him.

He owed Scott that much.

“First time,” he retorted.

“You expect me to believe you successfully hacked the sims without anyone noticing often enough to teach yourself to pilot three Thunderbirds, and correctly guessed Thunderbird One’s access code first time?”  Dad sounded furious.

“Yes,” Alan snapped back.  “I-”

A hand landed on his shoulder and tugged him back.  A blink later and he was staring at his eldest brother’s back.

“I taught him,” Scott said.  “Dad, I taught Alan to pilot the Thunderbirds.  He got the access code from me, too.”

“Scott!” Alan hissed, unable to believe what was happening.  Scott was rigid, stiff enough that all he was missing was the salute to flash back to his air force days, and Alan recognised defensive body language when he saw it – even if he’d never seen it on Scott before.  “Scott, no-”

Scott turned his head, and Alan was silenced by a small smile.  “I appreciate you trying to cover for me, Al,” he said.  “But you don’t have to take the fall for this.”

“Scott.”

At Dad’s voice, Scott’s head snapped forward again.  Alan tried to peer around his brother to get a read on Dad’s face – he couldn’t be too mad at Scott, could he?  But Alan had also never heard his voice that cold.  If Absolute Zero had a sound, Alan suspected it would be like that.

No-one spoke.  Alan found himself holding his breath.  Then Dad broke the silence with two words that said so much more.

“My office.”

Alan wanted to shout and scream.  That wasn’t fair!  Scott was the eldest, was second-in-command.  He wasn’t supposed to be hauled to the office to be reamed out with the full force of Dad’s temper!

But he couldn’t talk.  Hands were finding his arms, his shoulders, and pulling him back into a defensive cocoon of brothers, away from Dad’s line of sight.

Still straight-backed, still stiff as cardboard, Scott obeyed.  He didn’t say a word, didn’t look back at them, and Alan wasn’t sure if it was because he thought Dad would somehow get even angrier if he did, or if he just didn’t want to look at them.

Dad didn’t follow immediately, and despite himself Alan found himself thankful for the cluster of brothers half-shielding him from the piercing gaze of his father.  It rested on each of them in turn, and Alan realised he was putting the facts together, realising Scott couldn’t have pulled it off long enough for him to actually learn as much as he clearly had without some back-up.

Realising that Alan had been able to pilot Thunderbirds Two and Four as well.

It was John standing in front, taking Scott’s place as the shield.  John, the only brother who hadn’t directly taught him anything, but had been instrumental in keeping the access logs and security footage clear of incriminating evidence.

Alan waited with bated breath, anticipating orders for more brothers to go to Dad’s office and join Scott in disgrace, but after a too-long moment of silence, Dad just turned and walked away.

Only once he was gone did the tension ease from the room, his brothers’ shoulders dropping and dramatic exhales of air filling the room – mostly from Gordon, who was clearly exaggerating them.

“Scott,” Alan found himself whimpering, staring wide-eyed at the stairs that lead to Dad’s office.

“Dad was always going to find out one day,” John told him, turning around and putting his good hand on his shoulder.  Physical contact from him was rare, and Alan straightened his spine on instinct.  “Scott knew we couldn’t hide how much you’d learnt forever.”

“We could have done without the timing, though,” Gordon chipped in.  Alan glanced at him to see his face twisted into something between a wince and a grimace.

“Are you all going to be in trouble?” he asked, feeling a little small.

John gave him a small, sad grin.  “We’ll be fine.  Scott’ll take the fall for all of us.”

That didn’t seem fair.  They had all disobeyed Dad – all five of them – so why did Scott have to take the rap?  Why hadn’t Scott let him take the punishment?  It had been his broken promise that had triggered it all in the first place.

The familiar roar from the direction of the office – muffled by walls and distance in a way Alan wasn’t used to when it was usually him on the receiving end of it – interrupted anything he might have tried to stay about it.

“-got your brother killed!” exploded into earshot, and despite it not being aimed at him, despite it being yelled from several rooms away, Alan froze in place.

He’d never realised the rest of the villa could hear Dad when he was on a rage.  How was it soundproofed against the Thunderbird launches but not Dad?

The rest of the words were still muffled, clarity fading away back to an overarching roar, and he heard Virgil make a disbelieving noise under his breath.

None of them spoke, though.  Nor did they move, instead remaining clustered together as they listened to the sound of Scott taking the fall for them.  All of them.

Alan hated it.

It felt like an age before silence fell, Dad’s tirade finally exhausted.  He exchanged glances with all of his brothers, the four of them debating if it was safe to separate and go their own separate ways now it was over, or if they should stay together and wait for the reappearance of the rest of their family.

The latter won, so it was as a cluster they turned to the stairs at the sound of footsteps.  Only one set, and something unpleasant settled in the pit of his stomach when Dad’s feet came into view.  He still looked unhappy, and when his sharp eyes landed on John, Alan found himself gripping the hem of his brother’s shirt.

But Dad didn’t say anything to John, nor did he speak to Virgil, or Gordon, as his eyes homed in on them in turn.  Then the steel landed on Alan, and he tried not to gulp.  He was officially a member of International Rescue now.  He couldn’t cower in front of the commander – in front of Dad.

Somehow, impossibly, the steel seemed to soften, just a little.

“Your official training starts tomorrow,” he said.  “I want you in Command and Control at oh-eight hundred hours sharp.”

Alan felt his eyes widen.  His training?  Dad was still going to start his training?

“Yes, sir!”  The words exploded out of him, his back straightening.  He was rewarded with something that, for a split second, looked like a flash of a smile, before Dad’s face was stern again.

“Your training will be with me,” he continued.  “We’ll be starting with Thunderbird One.”

There was a ripple through his brothers, and Alan’s breath caught in his throat.  Thunderbird One training… without Scott?

He remembered the first time Scott took him into the silo, the way his eyes had lit up with love at the sight of his ‘bird, and the hidden nerves as his brother had waited for his judgement on the ‘bird.  Thunderbird One was Scott’s.  Scott loved Thunderbird One, and he knew from snatched conversations with all his brothers that Scott had trained them all on his ‘bird himself.

Alan was adult enough to read between the lines.  Not being able to officially train him was Scott’s punishment.

But there was nothing he could do to get Dad to change his mind.  Protests swirled through his mind, but the words wouldn’t come, and Dad wasn’t waiting for a response anyway.  Sentence given, Dad carried on walking, past them and into the kitchen where Alan could vaguely hear murmured conversation start up.

“Damn,” Gordon breathed.  “Did Dad just-”

“Strip Scott of Thunderbird One’s training rights?” John finished for him.  “I think he did.”

Virgil made another noise, almost keening, but wordless.

Alan just felt cold.  This was his fault.  This was all his fault.  Scott would be absolutely devastated, and it was all his fault.

Scott still hadn’t appeared, and he felt the urge to find him.  To apologise, even if all he could offer were words and he couldn’t change anything.  Couldn’t persuade Dad to change his mind.

His other brothers slowly started drifting apart, no longer feeling the need for safety in numbers now Dad seemed satisfied with the fallout.  None of them went far, but it was enough for him to take a breath and head for the stairs.

No-one stopped him.

Alan didn’t know where Scott would be, but he hadn’t come downstairs, so he had to be in the villa somewhere.  He wouldn’t have stayed in the office, either – Dad wouldn’t have let him even if he’d wanted to after that chewing out – so that was one less place to look.  His feet took him to the floor with their bedrooms, five open doors in a row.

Four open doors.

Alan blinked and looked again.  Four doors were in various states of open, mostly ajar or half-open, but the door that was always open during the day was shut tight.

Scott’s door.

He gulped again.  Scott’s door was always open to them; even at night when it was physically closed, it had never felt as shut as it did then.  The temptation was there to leave and come back later, and Alan took a stumbling step back almost without realising what he was doing.

He should leave Scott alone.  That was what the shut door meant, right?  Scott didn’t want to see anyone – see him – so he’d shut them all out.  Except… wasn’t it also a cry for help?  They had an entire island to escape in if anyone truly wanted to be alone.  At least for Alan, if he was in his room… he always knew his brothers would find him there.  It was the beaches, the rocks, the jungle, where he went when he really wanted to be alone.

Maybe he was wrong, but this was all his fault.  He had to fix it.

Taking in a deep breath, he reached out and pressed his palm flat against Scott’s door.  It didn’t move, but he stepped closer anyway, resting his forehead against it as well.

“Scott?” he called quietly.  There was no response but it felt like the silence was suddenly heavy.  Listening.

Waiting.

It wasn’t a go away, Alan, so he took another breath and found the door controls, switching it to open.

He braced himself as it unlatched, sliding open smoothly, but still there was no reaction from the other side of the door.  The thought flickered through his mind that maybe the closed door was a decoy, maybe Scott wasn’t there, but then he could see into the room and the figure hunched over on the bed.

Any doubts that Scott hadn’t been told about the new training plan were dashed at the sight of him.  Perched on the side of the bed, his head and shoulders were slumped forward, hands limply in his lap.

Alan had never seen his brother like that.

“Scott?” he tried again, tentatively edging into the room.

“Hey, Al.”  His brother’s voice was quiet and unusually flat.  Unless he was imagining things, there’d been a small rasping edge to it, too.

Then Scott turned his head to look at him and Alan knew he hadn’t imagined it.

Bright blue eyes glistened, but his attention was caught by the raw red rings around them, a sight Alan had seen in the mirror more times than he cared for, but had never thought he’d see on Scott.  But it was the quirk of the lips into the most painfully fake attempt at a reassuring smile Alan had ever seen that stung the most.

Scott was hurting.  Scott was hurting so much and listening to the same instincts that always had him teaching the kids that picked on Fermat a lesson, Alan’s hesitation melted away.  Letting the door fall shut behind him, he launched himself forward, catching hold of Scott and gripping him in the tightest hug he could manage.

“I’m sorry!” he wailed, hiding his face in his brother’s neck.  “I’m so, so, sorry.  You trusted me and I broke it and now Dad’s mad with you and I’m so sorry, Scott.”

Scott had stiffened when he grabbed him, a natural instinct to an unexpected tackle-hug, but Alan felt him quickly fall lax again.  Arms loosely wrapped around him, too loose to really qualify as a hug, but any reaction was better than none.  They stayed like that for a moment before tightening.

“Thanks,” Scott muttered into his hair.  “That wasn’t why Dad figured it out, but thanks for apologising.”

“It wasn’t?” Alan asked, “but-”

“You and Fermat in the silo because you guessed the access code or stole it from Brains would have satisfied Dad,” Scott said, and it sounded an awful lot like reassurance even though Alan wasn’t the one that had just been crying.  Alan wasn’t the one being punished.  “It’s the Hood and someone needing to stop him, and you were the only one that could.”

Scott’s hold tightened again.

“John had to convince Dad you could do it,” he muttered.  Alan remembered seeing Dad look to one side, but he’d thought that had been Scott.

“Not you?” he asked, not sure he wanted to know why it hadn’t been.

Scott let out a wet chuckle.  “I was still waking up,” he admitted.  “Didn’t know what was going on by the comms until Dad ordered us all back to Three and said we had to get to London asap.”  He paused, letting out a quiet huff that ruffled Alan’s hair.  “Not the first flight I had in mind for you,” he said, an almost dry attempt at humour despite his voice still being wet.  “But I knew you could do it.”

“Even if I messed up the landing struts?” Alan asked.  The laughter he got was a little louder that time.  More genuine.

“Nobody’s perfect,” his brother said.  “Her landing struts are a small price to pay for everything ending up okay.”  Alan felt him pause again.  “But I don’t know if Brains will have them fixed in time for your training tomorrow.”

His voice hitched on the word training and Alan winced.

“I wish it was you,” he muttered.  “Things make sense when you say them.”

To his surprise, Scott pulled back from the hug, far enough to meet his eyes.  They were still red-rimmed and glistening, even if the grin on his face looked slightly less sad.  Slightly more genuine.

“Just make sure to show Dad how good you are,” he said.  “I’ll bribe John for the footage.”

Despite himself, Alan laughed.  He didn’t think Scott would even need to bribe him; John had been as taken aback as the rest of them at Scott’s punishment.

“Okay,” he agreed.  It still hurt that Scott wouldn’t be with him, especially not when it was all his training that Alan would be showing off, but if Scott could still at least watch…

Well, it was better than nothing.

Scott squeezed him tightly again for a moment before letting go entirely.  Reluctantly, Alan got the hint and stepped back.

“Are you going to come out?” he asked, and tried not to be too crestfallen when Scott shook his head.

“I’m still not too old to be sent to my room to ‘think about what I’ve done’,” he quoted, rolling his eyes and smiling a watery smile.  “I’ll be down for dinner.”

“Do you want me to stay?” Alan offered, knowing the loneliness of imposed isolation, even if it was only for a few hours.

Scott shook his head, but his smile was a little brighter.  “I’ll be okay,” he said.  “Go spend some time with John while he’s dirtside.”

That was a dismissal, and Alan sighed.  “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”  Scott made childish shoo, shoo gestures and shot him another watery grin.  “Go on.”

Alan didn’t want to leave, but it was clear Scott wasn’t interested in company.  His eyes were still glistening with unshed tears, and somewhat selfishly Alan didn’t want to see them fall.

“I’ll see you at dinner,” he said, reluctantly obeying his brother’s request.  “Don’t be late, okay?”

“I don’t plan on missing out on any of Ohana’s cooking,” Scott promised.  “I’ll be there.”

Alan nodded, and with one last look at his brother – still sat slumped on the edge of his bed, but sending him an encouraging grin that clearly said Alan should leave – slipped back out into the hallway.

As he had promised, Scott reappeared in time for dinner, looking much better and clearly cleaned up.

And as Dad had promised, he wasn’t there at oh-eight hundred hours when Alan reported to Command and Control.  The rest of his brothers were present, in various stages of lounging as they eyed him, but Scott’s absence was a gaping hole.

Dad didn’t even acknowledge it.

“Put that on,” he said, gesturing to a folded uniform on the desk.  White with blue piping, it perfectly matched the one Scott was wearing in the portrait behind him.  Thunderbird One’s colours.

He did as he was told, realising it was a little too big for him in the shoulders, but not quite long enough in the leg.  The name patch said Alan, but he knew there was no way Dad had managed to get a uniform made for him that quickly.  If he squinted, he could see the pale imprint underneath that spelled out Gordon.  A hand-me-down training uniform, then.

Dad was wearing his own, also blue-trimmed with Jeff on the name patch, and next to him in his brother’s hand-me-downs, Alan felt like a child playing dress-up.

No.  He wasn’t a child.  He was a member of International Rescue, had at least some training on piloting three of the Thunderbirds thanks to Scott, and for Scott he had to hold his head up high.  It was his eldest brother that had got him here, and even if Dad was furious about it, Alan owed him that much.

He straightened his back and met Dad’s gaze head-on.  The look he got back was unreadable and he fought the instinct to look away.

“Let’s go,” the man said, not paying his three middle sons any attention as he breezed past them.  Alan glanced at them as he followed, and got three supportive smiles in response.  Gordon added an encouraging thumbs’ up.

It was the first time Dad didn’t order him to look away when he typed in the code, and Alan watched him punch in the same number sequence he’d seen Scott enter so many times.  From the look Dad gave him, he no doubt knew.

Nothing was said until they were in the elevator, riding down towards Thunderbird One’s silo.  Doing the journey without Scott felt wrong.

“You might – officially – know the codes now,” Dad said, “but for as long as you’re under training, you are still not permitted down here without a full member of International Rescue for company.  Do you understand?”

It was a step up from the previous Dad-only rule.  Alan knew he could badger any of his brothers into taking him down.  They’d been willing to do it behind his back, after all.  Dad probably knew that, too.

He nodded his agreement just as the elevator came to a stop.  The by now familiar sight of Thunderbird One through her access door greeted them, and he watched as Dad entered the same, familiar, code.  The door opened as smoothly as ever, and Alan followed Dad onto the gantry.

“First of all,” Dad said, turning and facing him.  He was standing straight, towering above Alan, but Alan refused to show how intimidating that was.  Being in here with Dad was nothing like being in here with Scott.

Scott always went straight for Thunderbird One, touching her hull lightly as though being separated from her for any length of time had been too long.  Even as he was talking, he’d send occasional soft glances his ‘bird’s direction.  His love for Thunderbird One was a tangible thing.

Dad was treating her like any other bit of machinery.  The difference was jarring.

“I want to see what you know,” Dad continued.  “Show me, and try not to launch accidentally this time.”  There was a rebuke in there.  Alan heard it clear as day, and despite his determination to prove himself an adult, he felt a wince cross his face at the reminder of his blunder.

He’d been too busy showing off to Fermat and panicked when something went wrong.  One of the first things Scott had shown him was how to cancel the launch sequence – before Dad got wind that she was trying to launch.  It shouldn’t have happened.

At Dad’s command, the access panel slid open and he muscled his way across to the co-pilot’s seat.  Nothing like Scott, who moved like he knew her intimately.  Alan supposed that was the difference between being in someone else’s ‘bird and being in your own.  Maybe Dad was softer with Thunderbird Three.

As soon as Dad was settled, Alan sidled in.  It was an action he’d done countless times, and he didn’t need to think about the correct hand and foot holds as he eased himself into the pilot seat and instinctively pulled on the harness.

Then he glanced across at Dad, whose expression was still unreadable.

“Whenever you’re ready,” his father said.  Alan took a deep breath, settling the nerves that had suddenly sprung up.  It was worse than an exam at school; at least he didn’t have the additional pressure of validating his brother during exams.

He could do this.  Scott believed in him.  Scott had taught him.  He’d piloted her all the way to London to stop the Hood; he could run through the motions cold.

Another breath and his hands began to move, starting pre-flight checks and doing his best to ignore the prickle of Dad watching.

She told him her landing struts had a fault, and he faltered.  He knew that, knew Brains had her slated for repair once the hangar was put back together and Thunderbird Three’s engine was replaced, and they weren’t actually going to be flying Thunderbird One, but… if he just ignored that, what would Dad think?  Was he supposed to be acknowledging what they both knew, because it was a fault?

His fingers stilled, and Dad sighed.  The sound sent a shudder down Alan’s spine.

“I’ve seen enough,” he said, and Alan wilted.

He must have hesitated too long, must have made a mistake in his judgement.  Dad was disappointed; he’d let Scott down.

“Scott, report to Thunderbird One’s silo immediately.”

What?  He wasn’t going to chew Scott out again, was he?  He’d already made Scott cry last night; was Dad really going to be that harsh?

“Dad-” he started, not sure what to say but knowing he had to say something.  Scott had taken more than enough of the rap for his unauthorised training already.

“Get back onto the gantry, Alan,” Dad interrupted.

“But-  I-”  No, he couldn’t just give up.  Dad couldn’t make him stop like that, could he?

“That was an order, Alan.  We’ll wait for your brother on the gantry.”  Dad’s tone brooked no arguments, and Alan reluctantly obeyed.

Almost as soon as he was out, Dad was behind him, nudging him forwards with a hand on his shoulder so he could leave the cockpit, too.  Alan hunched over, catching one arm with the opposite hand, and tried not to shuffle his feet as he waited for Scott to arrive.

It wasn’t a long wait.  Barely a minute after being ordered out of the Thunderbird, the silo door opened to reveal Scott.  His hair was mussed and he looked like he’d run from wherever he’d been as fast as he could, despite the no running in the house rules.

Blue eyes homed in on him, and he flinched.  Scott, of course, noticed.

“What happened?” he asked.  It would have been a demand if it wasn’t aimed at Dad.

A blur of white and blue landed in his face, and Alan felt his own eyes widen as Scott reflexively caught it.

“Put that on,” Dad ordered.  Alan watched Scott shake it out, revealing it was his own uniform.

“Dad?” Scott asked, confusion dripping from the word.  “I thought-”

“I know what you thought,” Dad interrupted.  “Suit up.”

What was going on?  Alan looked between the two of them, seeing his own confusion mirrored in Scott’s eyes while in Dad’s there was something that looked like… satisfaction?  Dad was satisfied about something?

He’d banned Scott from training him, but now he was making Scott suit up, and it didn’t make sense.  What was he thinking?

It didn’t take Scott long to pull the uniform over his clothes, zipping it up in a rush.

“Well?” Dad said, crossing his arms expectantly.

“You told me I wasn’t allowed to train Alan anymore,” Scott said slowly, although Alan didn’t miss that he was edging closer to his Thunderbird – and him.

Dad hummed.  “I trust you’ve learnt your lesson about undermining my authority?”

Scott flinched.  “Yes, sir.”

“And you won’t do that again?”

“No, sir.”  He was standing next to Alan now, one glove pressing against the silver hull seemingly of its own accord.

“In that case,” Dad said, “I’m not about to compromise an operative by denying him the best training.  Your brother here can already do the pre-flight checks faster than Gordon without losing any accuracy.”  Wait, what?  But he’d hesitated…  “I’ll be supervising all training until further notice; I look forward to seeing how far he continues to go.”

“He’s going to give me a run for my money one day,” Scott said, and Alan whirled around to look at him.  His brother smiled down at him.  He looked proud.  “Come on, Al, let’s get this training session underway.”

He slipped into the cockpit, a stark contrast to Dad’s firmness as he all but flowed into the co-pilot seat.  This was familiar, and even though Dad was still there, still watching, Alan felt the tension leave his body as he followed.

Dimly, he was aware of Dad settling into the passenger seat behind Scott, but his attention was firmly fixed on his brother, who was running an eye over the controls and clearly working out how far he’d got before Dad had interrupted.

“Well, Al, I think we need to work on your landing sequence,” he said after a moment.  Alan was pretty sure that was partially prompted by the pre-flight warning, although it had probably been running through Scott’s mind ever since he realised her landing gear was damaged in London.  “Run me through what you did then, and we’ll see where you went wrong under the pressure.”

Confident that Thunderbird One was cold and the engines weren’t going to ignite unexpectedly, Alan reached for the first stage of a VTOL landing, only for Scott to catch his wrist.

“Not what you know is right,” he corrected gently.  “I know you can do it from cold.  Try to remember what you did on that flight.”

Most of the flight had been a blur of panic and a little bit of rage thrown in.  Alan pulled his hand back and closed his eyes, trying to remember what he’d done.

He’d-

Oh.

Sheepishly, he moved his hand away from the control he should have gone to first, and skipped a step.

From the look on Scott’s face – and the fact he’d stopped him immediately – his big brother had already known exactly where he’d gone wrong.  But he was still smiling.

“Looks like we need to drill that a few more times until you don’t have to think about it,” he said.  “Okay, keep going.  Let’s see if you made any other mistakes, then we’ll get to work.”

Alan returned his grin, finding himself completely undaunted by the prospect despite Dad sat behind them, watching like a hawk but saying nothing.  Scott was just that good at teaching.

“F.A.B.”

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2004 #thunderbirds 1965 #thunderbirds fanfiction #Scott Tracy #alan tracy #jeff tracy #easterTAG #submission

[eastertag]

Easter TAG

@womble1 gift for @janetm74

Blanket  

Precious  

Crown 

It was one of those days, one in/one out, a continuous rotation of Tracys coming and going. Virgil had just made it back from the arctic, scooping up Thunderbird 4 from its own mission on the way home. Scott and Alan glanced up from the desk where they had been conversing with John’s hologram. He should have seen it coming by the way their eyes adopted that concerned crinkling around the edges, really highlighting the similarities between the two of them despite the age gap.

“What?” his gaze danced from one pair of blue eyes to the other, “what’s wrong?” He glanced down at his shirt in case he had buttoned it up wonky or smeared something spectacular down it without noticing. Coming up blank he was back to requesting more info from those present

“Seriously - What?”

Scott stood up from behind the desk, his hands clasped in front of him like a politician about to deliver a tough message. 

“Well don’t take this the wrong way but, well…” he dithered around the sentence as if not quite sure which way to best approach it.

“You look like Shit Virg!” Alan cut in, having no such qualms. 

Virgil pulled his arms across his chest defensively, it was a bit harsh coming from someone who regularly slept in their clothes. 

“Thanks, I love you too, you little scrote!” he scowled across at the brat.

“OK, language. Both of you!” Scott waded into the fray, holding his hands up to placate both parties. “But honestly Virgil, you do look like you could do with a rest.” this just got a derisive shrug and an unintelligible grunt in response. “You look frozen, are you coming down with something?” Scott advanced towards him, stretching out his arm to lay a palm on Virgil’s forehead, but Virgil saw it coming and side stepped away from the advancing hand. 

“I’m fine, it was the arctic, it was cold, big shock, quit pawing at me.” Even as he said it, Virgil knew he was being needlessly snappy, but the damage was done and he saw Alan and Scott exchange a look. 

“Ok, fair point. Alan and I were just on our way out, so why don’t you just take a seat while we go and sort this one out.” Scott was talking slowly, moving in carefully and steering Virgil to a couch like he was a scared animal that might bolt or lash out. “It’s just a little support job for a research station, we’ll be back in no time. Here, have a blanket, I can literally see you shivering.” blanket deployed, Alan and Scott backed away, while Virgil remained scowling on the sofa, muttering about how he was absolutely fine, but tellingly he didn’t move from his loosely constructed blanket nest. He must have zoned out slightly, as the next thing he was aware of was the familiar rumblings of Thunderbird two launching and he hastily pulled up the comms array over the coffee table to give Scott a piece of his mind as Gordon strolled into the room. 

“Scott! You took my bird! What the hell?!” 

“Hello to you too! And I think you’ll find they are all International Rescue vehicles, besides we need the Pods  - and before you start, no, you were not in fit state to fly. Anyway, it’s a perfect chance for Alan to get some more flight hours in’’ as Alan’s face popped up alongside wearing a massive grin.

“Hey Virgil! The research station is in the middle of nowhere, there’s no way I’ll scratch it - I promise!” The little sod was enjoying winding his brother up far too much, they both knew he was a competent pilot, but that wasn’t the point. Virgil huffed and shuffled about a bit, wrapping his arms around himself, maybe he was a little cold but he wasn’t going to admit it. Too late though he had been spotted.

“Seriously Virgil, wrap yourself up, I can see you shivering from here” Scott's worry mode had been engaged, even as he got steadily further away, there was no escaping it. “Gordon keep an eye on him will you, I think he might be coming down with something”

“Sure think Capitano!” Gordon punctuated this with a sloppy little salute as the connection blinked out. “Come on then big guy, let’s get you tucked in nice and snug” he threatened as he advanced with malicious intent. 

“For the last time, I am absolutely fine! But fine, look I’m using the blasted blanket!” he sulkily pulled the blanket tightly around himself until he resembled a giant burrito “Happy now!” he demanded with a scowl. 

“O…..K, I’m going to leave you and your mood to get better acquainted, you want a coffee?” Gordon went to leave in the direction of the kitchen, barely resisting the urge to laugh at the image Virgil was presenting.

“Yes” came the somewhat deflated reply “……please” all the fight evaporating as quickly as Thunderbird ones vapor trails. 

By the time Gordon had navigated Virgil’s needlessly complicated coffee machine and made his way back to the lounge, the blanket burrito had toppled sideways on the sofa and appeared to be asleep. Gordon began to think that maybe Scott was right about the predictions of ill-health on the horizon. He was just wondering if he ought to reposition the blankets a bit since he couldn’t see Virgil’s face and there was a distinct lack of the usual snoring, when a call from Lady Penelope came through on the central display. 

“Ahh Good afternoon Gordon,” came Penelope’s clipped accent 

“Howdie Lady P! What can we do for you today?” Gordon spun around, his blanketed brother instantly forgotten. 

“Oh, it’s nothing urgent today thankfully, I was just……..” she faltered distracted by something “Forgive me Gordon, but I have to ask, what exactly is that behind you?

Gordon spared a brief glance back at the blanket pile that presumably still contained his brother.

“Oh that, Virg is just sulking because Alan took his ride and so he’s proving that he’s not cold…..yeah it makes sense somehow” he petered out.

“Oh I see,” Penelope takes this in her stride as she does all things, “Should it be glowing though Gordon?”

“Glowing?!” he jumps slightly “Oh no, he hasn’t” with no further preamble Gordon dived towards the fleece fortress, tugging at a corner. “Come on Virgil, hand it over, I know you’ve got it in there” He found a gap and plunged his hand inside the fabric, reaching towards the glowing  epicentre.

“Noooooooo, gerroff!” it was muffled, but it was clear that Virgil was not going to give in quietly. “It’s MINE! My precious! You can’t have it!” He wriggled about madly thrashing to try and get away from Gordon, who scrapped as well as any younger sibling in history. 

“Give it up Virg! They’re fine!” the “accidental” application of Gordon’s knee to unmentionable regions resulted in a muffled “ooof” and a sudden reduction in the amount of resistance. Gordon was able to extract his prize and held the remote piloting device up in triumph for Lady Penelope to see.

“He’s always like this when they take Two out without him, he just hovers over the remote controls, adjusting things. Alan thought Two was haunted the first time it happened, I’m not sure he doesn’t still partly believe it still is now.”

Lady Penelope hid a giggle demurely with one hand “Don’t you think you ought to check he’s ok in there, he doesn’t appear to be moving” she asked.

Gordon nudged the immobile lump with his knee “ you’re alright in there aren’t you big guy?” he asked, before sitting himself on top of the blanket mound with all the stately composure of a king ascending to his throne. 

Theres an unintelligible groan before Virgil wriggled enough to free his head from the fabric confines “Stupid Fat Hobbit! Ughhh”

“Oh yeah, he’s fine,” Gordon confirmed, a megawatt smile breaking his regal composure “He’s just banned from any more Lord of the Rings binges.”  Gordon turned to look down at his brother and affectionately ruffled his hair, making it stand out at all angles like a rumpled crown.

At this additional indignity, Virgil put all his remaining energy into a final abrupt wriggle that sent Gordon Toppling from his perch “Get off me pipsqueak!”

“Even the smallest person can change the course of the future!” Gordon proclaimed from his place on the floor just before a cushion was dumped on his head. 

“Have you lost the plot Gordon?!” another pillow was dumped on him to punctuate the remark. 

“Not all those who wander are lost!” could just be heard through the growing pile of cushions 

They both seemed to have forgotten Lady Penelope's holographic presence floating above them. She coughed gently to draw their attention. 

“On that note I think I will leave you both too it, I’ll call back later to speak to Scott,” this drew their eyes away from the developing pillow fight. She cleared her throat delicately once more, gave a little smile and said “Maybe I should quote Frodo Baggins and remind you “It is useless to meet revenge with revenge: it will heal nothing.” before you damage the soft furnishings any further.” and with that parting wisdom her image blinked out of existence.

“Did she just?….” asked Gordon

“Yes, yes I think she did” said Virgil, shaking his head slightly, either in disbelief or despair.

“What a GEEK!” snorted Gordon,  still half-heartedly trying to free himself from the scatter cushion landslide. Then, resigning himself to his current location, he flopped back into the pillows, letting out a happy little sigh. “She really is perfect isn’t she?” Virgil decided the only sensible response to this was to deposit a final cushion onto the top of Gorgon’s head, with enough force to liberate a couple of feathers from its confines. 

By the time Alan and Scott arrived back, with a thankfully scratch free Thunderbird Two, Gordon and Virgil had fallen asleep two films into yet another Lord of the Rings rewatch marathon. Gordon had nested on the floor on a mound of slightly battered looking scatter cushions and Virgil had reinstated the blanket burrito and only his head was free from the blankety confines.

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2004 #thunderbirds 1965 #thunderbirds fanfiction #Scott Tracy #Virgil Tracy #Gordon Tracy #John Tracy #alan tracy #submission