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gumnut-logic · 4 years

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We’ll Be Home For Christmas 4.5

Title: We’ll be home for Christmas

Day Four – Five Billionaires and No Wives – Part 5 Prologue | 1.1 | 1.2 | 2.1 | 2.2 | 2.3 | 3.1 | 3.2 | 3.3 | 3.4 | 3.5 | 4.1 | 4.2 | 4.3 | 4.4 | 4.5

Author: Gumnut

29 Apr - 11 May 2020

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS

Rating: Teen

Summary: The boys can’t fly home for Christmas, so they have to find another way.

Word count: 4259

Spoilers & warnings: language and so, so much fluff. Science!Gordon. Artist!Virgil, Minor various ships, mostly background. A little angst in this one.

Timeline: Christmas Season 3, I have also kinda ignored the main storyline of Season 3. The boys needed a break, so I gave them one. Post season 3B, before Season 3C cos I started this fic before we saw it.

Author’s note: For @scattergraph. This is my 2019 TAG Secret Santa fic :D

I’ve been staring at this too long and it is late. I hope I don’t regret posting this. Especially as Alan misbehaved and threw an unplanned scene at me.

Many thanks to @i-am-chidorixblossom @scribbles97 and @onereyofstarlight for reading through various bits, fielding my many wibblies, and for all their wonderful support.

Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

-o-o-o-

He didn’t sleep long.

Virgil was woken so they could drag him onto A Little Lightning. Scott marshalled him out of his wet clothes, into a shower and quietly redressed his healing incisions. Lunch was demanded and a sandwich shoved into his hand. Coffee was denied him and orange juice substituted.

He found himself dozing at the table.

Mel and Sam were invited for lunch aboard the boat. Gordon was busy being host, but never quite seemed to be very far from Virgil.

Sam mentioned the whales several times, but Gordon shut him down and at no point did he have a chance to corner Virgil.

Virgil felt sorry for the cetacean biologist. He must remember to talk to him at a later time. Once he had finished processing today himself.

The whole experience was otherworldly. He didn’t quite know how to express it. It was as if the music had shape and form, his mind’s eye producing a kaleidoscope of imagery sculpted by sound.

And it meant something.

He knew it meant something, but he couldn’t decipher most of it. Bits were missing, the shapes fragmented, but he did feel the emotion that travelled with it. Multidimensional, the song communicated in a way he wasn’t capable of fully comprehending.

“Virgil, you should go to bed.”

Scott again.

“Mmm-hmm.”

“C’mon.” A hand landed gently on his shoulder.

“Mmm...” Musical shapes danced in his mind and he realised there was colour. Greens, violets and yellows. Patches torn from an unseen spectrum. It was frustrating to not be able to pull it all into focus and understanding.

“Virgil?”

It would be interesting to try and paint. Yes, maybe that would be a way to understand it better. He visualised forming those shapes with pencil and brush. Three dimensions...no four. They shifted according to time.

Hell. So confusing.

But he could try.

“Virgil? You with me?”

Huh? He blinked and looked up at concerned blue eyes.

A sigh. “Just thinking.”

“I can see that. You need rest.”

He did, yes, but he also needed to think, to doodle, to work it all out. He caught Scott’s eyes. “Sit with me?”

A blink. “Of course.”

There followed farewells, Virgil pre-occupied throughout. At some point Mel kissed him on the cheek, but he barely registered it. Sam said something but was interrupted by Gordon. Virgil felt completely spaced and somewhere at the back of his thoughts he was embarrassed at his lack of response and manners.

Scott didn’t leave his side.

Gordon made excuses and apologies.

John was speaking to Eos...which meant their guests must have left. Man, he was out of it. Brain overload.

Alan had concerned blue eyes so much like their eldest brother.

The yacht’s engine starting up scared the living shit out of him. It shattered his mindscape with aural static, those careful shapes disintegrating.

“Hey, hey, Virgil. It’s okay.” Scott had his hand on his arm again.

Virgil’s heart was thudding in his chest. A blink. A calming breath. A moment. He forced calm. “I’m good.”

He was, really. He just had a lot to think about.

“You sure you don’t want to sleep?”

“I’m sure.” But there was something he did want to do. “Come up front with me?”

Scott frowned at him.

“I just want to feel the sun on my face, the wind in my hair.” And get as far away from the engine as possible.

“Sure.” A pause. “But you’re sitting down.”

“Sure.” Virgil pushed himself to his feet.

They found a niche on the bow, enough to sit comfortably with some back support. They could see Gordon frowning at them from the cockpit.

Virgil caught the thought and had to stop himself from laughing out loud. Apparently, he was as much a flyboy as his big brother.

The boat was moving at a reasonable speed, Gordon, no doubt, wanting to get home fast due to the day’s events. That and now they were behind schedule and had quite a long, final stretch to make it before sunset.

Raoul was little more than a smudge on the horizon already. Virgil stared at it a moment before turning and facing the wide ocean ahead of them that ultimately would contain their island. Wind streamed through his hair.

“It will be good to be home.”

Scott didn’t hesitate. “Definitely.”

Virgil snorted. “Missing your ‘bird?”

“Missing land.”

“You spent last night on land.”

“Not the right land.”

Virgil raised an eyebrow at that. “You seemed quite happy with at least one of the inhabitants.”

That prompted a smile on his big brother’s face. “Fishing for details?”

“Some. Not too much.”

Scott turned to him and shrugged. “It was fun. Mel is an interesting woman.”

Half a smile. “I’ll give her that much.” A curious eyebrow. “See it going any further?”

Scott’s expression was thoughtful. “Maybe.”

“Invite her over for Christmas.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Why not?”

“Late notice.”

“You have a Thunderbird.”

That thoughtfulness increased and a slight smile curved his brother’s lips.

“Invite Sam and Liam while you’re at it. We owe them cake. Alan ate theirs.” And Virgil owed Sam an explanation.

That frown returned. “You sure?”

“Sure. The more the merrier.” A snort. “Hell, have them over for a few days. It will give Melissa the chance to check out our ecosystem, she’ll be ecstatic.” A pause and then quietly. “It will give me a chance to speak to Sam about...” A fractured image came to mind and he realised it meant whale. An indrawn breath. Oh god. One concept. He understood something. He could not reproduce it. It wasn’t just sound. It was something else. A combination of visual and auditory. How? His throat froze up. Hell.

“Virgil?”

“I...” The concept tantalised him. His fingers itched for his pencils, his paints and his piano all at once. How?

How?

He swallowed and realised his heart rate was up again. “I...need my tablet...and stylus.”

Scott stared at him a moment before standing up and making his way aft.

It was a sign of how preoccupied Virgil was that his tablet appeared almost immediately in his hands.

He didn’t hesitate. His fingers pulled up his drawing app, his stylus connected with the surface and lines appeared.

Lines. Curves.

Shapes.

Interwoven.

No.

Not right.

The stylus squeaked across the screen.

More lines. More shapes.

The screen became black with them, so he added colour. It splashed and bled across the lines.

“Virgil.”

It still wasn’t right.

Frustration stirred and he groaned at the image.

A blink.

Sound.

He scratched more lines, but the moment of inspiration faded.

He couldn’t do it.

“Virgil.”

It wasn’t a single dimension. It was many. Visual, sound and...and...

Emotion.

How?

It all came back to that question.

He let the tablet and stylus drop, clenching his eyes shut and rubbing his face with his hands.

How the hell could he communicate emotion?

-o-o-o-

John squirrelled himself away. Eos had contacted him to give her report, but there was something in her tone that told him not to take it on an open line.

So, he waited until Gordon got the boat moving and Scott had corralled Virgil before retreating to his cabin for some privacy.

“Did you receive a clear enough signal?”

“Affirmative, John. The upgrade to Virgil’s comms worked perfectly. I am confident I received the full spectrum of the whale’s emissions.”

“Any conclusions?”

“Tentative. And at least an explanation why Virgil is so relaxed in their presence.”

John frowned. “Show me.” The tablet in his hand, the same waterproof device he had clung to as they were tossed from the boat, lit up and a hologram hung above it.

It was a series of graphs mapping sound waves, several equations scrolled down one side. The frown on John’s face deepened. That was some seriously complex math. “Talk to me, Eos.”

“Multiple carrier waves interact synergistically to create other waves which also carry data. This is truly a multidimensional sound.” The waves on several of the graphs split up to show their originating structures.

“Can you decipher a language?”

“Not a simple language, no. Initial assessment leads me to believe this is at least partially a graphical language. The mathematics reveal vector information is part of the transmission.”

John’s eyes widened. “Any interpretation?”

The graphs disappeared to reveal fragmented moving lines and clouded shape. “These images are calculated using a section of song the mother whale was singing to Virgil.”

“Can you see a pattern?”

“Not presently, however, I am still analysing. One aspect to be considered is this...”

A second grouping of graphics appeared beside the main display. This was smaller and lacked colour, the lines far more fragmented and the whole composition was fogged with what appeared to be static. “What?”

“That is Virgil’s vocalisation while he was in contact with the whale, if it is run through the same mathematical algorithm.” The two graphics were suddenly overlaid together. Virgil’s section fit like a piece of a puzzle into the larger composition, as if it was an unfinished section awaiting colour.

“How? Why is Virgil picking this up, but the rest of us are not?”

The graphs returned along with one new one. “I retrieved Virgil’s EEG readings from his last head injury.” Lines lit up in red on several of the graphs. “Several of the carrier waves create a binaural beat. The result is that at least part of the whale’s communication is nestled in frequencies that resonate with human brainwave activity. Virgil’s, in particular, appear to align well. I hypothesise that this facilitates his receptivity.”

John stared at the lines denoting Virgil’s delta wave production. A flick of his fingers and the graph overlaid that section of the whale’s vocal output. Delta waves were well known for their calming effect and their influence on sleep. It would definitely explain his brother’s thrall and lethargy during each encounter.

The red lines glared at him.

An exhaled breath. “So, no chance of a translation?”

“Not any time soon. The transmission is extremely complex and I have yet to reveal all of the carrier signals, much less decipher the entire data stream.”

Eos fell silent a moment and John stared at the graphs, watching them move in rhythm with each other. “Why hasn’t this been discovered before?”

“Recording equipment. Of the recordings I have examined, only three have managed to record enough detail to even hint at the complexity. Today’s samples are of the highest resolution ever taken. Further clarity would be achieved with multiple recordings.”

Which meant more encounters. The sight of Virgil singing on the whale was eerie and unsettling. He may have held back Scott from going to Virgil’s assistance, but the truth was he had to hold himself back just as much.

“Is it causing Virgil any harm?”

Eos didn’t answer immediately and it gave John the chance to ramp up his concern just a notch.

“I cannot locate any medical effects beyond a tendency towards inducing sleep due to some of the frequencies involved. I would recommend further monitoring, however.”

“I agree.” An indrawn breath. “Thank you, Eos.” He blinked and realised exactly what his daughter had just done. His eyes widened just a little. “Continue analysis. This is an important scientific discovery and you have done some excellent work.”

“Really?” Her voice was ever so hopeful, ever so young.

“Of course. I’m looking forward to working on this with you.” There was definitely work to be done and soon.

“Thank you, John.”

“No, Eos, thank you.”

Her giggle bounced across comms. Sometimes so old, yet always ever so young. Her youth was always surprising as was her need for guidance. “Could you please send me Virgil’s vitals, both during the encounter and now?”

“Yes, John.” More numbers appeared above his tablet. Fortunately, they were all healthy numbers, though Virgil’s heart rate was up somewhat. A flick of his fingers and Scott’s vitals appeared beside Virgil’s. Both brothers’ heart rates echoed each other.

John would have felt like he was spying on his family, but he did it so often for reassurance on Five that it now barely registered. Another flick of his fingers and he directed Five to focus on A Little Lightning. He found his eldest brothers on the bow of the yacht. Virgil appeared to be drawing on his tablet.

“He is well, John. I can see no after effects from his encounter.”

John wondered if he could coerce his brother into an EEG exam when they made it home. Roping Scott in would probably manage it, but the stress on both of them would be considerable and he hesitated to aggravate either of them.

Perhaps further down the track, or if Virgil gave him any reason for concern.

God, he hoped not.

A sigh. He had probably jinxed himself last night acknowledging the vacation they were on. Since he woke up to Virgil’s snoring early that morning, things had changed. Sure, surfing with Gordon had been fun, but seeing Scott stressing over Virgil on the beach and the events that followed right up until they returned to A Little Lightning had been anything but relaxing.

One of Virgil’s piano sonatas started playing over his tablet ever so softly.

Despite himself, he smiled. “I’m fine, Eos.”

“You’re worrying again. This is not good for your hair production.”

He blinked. “What?”

“Several sources state that stress can disable the pigment production in human hair follicles, resulting in white, often termed ‘grey’, hairs. I believe this is a negatively viewed characteristic and I have noted that your elder brothers have encountered this issue already. It causes distress, therefore it should be prevented.”

Another blink. “Both of my older brothers have dark hair. Grey becomes very apparent in contrast.”

“It will turn your hair pink.”

“What?” This conversation was ridiculous. “It is a natural ageing process. There is very little that can be done about it.” A breath. “I’m not vain, Eos.”

She didn’t answer immediately. “But your brothers are?”

“My brothers are my brothers, Eos.”

“Well, that makes little sense.”

“Just accept them as they are.”

“Is it possible to accept them any other way?”

“No, not really.”

“Then that statement is redundant.”

“Eos.”

“Yes?”

Frivolous distraction, Eos-style. She had become quite adept at it. Moving his thoughts off worrying topics. A sigh. “Thank you, Eos.”

She didn’t answer immediately, but then...

“Did you know Virgil dyes his hair?”

-o-o-o-

Scott watched his brother draw somewhat manically on his tablet. The resultant art was far from what the artist usually produced. This was all sharp lines and angles followed by random blob shapes. At first it was all in pencil, but then Virgil started adding colours. There was no pattern, it was all haphazard and, worse, it appeared to be aggravating him.

“Virgil.”

His brother groaned in frustration, his eyebrows creasing his face in half and swallowing the scar on his forehead.

“Virgil.”

But he suddenly stopped, realisation on his face morphing into disappointment and more frustration.

The tablet and stylus slipped from Virgil’s hands and Scott was hard pressed to catch them.

But he did.

Virgil’s eyes were scrunched shut and he rubbed his face with his hands.

Scott glanced at the mess on the tablet and shoved it to one side, turning to his brother. “Virgil, talk to me.”

“I can’t.” It was small and hoarse.

“Can’t what?”

“Can’t...express, explain...trying to understand...it’s a mess...”

Okay, this was well outside his realm, but he knew Virgil. He slipped off his seat and knelt in front him. Gently he pulled those hands away from his brother’s face to reveal worried brown eyes. “Stop. Take a breath.”

Virgil stared at him a moment before the soft command was obeyed and he drew in air. Those eyes closed briefly and his brother’s shoulders dropped. “Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about.”

“I ruined it again. I’ve stressed you out.”

“This time, I don’t think you had much say in it. Mamma Whale was very determined to say hello.” A small smile. “I think you have a music fan.”

Virgil snorted softly and Scott knew he’d broken through even if just a little. “She definitely wanted to talk. I just wish I knew what she wanted to say.”

“You picked up something, though, didn’t you?”

A quiet sigh. “She was happy and surprised.” Virgil looked up and stared out into the ocean, but Scott could tell he wasn’t seeing the waves.

He wondered what he was thinking.

“How could you tell?”

The frown returned. “I don’t know.” A pause caught in thought. “The sound makes me feel? The sound is...everything.”

Virgil stopped speaking, lost again to whatever was in his head.

Scott swallowed and tried a different tactic. “I think you made a mistake.”

Brown eyes snapped to him immediately. “What?”

“You should have asked Mel out. Lost opportunity, bro.”

Virgil stared at him. “What?”

“She had the hots for you, Virg, and you ignored her.”

“Last time Raoul erupted? She tried to climb me like a tree. Kay had to drag her out of the cockpit.”

It was Scott’s turn to stare. “Really?”

“She was very exuberant in her thanks.”

Scott smiled. “She knows what she likes.” And yes, admittedly, she was very good at climbing, after all Scott was taller. His smile widened.

Virgil’s stare intensified until plain, straight human communication got the message across and his brother groaned. “God, Scott, TMI.”

Total innocence. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to. The image is radiating off your skin.”

Scott sniggered.

Distraction achieved.

“Well, I did say you lost an opportunity.”

“That’s fine, Jungle Jim, she’s all yours.”

Scott shrugged. He could always hope. She certainly knew how to press all his buttons. “Still think we should have her over for Christmas?”

“Yeah, Gordon will love it.”

“What about you?”

“I need to speak to Sam.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

“Okay.” A breath. “Just take it easy.”

His brother nodded and returned to staring out at the ocean. “It will be good to get home.”

Scott stood up slowly and sat back down beside his brother. “Yeah, it will.”

So good.

-o-o-o-

“Are we there yet?” Alan’s voice was particularly whiny, no doubt, specifically designed to irritate.

Gordon turned away from the helm to look at him. “Do you see an island in front of us?”

Alan shoved his hands in his pockets. “Nope.”

“There’s your answer.”

It had been quiet on the bridge for the last few hours. Gordon was grateful for the time to think. A Little Lightning cut through the water ever so smoothly. It was satisfying to see the swell pass by knowing that they were one wave closer to home.

Gordon loved being out on the ocean. It was his native element. But at the moment he longed for the safety of Tracy Island. That last encounter with the whales had its own sense of wonder, but until he understood exactly what the effect was on his older brother, he wasn’t entirely comfortable.

It was weird and unnerving.

And it worried him.

“They been out there long?” Alan was staring at the two men sitting on the bow of the boat.

“Yeah, couple of hours at least.”

“Do you think Virgil is okay?”

No. “Yeah, he’ll be fine.”

Alan eyed him. “I’m not a kid anymore. I don’t need protecting. Since when have you become one of them?” He pointed at his eldest brothers.

Gordon sighed. “I’m not. It’s just...I don’t know, okay? It was weird and amazing and I need to talk to him and he was spaced out and his singing was...”

“Weird?”

“Yeah.”

There was silence for a moment, but Gordon knew it wouldn’t be long.

Sure enough.

“Do you think Virg can talk to whales?”

“I don’t know, Alan.” It was said on one long exhale.

“He communicated something, didn’t he?”

“I don’t know, okay?” And that was the problem. There was so much they didn’t know. Gordon was itching to get into the in-depth literature, to find out more and fill the gaps in his knowledge so he could help his brother. He would be speaking to Sam as soon as possible, but for the moment, the priority was getting Virgil home.

“Some vacation.” It was said with a pout.

Gordon sighed and shoved on the autopilot before turning to his younger brother. “Alan, out with it.”

“What?”

“What’s bugging you.”

“I thought that was obvious. Virgil going zombie and singing to a whale is enough, don’t you think? As if appendicitis wasn’t dramatic already.”

Gordon stared at Alan. “He is going to be okay.”

“You don’t know that. You just said so!”

“He sang to a whale, Alan. They are one of the gentlest creatures on the planet. If he was going to choose a weird conversation partner, he chose well.”

“But you don’t know what it did to him!”

“It didn’t do anything to him.”

“You don’t know that!”

“Alan-“

“Don’t lie to me!” The words shot across the bridge and slapped Gordon in the face.

Voice calm and quiet and not a little hurt. “I have never lied to you, Alan.”

Blue fire glared at him. “You haven’t? Not even to protect the littlest one? Scared I might burst into tears.”

Gordon stared at his little brother. “What is it?”

“Have you?!”

“No! I’ve always told you the truth. You know that!” He let out an aggravated breath. “What is wrong, Allie?”

“What do you think? First you, then Virgil, and now this!”

“What?!” Him? Virgil? Oh...shit. “Virgil is okay. Hell, I’m okay. Allie, we are all fine.”

“That’s what he keeps saying!” Alan shoved a finger in Virgil’s direction. “He’s always fine, even when he’s not. You’re all the same. Big tough guys, nothing is ever wrong. You could be bleeding to death and you’d ‘be fine’. What is wrong with admitting you’re hurt? What is so wrong with being hurt that you have to hide it?”

Gordon opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

“Well, you know what? I’m scared and I’m sick of hiding it. Virgil nearly fell out of the damned sky with his infected appendix. It could have killed him. And now he’s scaring everyone with this whale thing.” A harshly indrawn breath. “Don’t tell me Scott’s not worried. I’m not stupid.”

Two steps and Gordon was in front of his brother, his hands landing on shoulders that were just that touch higher than his own and tighter strung than Virgil’s piano. “Allie, he’s going to be okay.”

“You keep saying that.”

“Because it is true.”

Something unintelligible and Alan was wrapped around him like a limpet. Gordon held his little brother. It was unusual and alarming. Alan usually went to Scott for comfort. Gordon was for pranks and cohorting. “It’s okay to be upset. It’s okay to be worried. You can cry if you need to.”

“I’m not going to cry!” Alan pulled away and glared up at Gordon.

“What?”

“Now you think I’m the baby that needs to bawl on your shoulder?”

“What?!” The hell was going on? Some conscious part of his brain was aware of the yacht’s engine, the high speed they were travelling and the fact autopilot on water was vastly different from the sky and he really should be paying attention. But Alan needed...something. “Allie, you’ve lost me. What do you want?!”

“I want Virgil to be okay. I want you to be okay.”

“We are okay!”

“Then stop scaring me!”

“I didn’t scare you!”

“You....you terrified me, Gordon. You terrified all of us.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose.”

“Still hurt.”

“Aww, Allie...” What could he do?

“And now, here you are ‘okay’, and it could happen again, and...” A shaky swallow. “I’m scared, okay? You’re fine. Virgil’s fine. But you’re not, and...I’m not okay...okay?”

This time it was Gordon wrapping his arms around his not so little brother. “I’m sorry, Allie.”

Muffled into Gordon’s shoulder. “Not your fault.”

“No.” But he should have realised it was still messing with his little brother. Alan was the least experienced of them all. Gordon had seen things, done things, things that hopefully Alan would never have to experience. Quietly. “I think Virgil is a little freaked out. I don’t think he understands what happened much more than we do. But we are going to find out. I’m going to speak to Sam. We’re going to do some research and we will find out why the song affected Virgil the way it did. But he is okay, Alan. Tracy’s honour. A little shaken up. A little worried. But he is okay. We’ll work through this like we always do.”

His brother’s arms tightened around him just that little bit more, but Alan didn’t say anything.

A rustle of fabric and Gordon looked up to see John standing in the doorway staring at them with a hint of worry in his eyes.

“John?”

Alan startled and pulled away immediately. Turquoise followed his every move.

A slow blink and John stepped onto the bridge. “Eos is deciphering the song. We have a good idea as to why Virgil reacted the way he did.” It was said calmly and factually for such a great discovery.

“You do?” Alan found his voice first.

Those eyes latched onto Gordon’s. “We do.”

The helm beeped.

A blink and Gordon was back at the wheel, scanning their position. A mass of volcanic rock and tropical reef appeared on navigational sensors.

A familiar chunk of rock and reef.

Tracy Island.

Home.

-o-o-o-

End Day Four, Part Five.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds #Virgil Tracy #Scott Tracy #John Tracy #Gordon Tracy #Alan Tracy #kermadec fic

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