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i-t-guy-in-the-sky · 2 months

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Tracy Log: 03/08/2066

RESCUE REPORT:

Call received at 13:26, reports of a rambler trapped in an abandoned missile silo some 8 meters below ground.

Call sent by companion (uninjured) stating that the victim had climbed to the apex of the hill- created after the covering of the shelter entrance- in order to film a segment for their YouTube channel.

Upon reaching the top they started filming but the ground they were standing on began to shift, having become unstable due to nearby building work causing heavy flooding in the area.

The platform upon which they were standing -which doubled as a the lid to the silo- crumbled and they fell straight down into the silo.

Thunderbirds 1 and 2 deployed with Scott, Virgil, and Gordon aboard.

Victim knocked unconscious on impact, and didn't regain consciousness until Scott reached the danger zone.

Scott used our jetpack technology to lower himself down in order to assess the victim and secure them for transport.

Unfortunately, due to the nature of the fall and the subsequent injuries, although victim regained consciousness briefly, they were in too much pain. Scott issued painkillers to make them more comfortable, but they succumbed to their injuries before Scott or the team on Thunderbird 2 were able to help.

Reports will be sent, along with our video footage, to the local police force for processing and our standard letter of condolence, as well as resources, has been sent to the bereaved.

END REPORT.

John leaned back, allowing the freedom of Zero-G to support his body as he pressed save on his screen and swiped it away.

He could still hear, could still see, the devastation on his brother's face as he reported that their mission had not been successful. Scott had tried to stay businesslike, to report the facts as they appeared, but John knew it was never that easy.

He watched every rescue as standard, ready to help in any way he could, and he had heard the laboured breathing of the victim, their pain filled crying and the wheezing, rattle in their chest.

They had asked Scott for help and he had promised them he would get them out of there. And he had, he'd helped the only way he could, by making them comfortable and holding their hand as their life had slipped away. And then he'd done his job and gotten them out as promised, just not in the way any of them would have wished.

Losses were inevitable, and they were lucky enough that they didn't have to deal with them that often, but that just made it all the harder when it did.

He wanted to be down there to support his brother, knowing he would be beating himself up about it even though there was nothing anyone could have done, but he still had to file the report with the local authorities and alert the bereavement counsellor they kept on retainer in case the victim's family were in need and couldn't provide their own.

Still, he had a secret weapon that he was merciless in deploying when a situation called for it, and this was definitely that situation.

He pulled up his screen again and touched the little symbol of a witch’s hat.

-x-

Scott’s eyes flew open as the first pounding notes of a song blasted through the speaker system of the lounge.

There went his peace and quiet. Couldn't a man brood alone in this house without some idiot feeling the need to disturb him?

“Why am I not surprised?” he bitched when his sister-in-law slid into the room and struck a dramatic pose. Please don't let her start to sing. He loved her but his temples were already throbbing and he didn't think his nerves could take it.

Thankfully -if you could count that- she stuck to lip syncing along as Tina Turner blasted out her most famous number.

“I call you when I need you, my heart's on fire,” Selene mimed, holding her hands over her heart as she rocked back and forth on the spot. “You come to me, come to me wild and wild.” She gestured to him to stand up and join her, but he folded his arms and resolutely refused, he wasn't in the mood for such silliness. A man had just died, did she not understand that?

“When you come to me, give me everything I need,” Selene continued as if he wasn't glaring a hole into her, she just gyrated on the spot, her head bobbing. “Give me a lifetime of promises and a world of dreams, speak a language of love like you know what it means.”

She settled into a power pose stance and prepared for the first big moment of the song.

“Mmm, and it can't be wrong, take my heart and make it strong, baby…” She paused in her bouncing sway to make sure he was paying attention before she belted out the words along with Tina.

“You're simply the best!” She pointed her finger directly in his face. “Better than all the rest.” Powerful head pumping. “Better than anyone.” Arms swaying above her head. “Anyone I've ever met.”

She clutched her hands to her heart as she swayed along to the words, miming along for all she was worth. She knew how to give a rousing performance and he deserved it.

“I'm stuck on your heart

I hang on every word you say.”

“No you don't,” Scott argued, but he was beginning to feel a little amused.

“Tear us apart,” Selene mimed then stuck her tongue out at him. “Baby, I would rather be dead.”

Scott's lips twitched, just a tiny bit, but she saw it and knew that she'd got him. He was hers now.

She moved closer until she was directly in front of him and carried on lip syncing along, pantoming the moves.

“In your heart, I see the star of every night and every day.”

She grabbed him by the hand and dragged him to his feet, ignoring his protests.

“In your eyes, I get lost, I get washed away.”

She kept hold of his hand, but stretched out their arms so that she could spin herself in against his chest in what she thought was the slickest move ever. He automatically grabbed on, holding her in case she fell.

“Just as long as I'm here in your arms, I could be in no better place…”

She wound up to the next line, tipped her head back onto his shoulder, eyes closed as she belted out the words like a woman possessed. “You're simply the best.”

She swayed from side to side, forcing him to move with her or lose his balance. “Better than all the rest. Better than anyone, anyone I've ever met.”

She felt the shaking of his shoulders as he started to laugh, but she couldn't hear much over the music. Not that that mattered, she knew her plan was working.

“Ooh, I'm stuck on your heart, I hang on every word you say.”

She wound her way out of his arms again in true ballroom dancing fashion but kept hold of his hand.

"Don't tear us apart,no, no, no. Baby, I would rather be dead!”

Scott span her again and she latched her arms around his neck, moving together now. This time he joined in, actually singing, which she now joined in with, uncaring as to how bad she sounded.

“Each time you leave me, I start losing control,

You're walking away with my heart and my soul.

I can feel you even when I'm alone, oh baby, don't let go!”

They danced a haphazard path around the coffee table and up the steps to a clear spot of floor just in time for the next part. They bounced around, Scott mimed playing a saxophone as Selene did her best Tina Turner gyrations -if the woman herself could move like that in her 70s Selene had no excuse to let the said down.

“Ooh, you're the best, ooh.”

Arms were waved as they sang. Selene had managed to grab Kayo's discarded hairbrush off a side table and was using it in her best teenage girl sleepover fashion.

“Better than all the rest. Better than anyone, anyone I've ever met.”

Scott took her outstretched hand and wound his fingers through hers, allowing her to swing his arm around as they sang the next lines.

“Ooh, I'm stuck on your heart, I hang on every word you say. Don't tear us apart, no, no, Baby, I would rather be dead!”

She let go of his hand and threw her head back to scream the next line.

“You're the best!”

They broke apart to dance on their own as the music pumped winding up for the finale. Scott was fully in the grove now, his face losing the haggard sadness she'd seen when she'd first entered the room. They were karaoke masters, they knew how to match actions to the words and they did it with style.

"Ooh, you're simply the best. Better than all the rest. Better than anyone, Anyone I've ever met!”

They bounced on the spot, singing at the top of their lungs, heads thrown back as they let the music and the fun of the moment wash away the disappointment and sadness of the day.

“I'm stuck on your heart, baby. I hang on every word you say.” Heads bobbed, fingers clicked, booties shimmied, hips gyrated as they let themselves go. “Don't tear us apart, no, no, no. Baby, I would rather be dead!”

Selene was very out of breath now, and why shouldn't she be, she been carrying this performance after all, but he was worth it. They bounced back together again, and she grabbed his hand, squeezing it tight to make sure he was fully understanding the reason behind her song choice.

“Oh, you're the best. You're better than all the rest

Better than anyone, anyone I've ever met.”

She locked eyes with him as the song wound down and spoke the last words directly to her very best friend in the entire world, and thankfully he was right there with her. “Ooh, you're the best.”

She was there to catch him in a huge hug as the music died away, leaving them panting for breath. The man could run the length of the island but make him dance and he'd be puffing like an old steam train in minutes.

“Beer?” she offered, kissing the top of his head where he'd faceplanted her shoulder.

It took him a moment, but finally he mumbled, “Yeah, that’d be good. Thanks.” That last word meant everything to her and told her that he appreciated her efforts more than he would probably admit.

She nodded and gave him another squeezy hug before she let him go, confident that she'd made her point. He was the best, the best brother, the best friend and the best rescuer out there. And whenever he doubted himself she'd be there to kick his arse until he realised the error of his ways.

-x-

John smiled to himself as he watched the live lounge feed. His wife was certainly unconventional in her approach but she got the job done.

And, until he could get home he knew his brother was in the best hands now. She'd make sure that he remembered that he was the best.

#thunderbirds are go #john tracy #thunderbirds 2015 #thunderbirdsarego #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #selene tempest #scott tracy #international rescue #bad day #you cant save everyone

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darkestwolfx · 1 month

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It's a Long Story about the Topiary

I have nothing to say about this that hasn't already been said. @tsarinatorment as I promised you this series was always going to have more written, and as you requested it, I got straight on with it!

I'll add fanfiction.net link once it generates! Notes: I don’t know how long awaited this may be for everyone who reads it, but I know for some it will be very important to them! So I hope you enjoy whether you are new or old to this little universe (that will not be staying little at all)!

This was something I fully intended to write before going away, so I’m pleased to have the chance to finish it and bring it to you all now. It seemed like the appropriate next add-on, but there are a few others also that I want to add also.

Might be best read after ‘A Seed Once Sown’ and ‘Afternoon Tea’ but it’s not a necessity as this fic will contain everything you’d need to make this a stand-alone read also.

And if anyone had noticed, yes, the title is a play on the song “long way to Tipperary”.

Also ages don’t particularly matter, but I’ve worked out based on what rough idea TAG did give us that when the boys rescued Jeff they were around the following give or take: Scott - 28, John - 25, Virgil – 23, Gordon – 20, Alan – 17 In case this is something people like to have in mind when reading.

Words: 6226

Summary: After Jeff returned home, there were a few things that needed explaining. Like the intriguing garden furniture…Chronologically, this is looking to be part 6 of International Gardening Services, but for now it's only the 3rd part written.

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There were many things to get used to again by being back on Earth.

Gravity was a noticeable first and combined with sunlight – a noticeable second – they had quickly become his bane for several days. Jeff had never had the same struggle with returning to gravity that John did as a young man, but now he felt a little of his second son’s difficulty. No– a lot, he understood it a lot.

He knew the boys had worried, but after a week or so, he’d managed to prove to them that he was right as rain (if not a little unsteady if he rose too fast, but that resolved itself again in another week).

The third – almost sadly – was his mother’s cooking. After surviving on rations, the thought of a meal was heavenly, until it was “meatloaf surprise” served up before him. This was a new take on the dish, something his mother had obviously developed in his absence, but it was no improvement to her known poor cooking - nor the standard “meatloaf” which had come before it - and Jeff had to admit he (momentarily) wondered if he would be better off on rations again.

The fourth, was the realisation that his boys… weren’t really boys anymore, not even the youngest. In his absence, they’d grown up by themselves, taught each other what they needed to, and – whilst he could look upon them now with as much love and pride as he ever had – the realisation that they didn’t need him anymore was (more than) a little soul-breaking. He couldn’t say that to them either, not after everything those developments had allowed them to achieve, which included rescuing me.

No, it would be an insult to say he wished for the sons he left behind, but… he did miss– no, regret what he’d lost. He supposed the boys likely felt the same way, to have lost him for eight years, only to gain him back now when… well, when they didn’t really need him anymore.

Logically, he knew that wasn’t really true. Although he may have missed the formative years to still play the role of father, he would always be their father, and they would desire he be around as much as he wanted them to outlast him. That was the truth, but emotionally, it hit hard still.

That’s why he’d tried so hard, desperately fought to think of anyway to get home, and yet, no matter how much he tried, he still wondered whether it would be too late – for him or the boys, or the years they’d have lost.

It could’ve been worse: it could’ve been better, of course, also.

You could’ve never gone…

No, Jeff knew – as much as he knew his family did – that he could never have not taken that mission to stop The Hood, no matter what it cost. But if things could be different, just one time…

That was no longer worth torturing themselves with.

The fifth – and well, everything else that came after – was a mix of the more little things. Letting former friends know that he was alive and a bit less of the “former” could come back into play.

Making time to see all such people was a head-rush and not something he’d yet got round to even thinking about arranging. Except for Lee was going to return to the island. Jeff had been intrigued to hear the tales of the adventures his sons had with his old friend in his absence and Alan had eagerly agreed that he could make the trip to pick the Captain up as soon as the weather conditions on Mars cleared up again.

There was redoing his wardrobe, because for all he’d tried to keep his physique, it hadn’t been an easy mission and some of his shape had dwindled away, if not his strength.

There was learning all about the “new” things that had come into play over the last eight years, like home-made AI’s and Hypercars, and gecko gloves and deadly space lasers. Not to mention weather drones and giant allegators!

The drama wasn’t just limited to the field either, as apparently there was quite the stack of films he’d missed the release of that the family had watched on their movie nights (sometimes afternoons – “depending on the type of week we were having”, he’d been informed by Gordon) that they now needed to rewatch with him. The first of such had been two weeks into his return when the holo-screen just about looked straight, and it had been enjoyable to spend such effortless time with his family again, even if he didn’t understand why Virgil and Scott no longer shared the popcorn, each having to have a bowl of their own instead, nor why John had to sit tediously (it seemed) in the middle of them both whilst Gordon seemed to snigger even when the movie didn’t prompt it.

No, he didn’t understand that, but then, it was another thing he knew he must’ve missed.

------

It was in his third week of being back – balance and vision somewhat back in coordination – that he ventured outside. The poolside smelt of chlorine and chemicals, and yet it was welcoming in its own odd way. The deck chairs were still covered the same and clearly hadn’t taken anymore burning’s from Scott’s launches of Thunderbird One. Jeff supposed he was thinking quite some way back to when the eldest was first learning to pilot the craft: and of course there would no longer be such issues. There barely had been when he left!

It seemed easier to remember the past, because he’d not made many memories over the last 8 years, only the previous twenty lived on repeat for him: from the day Scott was born to the moment he left them to go on the Zero X mission.

Only those years had existed for him.

Sitting beneath the sun, feeling the warmth on his face was glorious and something else he soon realised he’d missed. Moving their lives to the island had been necessary for so many reasons – for International Rescue to be possible, for the secrecy, and for them to start again. And the sun and the sea had seemed a good thing to encourage some of that healing.

He felt it now keenly.

It was only after a while sunbathing that he opened his eyes, blinked twice and finally took in the growth of trees opposite the pool. The island was full of trees, yes, an entire jungle worth of assorted sprouts to be more specific, so these shouldn’t be anything worth noting, but there was something… they hadn’t been there when he… left.

They seemed now to border and block in the little garden area he’d cut aside for his mother when she’d insisted if they were moving to a tropical island that she still wanted a normal garden. So he and Kyrano had put some paving stones down from the stairway he’d made around the back of the buildings, and maintained a lawn amongst all the fast growing greenery. Kyrano had planted a couple shrubs in the centre and some plants around the edges, but that was the best Jeff knew he could manage to maintain. It wasn’t really a garden as such, but it had worked to keep his mum happy.

He’d wondered, maybe once or twice, how the boys would maintain it, considering they seemed to inherit his skill in gardening from what he’d remembered and so the last thing he’d expected to see were trees.

Curiosity piqued, he rose and strode around the pool’s edge to take a closer look.

The stone pathway still seemed to run towards the stairs and through to a gap in the trees near the pool, but once you stepped through, the enclosed space originally set aside seemed to double in size. The middle of the path was now replaced with a pond, but the slabs of stone curved around the circular feature and broke off to each side, making four straight paths away from the pond. There were a series of chairs on one part of the lawn and a rockery to the far side that seemed to be full of an army of– were those geraniums?

He hadn’t been aware when he left of any of his family having strong feelings about the pink flower, but hey, he’d missed eight years’ worth of development and choices.

It was better maintained than he’d expected from the boys and some of the plant varieties Jeff couldn’t even name! It was fascinating, and intriguing. From everything he knew and all that he’d recently seen, he didn’t doubt the boys had the artistry and heavy lifting to make such a thing, he was just… bemused, he supposed. Last he remembered, Scott couldn’t even keep a cactus alive, so this much had to be a challenge.

Maybe he was giving the credit to the boys when it had all been his mother’s or Brains’ work. Although, saying that, neither of them would have been able to do something like this alone he didn’t think.

It was all a mystery, but it had a nice view!

He’d made a note to ask the boys, but that evening also brought in the revelation of Kip Harris when he rang on the holo-channel to confirm when he was next coming for dinner, and that was the start of a whole new conversation – led mostly by Gordon (for Virgil was a little starstruck and Jeff didn’t think his mother was faring better) with Alan and Scott chipping in obligatory sound effects and John rolling his eyes from where he didn’t think he could be seen, tuning in up on Five as he ran a check of all the monitoring systems and caught up with EOS.

Apparently, the red head had only come away for a few days at a time in recent years, but from the day Jeff returned with the boys until early this morning, his second child had remained firmly on the ground with them all and he’d promised to be back on the morrow.

Jeff knew John loved Thunderbird Five from the moment it successfully found orbit in space, but he hadn’t ever thought the boy would take to spending so much time up there in recent years.

But then, once again, you haven’t been here for eight years.

------

It wasn’t until the week almost turned into the fourth one since his “return to earth” – as Alan and Gordon had begun to tell time on the calendar, using “before leaving earth” and “since returning to earth” to reference pieces of conversations (and it was helpful for him, not that Jeff would admit that to his trickster pair of children) – that he remembered he’d never asked about the garden.

They’d been swept up in Alan’s graduation and a proper catch up with Lady Penelope and Parker. The old chap never changed and told him all about how he’d taught “Mr Gordon and Mr h’Alan Sir, to drive”, both of which were interesting tales.

Then, Colonel Casey had finally dropped by to visit – after Scott bashfully explained how the island’s location got revealed to her, but Jeff assured him he didn’t care about all that. In all honesty, the woman was a family friend, and he should’ve told her long ago, and most importantly, he was just glad to hear his family came off safe from their encounter with The Hood finding the island.

He and Casey had spoken for a while up in the roundhouse and by the time he headed back in, he was surprised to still hear the chatter of the boys coming from the lounge. Not surprised because that was unusual at all – the five of them had always known how to make noise when together and that didn’t seem to have stopped. It was joyful, a cacophony that he missed in his solitary grey cavern. No, what was surprising about it was that the boys were being so loud so near to dinner time! If there was one thing he’d learnt since being home, it was that the boys were hard to find (unless there was a rescue call) in that dangerous hour their Grandma occupied the kitchen before serving.

So, curious, he carried on up past the kitchen and into the lounge, trying to see if he could earwig what was captivating the boys so, and that was when he heard it.

The sixth voice.

It wasn’t his mother, or Kayo or Brains. They were all voices he was familiar with. Even The Mechanic, who had remained with them for a short stay, had gruff tones that would sound less surprising to hear than the odd, chirp reaching his ears.

As he walked in, it was easy to see his sons gathered round; Alan lounging across the leather chairs with John sat on the sofa beside him whilst Virgil and Gordon sat across from him. Scott was perched on the table and, stood between the eldest and John, taking up the centre of the room, was a complete stranger.

‘Oh, hey dad!’ Gordon called, spotting him first with the vantage of being directly opposite him. Alan promptly dropped his head back as though to confirm that his brother was right, looking at him upside down before blinking in recognition and slinging himself back up with enough speed to give him head rush, Jeff was sure.

‘Hey.’ Alan waved, almost as a way of recovering his near plummet to the floor as he barely managed to catch his grip on the side of the chair.

Gordon and Virgil were sniggering, Scott and John smiling, and the stranger… well, he seemed to fit in amongst his sons… seemed amused at the scene before them also.

For all he seemed an odd fellow, there didn’t see to be anything immediately harmful about the man and from the conversation he’d heard on the way in, it seemed like the boys had met him before. But how did he get here?

‘Uh, dad?’ Virgil’s question floated over to him, and Jeff jolted himself back into the present in time to see his middle child levering himself from the sofa, ‘You ok?’

‘I’m fine, Virgil,’ He held up a hand to halt his boy from approaching. He knew they all worried about him since his return, but he genuinely couldn’t be better. But if Virgil got started now on vitals and temperature there’d be no stopping him. No, he was fine. He was just trying to understand the conundrum of– ‘There’s a man holding a pot plant in my lounge.’

‘Ha, yeah,’ Scott started, filling him with confidence (not), ‘That’s Gladys.’

‘Him?’ He knew it was 2063, and their world had come on leaps and bounds, but–but by the laughter of his sons he’d very much misjudged this one.

‘No, the plant.’ Virgil corrected, motioning to the pot which the man extended further from his chest in response.

‘The– Boys...’ Jeff drawled, lost beyond belief, and wondering a little if he could be dreaming. None of this was making sense.

‘Dad, this is Ned Tedford.’ Finally, he supposed his second son had seen his confusion and John made the formal introduction, rising to stand beside the darker skinned man. ‘He’s our gardener.’

‘Gardener?’

Maybe that made a little bit more sense of the design that seemed to have gone into the outgrow.

‘Yep! That’s me!’ The man – Ned – cheered again, voice loud and bright, before he seemed to stumble, eyes almost visually backtracking over his words. ‘Sir.’

‘You don’t have to call him Sir!’ Gordon chastised, but the gardener was already passing off the pot plant to Scott who fumbled a moment over gripping the ceramic and all the boys seemed to start at the possibility of him dropping it (and it didn’t seem to be over concern for the soil going on the carpet, for goodness sake) whilst Ned – completely unaware of the chaos behind him – held out a hand.

‘Ned Tedford, Sir, at your gardening service.’

‘Right…’

It would be rude not to shake the man’s hand, but he was still trying to process all of this information. Of all the things he’d expected his sons to do in the time he was gone, finding a gardener, hadn’t struck him as one of them.

‘Ned,’ John continued, pulling him back into the room once more, ‘This is our dad, Jeff Tracy.’

Quickly he reached out and shook the man’s hand. He could feel Virgil’s eyes hovering heavily on him with clear question.

‘Jeff Tracy.’ He affirmed, surprised to find that the man had a stronger grip than he’d expected.

‘Mr Tracy. Ned Tedford.’

‘Yes, you said.’

‘Oh, yes, I did, didn’t I.’

But maybe the man wasn’t as confident as he tried to be, given the current bashful display, his eyes suddenly searching round until they landed on his pot plant again, which Scott seemed hasty to return to him and the rest of the boys breathed a sigh of relief at it being returned to the gardener’s hands.

The next thing he knew though, “Gladys” was before his nose.

‘This is Gladys.’

Scott had said… but when the man seemed to feel a little awkward, that seemed a little rude to say. Besides, he couldn’t deny that he still felt a little baffled himself.

‘A geranium?’

‘Yep! The world’s best travelled geranium, Sir!’

Gordon’s palm hit his face, with the mutter of, “you don’t have to call him Sir” again, just about audible.

‘Travelled?’

‘Gladys goes everywhere.’ Alan explained. ‘Like everywhere.’

‘Like, boys?’

‘You know,’ Alan continued, ‘Space.’

‘Underwater.’ Gordon added.

Virgil nodded. ‘The military.’

‘Back to space.’ Scott’s eyes were almost rolling.

‘The North Pole.’ John contributed.

‘And back to space!’ Alan finished.

‘It’s a long story.’ Ned added for himself.

Jeff was just trying to keep up with the brief explanations bouncing between his sons, aware there were many stories he was missing concerning this Ned Tedford.

‘And now earth?’ He assumed given the man’s presence before them.

‘Firmly planted, Sir.’ Ned reassured. Gordon sputtered into laughter that needed Virgil to whack him on the back to steady. ‘It’s all gardening now for us, isn’t that right, Gladys?’

Jeff felt himself blanch. Scott had risen from the table and now passed beside him, close enough for him to mutter, ‘He talks to the plant?’

‘Ah, you get used to it.’ The eldest dismissed, like it was an everyday occurrence.

Scott’s exit didn’t go unnoticed by the youngest who was craning his neck to follow the elder’s steps, his eyes narrowing as the brunette turned towards the stairs before widening as he suddenly vaulted over the back of the chair and zoomed past him.

‘Scott, keep your hands off!’

‘I’m getting the plates, Alan. Just the plates.’

‘If I catch you with a fork in your hand…’

Jeff blinked again.

He knew his boys liked food – in all honesty, they’d probably inherited that from him – but this was his mother’s cooking they were talking about. And he’d been back for a good few weeks: if she’d learnt to cook, he thought he would’ve tasted the difference by now. Which begged the question why an argument seemed to be brewing over what, no doubt, was more “meatloaf surprise”.

‘Alright, have I missed something?’ He asked finally, knowing he had no chance of working this out alone.

‘Uh, yeah!’ Gordon cheered. ‘Ned, can cook.’

Well, that was another revelation he hadn’t been expecting, but it seemed to be something else his boys were accustomed to with the same ease as they were Ned being their gardener.

The man nodded, the pot plant swaying with the motion, still held tightly in his grasp. ‘I brought lasagna. It’s in the oven at the moment.’

‘Lasagna…’ Jeff muttered, feeling more like gravity had done a number on him in these last five minutes than in the five hours immediately after his first foot was back on solid earth.

‘Family favourite.’ Ned pointed out. ‘So I’m told.’

‘Right!’ Gordon cheered, ‘You can’t go wrong with lasagna.’

‘Unless it’s Grandma’s.’ Virgil added and Gordon’s nose scrunched up as the pair of them rose and followed Ned – and Gladys - towards the kitchen.

‘Should be ready about now.’ The gardener agreed as they headed for the stairs. ‘Oh, how’s Gloria and the family doing? Gladys has been wondering.’

‘Oh, they’re doing great!’ Gordon replied immediately, seeming to be well aware who this apparent “Gloria and family” were meant to be, ‘I’ve been following what you said about watering in tropical climates…’

Because that didn’t leave him with more questions than answers at all…

‘Come on dad,’ John encouraged, setting a hand on his shoulder, bringing him back to the world of the lounge. ‘Scott and Alan shouldn’t be left in the kitchen alone.’

No, that much he did remember.

------

It was, several hours later, when Jeff was laying in bed that he remembered the pink geraniums in the garden.

But no, surely… maybe he had to consider that the boys had named them.

Yes, Gloria and family indeed.

Although, it was also as he lay there, contemplating sleep, that he had to agree with the boys. Ned could cook.

And it seemed his mother – “do call me Sally, Ned” – didn’t seem to mind being outdone for once.

------

Ned, and Gladys, were still on the island the following morning and serving breakfast he discovered!

And breakfast seemed to be a civilised affair for once with china teacups, and plates of assorted cakes. Well – civilised besides from Scott swatting at the hands of the youngest two every time they tried to reach for a cake, insisting they needed to finish their breakfast first.

Ned seemed to be most in synch with John, but he had his own way of interacting with each of the boys and Jeff was surprised to see someone from outside the family fitting in so well. The air of secrecy to their lives and of living so far out from civilisation were both his doing, and though his sons had never seemed to mind, he’d still had reservations over their schooling and whether they’d have the chance to make any solid friends in life like he had found in Lee and Casey. But it seemed after all this, those reservations had been needlessly placed, for every son was a graduate and seemed to have found their own friends.

(Even if that was a grown man and a pot plant).

Each son was also highly skilled at what they did in the rescue business, yet that one went without saying or concern after all they did for him, to bring him back.

They’d never given up.

And he couldn’t be prouder of them for that.

Now, it felt foreign to eat food without worry or horror for the second time in a row, and to wonder instead at the taste of it.

He learnt that Colonel Casey had brought Ned to the island with her, the boys quoting that it was best for keeping the island secret. He could agree there, but he wasn’t born yesterday and sensed there was something unsaid. It was – when they were finally on the cakes (to Alan and Gordon’s delight) that he got the rest of that story.

Ned was something of a “magnet for trouble”, Gordon had explained, to which Alan had merrily chipped in, “more so than me”!

After initially being hired by John it seemed and working on the garden for a while to turn it from a “jungle-lawn” into what it was today, Ned had made fortnightly, then monthly trips to the island to manage the upkeep of the garden. Scott had explained that if Colonel Casey wasn’t stopping by, he tended to pick Ned up.

‘Can’t the man get a plane?’ He’d asked, and that seemed to be his foolish mistake, but even Ned was laughing.

Scott was outraged, ‘Dad, you’ve got to be joking! International rescue would only be called out to it.’

‘Ned here has a loyalty badge.’ Gordon quipped, and it was then Jeff realised there was clearly a lot more to his son’s acquaintance with this man than he knew, what with so many stories on hold to be told in full.

‘We are sorry about that, aren’t we Gladys?’

Jeff wondered if the man was actually thinking the plant would reply when he left these pauses.

‘We know, Ned.’ John reassured.

‘Besides, it is our job.’ Virgil added.

‘And we haven’t rescued you since you went back to gardening!’

‘Don’t jinx it, Alan!’

‘I’m just saying Gordon–’

‘Well don’t!’ The four elders chorused and even Ned seemed to blanch at the thought.

‘Okay, okay!’ Alan insisted, ‘I’m just saying–’

‘More cake?’ Ned offered quickly, holding a plate of Battenburg round to Alan who took one immediately, previous thought track forgotten.

‘It’s nice of you to bring all this every time you visit, Ned.’ Virgil praised. Jeff wondered just how many visits there had been for this to seem as easy as daily routine to the boys.

‘Yeah,’ Scott agreed quickly. ‘It’s gets us away from the mercy of Grandma’s cooking.’

‘I heard that young man.’ It was Scott’s poor luck it seemed that the very woman was on her way past as he spoke. Jeff saw the way the eldest’s eyes rolled as the youngest pair sniggered.

‘Why is it always me!’

‘Why do you put yourself in that position, Scott?’ John questioned instead, and he wasn’t wrong. For though the eldest could keep himself out of trouble, Jeff remembered Scott had always had a tendency to accidentally fall into the mix. Just like now.

Ned chuckled. ‘Well, after all you’ve done for us, it’s the least we can do for you. Isn’t that right, Gladys?’

The plant didn’t answer. The plant wouldn’t answer! It was infuriating and Jeff was trying to mind his manners not to roll his eyes every time. It was true testament that his boys were used to this as not one of them seemed to blink at the plant being drawn into the folds of conversation. Maybe more concerning should have been that his son’s didn’t tend to speak in these immediate pauses either…

‘I’m just glad you’re not hiding it all away on Thunderbird Five.’ Gordon stated, taking two slices of cake from the proffered plate.

‘That was one time.’ John answered firmly as Ned set the plate down and rose with the kettle to refill their cups. Jeff noted that the man seemed to know exactly how his sons liked their relevant teas and coffees, moving round them and serving faultlessly.

‘Um, I count Two.’

‘They’re never letting you live it down, bro.’ Scott murmured.

‘Its’s a good thing Thunderbird Three was refuelled!’

‘It was a good thing you didn’t crash it in your rush, Alan.’ Virgil stated, bringing the volume of the younger right down as Scott’s eyes flicked over also.

‘You guys wanted cake too.’ Alan mumbled in a moan, arms folding over his chest in a – compared to what Jeff remembered of him – contained strop.

‘How is Gladys’ good friend?’ Ned asked finally and Jeff blinked, frowning. What friend could a pot plant possibly have?

‘EOS is good, thank you.’

John’s AI. Of course. That only made sense, the father supposed.

‘Gladys can’t wait to come back up. Try out our space legs again!’

Jeff wondered if he should be worried about the man going up to Thunderbird Five – given all the stories he’d half-heard about the boys rescuing him, but John didn’t seem bothered by the man inviting himself back (which wasn’t like the red head not to bat an eye at) – because without needing to be told, he could hear it wouldn’t be the first time.

‘EOS will be glad to have you. She’s got a timer set to remind me about the plants.’

‘I still can’t believe you’re managing to grow space flora.’ Scott muttered, his tone saying everything he thought about it.

‘You’re just annoyed they’ve proved you wrong.’

‘Of course I am, Virge! It’s space and flowers. When have those two ever gone together?’

‘Well–’

‘I don’t need the science again, John.’ Scott ceased the younger promptly. ‘It gave me a bad enough headache last time.’

Jeff saw the way John smirked and sneakily accepted the homemade ginger biscuits from Ned as the gardener set the kettle back and snuck behind the second child on the way to his own seat at the table where Gladys still rested on her pedestal. Hmm, yes, whether it was because John was responsible for getting Ned the job (as he’d learnt) or whatever connection the plant and the AI shared, it seemed certain that of all his sons, Ned and John had the strongest of friendship. Jeff was honestly just pleased to see John have a friend outside of the family.

‘It will be one of my great achievements.’ Ned cheered. ‘Me – first gardener in space!’

‘Don’t forget first gardener for International Rescue!’ Gordon chirped in, sounding equally as excited about it, and Alan was nodding around his mouthfuls of cake.

‘International Gardening Services!’

Jeff blinked, confused, but relieved that Ned didn’t seem to be trading under that name. His confusion was clearly noticed as the youngest pair chuckled, and Scott waved it off as another “tell you later”, along with the myriad of rescues they’d clearly undertaken for the man in the years he’d been gone. Gordon – of all the boys! – was adamant it was rude to retell the rescues whilst Ned was with them. Virgil had later suggested to him that what Gordon actually meant was that it would be rude to retell them as they’d come to remember them. Jeff could only imagine what chaos they meant had been ensuing whilst he lived in another galaxy.

‘I am most thankful to you boys for the job.’

‘We’re thankful you took it.’ Virgil replied, and Gordon was all sniggers again.

‘Yeah, before any more plant murders happened.’

‘There could still be one Gordon.’ Scott seethed, but Ned carried on like the argument wasn’t occurring – as was most uncivilised – across the table between his two boys.

‘Oh, it’s been an absolute honour–’

If he spoke to the plant–

‘– Isn’t that right, Gladys?’

–that was it!

------

Jeff was surprised – though relieved - they’d managed to go without receiving a rescue call for the duration of Ned’s stay so far. It wasn’t so much the man knowing their secrets that concerned him at this stage. It was rather the fact that it was nice to see his boys being boys. Well – men for the elder half, but still. These were sights he’d missed for too long, and he’d happily be greedy for once in his life and soak them in as easily as Gordon did the sun when sat by the poolside.

After Scott and Gordon’s argument had been peace kept by John, the eldest had snuck off, insisting he needed to check all the maintenance was done on Thunderbird One, just in case of a call and Gordon had insisted it was time he went for a swim anyway.

“With the amount of cake you’ve eaten, yeah,” Alan had cajoled and Gordon had thrown a tea towel at the younger as he went by, causing the blonde to race after him. John and Ned had headed up to the lounge. John was itching to check in with EOS and make sure everything was okay, and Ned had decided to tag along because “Gladys would love a chance to say hello, wouldn’t you, Gladys?”. And just like that, he and Virgil were left in the quiet of the kitchen, and “with all the dishes too!” as Virgil had pointed out, his very tone sounding wronged.

A few hours passed before they were all back together. Ned had been waylaid a little while by his mother insisting upon catching up with him also. Jeff soon realised their heading was the kitchen and that gave him some hope that dinner tonight could be edible also, especially when Ned came back with the idea that they would be eating fish pie – which his sons reassured him Grandma didn’t tend to cook.

By then tensions between Scott and Gordon seemed to have defused somewhat and Jeff was ready to be able to tour the gardens with them in peace.

The boys were pleased to show it off to him now, pointing out the places that had been remodelled and anything they’d done to assist. Virgil had drawn up a lot of the plans it seemed with John in charge of the calculations. Scott, Gordon and Alan had ended up on the supply runs, and Ned had done all the real work in telling them what to buy and what would or wouldn’t be plausible.

‘There were many options once I cleared away the jungle, Mr Tracy.’ Ned finally finished the explanation.

‘Was it that bad?’ He asked.

John shrugged. ‘We never took a photo.’

‘I knew we should have!’ Alan moaned.

‘There was nothing photo-worthy.’ Was Virgil’s returning argument.

‘It would have been interesting to look back on.’ Scott mused.

‘What? The results of your murder scene?’

‘Gordon I am serious about the Geraniums!’

‘You leave Gloria, Gillian, Giles, Gerry and Ted alone!’

Yes, Gordon was indeed pointing to the rockery family of pink geraniums, where the potted Gladys was also currently residing. Somehow, it didn’t surprise Jeff that Gordon was the one with the attachment.

‘Scott.’ John cautioned.

‘What? I didn’t start it!’

‘But you don’t have to antagonise him.’

‘Dad, you have to see what we did with the stairway!’ Virgil interrupted, latching onto him and dragging him forward.

‘Mine is the best!’

‘Shh Alan! Don’t ruin the surprise for him.’

‘It is very good, Mr Tracy.’ Ned insisted. The man had finally stopped trying to call him sir, but the formality of the address still hadn’t changed.

‘Oh boy, here we go.’ He heard Scott mutter from behind them as John and Gordon followed along. He noticed that unlike talking about the pond and the geraniums (as the youngest pair had happily done), that this interest seemed to be primarily Virgil’s and it made him wonder what they could be going to look at besides a set of stone stairs. Not that he wanted to say that when the excitement was so palpably felt by his sons and the gardener.

The boys led him to the end of the stone pathway within the garden lawn and towards the stairs on the far side and through the trees that obscured the staircase. And ready as he had been to see this “grand feature”, he’d truly not expected it to be… well, topiary.

And not the topiary you would expect to find in the average garden, he was sure.

It left him more than a little speechless.

Following the stairs up, rows of trees has been planted on each side and, in matching sets, topiaries of the Thunderbirds cut: Thunderbird One all the way up to Thunderbird Five up towards the top of the stairs.

Jeff blinked again but the sight didn’t change.

No, he was actually looking at what he thought he was.

Goodness help him.

‘What do you think, father?’ Virgil asked, face full of glee. ‘I made the Thunderbird Two’s.’

‘They’re very good son.’

‘We each made our own Thunderbirds!’

‘They’re all good, Gordon.’

‘But what if you had to pick a favourite, dad?’

‘Oh, I couldn’t possibly, Alan.’

‘Ned helped. He taught us how to make the shapes.’

‘Virge, you had a head start.’ Gordon grumbled.

‘I learnt nothing from that gardener like I learnt from Ned!’

‘Doesn’t change the fact you made a Thunderbird Two topiary before.’

‘It was smaller than this!’

‘It was still topiary.’

‘Yeah, and I still haven’t forgiven you for–’

‘Is this another long story?’ Jeff muttered to John beside him, for he was the only one (besides Ned) still close enough and of who would avoid the non-sensical answer: for Ned seemed to be torn between laughing and shaking his head, his arms folded as he looked on; Alan was lost to fits of giggles; and Scott had tried to intervene before it became a “scrap” only for Virgil to accuse “you’re just as much to blame!”. To which Scott had retorted, “What did I do? Gordon was driving”. Which had been promptly and unhelpfully followed with “you two always were Parker’s worst students”. And Jeff didn’t think much of anything had been avoided.

‘Yeah dad, it’s a long story about the topiary.’ John answered, ‘Although, the way this is looking, I may have time to tell you.’

‘I’ll save your brothers then shall I, and you can tell me later over cocoa?’

‘I’ll hold you to that, dad.’

Jeff nodded, looking forward to another late evening with the second child. It would remind him of when they used to stargaze together. But first, he was going to be reminded of the days his son’s squabbles were still for dad to resolve.

‘Alright boys, settle down. I don’t need any more “long stories” to add to the list.’

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