#alan tracy whump

[whumpinaheartbeat]

It Runs In The Family

This fic contains mentions of disordered eating, CPR, minor injuries and chemical based illness, please read with discretion.

“Fuck…” Alan whined, pressing his back against the wall.

“I’m almost done.” Virgil promised him.

Alan jolted as Virgil tied off the bandage on his leg but before he could move onto Alan’s arm, Alan held up his uninjured hand.

“Alan,” Virgil said patiently. “I need to treat all of your injuries.”

“Just give me a sec would ya?” Alan grumbled. “I’m not… I don’t feel very well.”

“In what way?”

“I dunno” Alan shrugged, hissing when he pulled at the cut on his shoulder. “Fuzzy.”

Virgil cupped Alan’s face, tilting his head a little to see if there was any sign of head injury. There was no blood but Alan might still have a concussion. His pupils were equal and reactive which was a great sign but Alan was still wincing without the light shining in his eyes so maybe there was something wrong after all.

“How long have things been fuzzy?” Virgil asked. 

“I dunno.” Alan repeated.

“Were you feeling okay before the mine collapsed?”

Alan looked away which was answer enough for Virgil.

“Okay,” Virgil breathed. “We’re going to have to get you out of here.”

He pulled away, grabbing for his radio but Alan reached out and latched onto his hand instead.

“You’re not angry?” Alan asked.

“Oh, I’m furious.” Virgil said. “You should know better than to come on a mission if you’re feeling sick. But being angry right now isn’t going to fix anything so for now we just have to focus on getting you somewhere safe.”

Virgil activated his radio at last, using his callsign to request a medical evacuation. As expected, within a single moment Scott’s voice was echoing from the radio.

“I thought you said Alan’s injuries weren’t serious.”

“They weren’t,” Virgil said. “But he’s saying that everything is feeling fuzzy and he’s a little out of it. Pupils are equal and responsive but when I got him to squeeze my hands, he was weak.”

“What’s the air quality?”

“Still within normal range so it’s not that and I feel fine. It might be a concussion but I’m not so sure.”

While Virgil knew that Scott had a million more mother hen questions to ask, questions he would no doubt repeat again and again for the next few days in between the lectures, they both knew that the radio had to be clear for all the other rescuers to use so Scott did the only thing he could.

“I’ve made your section of the mine the first priority for clearance,” Scott said. “Medical is already on standby operating under concussion protocol.”

“Thanks Scott.”

Alan hummed, tilting his head back against the wall and closing his eyes.

“Allie?” Virgil said.

Blue eyes cracked open and Virgil pressed two fingers to Alan’s throat. Alan batted Virgil’s hand away with a terrible attempt at a glare but Virgil replaced the fingers and timed Alan’s pulse. It was there, obviously given that he was still trying to glare, but it was much weaker than Virgil would like it to be.

Virgil worked quickly to finish of treating Alan’s minor injuries, growing ever more worried when Alan did not so much as flinch from the antiseptic he used on the bigger cuts. Of all the Tracy brothers, Alan was usually the loudest and yet Virgil could hear his own breathing over the sound of silence that Alan was giving him. 

The torch on his helmet flickered. Virgil sighed, flicking it twice until the beam of light steadied. He had intended on fixing it after the last mission but he simply hadn’t had the time before they had been called out to the mine rescue. Brains would probably be beyond annoyed that he brought faulty equipment to a rescue but what Brains didn’t know, he couldn’t be annoyed at.

This helmet had been through Virgil through thick and thin, one faulty light bulb wasn’t going to make it any less special to him.

“Get away from me…”

“Hmm?”

“Get…” Alan flicked an arm out but it fell back down. “Get away.”

“Alan, Bud, I think you have a concussion. We’re just waiting on a Med evac and as soon-“

“Not… Con… Conc… Conc… Fuck!”

“It’s okay,” Virgil said. “It’s completely normal to struggle with your speech, just take it slow.”

It was very much not normal and Virgil was very much worried now but there was no point in stressing out Alan when there wasn’t anything they could do right now, trapped in the mine as they were.

Even as the light flickered again, Virgil could see that his little brother had become more pale. 

“Not head.” Alan said hotly. “Cuts.”

“I know your cuts sting,” Virgil said. “

“No.” 

Alan was almost more angry than frustrated now and his uncoordinated arms tried to shove Virgil away. Virgil got it, he was probably hovering like the mother hen that Scott wanted to be, but Alan didn’t need to physically hit him away when all he had to do was politely ask for space. 

There admittedly wasn’t that much space in their little air pocket and Virgil knew that they had been lucky to be trapped in a big enough area that oxygen wasn’t a concern but as that damn bulb flickered again, Virgil decided that he very much did not want to be stuck in said cave in the dark.

He reached over to hit his helmet torch again but as he did the light turned off fully and they were plunged into darkness.

No.

Not darkness.

“Not head.” Alan said, a weak arm waving towards the glowing wall. “Cuts.”

Virgil held back a curse, scrambling for his radio.

“Attention all personnel, attention all personnel. Shut off all mechanical equipment immediately, I repeat shut off all mechanical equipment immediately.”

“Virgil, what’s going on?” Scott demanded.

“There’s Fluorite crystals in the section we’re in.” Virgil said. “And if there’s Fluorite…”

“Then there might be Fluorine gas too.” Scott said.

“One spark and this whole cave explodes, Alan and I along with it.”

There was a long pause on the radio as if every single rescuer from all the different organisations that had come to help were rethinking every move they had made up until now. Virgil couldn’t blame them. Even if Fluorite hadn’t been mentioned on the mine make up, one mistake could have killed every last one of them and while they had been incredibly lucky until now, their luck may not hold forever.

Not wanting to use the glow of the Fluorite as his only light, Virgil shifted and turned on Alan’s helmet torch and left his own off.

Alan’s awareness was drifting again now that he had gotten his message across and Virgil retook his pulse. It was still off and until Alan was decontaminated from the toxic Fluorine gas that had seeped straight into his bloodstream through his cuts, it was likely his symptoms were just going to get worse.

Alan needed help, now, but without mechanical equipment none of the other rescuers will be able to reach this part of the mine any time soon if they make it here at all. But Virgil equally did not want them risking their own lives by using the equipment and blowing up everything.

“Alan, how we doing Bud?”

“Get away from me…”

“I’ve already been exposed,” Virgil said. “And even if I hadn’t been, I’m not about to leave my baby brother’s side when he’s feeling sick.”

Alan hummed, tilting forward. 

Virgil didn’t want to have to put Alan into the recovery position but given how he was drifting and may not be able to keep his airway clear, Virgil might not have a choice.

Readjusting so that he was sitting with his legs out and his back leaned up against the wall, Virgil tugged Alan into his arms, setting Alan’s head into his lap. It wasn’t the recovery position but it should at least be more comfortable and at the first sign of Alan’s breathing being compromised, Virgil will be able to move him again. 

“Virg?” Alan mumbled. “When…”

“When what, Bud?”

“When did you get into my room?” Alan blinked, slowly, and then again. “No? Not room?”

“It’s okay, everything’s okay. We’re just… Hanging out.”

“Hanging out.” Alan repeated, his words slurring. “I like hanging out.”

Those beautiful blue eyes were blinking again but they were taking longer each time to reopen.

“I like hanging out with you too, but I need you to stay awake.” Virgil said.

“Fuzzy.”

The word sent a brand new shiver down Virgil’s spine as he remembered that earlier Alan had implied that he had been feeling sick even before the mine collapsed around them. Sure, he might have been exposed to the toxic Fluorine gas as soon as he entered the mine system but back then Alan had been wearing his helmet and it should have filtered out the worst of it.

Virgil ran his fingers absently through Alan’s hair and Alan hummed, relaxing into the touch.

“Alan,” Virgil said carefully. “How long have you been feeling fuzzy?”

While Alan’s eyes had conveniently closed, Virgil didn’t believe for a moment that he had lost consciousness at the perfect moment. Virgil rolled his own eyes and waited in silence, knowing that Alan would break his act eventually.

Except apparently Alan was more annoying than usual today because Virgil broke the silence first.

“When was the last time you ate?” 

Alan’s body tensed a little and his head twisted in Virgil’s lap but he did not give any other answer.

“Allie…” Virgil sighed. 

“I’m sorry, okay?” Alan said. “I was gonna eat, I swear I was, but then we got called out again and then again and I was fine, I promise I was fine but…”

“But then the mine collapsed.” Virgil finished for him. “And the rest is history.”

No wonder why Alan had gone down hill so quickly, even if the gas hadn’t seeped into his cuts and scrapes, his body was already so weak from hunger that it couldn’t protect him from the toxic gas.

Virgil wished that he could say that this was the first time he had seen Alan become weak from malnutrition but that simply wasn’t true. Alongside his prodigal genius brains and loving heart and unending compassion, Alan had unfortunately inherited another Tracy trait. They couldn’t be certain that all of it was genetic but there was no denying the connection that all of them shared, a connection that Virgil sometimes illogically blamed himself for. 

It presented differently in each of them; Virgil himself had depressive episodes that could last from days to weeks, Scott struggled with his anger especially if he perceived that his family was in danger, John was often overstimulated and hated human contact and would occasionally go non-verbal, Gordon was instead chronically under stimulated and had developed PTSD from his accident which had made his panic attacks ever more common and Alan… Sweet, loving, excitable Alan…

Alan struggled with food.

When Alan had first been diagnosed with an eating disorder, Virgil had once again illogically blamed himself. Mum had passed a few years earlier and Dad was always so busy with work so it had been Virgil’s responsibility to look out for him.

Virgil would put a bowl on the counter, call Alan to eat, and would return to whatever he was doing to try to drown out whatever was going on inside his head. The bowls would always be emptied by the next meal so Virgil hadn’t once suspected that Alan wasn’t actually eating any of it until he found Alan unconscious at just fourteen, severely dehydrated and malnourished.

Both Virgil’s and Alan’s therapists claimed that it wasn’t Virgil’s fault for missing the signs, that he had no way of knowing that Alan had specifically been throwing the food into the compost so that no one would suspect that he was not eating it as some messed up form of regaining control of his life, Virgil knew that back then like right now had been his fault.

Virgil was meant to protect his younger brothers and yet he kept failing to do so. Gordon had nearly died in that Hydrofoil accident and Virgil had never thought to warn him to not do it and Alan had nearly died of malnourishment at fourteen and now he was ill again for the very same reason with the added danger of toxic minerals. 

“Virg?” Alan mumbled. 

“I’m right here Alan.”

“I know… You always are.”

Not knowing how he should respond to that, Virgil continued carding fingers through Alan’s hair but this time Alan didn’t lean into the touch. He didn’t do anything at all except lay in Virgil’s lap unmoving, his eyes closed.

“Allie?” Virgil said, tapping Alan’s cheek gently. “Alan? Alan, can you hear me?”

His own heart beating right out of his chest, Virgil checked Alan’s pulse. Except he could not find it and even when he swore loudly, Alan did not so much as twitch. Running on auto pilot, Virgil repositioned Alan so that he was fully lying down on the ground and hovered just above Alan’s mouth, watching and waiting for Alan’s chest to rise and fall.

It didn’t.

Virgil started compressions, barely aware that he was even doing them until he heard a loud crack as Alan’s ribs broke. Virgil kept doing CPR even as his eyes stung and his very soul hurt. 

Alan’s lips were already turning a little blue and Virgil did not let himself wonder how far away the rescue team was. His little brother wasn’t breathing, his little brother was dying, and it was all his fault for not having noticed that something was wrong sooner.

Just how many days had it been since Alan had eaten? Virgil had been away so often on his own rescues that he couldn’t remember the last time he had shared a meal with the youngest Tracy and yet here he was, not breathing and if Virgil had just made time to eat with him then maybe Alan’s body would have been able to tolerate exposure to a toxic gas a little better.

Virgil could distantly hear a voice echo over the radio but he ignored it, feeling another rib snap as he forced Alan’s heart to beat. 

Just one damn meal, one shared drink and none of this would have happened. If Virgil wasn’t such a self centred jerk he would have noticed that Alan’s eating had become disordered again, he would have noticed that Alan was struggling. He would have done something, done anything, if it meant that Alan would be okay.

Virgil’s head was spinning a little but he forced that back too. He didn’t care that he had been exposed to the same toxic gas that Alan had, he didn’t care about anything right now except for his little brother.

“Virgil,”

The voice sounded closer than the radio but Virgil didn’t care. Alan was dying. 

“Virgil, let them take over.”

He couldn’t stop. Alan was dying because Virgil hadn’t looked after him and he sure as hell wasn’t going to stop trying to save him even if the world was spinning around him even faster, even if there was a hand on his shoulder trying to pull him away from Alan.

Except Alan was already gone and the world was spinning and there was a hand on his shoulder and he wasn’t in the mine any more and when had everything gotten so bright?

There was a mask on Virgil’s face and when his hand rushed up to get rid of it, another hand caught his own.

“Easy there, Virgil,” Scott rumbled. “You still need that.”

“Fluorine gas.” Virgil said. 

“Yeah,” Scott said. “That’s why you need the oxygen.”

“No! Alan was exposed to Fluorine gas but he’s also malnourished and dehydrated and he was dying because of me and-“

“Virgil,” Scott said. “Take a deep breath. Like this. That’s it… And another. Good job.”

While it was still a little too bright wherever they were and the mask still felt wrong on his face, the world wasn’t spinning nearly as much or as quickly and when he blinked he realised that Scott was out of his uniform. They weren’t simply in the Med tent at the mine, they had somehow gotten so far as a hospital even though Virgil didn’t remember even standing up.

But did that mean that Alan was…

“He wasn’t dehydrated.”

“What?” Virgil’s croaked. 

“Alan wasn’t dehydrated.” Scott said. “They put him on a drip all the same just in case but he wasn’t dehydrated or malnourished.

“I… He… He said everything was fuzzy.”

“I know,” Scott said. “But that was just the Fluorine Gas. Brains found a fault in Alan’s helmet. It wasn’t filtering anything from the air, Fluorine included, so he was exposed even before either of you took off your helmets which is why it affected him so much faster.”

“But Alan hasn’t been eating. I didn’t make sure he was eating.”

“He has been.” Scott assured him. “He came to me a few weeks ago, said that he was struggling a little again and we got him some help. I promise you, Alan was not dehydrated or malnourished, he simply breathed in too much Fluorine and it hit him hard. This wasn’t your fault.”

It was Virgil’s fault. Everything was always Virgil’s fault. 

“Virg?”

The voice made Virgil scramble upright and if it weren’t for Scott reaching out just in time, he may have just tumbled out of his bed in desperation to get closer towards that voice.

There was a bed across from Virgil’s where Alan was looking absolutely exhausted and had an oxygen mask to match Virgil’s own. His blue eyes were still a little dull and while it looked like he had just woken up, the fact that Alan was alive was a miracle.

“Virgil, you need to rest.” Scott said even as he helped Virgil stagger towards Alan’s bed. “Your body’s been through a lot.”

“Alan, can you hear me? How many fingers am I holding up? Are you-”

“Going insane from both you and Scott smothering me?” Alan asked, tilting his head. “Yes, yes I am.”

“Fuck, Alan, I thought you were dead.”

“I got better?”

Virgil stared at him. 

Alan stared right back with those beautiful blue eyes that Virgil had never thought he would see again. Alan’s lips twitched but Virgil didn’t not let himself share in Alan’s apparent amusement, focusing on the worry and pain and anger he had so rightly felt not so long ago. But then Alan twitched again and as a strange squeak passed his lips, Virgil felt all that stress lift from his shoulders.

Alan was not only alive, he was okay and he was laughing.

His little brother, his precious little brother who he had tucked into bed more times than he could count, his precious little brother who he found unconscious on the bathroom floor, his precious little brother who had stopped breathing not because of malnourishment but because he had been exposed to a toxic gas that no one had detected was there until it was too late.

A terrible event of course but an event that was because of the line of work they were in and not because of some messed up family tradition of struggling with good mental health.

“Hey,” Alan said. “Stop crying, I’m fine. And for what it’s worth, I ate my entire lunch while you’ve been sleeping the day away.”

“I need my beauty sleep.” Virgil said, forcing out a long breath. “That’s why I look like this and why Scott looks like that.”

“I’ll have you know,” Scott said. “I was voted Most Attractive Emergency Serviceman long before you were.”

“Oh I know,” Virgil said, at last letting himself smile. “Back in the stone age.”

When Alan laughed again Virgil’s heart soared and when he reached out to hold Alan’s hand, Alan accepted it without hesitation.

“I’m right here Alan.” Virgil promised.

“I know.” Alan said, holding his hand ever tighter. “You always are."

[etrnlvoid]

Another installment of my STARSET Songfic Whump series for TAG! This time it's Alan. That's makes all 5 brothers I've done, next in line will be Kayo, Grandma, and Jeff! I may also do a whump for the Mechanic, too.

[i-am-chidorixblossom]

Um, hi. Long time no see again. I hope the Thunderfam doesn't mind me sneaking in after being gone so long and popping this here. Much has happened but I really missed writing and want to finish this fic, so I have finally got chapter 17 done. I hope some of you will take the time to read it and let me know what you think and also how you are. Best wishes, Chiddi.

[phading]

Shots of Various Kinds - Chapter 3, I PROMISE, is Up!

Final chapter just posted on A03. Where would he go? He’s cornered, trapped, hurting, betrayed, stuck in the past, terrified. Think like Gordon. Think! Where would he go?

Suddenly Virgil knew. He just knew.

[tanushakyrano]

febuwhump day 15: self-sacrifice

okay um. sorry in advance

characters: Scott, Alan, John

additional warnings: nothing specific. it's just sad

________________

Thirty seconds.

The number flashes blood-red on the tiny digital clock at the heart of the tangle of wires and metal. Blue and black and green criss-cross, spilling out from the casing like guts from an abdominal wound. The thing is so absurdly tiny - able to easily fit in Scott's palm - that it's hard to believe that it packs the power to completely obliterate anyone in a radius of over fifty metres.

Twenty-seven.

Scott's eyes flicker around the room. It's small, sparsely decorated, as most rooms in space stations are. Practicality over aesthetics and sentimental decor. The walls are panelled - likely each one has in-built storage of some kind, hidden mechanisms in the designs that will pop open a compartment upon being activated. Fluorescent lights buzz overhead, flooding the room with an ugly and jarringly bright white light. The metal grating of the floor echoes hollowly as he takes a half-step backwards.

Twenty-five.

Scott's gaze falls upon his brothers.

John is speaking urgently and desperately to Brains over the comm channel, the scan of the bomb having been sent as soon as they found the stupid thing. He's keeping a cool head, somehow. John's always had that uncanny ability to stay in control of any situation, regardless of the risk or complexity; it's what makes him perfect for his role. Scott's lost count of the number of times John has saved his ass over the years.

Twenty-two.

Alan's looking from him to John, as if the solution to the problem will be written on their faces. Problem. Scott nearly laughs at his own train of thought. Yeah, the deadly explosives stuck to the wall are a problem. Their imminent deaths at the hands of said deadly explosives are definitely a problem.

Twenty.

His kid brother looks terrified. He's trying to hide it, Scott can tell, but he knows Alan too well. He can see his clenched fists where he's trying to disguise the tremor in his hands. He can see the rapid rise and fall of his chest as his breathing quickens.

Eighteen.

They should never have ended up in this situation. So many alarm bells had blared in his head about the distress call John had received, so many things that hadn't quite added up. But International Rescue was founded to help, to save, and his father would never dismiss a call out of hand so Scott didn't even consider it an option.

Sixteen.

He'd made a lot of mistakes, hadn't he? So many missed opportunities, so many failures, so many people he'd let down. Maybe he could make up for them.

Fourteen.

Scott makes his choice.

"Move. Move!" he barks, ushering Alan and John towards the escape pod at the end of the corridor. Alan looks puzzled - understandably, since the pod had long since been ruled out as a potential escape path off the space station because it could only be ejected manually from the external control panel.

Scott has taken this into consideration, of course. But Alan doesn't know that yet.

Eight.

There's a glint in John's eye that indicates he has an inkling of Scott's plan. He opens his mouth to protest - starts moving back towards the mouth of the escape pod - but Scott slams the hatch closed before John can make it out.

Five.

Alan's eyes widen.

Four.

Scott hits the eject button, berates himself for leaving it so late. He prays that he's not cut it too close. None of this will have been worth it if his brothers die.

Two.

"Scott! SCOTT!"

One.

He closes his eyes. He hopes that he will see his parents again.

Zero.

[skymaiden32]

Here is my entry for @uniwolfcorn ‘s Whump Couch, ft. her boy Alan! ^^ (Sorry if this is a little late)

Artwork (base by Uni, Alan by me):

Story:

Consequences

AO3 link here

Fandom: Thunderbirds

When Alan is injured on a rescue and keeps it secret from his brothers, he learns very quickly that hiding these sorts of things has consequences.

Continuity: TOS

Tagging: @dragonoffantasyandreality @thundergeek59 @janetm74 @katblu42 @liseylou @amistrio @uniwolfcorn (Please ask if you would like to be updated when I update or write new stories)

------

It had started in his left arm, a tingly sensation that was his only warning something was wrong before the limb went entirely numb. He barely remembered the fall that caused it. All he remembered was practically his entire weight falling on top of it. He’d brushed off his brothers’ worried questions, but now he wanted to call it quits. Get Scott to call Virgil over and patch him up. Hell, he knew he should’ve done just that. But they’d only been in the Danger Zone for two hours. And given how extensive the flooded area was, with so many people who needed their help, Alan knew they would be there for a full day at the least. They couldn’t afford to have a man down right now.

So Alan had stayed, avoiding the problem with typical Tracy stubbornness, and pushed through. The more he did, the worse the pain became, spreading across his entire being until he couldn’t take it any longer. By the end, he felt like his entire body was on fire. He let out a small sigh of relief when it was finally time to go home. He noticed Scott’s concerned glare in his direction as they packed up the equipment, Gordon and Virgil giving him similar looks, and he tried to push down the wave of guilt.

Now, he watched Virgil start pre-flight checks, flicking on controls tiredly, but with enough experience and training behind him that no-one was afraid of him falling asleep at the wheel. The engines roared into life, and the great green ship took to the sky, not far behind her silver sister. Gordon took notice of the exact moment his little brother blacked out from the pain, and sighed, catching Virgil’s attention.

“Welp.” The aquanaut began, popping the p. “I don’t know how he did it, but he managed to hide it for almost the whole time. I didn’t even realise something was wrong till we were packing up.”

Virgil huffed, switching Thunderbird Two to auto-pilot and moving from his pilot’s chair to where his youngest brother lay motionless in one swift motion. “He had me fooled too.” He was ashamed to admit it. Virgil was the medic, he was supposed to notice. Now, he grimaced when he saw the state of Alan’s arm. His brother was lucky this wasn’t worse. “And we both know Scott would’ve gone into full panic Smotherhen mode if he’d noticed anything wrong.” Virgil moved to the back of the cabin, grabbing what he needed from the first-aid cabinet.

“He’s probably blaming himself for it all right now.” Gordon mused worriedly.

“And we’re gonna snap him out of it once we’re done with Mr. Secrets here.” Virgil gestured to Alan’s prone form, rolling his eyes fondly. The frown was ever present on his face. “For now, though, hold him in place while I set his arm.”

The aquanaut nodded, determined. “Aye, aye, Doc.” When they had finally finished, Gordon lay Alan’s head gently in his lap, combing his fingers through wet and sticky blond hair. “Yeesh, Al…” Gordon muttered. “You really need a shower.”

------

By the time Alan finally woke up, it was to the sick-bay on Tracy Island, Scott and his father watching over him with looks that were the perfect blend between angry and worried. Virgil was standing just inside the room, leaning against the doorway in the case he needed to intervene. He was dead. He was so dead…

“And just what exactly were you thinking, young man?” Jeff asked maybe a little too harshly, raising an eyebrow.

Scott rolled his eyes, giving the patriarch a look. “Dad, please. He just woke up…” 

Jeff sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re right.” He looked back to his youngest, adjusting his tone to something a hint gentler. “You alright to talk, son?” Alan nodded, not trusting his voice just yet. “Oh, good…”

“Gordon left a few hours to pick up Tin-Tin from her doctor’s appointment. They’ll be back soon. That being said, why did you think hiding an injury like that would be a good idea?” Scott echoed their father’s earlier question. 

“We were worried about you, Al.” Virgil piped up from the other side of the room. Jeff and Scott nodded in agreement. “You were incredibly lucky it wasn’t a compound fracture.” He admitted.

This statement made everyone else in the room freeze. “It-” Scott’s voice was uncharacteristically small. “It was that bad?” 

Virgil nodded solemnly. “Gordon can back up that claim…” The family medic whispered.

“He doesn’t need to.” Jeff spoke up, immediately picking up on the idea that Virgil might be doubting himself. “We have full faith in your medical expertise, son.” Virgil didn’t look entirely convinced, but nodded.

“I’m sorry…” Alan’s voice came out so shaky from the pain as he moved that he hardly recognised it, but he was determined to get the words out. “I knew I should’ve come to you guys sooner.” His voice regulated the more he talked. “But we had so much ground to cover and only four of us. I couldn’t just let you all work your butts off while I was stuck in Two’s med-bay doing nothing!”

The three older Tracy’s exchanged a look, before Scott huffed, not unkindly. “Alan, let me worry about stuff like that. You know the authorities were there to assist. I would’ve rather been a man down than have you still working with that arm.”

“But-”

Scott cut off his objection. “If you really would’ve been that bored in Two, I would’ve given you something to do.” He smiled tiredly at his brother, ruffling his hair. “Probably would’ve let you take Mobile Control…” He shrugged, smirking as he broke his gaze with Alan briefly.

“Aww man…” Alan lamented. He’d wanted a chance to man Mobile Control again for months. 

Virgil chuckled. “That’s what you get for ignoring protocol and not telling us you’d broken. Your. Arm!” The annoyed gaze was back.

Jeff cleared his throat, drawing his boys’ attention back to him. “All that aside, what you did today was very dangerous, Alan. What if you needed to operate the heavy machinery? What if, heaven forbid, our enemies had picked up on your injury and taken advantage? You should’ve told the others straight away.”

“I know, Father. I’m sorry…”

“I know you are, son. I’ll let you rest for now, but we will be talking about this more later, okay?” 

“Okay.” And with that, their father was gone, likely to let the rest of the family know he was awake. “Thank God John’s only just started his month on Five…” Alan groaned. “And Tin is probably out of her mind I really messed this one up, didn’t I?”

Neither of his brothers present said a word. Instead, all they heard were the sounds of heavy footsteps before the door flew open once more, and Alan was face to face with his partner in crime, the love of his life right on his heels. “Are you okay, Alan?!” Gordon practically yelled, earning him a stern glance from Scott.

Alan chuckled, clinging onto the hand Tin-Tin offered. The look in her eyes told him she’d be giving him her own lecture later. “I will be, Gords.” He let his eyes slip closed, safe in the knowledge that he had the most amazing family watching over him. He’d never keep them in the dark again. “I will be…”

[tippystreasurebox]

Chapter 13 - Finale

Scott never got the chance to wake Gordon up when the "cool" started to happen. Once the safe-room door had opened with Kayo and Lady Penelope on the other side, the commander had relinquished his little brother into his girlfriend's caring and capable hands. He figured the fish wouldn't mind.

To his relief, Thunderbird 1 was still intact, save for most of her inner workings being without insulated panels. The wiring splayed around her cockpit was still connected and that was all Scott needed. He had launched after a quick word with Colonel Casey, leaving Kayo in charge of the island's affairs until he returned. 

By the time he had arrived at the research outpost, however, his own injuries had made themselves known, forcing the pilot to stay inside his 'bird while he waited for his father and Brains, along with a few of the medics to get Virgil on board. Every ounce of him wanted to get up and check on his family, but the stabbing ache in his abused ribs left him exhausted. It had taken his father's very concerned tone to pull Scott from the concentration it was taking to just stay upright. He really hated the adrenaline crash after a rescue sometimes.

[Read on Ao3]

[cg29fics]

Gone

Issues with previous updates, so if you’re reading along you may want to check out the links for previous chapters. The complete fic is also available via FF.Net & A03 - CreativeGirl29

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Previous. Chapter 40. Missions.

Chapter 41. Woken.

After sitting for several minutes in silence, Scott decided to speak. “Okay, let’s look at the facts… We have Doctor Emily Sanderson, she’s had a very bad childhood, but ended up coming out of it a lot stronger. The only motive we can find so far, is that her father was reported by dad to the police… Then we have Nurse Maria Andrews, she lost both parents at Crest Valley, plus her two youngest brothers were horrifically injured. So, her motive is possible revenge against International Rescue, and possible monetary gain.”

“So, you think it’s Maria then?” Alan questioned.

“I’m really not sure,” Scott frowned, “as I’ve said before, she’s stepped up and took on the parenting role to her three younger brothers. If I was her, then I’d just be grateful that you were alive, and I still feel like there’s more that we don’t know about Emily.”

“I agree Scott,” Jeff sighed, “John, can you do further checks into the backgrounds of Emily’s brother and aunt?”

“Of course!” John confirmed.

“Maybe look at Maria’s other brother as well?” Gordon suggested.

Jeff smiled. “That’s a good idea Gordon… Penny, can you call your Police Commissioner friend, and see if he knows what’s going on with those two women?”

“No problem Jeff, I’ll get on it straight away.”

“Good, then I suggest that once you’ve all seen Virgil, and we know what’s happening at the station, then you should all return to the hotel and see if you can help John,” Jeff stated, “we’ll meet back in the canteen tomorrow morning, and go through everything we have found”

“FAB!” They all chimed.

After each of the boys had spent a short amount of time with Virgil, Penny had informed them that the commissioner had revealed that, because of an ‘anonymous tip-off,’ the Hood’s former hideout had been found. Due to this development, the police had decided to hold both women overnight for further questioning. However, they had all been warned that unless further evidence presented itself, or if upon waking Virgil remembered one of them being there, they would both be released the following day. Upon hearing this their grandmother, alongside both Parker and Penny had returned with the rest of the boys to their hotel, while Jeff had remained at Virgil’s side. All of them determined to help John with the additional background checks on the two women. Hoping that it would yield something that would point them to the correct offender.

… …

The next morning: 7am.

Nurse Carrie Greggs, who was on duty for the day shift, gently shook Jeff’s shoulders to waken him. “Good morning,” she greeted, when Jeff finally opened his eyes.

“Hello,” Jeff yawned.

“I’m sorry to disturb you,” she smiled, “I’m just about to take Virgil of the sedatives.”

“What… You are?” Jeff responded in surprise.

“Yes,” the nurse replied, “his readouts have been good during the night. So, we’d like to give this a try now.”

Jeff pulled himself up into a more comfortable position. “How will this work?”

“We will start by switching his infusion off,” Carrie explained, “because Virgil was on Propofol, he should start waking up soon. We will then check his breathing and see how he’s doing. If he's still needing support, then we will keep him on a lower dowse of sedation so that he can interact with you. If he can breathe on his own, then we will have to ask you to stay in the waiting room while we remove the tube. Once that’s done we will provide him with some oxygen until he’s feeling a bit stronger.”

“I just hope he’s more with it today,” Jeff grimaced.

Carrie smiled sympathetically. “Just be prepared. Even if he his sensible, the tubes will make him cough!”

“Okay,” Jeff replied, gently holding Virgil’s hand in his.

After a short time, Carrie began to speak. “Okay, Virgil is starting to wake. Mr Tracy, we’re going to ask Virgil to squeeze your hand. Please let me know if he does.

Jeff nodded. “Come on Virg, you can do it!” He quietly willed.

“Virgil, can you hear me?” Carrie asked. “If you can, then I want you to squeeze your dad’s hand,” Carrie glanced at Jeff, but he shook his head to confirm that there was no reaction. “Come on Virgil, I know you can hear my voice. Please squeeze your father’s hand for me.”

“He did it!” Jeff grinned, when he received a response. However, his heart immediately sunk when Virgil’s head began shaking from side to side, like it had done the day before.

Carrie immediately took Virgil’s other hand in hers and held it, so he couldn’t pull at the tubes. “Talk to him. Let him know you’re here.” She said.

Jeff nodded and leaned closer to Virgil. “Everything is going to be okay Virg.”

“Keep going,” Carrie said, when Virgil didn’t respond.

“Please son, open your eyes for me,” Jeff pleaded.

Virgil’s eyes, unfocused, slightly cracked open, as he began coughing against the tube.

“Virgil, look at me… You’re in intensive care. There’s a tube in your mouth helping you to breathe. Do you want us to take it out?” Virgil nodded his head, turning red from the amount he was coughing. Nurse Greggs pressed a few buttons on the monitors. “Virgil, I want you to try and take a deep breath for me?” Virgil responded to her command. “Well done, that’s it!”

A doctor, followed by another nurse entered the room and observed the ventilator readouts. “Okay, he’s breathing on his own,” the doctor confirmed, “we can go ahead and remove the tube.”

The new nurse started gathering up equipment, while Carrie addressed Jeff. “As I explained, you will have to leave the room while we extubate. I promise it won’t take long, and as soon as we are done then you’ll be able to return.”

Jeff nodded. “I’ll see you in a bit,” he whispered in Virgil’s ear, before leaving the room.

Virgil, stared at the door watching his dad leave, his focus being brought back by the nurse’s voice who had been in the room with his father.

“Virgil, we’re going to take the tube out now, okay? Come on Virgil, look at me.” Carrie soothed, as the panic and desperation grew more evident on his face. “Everything is going to be okay!” Virgil locked his eyes onto the nurses, as she continued to reassure him that he was indeed safe and secure. “That’s it.” She continued, while the doctor and the other nurse worked together to pull the tube. “You’re doing really well. It will all be over soon.” Carrie smiled at him when they had finished pulling the tube. “There we go, all done now!”

The other nurse placed an oxygen mask over Virgil’s mouth and then adjusted the bed, so he was now in a slightly raised position. While the doctor observed his monitor readouts. After a few more checks they both smiled at Virgil. “Can you say Hello for me?” The doctor asked.

“Hello,” Virgil croaked.

“Well done!” He replied. “Your throat will be sore, you can have some ice chips in a bit, okay?”

“Okay,” Virgil slightly coughed, “where’s my dad?”

“Your father is in the waiting room,” the other nurse replied, “we just need to do a few more checks and we’ll bring him back in. Just try and get some rest for now.”

Virgil nodded and closed his eyes.

… …

Even though Jeff knew the nurses were all doing the best job possible for his son, he had still apprehensively left the room, wanting to remain at Virgil’s side through the extubating process. However, as he had no choice but to leave, to relieve his tension Jeff had gone into the corridor outside of the ICU, and called the hotel. Scott had been the one to answer. His relief at Virgil being awake obvious. He quickly passed on the information to the rest of the family who were in the room with him, and declared that they would all be there as soon as possible. After finishing the call, Jeff anxiously returned to the waiting room, hoping that someone would return for him soon, and he would once more be able to be with his boy. After another five minutes, which had felt like hours, Carrie opened the door and signalled for Jeff to follow her.

“How is he?” Jeff asked as they made their way back towards Virgil’s private room.

Carrie smiled. “Good! The tubes out, he’s breathing well, and he’s able to talk.”

“If there are any side-effects, when will they show,” Jeff questioned.

“Any side-effects should be apparent already. However, because of the sedation he isn’t aware of them yet. As soon as the sedation is out of his system they will hit him. Given the size of the overdose, that’s most likely going to be sooner rather than later!”

Jeff exhaled after taking all this information in. Once Carrie was satisfied that Jeff was ready, she opened the door and allowed him to enter the room. “Hey Virg,” he said softly, gently squeezing his hand.

Virgil opened his eyes and smiled weakly at his father. “Hey,” he mouthed, squeezing his dads hand back.

Jeff stroked his hand through Virgil’s hair. “You gave us all quite a scare!”

“What happened?” Virgil croaked.

“Do you not remember?” Jeff asked.

“Alan gave me my chain,” Virgil muttered.

“And that’s the last thing you recall?” Jeff questioned.

Virgil furrowed his brow in concentration. “Yes… Sorry.”

“Not your fault son... Not your fault at all!” Jeff responded, before looking towards the nurse with understandable concern. “Is that normal?”

“It has been known to happen with Rynax,” Carrie replied, “It sometimes stops the brain laying down a new memory.”

“Any chance they won’t come back?” Jeff questioned.

“Occasionally,” she answered, “give him a bit longer, and once the sedation as worn off, see if anything comes through then.”

Jeff sighed, hoping that now Virgil didn’t remember which woman it was, his brothers had uncovered something in their search.

“Dad,” Virgil muttered, “what did happen?”

Jeff looked towards Virgil who was looking perplexed. “You had a really bad reaction to some drugs you were given… I promise I will explain more later, for now I want you to try and get some rest for me.”

Virgil frowned not wanting to rest, but finding his eyes were naturally shutting as he drifted off to sleep.

… …

A few hours later:

Over 24 hours she had been held for questioning. Over 24 hours, in which, somehow, she had managed to keep her cool, and answer all the questions that had been fired at her. It had been extremely difficult to maintain the façade. Especially when the police had revealed that they had discovered the Hood’s hideout, and had somehow managed to get the computers working. ‘No doubt because of the Tracy’s,’ she inwardly scowled. Knowing, because of information divulged to her by the Hood that they were also International Rescue. Thankfully though, the recorded imagery hadn’t been retrieved, thanks to the help she had received. Plus, when no other evidence had presented itself, and luckily Virgil had woken and not remembered anything, the police had eventually believed that she was an innocent victim, who had been dragged into all this business by the Hood’s insidious lies.

Now as she stood outside of the police station, she beamed an inner smile. It felt amazing knowing that despite the bad luck she had been having she had so far gotten away with everything! All she needed to do now was to make sure that it stayed that way. Plus, she still wanted and needed revenge against Virgil, and his family. She breathed in the fresh air that freedom brought her. Firstly, she needed to go home, shower, and make sure the damn bite that Virgil had inflicted on her hand was healing. Secondly, later that afternoon she would make her way to the hospital for a meeting she and her colleague, who had also been accused, had been asked to attend. Thirdly, she would need to gain access to Virgil Tracy, just in case his memories did come flooding back to him, and silence him once and for all!

Then finally, she would need to make sure that she did continue to look like an innocent victim, not only to the police, but also to her work colleagues. Pondering her thoughts on how to do this, she smiled to herself, maybe the way forward was to make sure the blame was firmly placed onto the other woman. She knew that she could arrange that, she just needed to make sure that the wheels were firmly in motion!

NEXT. Chapter 42

[whumpinaheartbeat]

Stick In The Mud (Febuwhump 2023 Day 12)

This fic contains fainting, confusion, severe storms causing mud slides and fears of death, please read with discretion.

"And now you're ignoring me." Alan said with a roll of his eyes. "This isn't exactly my kind of fun either, just so you know, so you don’t have to be such a stick in the mud.”

Gordon did not deign Alan with a response. He just kept trudging along, boots sinking deeper into the mud, and Alan had to rush to keep up with him.

While the rain had at last stopped, they were still drenched and Alan swore he could feel the cold seeping through his bones. Only his legs felt like they were burning, having to work extra hard just to get through the sludge.

"You know what we should do?" Alan said, if only to break the silence. "Next time John wants one last sweep of a whole area, we should just make him do it."

Gordon kept walking.

"Not that I actually mind, you know I love saving people and it's important work, but still. Can't more landslides happen like, I don't know, on a beach or something? But I guess sand sucks too."

Gordon kept walking.

"Hello Gordon, it's me, your brother. The one that's dying of bord-ah!" 

Alan jolted forward, his boot stuck in the mud as the rest of him continued on. He pinwheeled his arms, giving off another very manly screech, barely keeping himself upright.

Gordon did not laugh. He didn't even chuckle. He kept walking on even though there was no way Gordon had not seen that and there was absolutely no way it wouldn't have made him drop any pretence of anger towards Alan.

Struggling to get his boot from the mud without help, Alan caught up with him but Gordon just kept walking.

"Gordon." Alan said. "You're kinda freaking me out here. I thought Scott was meant to be the silent moody one."

Still nothing. Alan forced his heart to settle. Maybe Gordon was just tired. Hell, maybe he had put ear buds in when Alan hadn't been paying attention. 

"Can you hear me?"

Gordon's eyes at last flicked to Alan. 

"You can! You know, you don't need to be so rude."

"I'm going to faint."

"What?"

"I'm going to faint." Gordon said.

And with that, Gordon’s eyes rolled back.

Alan swore, launching himself toward Gordon. Alan twisted, making sure that he fell first, keeping Gordon's head from hitting the ground. His heart racing, Alan set aside his own sore body to focus on Gordon.

He was breathing, thank god, but his eyes were closed and his body was still. Gordon was never still. Alan couldn't put Gordon in the recovery position, the mud would risk obstructing his airway anyway, but he kept his brother safe in his arms and activated his radio.

"Alpha-4 to Base, Alpha-4 to Base."

Static.

Alan forced himself to be patient, watching the rise and fall of his brothers chest. Still breathing. There should have been a response by now. Maybe no one was listening to the radio. But over fifty personnel including his other brothers should be on the frequency, surely someone at Base should hear him. Surely someone would care that there was an emergency, surely someone would care that Gordon was unconscious.

Gordon was breathing. He was still breathing but at any moment he could stop and then he’ll die and it will all be Alan’s fault so why the hell was no one responding?

"This is Base, go ahead Alpha-4." A woman's voice echoed.

Hope surged in Alan's chest.

"I have a man down, I repeat man down. Twenty four year old male, unconscious but breathing normally. No sign of injury, over."

"Copy Alpha-4," The woman said. "Sending med-evac to your-"

"Alan!" Scott's voice cut in. "What the hell happened?"

Despite being mostly calm until now, hearing Scott's voice made Alan's eyes sting and his chest tighten. This wasn’t just some other patient, this was Gordon. Gordon was in his arms and he was unconscious and the world felt like it was falling down around him.

"We were walking,” Alan said. “And I was trying to talk to him but he was ignoring me but then I - Gordon!"

Gordon blinked sluggishly, staring up at Alan. He tried to sit up and Alan let him, keeping him steady with a hand on his elbow, but when Gordon tried to stand Alan kept him on the ground.

“Slow,” Alan said. “You shouldn’t stand just yet.”

Gordon looked at Alan straight in the eye and stood anyway. Immediately he was on the ground again, Alan barely keeping his head safe for the second time.

“Told you.” Alan said, trying to settle his racing heart.

If Gordon could hear him, he ignored him, glazed eyes not quite looking at Alan but passed him as he tried standing up yet again.

"Alan?" Scott barked. "Alan, what's happening?"

Alan refused to answer the radio, too busy trying to keep Gordon from making himself pass out for the third time. 

"Gordon," Alan said. "I need you to-"

"I'm all good." Gordon slurred, waving a hand.

Alan rushed to grip onto Gordon’s arm as his older brother launched upwards, Alan barely keeping him in the mud. Gordon tugged back his arm, glaring at Alan with half open eyes.

"I'm fine." Gordon snapped.

"Don't make me claim New York." Alan said.

Even in his stupor Gordon understood. He twisted towards Alan, slowly, giving Alan a chance to take it back. Alan didn’t. If Gordon was going to be such a pain in the ass then Alan was going to take all the precautions he needed to keep his brother safe.

"You wouldn’t." Gordon breathed.

"Try me." Alan said.

Alan met Gordon's eyes, dropping his expression into the best Serious face he could. It took more effort than he liked to admit to not laugh staring at his brother like this, especially since they were both absolutely covered in mud, but the memory of Gordon dropping right in front of him kept him well aware of the stakes.

They did not know why Gordon had collapsed, or at least Alan didn't. Until he was cleared by medical, Alan was not going to let him stand up let alone go anywhere even if he had to invoke the New York Protocol.

Gordon of all people, even disoriented, should know the severity of the New York Protocol just as Alan, even worried, knew it. 

"Alan." Scott's voice echoed through the radio. "If you don't fucking talk right now and tell me what's wrong with Gordon I'm going to kill you both."

Gordon rolled his eyes, reaching to grab Alan's radio. Alan knocked the hand away.

"He's okay." Alan reported.

"What's his vitals?" Scott demanded. "John can't see anything because of the storm."

"He's conscious and talking," Alan said. "Pupils seem a little off but he's a lot more aware of what's going on."

"He," Gordon said. "Is right here."

"He," Alan replied. "Passed out so he has to put up with Brother mode unless you want New York."

Gordon glared at him but made no further comment as Alan and Scott confirmed their position. The med-evac was already coming of course, Virgil had torn away from Base with Thunderbird 2 the moment he had heard the man down according to Scott, but it was good to fill the silence with something. 

It shouldn't be much longer before Virgil arrives but Alan still startled when a big rain drop fell on his head. If Gordon was already weak, another storm would just make everything worse. Now that they had been sitting in the mud for a while, the burning heat in Alan's legs had faded but the cold quickly replaced it. 

Holding back a shiver, Alan glanced around to see if Thunderbird 2 was near. They should have been able to hear it by now but as thunder rumbled, Alan simply could not see or hear the rescue vehicle. 

The next voice that came over the radio wasn't Scott's or Virgil's or even John’s but the woman from earlier.

"Base to Alpha-4, Base to Alpha-4."

"Alpha-4 receiving, over."

"Seek immediate shelter, I repeat, seek immediate shelter. The storm has shifted. Seek immediate shelter. Over."

So much for waiting for a med-evac.

"Acknowledged Base." Alan clicked off the radio. "You heard her, we gotta move."

Gordon did not so much as twitch.

Of course now that he had to stand up Gordon would refuse. Typical annoying brother doing typical annoying brother things. Except none of this was typical. Gordon was never that still, nor that quiet, and even as Alan shifted his grip from Gordon’s elbow to his hand, Gordon did not meet his eye.

"Gordon." Alan said. “We need to go.”

“Go.” Gordon echoed, blinking slowly.

Gordon’s hand was limp in Alan’s.

Alan jolted as another rain drop hit him, and another, and all of a sudden it wasn’t just drops but outright rain. Lightning arced across the sky but Gordon was still just sitting there, staring at nothing, as if he hadn’t even noticed it.

Alan fumbled for his radio.

“Scott.”

“Talk to me Alan.”

“Scott, he’s not moving.”

“The hell you mean?”

The rain hit harder, the mud around them growing ever more dangerous. Thunder boomed just as Alan tried to speak so he waited, his heart pounding against his chest.

“He’s just staring.”

“Is he breathing?” Scott asked. 

“Scott he’s not moving.”

“Alan. I need you to focus. Is he breathing?”

It had become darker but Alan could still see Gordon’s chest move in time with his lungs. 

“Yes.” Alan said.

“That’s good.” Scott said. “Is there any shelter where you are?”

It was strange to realise the same man that had yelled at him just a few minutes ago was now speaking so calmly. Alan had heard that voice before, the voice Scott used on civilians that were panicking, but normally it wasn’t directed at him.

Oh. 

That’s why Scott was speaking like that; Alan’s entire body was shaking and his chest was aching and he hadn’t even noticed. How fast had he been talking, how much did he repeat himself? Scott knew what a panicked Alan was like even if it was usually Virgil who noticed first so he was already playing damage control.

Gordon was still staring and Alan’s hands were still shaking. What a pair they made, covered in mud and unable to stand.

“Alan, can you hear me?”

Really, Alan should be better than this. He had seen the most terrible of things, just today he had helped in the recovery of an entire family from the landslide, he should be able to deal with one small storm and a confused Gordon. 

“Is there shelter?” Scott asked again.

Alan looked around. He couldn’t see anything but mud and rain and Gordon. 

“No.”

“Virgil is nearly there,” Scott said. “Watch the hills, there might be more slides.”

Gordon blinked slowly. He tilted his head, looking up at Gordon with hooded eyes.

“Slide.” Gordon mumbled. 

Gordon’s hand twitched in Alan’s and his whole body shifted, trying to stand.

“Slide…” He said again. 

“Gordie, we need to wait for Virg, okay?” Alan said, his voice shaking even to himself. “How are you feeling?”

Gordon blinked, processing the question. Lightning lit up the sky and Gordon jumped alongside Alan so Alan took that as progress.

“Alan?” Gordon said. “It’s raining.”

“Yeah, bro, it’s raining.”

“You’re shaking… We should go inside.”

Alan wasn’t sure if it was just rain getting in his eyes but they were stinging. His entire back was hurting now as well as his ribs but no matter how hard he tried to calm himself down he couldn’t. Alan felt stupid sitting here panicking when it had been Gordon who passed out but he. Just. Could. Not. Stop.

A rush of mud came at them and Alan clutched onto Gordon, wanting to, no needing to, protect him. The mud didn’t even reach them but it had still done damage. Alan couldn’t breathe at all now. Gordon could have died and it was Alan’s fault that they had taken so long with the final sweep of the area and now they were stuck here and Alan couldn’t breathe and Gordon looked so confused and they were going to die here.

Thunder rumbled and Alan sobbed. 

More lightning flashed but it stayed longer this time almost like it hadn’t been lightning at all. No, Alan knew that brightness. He had helped Virgil replace that bulb not two weeks ago.

Thunderbird 2 came closer to them, jerking to the side with a gust of wind. 

More mud spilled around them and Alan felt himself sinking lower. Gordon had wrapped his arms around Alan but Alan was supposed to be the one protecting Gordon. Thunderbird 2’s propulsion system set off another mud slide and Alan’s entire body shook.

Alan couldn’t see anything anymore. The sky had grown too dark and the lights of Thunderbird 2 had faded away. Virgil must have not seen them. Alan should light a flare or wave or something. Something other than sit there shaking.

“Alan! Gordon!” A voice called. 

That couldn’t be Virgil. Virgil had not seen them. He had continued on. They were going to be lost here forever in the mud and the rain and the cold and something was wrong with Gordon but there was nothing Alan could do to fix it.

Gordon pulled away from him, no, Gordon was being pulled away from him by the mud but Alan clutched onto him with a sob.

“I need you to let him go Allie.” A voice said.

No, Alan couldn’t let him go. Gordon was his brother, he was not going to let anything take him away.

“Alan,” The voice said. “It’s going to be okay but I need you to let him go.”

Alan knew that voice. He had grown up hearing it, he had grown up loving it. Virgil had always sounded so cool no matter what he said and Alan had always wanted to grow up as fast as he could so that he could sound so macho.

Wait a moment… 

“Virgil?” Alan croaked.

“It’s me Bud,” Virgil said and Alan felt a hand cup his cheek. “Do you think you can let me help Gordon? I promise you, I’m not going to leave you. I just need to get him to 2 but then I’ll be right back.”

“I can walk.” Alan said but even as he said it he knew it wasn’t true. “Virg… I don’t feel right…”

“It’s just shock, Allie.” Virgil said. “You’re going to be just fine.”

Alan hummed. Virgil would never lie to him yet the world still went black and Alan was left alone.

—————————————————————————————————————

Alan was on his back. 

He was warm, too warm. But that didn’t make any sense. Just a moment ago he was soaked with mud and rain and yet now he was dry and there was something soft laid over him. 

“Alan, can you hear me?”

Alan knew that voice too. It was different from Virgil’s but Alan loved it all the same. His eyes cracked open but just as quickly he closed them again, the ceiling above him much too bright.

“If you can hear me, squeeze my hands.”

“Really?” Alan mumbled.

“Yes, really,” The voice chuckled. “Though I guess I already have my answer.”

When he tried to open his eyes again he found a shadow blocking the bright lights, a halo shining through red hair. 

“You shouldn’t be here.” Alan said.

John’s brow quirked. 

“I mean,” Alan said quickly. “Someone needs to be on Thunderbird 5 and-“

“Relax, Alan, EOS is handling communications at the moment. You and Gordon needed me more.”

Alan snapped up, too fast for John to stop him and his head spun.

“Easy there,” John said, a hand on Alan’s shoulder. “Gordon’s fine, he’s back with it now.”

“He passed out.”

“I know,” John said. “You both had hypothermia it’s just that Gordon went into shock before you did. We’re lucky you managed to call it in so quickly, it could have been a lot worse.”

“I need to see him.”

“You need to rest.”

“John, I need to see him.”

“You can see him when you’re out of the woods first. Don’t make me call New York on you.”

Alan stiffened. 

“You wouldn’t.”

John laughed and the sound was like a melody. He eased Alan back down until he was on his back again, readjusting Alan’s blanket.

“I don’t even need to claim New York because you know how important it is to look after your own health first.”

“Bullshit.” Scott’s voice broke in.

Alan was sitting upright again in an instant, blinking back blurs as he took in the silhouette of Scott. Scott was pushing a hospital wheelchair and on that chair was Gordon. Gordon looked exhausted and there was an tube snaking up his arm connected to a IV pole on the chair but he was alive and he was breathing and he was okay and Alan was crying.

“I’m sorry.” Alan sobbed.

He knew that he was acting like a lost child but he simply could not stop the tears from flowing.

Scott brought Gordon all the way up to Alan’s bed and Gordon reached up, grabbing Alan’s hand and squeezing it tightly.

“We’re okay.” Gordon said. “Everything’s okay.”

With Gordon holding his hand, John kept a hand on Alan’s shoulder while Scott leaned on the side of the bed, a hand resting on his leg.

“Virgil?” Alan suddenly said, his chest seizing.

Virgil had gone into the storm to rescue them. He could have developed hypothermia too or even go into shock or maybe he had been pulled away or sucked under by the mud slides. 

What if Virgil was dead, having sacrificed himself for Alan and Gordon? Alan didn’t think he would ever be able to forgive himself.

“Right here, Allie.” A voice rumbled. 

Virgil came around the other side of Alan’s bed and Alan found himself just sobbing harder seeing his brother safe. Virgil ran a hand through Alan’s hair and he melted into the touch. 

“Rest,” Scott said. “We can talk in the morning.”

Alan didn’t want to sleep. He wanted to stay here forever, surrounded by his brothers, his friends. He didn’t want to sleep yet now that he felt warm his eyes were beginning to droop. He was safe here. He was loved here.

He let himself let go without needing the threat of the New York Protocol. 

[forest-falcon]

Not written anything in ages. Just scribbled this down while making dinner. Gonna continue to scribble this evening and hope for the best!

Scott whump plus tinies being tinies.

💙🧡💚💛❤️

The Butterfly Effect

Chptr 1

It was nothing.

Scott's head throbbed in retaliation at the thought, and the pilot suddenly regretted the English breakfast he'd savoured just a few short hours ago.

Tentative fingers explored the swelling at the back of his head. 

He inhaled a hiss as the injury bit back, and the eldest Tracy found himself nose-breathing to abate his rising nausea.

Ok, so it was something...but it had to be nothing.

Nothing until he was home, dry and safe - then he could rest...sleep it off - ice it, if needs be. 

Nope.

Scott lost the bile battle and found himself filling a in-flight bag he usually reserved for passengers.

Goddamn it.

He closed his eyes, tilting his head back, willing the universe to equip him with a functional brain - one that could last out the two-hour flight back to Tracy Island. He just needed to plot a course, then One could bring him home.

Then, and only then, could it be something. 

One hovered patiently, her hum soothing and familiar in the absence of family.

"Thunderbird One?"

Fuck. He had to get going now before younger brothers grounded his clumsy ass. Scott summoned his best game face and ignored the sensation that his hair was gelled wrong.

"John? To what do I owe the pleasure?"

He'd confess his stupidity once home. Suffer the wrath of the Virgil-brows, and worse - Grandma, if he could just skip out on a hospital stay. 

"Thunderbird One, you've not moved from your current location for some time. Is everything okay?"

"Sorry John, just had some stuff on my mind. Will fill you in later. I'm setting off now."

Scott allowed his fingers to dance over the controls, trusting muscle-memory over conscious thought. Thinking seemed to be a prelude to filling further bags - a desire he had no wish to to kindle.

"You sure you're okay?"

"Yes. FAB. M'good." 

One's boosters fired and Scott swiped the hologram of his brother away.

Thunderbird One began her journey back across the South Pacific Ocean.

* * *

Scott's line went quiet.

"M'good."

John chewed on a pen-cap as he turned the phrase over in his head. 

"Is everything okay, John?"

EOS hovered just at the edge of his peripheral vision.

"I think so."

"Penny for your thoughts."

John chuckled. Pennies hadn't been used for decades.

"Did Scott seem... different at all to you?"

"Not noticeably."

"Can I have a reading on Scott's vitals please? I'm sure everything's fine..."

"Blood pressure is slightly low, and heart rate raised, but all within normal parameters given recent exertion on mission."

"Good."

 "My records show that Scott has been working longer hours than usual. He perhaps sounded a little tired, especially given his choice of words."

"I thought so too. I'll get Virgil to check in on him when he's home. If something's bothering Scott, I'm sure Virg can work his magic with a tête-à-tête."

"Failing that, a stay on Thunderbird Five should help to take the weight off, once I've removed the artificial gravity."

John threw his pencap at the AI.

"Thunderbird Four?"

"Present and correct!"

Gordon's voice sounded like a double espresso in comparison to Scott's. 

"Mission status, if you please."

"All crew have been safely extracted."

"And the vessel?"

"Four's never better."

John rolled his eyes and looked to EOS for strength.

"The ship, Gordon."

"You're gonna have to be a little more specific than that, Thunderbird Five. The sea is full of ships," Alan's voice chirped in.

John glared at the comms line. He could hear their smug, stupid smiles. He was being set up. May as well get it over with.

"What is the status of Shippy. Shippy. Bang. Bang."

"Ooooh, that ship. I mean, she's not really a ship, more of an S.S.O, strictly speaking," Gordon sniggered. 

S.S.O, was nearly as bad as Brain's R.A.D, in John's book. Gordon had coined the phrase Ship Shaped Object, to define any ocean vessel not fit for purpose.

"Yeah she's toast. S.S.O Rust-Bucket's embarking on her final voyage to the ocean floor." Alan supplied.

Our amateur angler friends are back on dry land, so we'll be heading back. Clean up will have to wait until the storm has passed."

"FAB."

[tagsecretsanta]

From @alexthefly

From @alexthefly to @gaviiadastra

FUN AND GAMES NIGHT

The prompts:

A Tracy Island games night;

Something’s cooking in the kitchen;

Put the mess in domestic.

Rating: teen

Content warnings:

Moderate whump (fracture, soft tissue injuries);

Alcohol throughout (no drunkenness);

Flirting, including innuendo and one sex mention;

One instance of swearing.

Other warnings: a bit of Pen & Ink included in this one; hope that's ok.

**********

A familiar combination of thrusters, VTOL and a slightly-delayed sonic boom signalled Thunderbird One's return to the island. Gordon immediately felt his heart-rate leap a hundred beats.

“They’re here! Action stations! Alan, fluff the cushions; Virgil, get the food; Kayo…”

Whatever task Gordon had been about to assign to her fizzled away in a blaze of epic side-eye.

“...just kick back and relax, ok? No biggie.”

He backed away a few steps just to be safe, but his sister seemed satisfied, pointedly putting her feet back up on the coffee table before returning to her romance book. 

Any other day the temptation to comment on her choice of reading material would be far too much to bear, however hazardous to his health such a comment might be, but today he had other things occupying his mind.

“What can I do?” asked John, making to get up just as Virgil - already on his feet - pushed him firmly back down onto the sofa.

“You can stay right there, Mister,” he said, voice full-medic stern. “You know the rules. First night down from Five means no unnecessary moving around.”

John rolled his eyes and muttered something in Russian, but thankfully stayed where he was. 

Gordon flashed the big man a grateful smile on his way past to the kitchen. The last thing he needed right now was a certified space-case causing a danger to himself and others.

Not tonight.

“Shall I get some tunes ready?” Alan had already pulled his tablet out from behind a pillow and started tapping. “I’ve got a great playlist I’ve been working o-”

“Is it video game music?” asked Kayo, not even looking up.

“Yeah?”

“No!” The chorus was unanimous.

“Aww, but it’s not like normal video games. It’s this really cool mix of techno and-”

“NO!”

Alan pouted. “Oh, so I guess you'd all rather listen to Fish-boy’s sea shanties and Europop?”

“Hey!”

Gordon was all ready to defend his frankly impeccable musical taste, but John was clearly not in a mood for bickering.

“EOS, could you put on playlist P3 please?”

“Of course John.”

And with that the room was filled with gentle contemporary music - upbeat but not too raucous, neither intrusive nor dull - ideal for an evening with company. Obviously it was no Wellerman, but it wasn’t half bad. 

“Would you like some ambient lighting as well?”

“Not right now, thankyou EOS” replied John, ruffling Alan’s hair as he sat back down with a huff. “Is everything okay up there? Any calls? I could dial in if you need me?”

“Absolutely not,” said Kayo, an edge of menace in her voice. “You’re staying right where you are. Grandma’s orders.”

John scowled.

“Really John, there’s no need,” continued EOS. “I’m perfectly capable of handling things for one evening.”

Gordon noted the slight drop of his big brother’s shoulders but decided not to tug on that thread just now. Gravity always did a number on John the first night down, and it had been known to make him grumpy and homesick.

Virgil wandered back in carrying a big bucket filled with ice water, bottles of beer, prosecco, and cans of soda. With every step another puddle of ice water sloshed over the side and onto the floor.

“Allie, get a cloth would you? And could someone get some glasses out please? I’m kinda weighed down here.”

Kayo and Alan each grabbed one of John’s shoulders, using them to both pin him down and haul themselves up. The older man started to object, but was distracted by a ping on Alan’s tablet beside him.

“Scott’s on his way up now.”

Oh god oh god oh god. 

Gordon had the sudden and inexplicable urge to dunk his head in the bucket Virgil had just set down, but instead decided to busy himself with robustly re-plumping the chair pillows while bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet.

“So everything’s ready, right? Place is tidy, drinks are out, games are stacked, food’s in hand… Are we all set? Should I open a window? It’s kinda hot in here.” Am I sweating? “Maybe I should go change-”

“Breathe Gordon.” soothed Virgil, resting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. The weight of it felt good. Calming. “This isn’t a state dinner; just a normal games night like we’ve done a thousand times before. Nothing to get worked up about.”

Gordon scoffed. “Except it’s not though, is it? ‘Cos those other times it was just us, not-”

There was a ding and the elevator doors slid open.

“Right through here Lady Penelope.” Scott Tracy, suave as always, smoothly waved their guest into the room. “Go ahead and make yourself comfortable and we’ll get started.”

“Thankyou Scott. And sorry again that you had to come and collect me…”

And there she was. Penelope.

Perfection personified. The epitome of class and grace. A beautiful angel with a heart of gold and a spine of steel, whose voice was a song and whose smile could reduce whole armies to-

“Gordon, what on earth are you doing to that cushion?”

Huh?

He looked down at his hands to see the pillow he’d been fluffing, now scrunched and twisted over and over as if he were trying to throttle the poor thing. As he stared down trying to compute the mess of fabric and stuffing it suddenly disappeared from his hands, and then something was shoving him in the back, causing him to stumble forwards over his own feet. He recovered just in time to spot Virgil throwing the battered scatter cushion back behind the sofa, grinning from ear to ear.

Oh, there will be vengeance…

Right now though she was looking at him and oh god he needed to say something.

“Uh…”

Quick as you like, Tracy.

“Er…” His throat made a strange sort of rasping sound.

Any words will do!

“Lady Penelope!” he squeaked. “Welcome in! Come here! I mean come in. Welcome here. You’re welcome here. To our home I mean. This home. Where we…”

He glanced over and caught sight of Kayo, face in hand, shaking her head behind the temporary bar they’d set up for the evening.

“Drink!” he exclaimed, just a little too loudly. “Can I… Would you like a drink?”

The small, knowing smile she gave him was all at once thrilling and completely mortifying; a glorious little needle of light straight through his poor, mortal little heart.

“That would be wonderful. Thankyou Gordon.”

Cheeks burning, he slumped off to the bar and a consolatory shoulder nudge from Kayo while Scott showed Penelope to the seating area. Virgil scooted around them and disappeared back down to the kitchen, throwing him a sympathetic look on the way.

After getting their guest settled, Scott casually folded himself down on the sofa next to her. “So how come Parker didn’t join us tonight? He was more than welcome.”

Gordon loudly shovelled a scoopful of ice into a long glass and then reached for the schnapps.

Stupid Never-flustered Always-has-the-right-words Scott Tracy…

“He wasn’t feeling too good I’m afraid. He said something about Lilian’s casserole disagreeing with him, but to be honest I suspect it was probably more to do with the FA cup final showing on BBC.”

Cranberry, orange wedge…

Kayo cleared her throat softly. “So what drink was it you wanted, Lady Penelope?”

Gordon’s brain short-circuited, vodka in hand. 

What.. drink?

He replayed the conversation - such as it had been - through again in his head.

…Dammit, he forgot to ask! He’d been so flummoxed he’d ended up mixing on autopilot.

“Oh, anything really. Whatever you’re all having.” Penelope looked over curiously. “What’s that you have there, Gordon?”

Aww hell.

“It’s a… umm… Sex on the Beach.”

Now it was John’s turn to facepalm while Alan snickered from behind his tablet. Even Scott snorted before passing it off with a hasty clear of the throat. 

Lady Penelope, however, held Gordon’s gaze, expression inscrutable, then ever so slowly arched one perfectly coiffured eyebrow.

“Well, that sounds interesting. But perhaps just some wine for now and we’ll see how we get on.”

There was a squeak beside him, and Kayo ducked down behind the bar giggling. Alan snort-coughed and had to be hit on the back by John, who was at least trying - somewhat painfully - to keep a straight face. Scott just grinned at him.

Gordon stood there, stunned into inertia, though he wasn’t quite sure if it was his own mortification holding him back or the slight hint of mischief in Penelope’s eye, almost as if…

Nope, he was definitely imagining it.

Scott looked from one to the other for a moment then, chuckling to himself, jumped to his feet and strode over to the bar.

“C’mon Fish,” he said quietly, grabbing a champagne flute off the bar top and flashing his best, most reassuring, big brother smile. “Let’s go choose a game and get this thing started.”

Gordon nodded, dumbfounded. He grabbed his ridiculous but perfectly mixed drink, complete with little novelty umbrella, and trudged over to the seating area.

Alan was already giving the assembled group a run-down of the various choices lined up for the evening. “We’ve got all your classics like backgammon, chess, battleships, guess who…”

“Those are all for two people, Allie,” said Scott, grabbing himself a beer and pouring Penelope her wine. “How about something we can all play?”

“Clue then?”

“That needs six. We’ve got seven.”

“I don’t mind sitting out the first round if you need me to,” Penelope said gently, accepting her drink.

“Not a chance,” said John firmly. “You’re our guest.”

Alan looked around, confused. “Wait, who’s the seventh?” 

Kayo passed him a soda from the bucket. 

“Uh, Virgil(?)”

“Oh yeah.”

““Oh yeah” he says,” came Virgil’s voice over the ‘comms. “How soon I’m forgotten(!)”

“Sorry Virg!” Alan slurped his soda loudly, earning him a frown from both Scott and Gordon. “Guess I’m just too hungry to think. Where’s the food at?”

“It’s coming. Just waiting for the vol-au-vents to puff up.”

Alan nearly spat out his soda. 

“Vol-au-vents?! What happened to our wings and chi- Oww!” 

A pillow flew across the room and caught Alan right upside the head. He got back up and glared at Gordon, who was already gearing up for another throw. 

“Whatcha do that for?”

Penelope looked from one to the other, realisation dawning. 

“I do hope you didn’t go to any trouble, Virgil. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Not at all. Really, it’s all in hand. I’ll be up in a few.” 

And with that the comms blinked off.

John swayed forward in his seat. “Y’know, I might go give him a hand…”

“Sit down, John!” ordered Scott, clearly done with them all by this point.

John remained there for a second, possibly weighing up the odds of making a run for it, then sat back down, arms folded definitely-not-at-all petulantly. 

“...Fine.”

“What about Monopoly?” suggested Penelope, clearly trying to change the subject. “That can have up to eight players.”

Kayo shook her head. 

“Can’t.”

“Oh?”

“We’ve been banned,” Alan piped up. “Grandma said so.”

A pause. “...I see.”

“Well that doesn’t matter, does it?” urged Gordon, keen to get everyone playing before the whole evening went up in smoke. “Grandma can’t stop us from all the way in Gran Roca.”

“You sure about that, Gords?” asked Kayo, eyebrow raised.

He laughed nervously. “Heh…”

“In any case,” interjected Scott, “did you forget why Grandma banned it?”

“...Good point.”

The Great Tracy Anti-capitalist Revolution of 2056. In Gordon’s defence Scott had started it, buying up all those hotels like a dragon hoarding gold…

Alan held up a bunch of VR headsets. “How about something more modern? I’ve got Samurai Slasher, Twilight Ridge, Malibu Steade’s Epic Quest…?”

Scott frowned. “Not on John's first night down, Squirt.”

“Oh yeah. Gotcha.”

Gordon nodded. Way too much potential for injury.

“Ugh!” John threw his hands in the air. “You guys are like a flock of mother hens. I’m fine! Look…” He rolled to his feet before anybody could tell him not to. “Nice and steady. No wobbles, no stumbles. Nothing. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to the bathroom.”

“Uh, Johnny…”

“John darling...”

“Nope, I’m not listening,” he barked, striding purposely out of the seating area towards the stairwell, “Comfort breaks are necessary, so I don't care what you s-”

“John!”

“Food’s here!”

“Look out!”

There was an “oof” and a crash as spaceman, heavy-lifter and a platter of freshly-made vol-au-vents collided in a mess of limbs and pastry before tumbling out of sight down the kitchen stairs.

“John!”

“Virgil!”

Everyone was on their feet as a series of thuds, grunts, clatters and clangs echoed from the stairway, followed by one very plaintive “Oww.”

The place immediately erupted into total uproar. Ever the level head, Kayo immediately ran to get the first aid kit and the medi-scanner. Meanwhile Scott - always the quickest to leap into action - practically flew down the stairs after the pair of them in a frenzy of big brotherly concern, with Alan, Gordon and Penelope following closely behind. 

The two fallers themselves were actually relatively uninjured in the circumstances. Both were a mess of bruises and grazes and smooshed pastry, but at least they were fully conscious and coherent enough to be thoroughly embarrassed by the whole thing. John had twisted his ankle and had a walnut-sized bump on his forehead, and Virgil (who had slid most of the way down the steps backwards) ended up with a bruised tailbone, strained shoulder and one broken finger.  

The kitchen, unfortunately, hadn’t fared quite so well. Total disaster was the most accurate description. 

Best they could figure, the metal serving platter Virgil had been carrying had reached the ground floor airborne, bounced off the doorframe and had landed right in the middle of the countertop, sending plates, bowls, jars and spoons scattering and smashing all over the place. The situation wasn’t helped any when MAX, having heard the commotion, came speeding into the kitchen brandishing a mop and broom, skidded on a stray patch of vol-au-vent filling, slammed into the fridge and sent ice cubes from the dispenser shooting across the floor, then got confused and started spinning on the spot, taking out the stand mixer and two cupboard doors in the process.

Eventually they managed to get things back on a somewhat even keel. After a thorough checking over and an even more thorough mothering from Big Bro, both casualties were helped to their feet and safely installed back on the sofas with strict instructions not. To. Move. 

Penelope kept herself busy fetching drinks and ice packs for the patients and generally trying to soothe frayed nerves while Gordon, Alan and Kayo set to work fixing the kitchen back up, but after twenty minutes Scott - aware of the time and the presence of their guest - called everyone back to try to enjoy what was left of the evening.

And so instead of vol-au-vents, chips and dips were retrieved from various stashes in various rooms, drinks were replenished (non-alcoholic for the two injured parties, eliciting low grumbles from one and shrug of “stupid gravity” from the other) and in lieu of further disagreements a couple of packs of cards was produced. 

The rest of the evening was spent enjoying rounds of Go Fish, rummy, and playing poker for bottle caps, with plenty of jokes, stories and good conversation enjoyed in-between. Towards the end of the night - and to Gordon’s delight - Penelope even taught them a game from her university days called Shithead.

Finally, after most of the others had said their goodnights and wandered off to their rooms, Gordon and Penelope sat side-by-side on the sofa finishing their drinks alone, save for Alan who was snoring softly on the floor beside them.

Penelope swirled the last of her drink with her straw. “Do you think we should move him? That doesn’t look very comfortable…”

Gordon shrugged. “Nah, that’s how he normally sleeps. It’s a teenager thing,” he added, chewing on his orange slice garnish.

Penelope beamed. “I really have had a lovely time tonight. It’s been the most terrific fun, injuries notwithstanding of course.” 

Her eyes seemed to sparkle in the warm mood lighting that EOS had finally persuaded John to put on an hour or so earlier.

“And this drink of yours really is delicious by the way.”

Gordon laughed.

“See? I knew you’d like it. Maybe one day I’ll open up a bar of my own right on the beach and serve them out of coconut shells.”

He removed the little paper umbrella from his glass and started opening and closing it like he was in a tiny Hollywood musical.

She laughed. “Well if tonight’s anything to go by, any bar of yours would never be dull!”

Gordon grinned and presented the tiny decoration to her with a flourish, all hint of his earlier embarrassment gone. He was here, she was here, and it was all just… right.

She accepted it with a smile.

Really though Gordon, it’s been the most wonderful night.” 

There was a pause while she twirled the umbrella in her hand thoughtfully.

“You know, it’s not always easy to relax around other people, especially in my line of work.” She sighed. “So many functions, so many people, but it can all sometimes feel just a little bit…” 

She shook her head. 

“I’m not making any sense. It’s just that being here with you all, everything feels so… easy; so fun.”

Gordon leaned forwards, willing her to go on. It was like a wall somewhere was shifting, and he could finally catch a small glimpse of what was actually going on behind that perfect smile of hers.

She looked up at him, eyes shining.

“I suppose what I’m trying to say is, thankyou so much for inviting me.”

A breath. A moment that seemed to stretch out between them, soft and fragile.

“Thankyou for coming.”

-------------------

The next morning, as Penny yawned and stretched out in the extra-soft, gloriously comfortable guest bed, luxuriating in the distinct novelty of waking up with nowhere particular she needed to be, her eye fell on the little yellow umbrella laying, just as she'd left it, on top of the nightstand beside her.

She smiled, her stomach fluttering.

So fun…

From downstairs there was a sudden commotion and a voice:

“WHAT IN GOD’S NAME HAVE YOU KIDS DONE TO MY KITCHEN?!”

[gumnut-logic]

Thunderdragons

I had a request for a glossary for this AU. So here you go. Back story spoilers ahead.

Please note that I am not a historian or linguist. This is fantasy, definitions are approximate, and I should be apologising to probably all the people in the North Atlantic – aka the Great Western Sea, because it wasn’t called the Atlantic in 700AD.

For reference, Viking raids didn’t start until around 790AD.

‘Tracy’ is a surname that can be traced back to several origins, but the one I chose for this was Irish. One of the old forms is ‘O’Treasaigh’, so that is the name of the clan and where the family originated from.

I set them up as a small kingdom ruled by a Flaithri (king in Old Irish) somewhere in Ériu (Ireland in Old Irish). Grandpa Tracy was Flaithri and Grandma Tracy was his wife (didn’t look up Queen in Old Irish as I haven’t needed it yet). Jeff Tracy, as their son, was Flaith (Prince) – later once Grandpa Tracy had died, Jeff became Flaithri and Scott Flaith, and so on. By the fic Cethair, Scott has become Flaithri, much to his dislike and grief.

The Irish people do not have dragons, but Jeff being Jeff, he explores, makes trade agreements and keeps eyeing the Great Western Sea (aka Moon or Mars like exploration equivalent – no one had crossed the Great Western Sea, that we know of, in 700AD).

Eventually, he convinces his father to let him take a voyage of exploration across the Western Sea, which he does, with not great results, Óen saves him and things happen. Essentially, he does cross the Western Sea, just not the way he expected and finds a people who do have dragons. He marries in North America (not called that), and has three sons.

Gaat happens and the family decide to return to Ériu. The Flaithri welcomes them with open arms, and eventually the dragons.

Two more boys are born and everything is going nicely.

Until Gaat makes it across the sea, attacks and kills the Flaithri and Jeff’s wife before the rest of the family can uproot and flee. This makes Jeff Flaithri and Scott, Flaith.

I will drop the spoilers there :D

The rest of the old Irish.

Máthair Chriona – Grandmother/Wise woman (aka Grandma Tracy)

The Dragons (again with the Old Irish)

Óen – One

Dá – Two

Tri – Three (Alan doesn’t have a dragon yet, that’s a separate story)

Cethair – Four

Cóic – Five

One and Two can be found in the How to Train Your Dragon fandom. Three and Five, I’m inventing myself. Four, I haven’t decided yet, but likely inventing myself.

I think that is all the Old Irish so far. I have a few notes regarding a few other words but didn’t end up using them.

Regarding the people in North America, I did do quite a bit of research into the Algonquian language people of the North East Atlantic and did assign appropriate names, but I felt it created more confusion and I desperately don’t want to offend any First Nations peeps (at least with the Irish, I’m only messing up my own heritage…well, a small part of it), so left them out. It should be noted that Belah Gaat, Tanusha, Kyrano, etc are all Malay or Indian derived names, so I’m sweeping that under the rug.

For funsies, it should be noted that Jefferson Tracy is Mac Séafraidh O’Treasaigh in Old Irish. That just hurts, so I’m keeping him Jeff :D

Apologies for any confusion. I hope this clears this up. And as you can see there is one hell of an iceberg behind this fic series. A lot of work. Hence there will likely be Sweetapple Slices and Virgil whump in between so I can take a break :D

Anyway, I hope this helps. Any questions, please give me a yell.

Nutty

(the librarian)

[phading]

Hi, it's me!

Okay, so there’s probably a lot you don’t know about me. So just in case you’re in the least bit interested:

I try very, very hard never to read incomplete fics. Purely selfish, and the result of reading far too many heart-grabbing stories that never got finished. If you need kudos or encouragement or anything else to continue, I’m here and over the moon excited to read anything you’d like to throw at me. Just let me know what you want in return - comments, critique, suggestions, hugs, encouragement, emojis, whatever ...

I posted one fic a chapter at a time, and I doubt I’ll ever do it again.

Characterization is everything.

If you’ve noticed an absence of Brains, Grandma, Lady P, Havoc, etc… in my fics it’s because I don’t give a twit. Perhaps one day I will evolve beyond this simplistic state.

I suck at prompts, challenges and deadlines. My muse is never in the right headspace at the right time.

I have a ridiculous need to keep it believable when really, the stuff that goes on in the show – no matter how much I adore it – is often somewhat miraculous.

It’s the future, people, I’m allowed to invent things.

In real life, I write kids’ books.

To the best of my knowledge, I’m the oldest member of the Thunderfam. Challenge me if you think you can claim the title.

The first thing of importance I ever wrote was a full length Star Trek Next Gen novel which I submitted to a few select New York publishers (oh, the innocence of youth) . Surprise, surprise, many of them actually read it and sent back comments written on famous restaurant napkins.

So, in light of all of the above, I’m once again doing my own thing. Inspired by the recent “10 opening lines from 10 recent fics” post I’m changing it up to “10 opening lines from 10 WIPs”.  I mean, seriously, I’m a newbie here and have far more WIPs than I do finished fics. So here’s what’s – pray to the anti-depression, anti-chronic pain gods  – coming up …

A WHOLE LOT OF SUPERFICIAL The uniform discarded in a heap on the floor outside the showers was expected – the purple neoprene wasn’t. (Virgil, Scott, shaping up to be humour)

THE LAST ZOO ON EARTH “Say again, John. I thought you said we have a situation at a zoo.” (All brothers, major rescue, major whump, pissed off Gordon)

THERE ARE NO CANNIBALS ANYMORE “Sir! I need you to calm down!” (Hurt Virgil, this one could go graphic in a hurry)

IT DOESN’T HURT Virgil glanced up from the piano keys, searching for inspiration but instead witnessing his fish brother's spectacular dive off the board – a dive that would leave his re-built back in shambles. (Fishtank, chronic pain)

TIGHT ROPE “I’m sorry, John, but if she’s dumb enough to try and pull off this ridiculous stunt, I see no reason why we should save her from her own stupidity.” (rescue gone sideways)

STARSTUCK Alan Tracy had been looking forward to this moment for a very long time. (Hurt Virgil, guilty Alan, Thunderbird 3 whump)

STELLAR “Hey, John, what’s this?” “It’s personal, that’s what it is!” (Guilty John, comatose Gordon, poetry, John has a secret)

CASPIAN John Tracy blinked open his eyes, breath catching when he discovered the most beautiful thing in his universe mere centimetres from his face. (John, OC-John’s lover, angst, Marks and Wings, John is not only a telepathic Ave but he’s bi!)

PSYCHOTIC MEDIUMS The probe entered Earth’s solar system broadcasting a symphony of alien sound that instantaneously drove the half-a-million or so humans who were listening insane. (Virgil centric, angst, sci-fi)

THE JOHN-CODE “Hey, Eos, you wanna help me test this new game?” (Alan, John, Eos, virtual games gone wrong.)

[tanushakyrano]

febuwhump day 28: 'you're safe now.'

tis march!!!!! happy march!!!!! i finally got this written!!!

I also just wanted to say thank you for all of the amazing comments and reblogs and likes I've received over the challenge. it's been so so wonderful to see the response to each day and know that people are out there enjoying my writing, which just. absolutely amazes me. you guys are all so kind!!!! thank you!!!!!

characters: Scott, John, Virgil, Gordon, Alan, Penelope, Kayo, Parker

additional warnings: violence, injury, kidnapping, blood, guns (tranqs)

_______________

“We’ll find him, Scott.”

Scott nodded jerkily, leaning back in his chair and pinching his brow with trembling fingers. “God, I hope we do, Virgil.”

Usually his hands were incredibly steady. The hands of any first responder had to be, with the precision that was so often needed on the job. And Scott wasn’t just any first responder, he was the pilot of Thunderbird One; she was a powerful and temperamental craft, requiring the utmost dexterity of her pilot - and there was no one who could fly her better than him. There was no way he could be as good as he was if his hands turned traitor on him every five seconds. 

And yet here he was. Just under seven hours since Alan had gone missing, and in that time his hands had barely stopped shaking - a combination of stress, the back-to-back rescues he'd just been on before it had happened, and the sheer terror that his little brother was somewhere out there, seriously injured or worse. Luckily, a marginally better-rested Virgil was flying, with Gordon as co-pilot, and he was relegated to the passenger seat. Scott laced his fingers together to try and hide the tremor and leant forward in his chair.

"Any new information, John?"

He was grasping at straws, he knew. John would update them immediately if there were any changes to Alan's status at all. Still.

Sure enough, when a miniature hologram of his brother popped up, he was shaking his head. "Kayo and Lady P are scouting out the place right now. They’ll update me soon, but for now we’ve just got to wait.”

Yeah. That was the part Scott struggled with. Waiting.

He sat back and let his head fall back against the headrest.

Alan hadn’t even been on duty. That was the worst part. The kid had just wanted to go out and meet a friend - Conrad, from the space transit terminal incident, who had been given leave for a few weeks and who was apparently now on very good terms with Alan. Scott hadn’t realised that had happened, but the fact that Alan had people he was on good terms with outside their tiny social circle was excellent, and so he’d been happy to let them hang out. They’d decided to meet up in London. The thought of Alan alone halfway across the world had made Scott… unsettled, so Kayo had agreed to stay in the area to keep a discreet eye on the pair of them in addition to Penny, who was also in London for business. It felt distinctly paranoid, having two professional agents essentially babysitting two perfectly capable teenagers, but he’d learned that it was better to be safe than sorry thanks to years of being accosted by the public, being ambushed by paparazzi, and surviving attempted kidnappings. Preparing for the worst was by far the safest option.

When they received a frantic call from Conrad telling them Alan had been dragged off by two burly men in nondescript outfits and balaclavas, his paranoia was affirmed.

Seven hours later and they’d managed to track him to an industrial complex near the south-east coast of the country. Penelope and Parker were first on site - quickly joined by Kayo, who flew ahead from Tracy Island where she’d returned after coming up empty-handed in London. The plan was that he, Virgil and Gordon would join them in infiltrating the building. Strength in numbers and all that. 

Also, they'd all outright refused to stand by and do nothing while their baby brother was held captive by some faceless criminal gang.

“Alan’s definitely in the building,” John affirmed, breaking the silence and startling Gordon so much that he had to steady himself against the controls. “There are at least thirteen other life signs - but the good news is we know exactly where they are in relation to Alan, so I’ll be able to guide you on a route that steers as clear of confrontation as possible.”

“Yeah. Great,” Gordon muttered, voice dripping with sarcasm. Scott caught the minute tightening of his fist. “You know, I wouldn’t mind the chance to beat some of those fuckers up-”

“That’s the GDF’s job,” Scott reminded him. Gordon huffed. “Look, I’m not saying these guys don’t deserve it, but we’ll call in Colonel Casey, make sure they all wind up in jail for a good while. It isn’t our job to deal out justice.”

“Well, if they end up getting in my way, I’m not exactly gonna sit down with them for a tea party.”

“I don’t expect you to.” Scott sighed. “We’re just avoiding violence for the sake of it. I don’t want any of you getting hurt.”

He kept quiet about just how much he agreed with Gordon. The thought of anyone laying a finger on their little brother made his blood boil in the most awful way. If they ran into anyone, he wasn’t sure what would stop him from beating the guy to a bloody pulp.

A shift in Two’s engines pulled them out of their conversation. Scott rose from his seat and leant between Virgil and Gordon, looking out of the windscreen at the sprawl of buildings laid out in the distance.

“I’m landing us further away from the building,” Virgil informed him as his hands glossed over the controls, “to make sure we don’t let them know we’re coming. John can fly her closer if needs be.” If something goes wrong.

Scott nodded. "FAB.”

_______________

It was a bit of a trek to the site, silent and as tense as taut guitar strings. Scott and Gordon had been equipped with guns - loaded with tranqs, of course, not bullets, but the thing was weighted and heavy in his hand, threatening to draw him back into long-buried memories of blue uniforms and military cockpits and rocky mountains in Eastern Europe. He focused on planting one foot in front of the other, and choked down the lump that threatened to form in his throat.

Penelope, Parker and Kayo met them where FAB1 and Shadow were parked. Gone were Penelope’s pink heels and Parisian haute couture, replaced with sleek black boots and a streamlined jacket as dark as night. A gun holster decorated her right side, a gleaming knife kept sheathed on her left. Parker was similarly armed. Virgil eyed the weapons warily. Kayo wore her usual teal flightsuit, but her twin stuns crackled and sparked at her wrists.

“Kayo and I will be taking the lead as we head in,” Penelope said briskly. “John will be guiding us from Five. Scott, Gordon, you’ve had military training, so you should know what to expect. Virgil, just try to stay out of trouble and let us handle any… situations that may arise. We’re aiming to get in, attract as little attention as possible, find Alan and get out - preferably without anyone raising the alarm. As far as we can tell, this has nothing to do with the Hood, but these people are still dangerous. Be on your guard. Everyone clear?"

She looked round at the group for confirmation. When they all nodded, she squared her shoulders, pulling the pistol from its holster. “Then the mission is a go.”

Scott took a deep breath, and fell into line behind Virgil.

John must have been working to disable their systems from the inside, because they made it through the outer doors without a hitch. The corridors were long and empty, hollow and cold, decorated only with valves and pipes and wires with faded plastic coverings.They ducked through a door labelled MAINTENANCE a few dozen metres along from the entrance.

The facility was just as sprawling inside as it had appeared from the sky. Scott had a pretty decent sense of direction, but he soon lost track of the lefts and rights they took as they crept from shadow to shadow, staying low and keeping in constant motion. Penelope, Parker and Kayo formed a ruthlessly efficient team. They almost seemed to have some kind of psychic connection, so perfectly in tune they were with each other and their surroundings. Between them and John's whispered instructions, their group managed to steer clear of trouble for an impressive amount of time.

But their luck had to run out at some point. Kayo rounded a corner as John inhaled sharply, the warning on his lips coming too late, and a six-foot-five giant swung a right hook that would have taken her head off if she hadn't leapt backwards and out of range at the last second.

Scott raised his tranq, ready to floor the brute with a dart to the neck, but someone else beat him to it. The classic Parker Haymaker landed solidly, sending the man staggering, and Parker swiftly followed it with a kick that sent him the rest of the way to the ground. Penelope hit him with a tranq of her own for good measure.

Scott knew that their luck had well and truly run out when yet another punch came out of nowhere, rattling his brain inside its skull and blurring his vision.

There was a second goon. Of course there was.

Scott tried to dodge the second blow he knew was coming, but he could barely tell which was was up, let alone which direction an attack would come from. Someone grabbed his arm and yanked him towards them - he had no idea who it was - he tried to shake them off, but their grip was unrelenting. A grunt of pain sounded somewhere to his left. A body hit the floor with a thud.

He blinked the stars from his eyes. Virgil was staring back at him concernedly, gently tilting his head to examine the spot where the guy had clocked him. "You okay?" he asked worriedly.

"I'm fine." Scott shook him off, turning to where Gordon was standing over a crumpled figure, chest rising and falling rapidly, tranq in hand. "Thanks for the save," he said quietly. 

"Any time." Gordon gripped the tranq tightly. "We should get going again."

Virgil frowned. "Scott needs a minute-"

"Gordon's right," Kayo interrupted. "We need to find Alan and get out as quickly as possible. We're too vulnerable here."

"Fine. But I need to keep an eye on him." Virgil lowered his voice, resting a hand on Scott's arm. "Tell me if you start experiencing any symptoms, okay?"

"Okay," he said, lying through his teeth.

They pressed on.

_________________

Scott was just about ready to punch straight through the walls to reach Alan by the time John told them that they were close. His head was pounding and his stomach was churning, but he focused on the passages in front of him and the cold metal of the gun in his hands. The same-ness of the corridors was starting to drive him a little crazy.

"There's only one guard outside the room Alan's in," John informed them, voice taut with anxiety. "Should be easy enough to take them down."

Kayo and Penelope were at the door in a blink (though time was getting murkier, so in truth it could have just been Scott's mind refusing to process his surroundings), Penelope wrapping the guard in a chokehold and guiding their body to the ground soundlessly. They checked the corridor both ways before beckoning the rest of them forward. Parker remained where he was as a lookout. Penelope crouched down to pick the lock as Scott stumbled to a stop at her side.

"Oh, damn it-" Penelope cursed as the lockpick broke in her hands. The last drop of patience Scott had trickled away.

"Move," he growled, and Penny ducked out of the way as he slammed his body into the door. The hinges groaned, but it didn't give, so he slammed into it again, and again, and on the fourth try the door burst open and he half fell, half ran into the room, not coming to a stop until Alan was in his arms.

"Hey- hey, it's okay. It's okay, Alan. I'm here."

Alan clung to him so tightly that he could barely breathe, but Scott didn't care. The kid was trembling like a leaf and his fingers dug into Scott's back even through the tough fabric of his suit. He carded a steady hand through Alan's hair, sticky in some places with blood, the other wrapped around him. Even though he was almost eighteen, he still seemed so young. Not small, really, but gangly, a tangle of limbs that he had yet to grow into. Not a child any more, and not an adult, but the strange in-between stage that heralded the closing of this chapter of his life and an end of a time that Scott wasn't ready to let go of yet.

"We're getting you out of here, okay? We're going home."

Alan pulled back slightly to look up at him. Blood tracked its way down half of his face from a nasty gash on his temple. Scott cursed every person involved in the stupid operation a thousand times over. Half a syllable stuttered from Alan's lips as he tried to form words.

"Hurts.."

"I know. I know, Allie, I'm sorry." Scott pressed a kiss to his forehead. "I'm so sorry. But you're safe now, I promise. We're going home now."

[astranite]

WIP Whateversday.

I've been working on a bunch of things, none of which are yet completed. But they're getting there, bit by bit. @idontknowreallywhy Thank you for all the chats and encouragement :)

So without further ado:

From a fairly fluffy piece with Scott and John-

A thump followed by multilingual cussing out of the very concept of gravity were not uncommon sounds when John was earth side. Scott still looked up from his paper work in concern. 

John was juggling a telescope, a blanket over his shoulder and his satchel while attempting to pick up several books. Massive, heavy astronomy books splayed out on the floor around his feet.

Also Scott and John, but with some heavier topics and more angsting before the hurt/comfort. Written based on several prompts, (we haven't gotten up to that in this snippet but we will) from @smallfrysblog! They have some great whump prompts so *dramatically gestures in that direction* Also thank you for the writing chats!

Scott crept through the house, sneakers in hand, socked feet near silent on the wooden floors. He edged past his brothers’ rooms, wary in spite of the heavy sound proofing built into the walls. At Virgil’s door, he paused for a moment to listen to the soft snores from within. His Virgil, fast asleep, at home and okay. Not the set of blank brown eyes staring at him in his dreams.

Entering the comms area, Scott tensed at the silhouetted figures lined up against the wall. They loomed in stiff formation. He stumbled back, exhausted mind racing with threats, searching for cover. 

Seconds stretched out, oozing and thick as tar. His heart raced. Then logic caught up, snapping into place. 

Their portraits.

This one's been nicknamed "Scott goes to therapy and gets a hobby." Because the Recharge episode really hammered home for me that he needs something that is not IR related and is just for himself. And as a very long way round reply to @edutainer2022's bit of fic on Scott listening to Virgil ramble about art stuff, and me thinking Scott needs to have something to get excited and talk about too, then it spiralling from there. Scott centric but there shall be Virgil!

Scott was at a loss. He scraped a hand through his hair, tugging at it in frustration. 

This should be simple. A normal person wouldn't even have to think about it. It should be an easy assignment.

But deadline was ticking closer and he still had nothing to show for it. 

Find an activity to do that wasn’t related to International Rescue, and report back in the next session, his therapist had told him. 

At the time, he’d almost laughed. Wasn’t like it was that hard. 

There were dozens of examples he could give right off the top of his head. He’d been helping Alan out with his latest school project yesterday afternoon. He ran and rock climbed regularly for his fitness. Tracy Industries paperwork kept him up the other half of his nights. John’s conference in Switzerland he’d attended to support his brother could even count towards getting out and off the Island.

The week before, he’d spent the day with Virgil and Gordon, fixing the cracked tarmac of one of the runways, where the close proximity to the sea had damaged it. The runway wasn’t even used by any of the Thunderbirds, only their Tracy series of light passenger aircraft, so it had no relevance to International Rescue whatsoever. 

See, he had plenty of things to keep him occupied without IR. 

Then his therapist had vetoed them all and specified, “Nothing related to work, or helping out your brothers either.”

Also I haven't completely forgotten about the autistic John fic from last wip Wednesday, I'm still writing it, I've just been temporarily waylayed!

[greywake]

The Bridge

AO3 link

Some bad luck lands Virgil in some very cold water.

For @uniwolfcorn's Whump Couch event.

I had an absolute blast writing this and it was a pleasure to work with @godsliltippy!

“Scans are showing that parts of the upper deck on the Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch side are failing. You need to hurry Thunderbird Two.”

“FAB,” Virgil responded automatically as he transferred the flight controls over to the Squid.

“The what now?” 

Virgil rolled his eyes, listening to John and Gordon as he headed down to the module to don his exosuit.

“Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerchwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch.” Virgil could just imagine the smug smirk on his space monitor brother’s face as he got to show off his superior linguistic skills.

“Lan-vi-ar-pith-gwin-gith…what?”

“Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgoger…”

“Knock it off you two. Rescue now. Welsh lessons later.”

“FAB.”

He contained his mirth as Scott’s commander voice put a stop to the nascent bickering. It was amusing and certainly good for morale, but he couldn’t blame his big brother for calling time on the nonsense before it had been established that the area was safe and no one was in danger.

Virgil nodded to Alan as the youngest Tracy finished prepping his pod and climbed in. "Concentrate on locating anyone in trouble on the lower deck then do what you can to shore up the sections."

Alan gave him a thumbs up and an "FAB" as they both prepared to exit the module.

With a warning from Gordon, the floor opened up underneath them. Yawning wide into the darkness of a very, very a.m. February morning in the local time zone.

Alan's pod launched, dropping down and catching the air with its rotors as the youngest went off to fulfil his assigned task. Virgil held onto his line as he was lowered to the road surface from the belly of his bird. When he judged the ground to be close enough he let go, falling the last few metres to land comfortably with the aid of his exosuit.

The rain had stopped earlier, but the still-slick surface reflected the lights from their ships, the streetlamps, and the floodlights of the attending locals as he assessed the situation.

The upper deck had partially collapsed onto the train tracks beneath, leaving a twenty-meter gap. The fact that there was also a large section of the lower deck missing only made the matter worse. It almost looked like someone had dropped a giant boulder on top of the bridge and it had just torn through both levels before falling into the waters of the Menai Strait below them.

It was lucky that it was so early in the local morning as it meant that only a handful of vehicles were in trouble, but those were balanced precariously on the edge of a long drop.

“Virgil,” John’s voice sounded professional and calm over the comms. “Secure the vehicles ahead of you. The local crews report two people still trapped in them.”

“FAB.”

He moved forward cautiously, testing his weight on the buckled surface to make sure he wouldn’t inadvertently tip the precarious balance and send everything crashing down. It felt uncomfortably like walking on a trampoline as he made his way to the nearest car. The driver was conscious but pinned to their seat by the steering wheel. He smiled kindly at them and motioned for them to hold on a little longer as he edged forward to check the other car.

The driver of this one was unconscious, which was possibly a blessing in disguise as their car was hanging partially over the long drop. A glance told Virgil that the only reason it hadn’t fallen was the way it had wedged on the vehicle behind.

Making a quick decision, Virgil used the grasping arm of his exosuit to hold the dangling car, while he freed his other hand and tugged the driver’s door open. With the ease of practice, he swiftly cut the driver’s belt strap and grabbed her by the arm to drag her free.

He held her close as the teetering car squealed a protest at the shift in weight distribution and hurried her onto the safer sections where firefighters took over with a makeshift stretcher.

As he turned back to the other rescuee he saw his 'bird landing on the mainland side of the bridge. Gordon would be using the other pod to give Alan some backup in his efforts with the stabilising foam.

Knowing that his brothers had the stability of the structure covered, Virgil moved forward with confidence. Even with the minor bounce of the road surface, he was able to reach the other car and pull the door open with little effort.

"Hey, I'm with International Rescue. What's your name?"

"Huw."

He gave the kid, around Gordon's age, a reassuring smile and set about releasing him. "How're you feeling, Huw? Anything hurt?"

Huw grimaced. "My leg's stuck."

Virgil nodded his understanding and checked the situation below the steering wheel. "Okay. I'm going to make enough space for you to move, then I want you to hold onto me while I pull you out. Got that?"

The young man nodded nervously.

With one more reassuring smile, Virgil used the jaws of life on his exosuit to force the steering wheel and dash away from the trapped driver’s legs. A yelp of pain told him that Huw was free and he manhandled him out of the car, dragging him to more solid ground.

“Milly…”

“Who?” Virgil frowned. He hadn’t seen anyone else in the car.

“My cat…she’s in her travel box. On the back seat.”

“I’ll be right back.”

He let go of Huw, making sure the kid was able to stand without support before he hurried back to the car. He grimaced as the broken sections creaked and groaned along with his movement but continued anyway. Pulling the rear door open, he saw the carefully secured pet carrier on the opposite side and, taking advantage of the extra reach his suit provided, Virgil released the straps and gently lifted the carrier clear of the car. He stepped away from the vehicle and turned back towards the injured rescuee and the firefighter who’d come forward to help. 

Virgil fell to his knees with a shocked gasp as the ground beneath him suddenly tilted.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as the cars next to him slid over the edge and into the darkness. He took a deep breath and tossed the pet carrier towards Huw as gently as he could before the section beneath him sagged even further.

The concrete sank at an increasingly alarming angle, leaving him desperately scrabbling for a handhold. He slid back, coming closer and closer to the long drop as the rain-slick surface denied him purchase.

There was a cry of fear from a brother as Virgil slipped over the edge, managing to catch the broken tarmac with his grasping arm.

“I’m okay. Could use a hand though!” he reassured, voice breathless as he tried to regain his composure.

“Just hold on, I’m coming!”

His breath caught in his throat as the hunk of road holding him up crumbled and the sudden freefall caught him by surprise.

He fell.

One chunk of debris among many.

He struck the lower deck before bouncing off into the yawning darkness of the strait below, only adding a spin to his already disorientating descent.

A sharp stab of cold engulfed him as the raging waters closed over his head.

There was pain as he fought his way to the surface only to be dragged deeper as he was buffeted along in the current.

He could hear nothing but the roar of the water in his ears as he fought the weight pulling him down.

As if a flare went off in his head, his mind suddenly switched to survival mode. The exosuit. The thing which helped him save so many was going to kill him if he couldn’t get it off.

Virgil struggled. Temporarily ignoring the need to get to the surface in favour of getting out of the support structure that was holding him under.

His movements hampered by the push-pull-twist of the swirling river, he managed to shed the exosuit just in time to be slammed against a rock before being scraped past it.

Virgil fought his way to what he hoped was the surface. He could see nothing in the darkness of the strait and between that and being tumbled from rock to rock he had lost track of which way was up.

Ironically, it was a crack in his faceplate that saved him. Battered and disorientated, he still had enough awareness left to realise that the water leaking through was running in the wrong direction.

After some gasped curses and pain that made him want to give up, Virgil broke the surface.

The back of his baldric caught on something and he felt himself stilling in the water as the currents continued to barrel past him. Trusting whatever held him to keep him in place, he flailed at his helmet, managing to pull it off and breathe wet but clear air.

He was exhausted, he hurt, and he could barely think after the ride he’d been through.

The current seemed to ease, letting him just drift along with whatever had grabbed him.

There was something bothering him. Something that scratched at the back of his mind as he floated, shivering, in the darkness. His thoughts felt almost slippery as he tried to summon the thing to the front but it refused to cooperate.

The cold of the water was nice brushing against the fire in his limbs. It lulled him as he rocked gently with the tide. So calm after the rage of the beginning of his journey. It almost suggested a song to his tired mind. Something soft and peaceful.

Most of them would probably get bored if he played it for them. John though, he’d like it. John could appreciate calm and peace.

John…he should talk to him. There was something important to say, but he couldn’t remember what.

He closed his eyes.

oOoOo

“It’s been forty minutes already, John. Please tell me you’ve found him!”

Gordon chewed on his lip as he listened to the space monitor once again respond with a negative.

He’d watched, helpless, as Virgil had fallen along with the crumbling road surface into the churning water below.

John had lost his suit telemetry almost immediately and comms shortly after that. Not that Virgil had responded to any of their shouts.

With the incident on the bridge under control, they’d turned all of their efforts to locating their missing operative, with local experts augmenting Thunderbird Five’s scans but nothing had come of it.

Yet.

“Yet” was the important bit.

“Alan, let’s do another pass. The tide’s turned so there’s a good chance Virg’ll be heading back this way.” It was nonsense, of course. He had nothing to base that on but if it gave hope then he would hold onto that lie until there was nothing left.

Wanting to give them every opportunity to find him, Gordon hung on the rescue harness and opened the bay doors, to allow him the closest view of the dark river as Alan carefully flew Thunderbird Two low over the surface.

This section, between the two bridges, was called the Swellies, apparently because of the whirlpools and rough water that characterised the area. It wasn’t unheard of for even experienced skippers to fall foul of the rocks and currents on this stretch.

He stared into the circles of light lancing down from Two willing a glimpse of their brother to appear before him.

There were the streaks of light from the rain, the whites of the wave-tops as they broke over the rocks, the reflective strips on the buoys where they marked the location of fish traps by the weir, and the occasional mass of dark blue and green driftwood making its way along with the current.

Wait! Blue and green!

“Alan! Go back! That mass of driftwood!” Gordon shouted into his comms, certain that it wasn’t just his imagination.

The spotlight seemed to stutter as Two reversed her position.

“There! I have eyes on him!”

Gordon dropped the line as fast as he could then dove into the water as soon as he was close enough.

The current pulled viciously as he surfaced and he understood why Virgil hadn’t responded to any of their calls. He surfaced, and going with the tide, swam over to the unconscious man.

Virgil’s lips were blue and his breathing laboured.

Gordon swore softly, “He’s got hypothermia. We’ve gotta get him out of the water.”

He ignored the background calls of instructions that weren’t addressed to him directly and concentrated on working his injured brother free of the branch that had saved him. That done, he wrestled the unconscious lump of muscle into the rescue harness and, kicking them both free of the driftwood, gave the command to haul them both up into the belly of Virgil’s beloved ‘bird.

He waited impatiently for Alan to close the bay doors, then released himself and hauled a hover stretcher under his brother and ran the med scanner over him.

“Alan, get us to the nearest hospital. Virgil’s temperature’s dangerously low.”

“FAB.”

Gordon could feel the ship bank as Alan guided her on the right path as he began peeling the torn and soaked uniform off to replace it with thermal blankets.

Moments later he heard the whine of the VTOL thrusters as Thunderbird Two settled on the ground and the module door opened to greet the team of medical staff who were racing to the helipad to take over.

It was the longest sixty seconds of Gordon’s life.

oOoOo

He was warm. Deliciously so. And the comfortable confinement of his weighted blanket made him feel languid and calm. It’d be better if that beeping would stop though. And he could do without whatever it was pressing around his nose and mouth.

“Hey, Virg. Back with us?”

It took a moment to place the voice, but then he remembered it was Gordon. Why was he in his room?

He tried opening his eyes, only to find them annoyingly gritty. A grimace later and he’d managed to crack them open enough to take in an unfamiliar room and a concerned look on his brother’s face.

That didn’t last though. As soon as Gordon registered that he was awake the blond broke out one of his signature sunshine smiles. “Welcome back, bro. No more falling off bridges. Okay?”

Memories of his fall and near drawing followed by being so cold he almost couldn’t feel it any more slammed into him. “Sure, Fish. I’ll try.”

His co-pilot grinned, “I’ll hold you to that.”