#as of now since this is an emergency ill only be doing sketch comms

[spaciebabie]

to be more specific ill be back in 1-2 days. i just need ta know the severity of what im dealing with first

alright so two family emergencies w/in the span of two weeks dictate I open up commms sooner than I anticipated I will come back later with more information

[gumnut-logic]

Scott came home exhausted.

Sure, ultimately, he had had John on board and the mission had been a success, but still flying Thunderbird Three was very different from flying Thunderbird One.

Once the great red ‘bird was silent in her gantry and he had finished post-flight checks, he activated the pilot retrieval process and the mechanics pulled him backwards and disembarkation took over.

The system dumped him in the locker room and he dragged himself into a shower and into his clothes.

He would have then dragged himself into bed, but his body was demanding sustenance and honestly, he really needed to check on Virgil and Gordon who were still on the other side of the planet digging up a mudslide.

So one am found him stumbling into the comms room. It was dark, the only light was moonlight, but it was enough to sketch out the room, ghost the portraits and give him enough guidance to make his way to his father’s desk. He could have activated the lights, but the dark was restful and calming after the screaming of emergency lighting and terrified people.

“Scott?”

The voice out of nowhere scared his adrenal glands into sudden production and he let out a decidedly high-pitched yelp.

A lump moved on the circular lounge and he stumbled backwards.

It really was a sign of exactly how exhausted he was.

“You okay?” The voice was small and tentative and…decidedly snotty.

“Alan? What the hell are you doing up?! You should be asleep.”

“Wanted to wait for you.”

His heart began to slow, its frantic beating still loud in his ears. “Does Grandma know you’re up?”

“Nooo.”

Scott sighed. This is why he had grey hair. Little brothers. He ran a hand across his face. “Why are you still awake? You need your sleep to recover. The doctor was very adamant about that.”

“I am resting. Just on the couch.” A sniffle. “I was worried about you.”

Another sigh, but this time Scott skipped down the steps into the circular lounge and sat down beside his littlest brother. “I was fine, Allie. I’m fully trained on Thunderbird Three, you know that. Maybe not as proficient as you, but I’m capable. Besides, I had John watching my back. You know how pedantic he is for safety up there.”

The shadow that was his brother shifted along the lounge and curled up against his arm. “I know.” Another sniffle. “It’s just hard, you know. Don’t like being left behind. Sick of being sick.”

Scott let his shoulders drop and lifted his arm, drawing his little brother close. “You’re getting better. It won’t be much longer.”

He received a grunt for that.

Alan had developed a nasty flu during an evacuation in Bangladesh. Fortunately, he had been with Virgil on Two at the time and not alone in space. Fortunately or not, the worried yell from his engineer brother when he found Alan passed out in Two’s main corridor spoke of the reason why Scott suspected Virgil dyed his hair.

There had been a mad dash to hospital after that. Two scorched the lawn in the reserve opposite the Auckland Hospital…again. One of these days, they would give iR a reserved space to land. It would save Scott from having to pay for extra greenskeepers every damn time there was an emergency.

Of course, it wasn’t your usual everyday flu. No, Alan was a Tracy, therefore it was a life threatening rare, tear your hair out as it goes grey kind of virus and it had been very scary for a few days there.

Virgil had been beside himself and Scott worried out of his mind. All the brothers had gathered terrified that they were about to lose their youngest.

There had been tears.

But Alan was tough. Life had always been hard to their littlest. He had lost so much, missed out on so much, and apparently that virus wasn’t up to the fight Alan was willing to throw at it, so it died.

And Alan slowly, ever so slowly, started getting better.

Those days were long past now and Alan only had the dregs. He had been cleared by disease control and allowed home. None of the older brothers had tested positive and it seemed they had escaped another bullet aimed at the Tracy family.

But it had been terrifying.

So Alan was under general moddle-coddling and if Grandma found him out here in the middle of the night there would be all hell to pay.

Scott understood his little brother’s reasoning though.

It was his ‘bird and he wasn’t flying.

“She performed perfectly.”

“Didn’t expect she wouldn’t.” His brother snuggled into his side, the sixteen-year-old reduced to six-year-old behaviour by his illness. “Was lonely.”

“Oh.” Scott tightened his hold.

With Virgil and Gordon out on a mission, the house would be quiet.

“Are they okay?”

“They were when I dropped off John. He would let us know if there were any problems.” Didn’t stop Scott from wanting to double check anyway. Hence his presence in the lounge.

“Can we watch?”

Scott blinked. “I guess so.”

Fumbling in the dark, he found the ‘projector remote and hit the on button. “John?”

His space brother’s tired hologram flickered into the middle of the lounge. “Scott? What are you still doing up? Is there a problem?” A frown as John noticed the other occupant of the sofa. “Alan? You should be in bed. Grandma will blow a circuit if she finds you up.”

“Alan was waiting for me.” It was the Commander’s voice. God, he was tired. A sigh. “Sorry, John, could you relay Virgil and Gordon’s monitoring feed down here? Alan wants to check on them.”

John stared at them a moment. “Okay. FAB.”

His holographic form flickered out to be replaced by a view from Two’s external camera. Virgil walked past covered in mud yelling at someone.

The someone turned out to be an equally mud-covered Gordon. Hell, the strawberry blond was a brunet. Both brothers looked as exhausted as Scott felt as they had a rather energetic discussion. Fortunately, it appeared that the rescue was over and Virgil was loading up the pod into its module. Unfortunately, tired meant grumpy and impatient.

“They look exhausted.”

“It was a nasty rescue. Far too many people died.”

“But they made a difference, didn’t they?” It was a child-like question that they both knew the answer to, but Alan had asked it anyway.

“Yes, they made a difference. Two hundred and three people hauled alive out of the mud today because of International Rescue.”

“We do good.”

“Yeah, we do.”

Gordon threw a glob of mud at Virgil’s head and the resultant yelling match was extensive. Scott sighed. “They need to come home.” He fiddled with the controls and set it to transmit his voice. “Thunderbird Two from Tracy Island. What the hell do you two think you are doing?”

On the ‘projector both brothers jumped as if a voice had come from above. Which it had since both Two’s camera and external speaker were a considerable distance over their heads.

“Mission complete, Tracy Island. Working through clean up. Estimated departure, ten minutes.” At least Virgil managed to regain most of his composure.

“Good. Now stop mucking around and drag your tired butts home.”

“Uh, FAB, Tracy Island.” Virgil stared at Gordon as if Scott had lost a few marbles. But the two of them executed the last of the pack up in an orderly fashion and exactly ten minutes later, their view launched with a flare of VTOL. The ground disappeared beneath and as Virgil hit the rear thrusters, it all became a blur.

Scott hit the kill switch and the room fell into darkness once again.

“They’ll be home soon.”

“Mmmhmm.”

Alan’s head was heavy on his shoulder, but warm and reassuring. Scott brought his other arm around and turned slightly so his brother could curl in a little closer, his head now more under Scott’s chin. Alan muttered something and snuggled up.

Scott rested his cheek against soft hair as Alan’s breathing drifted into the even pace of sleep, the remains of the infection that had brought them so close to losing him, now little more than a rough edge to each breath.

Closing his eyes, Scott revelled in having this moment, of not being denied it, of having another chance.

A moment where exhaustion and relief met and he drifted away.

-o-o-o-

Virgil entered the comms room to find it dark except for the moonlight shining through the rafters. It was just enough light to outline two brothers curled up on the couch together, both deeply asleep.

Deep enough that Virgil was surprised to find his inadvertent entrance hadn’t disturbed the ever fragile slumber of his eldest brother. So, feeling daring, he grabbed a throw rug and wrapped it gently about the two of them.

Neither stirred at all.

Miracles were possible.

Virgil smiled before tiptoeing out and leaving them there in the moonlight.

Together.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

[gumnut-logic]

Together

This little piece is for @ak47stylegirl who has been having a bad time recently. Hopefully this will bring you a little smile when you wake up in the morning ::hugs::

-o-o-o-

Scott came home exhausted.

Sure, ultimately, he had had John on board and the mission had been a success, but still flying Thunderbird Three was very different from flying Thunderbird One.

Once the great red ‘bird was silent in her gantry and he had finished post-flight checks, he activated the pilot retrieval process and the mechanics pulled him backwards and disembarkation took over.

The system dumped him in the locker room and he dragged himself into a shower and into his clothes.

He would have then dragged himself into bed, but his body was demanding sustenance and honestly, he really needed to check on Virgil and Gordon who were still on the other side of the planet digging up a mudslide.

So one am found him stumbling into the comms room. It was dark, the only light was moonlight, but it was enough to sketch out the room, ghost the portraits and give him enough guidance to make his way to his father’s desk. He could have activated the lights, but the dark was restful and calming after the screaming of emergency lighting and terrified people.

“Scott?”

The voice out of nowhere scared his adrenal glands into sudden production and he let out a decidedly high-pitched yelp.

A lump moved on the circular lounge and he stumbled backwards.

It really was a sign of exactly how exhausted he was.

“You okay?” The voice was small and tentative and...decidedly snotty.

“Alan? What the hell are you doing up?! You should be asleep.”

“Wanted to wait for you.”

His heart began to slow, its frantic beating still loud in his ears. “Does Grandma know you’re up?”

“Nooo.”

Scott sighed. This is why he had grey hair. Little brothers. He ran a hand across his face. “Why are you still awake? You need your sleep to recover. The doctor was very adamant about that.”

“I am resting. Just on the couch.” A sniffle. “I was worried about you.”

Another sigh, but this time Scott skipped down the steps into the circular lounge and sat down beside his littlest brother. “I was fine, Allie. I’m fully trained on Thunderbird Three, you know that. Maybe not as proficient as you, but I’m capable. Besides, I had John watching my back. You know how pedantic he is for safety up there.”

The shadow that was his brother shifted along the lounge and curled up against his arm. “I know.” Another sniffle. “It’s just hard, you know. Don’t like being left behind. Sick of being sick.”

Scott let his shoulders drop and lifted his arm, drawing his little brother close. “You’re getting better. It won’t be much longer.”

He received a grunt for that.

Alan had developed a nasty flu during an evacuation in Bangladesh. Fortunately, he had been with Virgil on Two at the time and not alone in space. Fortunately or not, the worried yell from his engineer brother when he found Alan passed out in Two’s main corridor spoke of the reason why Scott suspected Virgil dyed his hair.

There had been a mad dash to hospital after that. Two scorched the lawn in the reserve opposite the Auckland Hospital...again. One of these days, they would give iR a reserved space to land. It would save Scott from having to pay for extra greenskeepers every damn time there was an emergency.

Of course, it wasn’t your usual everyday flu. No, Alan was a Tracy, therefore it was a life threatening rare, tear your hair out as it goes grey kind of virus and it had been very scary for a few days there.

Virgil had been beside himself and Scott worried out of his mind. All the brothers had gathered terrified that they were about to lose their youngest.

There had been tears.

But Alan was tough. Life had always been hard to their littlest. He had lost so much, missed out on so much, and apparently that virus wasn’t up to the fight Alan was willing to throw at it, so it died.

And Alan slowly, ever so slowly, started getting better.

Those days were long past now and Alan only had the dregs. He had been cleared by disease control and allowed home. None of the older brothers had tested positive and it seemed they had escaped another bullet aimed at the Tracy family.

But it had been terrifying.

So Alan was under general moddle-coddling and if Grandma found him out here in the middle of the night there would be all hell to pay.

Scott understood his little brother’s reasoning though.

It was his ‘bird and he wasn’t flying.

“She performed perfectly.”

“Didn’t expect she wouldn’t.” His brother snuggled into his side, the sixteen-year-old reduced to six-year-old behaviour by his illness. “Was lonely.”

“Oh.” Scott tightened his hold.

With Virgil and Gordon out on a mission, the house would be quiet.

“Are they okay?”

“They were when I dropped off John. He would let us know if there were any problems.” Didn’t stop Scott from wanting to double check anyway. Hence his presence in the lounge.

“Can we watch?”

Scott blinked. “I guess so.”

Fumbling in the dark, he found the ‘projector remote and hit the on button. “John?”

His space brother’s tired hologram flickered into the middle of the lounge. “Scott? What are you still doing up? Is there a problem?” A frown as John noticed the other occupant of the sofa. “Alan? You should be in bed. Grandma will blow a circuit if she finds you up.”

“Alan was waiting for me.” It was the Commander’s voice. God, he was tired. A sigh. “Sorry, John, could you relay Virgil and Gordon’s monitoring feed down here? Alan wants to check on them.”

John stared at them a moment. “Okay. FAB.”

His holographic form flickered out to be replaced by a view from Two’s external camera. Virgil walked past covered in mud yelling at someone.

The someone turned out to be an equally mud-covered Gordon. Hell, the strawberry blond was a brunet. Both brothers looked as exhausted as Scott felt as they had a rather energetic discussion. Fortunately, it appeared that the rescue was over and Virgil was loading up the pod into its module. Unfortunately, tired meant grumpy and impatient.

“They look exhausted.”

“It was a nasty rescue. Far too many people died.”

“But they made a difference, didn’t they?” It was a child-like question that they both knew the answer to, but Alan had asked it anyway.

“Yes, they made a difference. Two hundred and three people hauled alive out of the mud today because of International Rescue.”

“We do good.”

“Yeah, we do.”

Gordon threw a glob of mud at Virgil’s head and the resultant yelling match was extensive. Scott sighed. “They need to come home.” He fiddled with the controls and set it to transmit his voice. “Thunderbird Two from Tracy Island. What the hell do you two think you are doing?”

On the ‘projector both brothers jumped as if a voice had come from above. Which it had since both Two’s camera and external speaker were a considerable distance over their heads.

“Mission complete, Tracy Island. Working through clean up. Estimated departure, ten minutes.” At least Virgil managed to regain most of his composure.

“Good. Now stop mucking around and drag your tired butts home.”

“Uh, FAB, Tracy Island.” Virgil stared at Gordon as if Scott had lost a few marbles. But the two of them executed the last of the pack up in an orderly fashion and exactly ten minutes later, their view launched with a flare of VTOL. The ground disappeared beneath and as Virgil hit the rear thrusters, it all became a blur.

Scott hit the kill switch and the room fell into darkness once again.

“They’ll be home soon.”

“Mmmhmm.”

Alan’s head was heavy on his shoulder, but warm and reassuring. Scott brought his other arm around and turned slightly so his brother could curl in a little closer, his head now more under Scott’s chin. Alan muttered something and snuggled up.

Scott rested his cheek against soft hair as Alan’s breathing drifted into the even pace of sleep, the remains of the infection that had brought them so close to losing him, now little more than a rough edge to each breath.

Closing his eyes, Scott revelled in having this moment, of not being denied it, of having another chance.

A moment where exhaustion and relief met and he drifted away.

-o-o-o-

Virgil entered the comms room to find it dark except for the moonlight shining through the rafters. It was just enough light to outline two brothers curled up on the couch together, both deeply asleep.

Deep enough that Virgil was surprised to find his inadvertent entrance hadn’t disturbed the ever fragile slumber of his eldest brother. So, feeling daring, he grabbed a throw rug and wrapped it gently about the two of them.

Neither stirred at all.

Miracles were possible.

Virgil smiled before tiptoeing out and leaving them there in the moonlight.

Together.

-o-o-o-

FIN.