#i like to think virgil did them for all his brothers (except alan who is NOT old enough to make good tattoo decisions) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cg29fics · 3 years ago

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Pick and Mix Collection

A selection of Little Tracy fics for @gordonthegreatesttracy and @psychoseal

All can be found with other short stories in my Pick & Mix Collection on AO3 & FFNet: CreativeGirl29

School Reports. Aged 8.

Scott Tracy:

Scott is a bright young boy, who is extremely popular with all his classmates. He is always first to put himself forward for team challenges and is a natural team leader. However, Scott tends to be impulsive and rush into an activity or challenge, which on occasions as cost him a higher mark. Scott excels in English, Geography and Physical Education but tends to struggle in maths.

John Tracy:

John is a quiet, introspective and intelligent young man, who excels in Science, Maths, English and Information Technology. John as the potential to go far in life and could be moved up a grade if he was to apply himself to what he once referred to as the ‘boring subjects’ and stop correcting myself and my other colleagues when we are trying to teach.

Virgil Tracy:

Virgil is a lovely, thoughtful boy, who always listens in class, speaks when he is spoken to, and on occasions has gone out of his way to support other classmates when they are struggling. Virgil has a gift for art, music and history. He also recently earned top marks when we taught first-aid in his class. However, I would like to bring to your attention Virgil’s tendency to day dream when he is not taking part in one of his favourite subjects.

Gordon Tracy:

Gordon is a conundrum and seems to have two sides to him. On the one side, you have the sweet boy who will always be there for his friends, excels in physical education, especially swimming and did surprisingly well when we did our big baking day. However, the other side of Gordon has a habit of constantly chatting in class, despite being asked to be quiet and as unfortunately become known as the school clown. If Gordon were to apply himself in all his work instead of drawing pictures of himself as a fish, he could gain good marks in all his classes.

Alan Tracy:

Alan is a smart boy who as always got a smile on his face. When he is interested in a subject, or as been caught by an idea he is an absolute pleasure to teach. However, like his brother before him, he tends to chat in class, and on many occasions, has had his portable computer console confiscated when he has been found playing on it, instead of learning. Alan struggles in History but excels in science and maths. I would also like to bring to your attention Alan’s report on ‘Our Heroes.’ All the children in his class decided to write about a celebrity, sports personality or historical figure. Instead, Alan wrote a fantastic and touching report where he named his older brother John as his hero and who he would most like to be like when he grows up.

5 more fics beneath the cut

STAR BOY:

"John you've been told not to run in the house." His father complained, catching his 4-year-old son in his arms.

"I'm not John." John answered with a serious face.

"Oh, you're not?" Jeff remarked, observing the cape John had attempted to make out of his comfort blanket. "Well, I must say, you certainly look like my John!"

"Shush! Daddy." John whispered. No one can know my secret ident…" John paused, thinking about the word he was struggling to say. "Ident…"

Jeff smiled. "Identity."

John grinned. "Yeah, my secret identity."

"So, who are you then?" Jeff inquired curiously.

"I'm Star Boy." John shouted, as he managed to struggle free and started running around in circles.

Jeff let out a chuckle at his son's exuberance. "So, Star Boy. What powers do you have?"

"Fly in space." John cried with joy.

"And what's your current mission Jo… I mean Star Boy?"

John ground himself to a sudden halt. "Find baby Virgie!" He stated with a thoughtful look.

"Virgil." Jeff corrected. "And he's not missing, he's nice and safe in your mummy's tummy."

John stared at his dad in confusion. "But I heard you and mummy say that he was late, and then mummy said if he didn't turn up soon she would…"

"Okay, John." Jeff said cutting John off. He would have to have a word to Lucille about what John had overheard. He knew she would be mortified but John seemed to have exceptional hearing and they both knew that their boy was very bright for his age. Jeff held his arms out for his current youngest son. John happily ran into them, and let himself be pulled up onto his father's lap. "Now, Virgil is still safe in your mummy's tummy, the reason he's late is because your mum has made it so comfortable in there that he doesn't want to leave yet."

"But I want to find him, cause then I'll get to be big brother like Scotty." John frowned.

Jeff pulled John into a warm hug. "And you will be a brilliant big brother just like Scott." He assured him.

As Jeff held John tightly in his arms, a shout from his mother came from in the kitchen, followed by his oldest son running into the room.

"Daddy, Grandma said to tell you mummy's waters broken!" Scott panted.

Jeff pulled himself to his feet, keeping John firmly in one arm, and taking Scott's hand with the other. "Well, my Star Boy." Jeff said, looking at John with pride. "It looks like your mission was successful!"

"It was?" John asked with a puzzled expression.

Jeff beamed as he stood John next to Scott, who automatically took his little brother's hand in his. "Yes, you did!" He added, with a concerned look towards the kitchen as he heard his mother and Lucille call for him once more. "Looks like baby Virgil is on his way!"

Several hours later:

John grinned with joy, as with his mother's help, he held his new baby brother in his arms. "Hey, Virgie." He said softly. "I'm John, your big brother… And my secret is I'm also Star Boy." He whispered. "I helped find you today!" John looked at Virgil who gazed at him with his big eyes. "And my next mission is to be your big brother." He said with a contented sigh.

4 little brothers.

12 year old Scott Tracy stretched out in his bed, enjoying the warmth from is duvet on a cold winters night. Yes, this was his time. His time to relax after a full on day spent with 4 hyper younger brothers. His time to bask in the peace and quiet his room provided…

… THUNDERCLAP … the pouring rain began hammering at his window …

Scott sighed, threw back his blanket and began counting "5, 4, 3, 2, 1…"

… THUNDERCLAP … 4 scared little brothers rushed into his room …

"Come on then, jump in."

… THUNDERCLAP… 4 scared little brothers scurried noisily into the bed.

Pulling the blanket over them all Scott smiled when he felt each of them snuggle up to him. 'Forget the peace and quiet,' he thought to himself. He would prefer to have his 4 brothers any day!

First Day.

“Don’t want too…” Alan whined, clinging desperately onto his father’s trousers.

“But you have to,” Jeff returned, trying to loosen his son’s grip.

“Why?”

“Because…” Jeff paused, then exhaled, he had no answer for his baby. Honestly, he was out of his depth, normally this was Lucille’s job, but she wasn’t here like she had been for his other boys… He glanced at his four sons standing close by, none of them had wanted to miss this moment, none of them wanted Alan to feel like he was missing out on something, even though they knew that he was. After all, it shouldn’t be them doing this, it should be their mother. They’d all had her here for their first day, but Alan wouldn’t… And even though he hadn’t said anything they could see it in his eyes that he knew he was different from all of the other kids who were being dropped off by their moms.

“Because,” Scott said, stepping forwards, “you will get to make some cool new friends.”

“I will?”

“Yes,” John replied, “and you can play with some neat toys.”

“And when I was here,” Gordon added, “they had some awesome toy dolphins, and a submarine…”

Alan scrunched up his tiny nose.

Gordon grinned. “They also had some cars and toy rockets!”

“Wow!” Alan exclaimed.

“You can also draw and paint,” Virgil informed him.

“Without getting told off for using your paints?”

“As long as you share with your classmates,” Virgil said with a big smile, “then you can use whatever you want… And maybe you could bring me a picture back of your favourite toy?”

Alan nodded enthusiastically, then looked up to his dad. “I’m ready to go now daddy!”

Jeff knelt down so his eyes were level with Alan’s. “Have a brilliant day son.”

Alan beamed, loosened his grip, then immediately ran towards his teacher.

Standing, Jeff reached out and brought his four other boys into a warm hold. Knowing that whenever he was out of his depth then his amazing sons would always have his back.

The Beast

It was dark. Only a few rays of sunlight managing to penetrate the lair he had entered. He had been warned on numerous occasions about the beast that inhabited this area and was known to attack when woken, but he had not believed. Yes, he had seen it on many occasions, but all of those times it had been funny, friendly and caring. Surely, just because it was woken early it wouldn't attack. Especially since it was him.

He creeped closer. Currently it was lying on its stomach, eyes were tightly shut, and bizarre noises were emitting from it. Finally, reaching his destination he leant towards it, his hand reaching out, but then a sudden snort from the thing in front of him was released causing him to jump back. Maybe it wasn't best to disturb it? Maybe Gordon was right, and the beast did attack if provoked this early? Although his brother was known to make things up. This probably was just one of his jokes and the usual encounter would be received. He had to be brave and find out the truth. Straightening himself up, he stepped forwards, and placed his hand confidently on the shoulder in front of him…

"Virg…"

No movement, no signs of him waking, so he tried again…

"Virgie?"

This time a groan emitted from his brother, then once again he grew quiet…

"Virgie," he pushed harder on his shoulder, "please wake up."

A yawn, and a pair of bleary eyes opened, grumpy and nothing like the kind-hearted peaceful ones he was used to… He moved backwards… Maybe this was a mistake… But then there eyes met, and a soft gentle smile illuminated the features of his brother.

"Hey Alligator, what's up?"

"Nothing," Alan replied with a little snigger at the nickname.

Virgil regarded the three-year-old in front of him. "Nothing, really?"

"Well, Gordy said you were a beast in the morning, but I didn't believe him, so he said I should come and see for myself."

"Did he indeed?"

Alan nodded his head.

"Well, I'm not a beast."

"Knew it!" Alan cheered happily.

"But," Virgil looked at his clock, "when I am woken this early, I am known to turn into a bear."

Alan gasped in shock.

"And you know what bears do, right?"

Alan scrunched up his little nose and shuck his head…

"Well, they are known to attack."

"Really?"

"Yes, with…" Virgil paused for dramatic effect… "tickles!"

A fit of giggles erupted from Alan when Virgil pounced, flung him over his shoulder, then onto the bed where he began tickling him madly.

Baby Talk

"Hi, I'm Scott, I'm four years old, I love aeroplanes and jumping off the couch. Although mummy and daddy tell me off for that one. My best friend became a big brother to a little sister last year, he's really good at it, and I want to be the same. So, I will always cuddle you, care for you, and when you get bigger I will help you to learn all of the things I found hard. I promise that I will be the best big brother you could ask for…" He leaned in and kissed his mother's tummy, feeling a kick back in response… "Love you too!"

#cg29fics #thunderbirds fanfiction #Little Tracy's #TAG Pick & Mix Collection #Thunderbirds #Thunderbirds Are Go #Thunderbirds Are Go Fanfiction #Thunderfam Delivery #Thunderbirds Fandom

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littleoldrachel · 3 years ago

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"well, it's the thought that counts"

for the wonderful @rachfielden-xo who literally sent this in a month ago (sorrrrry and thank you!!) and asked for well, it's the thought that counts with scott and alan from this prompt list.

this legit turned into scott teaching alan to make pancakes and i'm not even mad about it. the recipe the boys are using is [here].

[if you wanna prompt me, hmu!]

*~*~*~*~*

There are lots of things Alan doesn’t understand.

Black holes. Why his momma isn’t coming back ever again. The reason a Mars sunset streaks blue. Why Virgil has become some soulless cavity and John won’t say a word. How, despite year after year of technological advances, there’s still no evidence of alien lifeforms out there.

Why Scott never has time for him anymore.

It’s been days since Scott even said more than a few words to Alan, weeks since he last crushed Scott at videogames - he hasn’t even taken him to the park since -

Well.

And it’s not that he doesn’t love spending time with his other brothers; Gordon annoys the heck out of him on a daily basis but makes him laugh till it hurts far more. John is the one who gets him, who refuses to dumb down scientific explanations, who shares his passion for all things space. And Virgil - Virgil Before, that is - is the only person who knows how to hug him just right, who listens no matter how banal Alan’s worries are.

He loves them so much his heart might explode apart like a zombie’s head meeting his videogame character’s bazooka - except Alan’s not ever leaving them, not ever, not now he knows what that does to them all.

It’s just that Scott is fast turning into Dad, notable only by his absence.

And Alan doesn’t need another one of those.

More than that though, he can see the way his brother is running himself ragged trying to be mother and father and everything in between, and despite Virgil’s interventions and John’s best efforts, it’s not getting any better.

Which is where Alan comes in.

Alan is going to save his brother because he’s no baby, despite what everyone thinks.

What he lands on is simple but effective: he’s going to make Scott his favourite breakfast and draw him a card to say thank you, because he wants Scott to know Alan sees everything he’s doing to keep them afloat.

The card is straightforward enough - he’s no Virgil, but he’s pretty sure it’s clearly a rocket that he’s drawn. His tongue pokes out as he colours in as carefully as he can, only going over the lines a few times. He draws himself and Scott in the window of the rocket, grinning wildly (perhaps a little manically if he’s being honest) and adds Mars to the background.

Inside, in wobbly, looping script he prints:

Deer Scotty

Thanks for bing the best. I love you.

Love

Alan

Mission: Amazing Card - completed.

Now he just needs to make the pancakes.

Right then. First step is the ingredients.

In theory, this should be straightforward enough. Alan has seen Scott do this numerous times, had half-listened when Virgil taught John, and has eaten more of these pancakes than he can begin to count (but never enough!).

Alan pushes a chair against the counter, uses it to hoist himself onto the surface, and scrambles to the cupboard.

He knows that there’s a mountain of flour involved, because the little puffs of white powder always fluff through the sieve and make him sneeze. What he didn’t anticipate was that there would be different types of flour, in neat colour coded packages. He picks red, because it’s his favourite colour, and dumps as much of it as he can through the sieve, poking at it with his fingers to push it through.

It doesn’t look as neat as when Scott does it, and the entire surface is already dusted with flour, but most of it is in the bowl, so he’s doing okay.

He goes for brute strength with the eggs, smashing them into the side of the bowl. Little pieces of shell slide into the mixture with the yolk, but it’s so slippery he can’t get them out. Fingers coated in sloppy flour, he retreats. Maybe Scott won’t mind the crunchiness.

The milk carton is far heavier than Alan anticipated, and he loses his grip on the condensation-slick handle, watching in slo-mo horror as a glug of milk hits the side of the bowl, ricochets off it -

And splat!

It lands straight on top of Alan’s card, and Alan -

He’s not going to cry, he’s not -

His mom always said he shouldn’t cry over spilt milk, except this time it’s ruined everything.

Milk drips off the counter and Alan clenches his fists, willing the baby inside him to shut up. Eventually, the upset reassembles itself into a grumpiness that has him whisking furiously. The mixture slops all over the place, decorating the floor, countertop and his too-big apron with splatters of batter. It’s a lot runnier than Scott’s usually is, but by now Alan Does Not Care, he just wants to get this done and hug Scotty.

He’s just standing in front of the oven, wondering which dial is for which of the flame things, when the kitchen door opens.

Sixteen-year-old Scott, whose eyes have circles far deeper and greyer than they have any right to be, is standing there, and Alan becomes Very Aware all of a sudden of what the kitchen must look like through Scott’s eyes:

Flour absolutely everywhere (he can feel on his eyelashes and tickling his nose), little pools of batter all over the floor, Alan with his hand on the stove to work out how to make the fire come out -

“What the hell.”

Scott takes a deep breath, presses the heel of his hand to his eyes and says, “what are you doing, Alan?”

Alan forces himself to stand up tall like Dad always says. “Making you breakfast.”

There’s a pause, and Scott surveys the disaster zone once more. “I can see that,” he says finally, voice a little faint.

Alan swallows because this isn’t at all like he wanted it to go, but he brandishes the bowl of batter and does his best to peel the card from the surface. “For you!”

Scott stares, but takes the bowl. “Is this.... pancake mix?”

Alan nods eagerly, “your favourite! And here.”

The cursed milk smudged his amazing drawing, but it’s still sort of a rocket. Scott carefully prises open the card, and his whole body softens as he reads the message inside. “Allie,” he manages, “Allie, this is so -”

He presses a fist to his mouth and Alan watches in horror as his Neptune eyes shine overly-bright. This was supposed to be a nice thing, but he got it all wrong -

“I’m sorry,” Alan cries, flinging himself at Scott in a hug. “Don’t cry, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to make such a mess -”

“Allie, no -” Scott’s voice is firmer now, but Alan can’t bear to look at him falling apart like Virgil and John and Dad, because Scott is Scott and he can’t fall apart. It will obliterate Alan’s heart like a grenade in a zombie hideout if he has to see Scott cry.

Scott crouches though, and Alan’s forced to make eye contact. He’s relieved to see that Scott’s face has lost its sadness.

“Thank you so much for all of this, Allie,” Scott says, so sincere and so strongly, it washes something warm and safe over Alan’s shoulders.

“But it’s t-t-terrible! The pancakes are all wrong and I don’t know how to cook them and the card got milked and - and -” Alan can hear the wail in his voice and he resents it; it knocks hard into the defiant figure inside him that insists I’m not a baby!

“It’s not terrible, Allie. It’s - it’s lovely.”

“You’re saying that to make me feel better.” He can’t help but pout.

“No, I mean it. I love it - all of it.”

“Even the mess?”

“Even the mess.”

“Why?”

“Because… Well, it’s the thought that counts, Allie.”

Alan wrinkles his nose and Scott grins, using his sleeve to wipe off some of the stray flour. “I mean it. The fact that you wanted to do something nice for me makes me really happy.”

Alan hmphs, but tucks himself into Scott’s side and Scott obliges, squeezing him tight in one of those cuddles Alan has missed so much.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been around much, Allie, but I love you and I’m gonna do better, ‘kay?”

Alan stiffens and pulls away. “Wait no! That’s what this was for, Scotty.” He wants to stamp his foot in frustration so bad, but knows that’s Baby Behaviour and so he settles for a scowl. “I don’t want you trying to do more when you already do everything! I just miss you, I don’t need you to do anything better. I just need Scotty.”

Scott is blinking too fast for the second time in ten minutes. “Did Virg put you up to this?” he says a little hoarsely.

Alan frowns. “No. But if he thinks the same thing, shouldn’t you be listening?”

Scott’s eyes widen, and he ducks his head, covers his eyes again.

Alan goes back in for a hug, presses his cheek into Scott’s chest and listens to the steady thump-thump of his heart. He feels Scott take a deep breath and put his armour back up, and Alan’s heart makes a sad little clench.

“What do you say we make some pancakes together? Ones that are actually edible?” Scott clambers to his feet with a grin.

“Hey! They would be!” Alan protests, but then he looks back at the mixture, which is congealing in watery lumps and he fights a smile.

“But first,” Scott flattens the card and clips it to the fridge with a magnet, and Alan -

Alan’s heart skips.

It’s been a long time since any of them - even Virgil - have had anything hung on the fridge. But his little card - his silly, ruined card - is up there in pride of place and that means more to him than he knows what to do with.

Scott ruffles his hair, dislodging the flour that’s gathered itself there, and for once Alan doesn’t have the words to protest. Scott half-turns, catches Alan’s lost expression, and shoots him the gentlest of smiles.

“Ready to make the best pancakes in the world?”

As if he even needs to ask.

Scott easily sorts through the cupboard, drawing out the blue flour, a pot of baking powder, and some sugar. It’s all white.

“Why do they have to make all the important stuff the same colour?” Alan complains, and Scott laughs, loudly and easily. It’s a wonderful sound.

“Here’s something that’s a different colour,” Scott says, tossing eggs between his palms with an assured ease. “It’s egg time.”

He passes one to Alan, and Alan goes to smash it against the bowl, when -

“Wait!”

Alan pauses, mid-swing, and Scott plucks the egg from him.

“Gently, Allie. Like this.”

Scott repositions his hands so that his grip on the egg is looser, then gently moves his wrist to give one sharp tap against the side of the bowl. The egg breaks, golden yolk dripping out, but miraculously, no shell escapes.

“Reckon you can do the next one on your own?” Scott asks, and Alan nods at once. He looks to Scott to check he’s doing it right, and every time Scott is there to meet his gaze.

(As he always is, always will be).

Scott helps him to lift the milk carton, and between them, they pour it into a little well that Scott instructs him to dig in the mixture. Scott hands Alan a whisk with a solemnity that Alan recognises from Gordon’s pranks, and sure enough, no sooner than he’s taken it, Scott is brandishing a spatula and yelling “en garde!” and then it’s all out war.

“Loser has to whisk the mixture!” Scott says between parries, and Alan knows he’s being deliberately slow and clumsy but if that’s how he wants to play, then so be it. Alan blocks a few of Scott’s easy strikes, and feigns left, before darting right to jab him in the ribs.

“Victory!” he yells.

Scott crashes to his knees in mock agony. “You got me!”

Alan pushes the bowl towards him smugly. “Your punishment.”

“So merciful.”

“No talking! Only whisking!”

With Scott’s expert hands, the batter turns into a smooth, creamy mixture, and he guides Alan as the chocolate chips are poured in. “And now we fold.”

“Fold? Like paper?”

Scott grins, and Alan scowls. “Don’t laugh at me.”

“Sorry kiddo. Like this.” Scott shows Alan a gentle scraping motion that turns the mixture towards the centre of the bowl.

“Are we there yet?” The chocolate chips are making Alan’s mouth water, and as messy and inaccurate as his recipe might have been, it was at least quicker.

“Nearly. Let me just heat the pan.”

Scott dashes the pan with a blob of butter, and smiles softly as it begins to sizzle and melt, before he turns sharply to Alan.

“Hey, Allie?”

“Mm?”

“Please don’t use the stove without me or Virg there, okay?”

A ladle of pancake batter goes into the pan, and Alan stares at it in anticipation.

“But it was an emergency.”

“And you could have asked Virg, even if you wanted to surprise me.”

Alan frowns, crosses his arms. “He wouldn’t have helped, he’s always in bed these days.” Scott swallows, the crease of concern back between his eyebrows and Alan’s heart sinks. “I didn’t mean that. He would help, really.”

“He’s just really sad, Allie. Give him some time.”

“We’re all really sad,” Alan says, in a smaller voice than he intends.

There’s a pause, and Scott says, equally small, “I know.”

Scott removes the pan, passes it to Alan, and gently adjusts his grip, until -

“One, two, three, flip!”

The pancake does a perfect somersault, landing uncooked side down in the pan, and Scott beams, even though his eyes look so sad.

Silence falls once more, and Alan finally looks up at Scott, surprised when he’s already watching him.

“I love you, Allie. So much.”

Alan blinks, but the words come easily - he’s not yet at Gordon’s age where such declarations are Deeply Embarrassing. “Love you, Scotty.”

“I know the last few months have been really rough,” Scott says slowly, as though he’s measuring each word out like ingredients. “But never forget that I love you and all of us love you. It’s okay to be sad, but you don’t need to deal with it on your own, okay?”

Alan nods, tucks himself into Scott’s side once more, because the contact feels more important than words right now. Heck, he doesn’t even know what he could say to that. It’s everything he knows technically, but hearing it said out loud? It hits different in a way that knocks all the words right out of his head.

On cue, the pancake has turned into a golden-brown puffed up beauty, and Scott grins widely.

“Bets on who’ll be the first to smell this and make their way down to join in?”

Alan laughs. “Definitely Gordon.”

“Nah, Virg has a weird sixth sense about pancakes.”

*~*~*~*~*

They’re both wrong as it turns out.

John slinks into the kitchen, followed shortly after by a bright-eyed Gordon (“that doesn’t count, Allie!” “Does too!” “Does not!”) and a dull-eyed Virgil.

Whilst Scott and Alan stack up the pancakes, Scott corrals the others into beginning the clean-up process. There’s some good-natured ribbing about the Disaster pancake mixture, which has started solidifying alarmingly quickly, and Virgil spots the card on the fridge, turning to Alan with the first genuine smile he’s seen from him in so long.

Everyone is ravenous by the time there are a sufficient amount of pancakes for them all, and then it’s every man for himself as they wrestle for sauces and squabble over the last pancakes.

It’s the first time they’ve all eaten a meal together in so long, and it’s the best gift he could have ever given Scott, even though he couldn’t have planned the highs and lows of this particular adventure. Virgil is actually laughing about something with Gordon, and John is inserting the occasional comment with a smile, and Scott -

Scott meets Alan’s eyes with a proud smile.

Alan’s heart feels like it’s actually glowing, a soft, golden light in his chest, because he did that - he and Scott.

They make a good team.

And they always will.

#thunderbirds are go #littleoldrachel writes #scott tracy #alan tracy #fluff

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tsarisfanfiction · 3 years ago

Note

Colour symbol prompts

Fluff: black: protection

John protecting Scott

The Role of Protector

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Angst/Hurt/Comfort Characters: John, Scott

Uh, so I kinda maybe missed the "fluff" part of the prompt. Whoops. Ah well - this prompt intrigued me a lot so who knows, I might write some more protector!John at a later date - hell knows I love it when Scott's being protected by little brothers for once, and there's a large scope for that out there (I already have a second idea for John, which might actually tend more towards fluff than this one - not that that's particularly hard...)

4am seems to have snuck up on me without warning, so while I have proof read this I can't guarantee it was a perfect proof read... But some protective!John (and a nice side dish of Scott!whump as well).

Colour Symbol Prompts

It wasn’t often that John found himself in this position. Spending most of the year on Thunderbird Five had something to do with that, of course, but it was hardly the only factor at play. The fact that the only brother with him at the moment was Scott was another – a younger brother, with the possible exception of Gordon, was somewhat more likely to put John in his current position, but Scott was a different matter entirely.

As big brother and former military with the skills to match, even if he didn’t like to show them, Scott was the protector of the family. It was a role he hoarded viciously, because if it had fallen to one of the others then, to Scott’s mind, he’d failed.

John would disagree. Their big brother was still only human himself, and John had a long list of grievances attached to the way he seemed unable to step back and recharge even for a moment. There were times, though, where the choice was stripped from Scott, leaving him vulnerable and leaving the role of protector to settle elsewhere temporarily.

It was normally Gordon, for all that he was fourth out of five. Military steel skipped over Virgil – too soft, Gordon had confided in him before, although John knew it wasn’t a complaint, or sleight against the brother between them at all. Being soft against a world determined to tear itself and everyone inside it apart on a regular basis took its own strength, and Gordon knew that better than most. The steel skirted around John himself, too, although he liked to think he still had sharp edges when he needed them – the fact that he was rarely there in person was just another reason for the role to pass him over. None of them were ready to let the steel go near Alan.

Gordon wasn’t there, off on the other side of the world with Virgil rescuing yet another fishing trawler in distress. Alan was stuck in the world of homework, leaving John alone with his big brother.

His barely-conscious big brother, slumped against a cave wall where John had deposited him despite Scott’s best efforts to the contrary. Blood was blotching the bandages hastily applied to his shoulder; those would need changing soon, but John had other priorities to worry about first. International Rescue didn’t carry weapons, but both Scott and Gordon had proved that with enough creativity most of their equipment could be utilised as such. Given the situation, John had taken a leaf out of their book – and the grapple gun from Scott’s hip, which he was currently aiming with less surety than he’d like at the narrow entrance to the cavern they were hiding in.

The distress call had been a set-up. John was beyond relieved that he’d been nudged out on the rescue by Scott, who’d declared that he needed the practice with Earth-rescues and it was just a simple one so it would be good to get his eye back in. Their assailants had been prepared for Scott.

They had not been prepared for John.

Although, to be fair, John had also not been prepared to see Scott collapse a little way ahead of him, nor for the gunshot that had immediately preceded that. He wasn’t entirely sure how he’d got both himself and Scott out of there without either of them taking any more bullets, but if pressed his guess would be that they’d been too surprised that Scott wasn’t alone to shoot immediately.

John had dragged his brother back, away from the assailants, and run through the cavern system as best he could with Scott injured and unco-operative to the sounds of angry shouts and pursuit. EOS had chirped in his ear that unauthorised personnel were attempting to gain access to Thunderbird One – she’d locked down the Thunderbird before anyone successfully got inside, but that had still meant that their only way out was blocked.

Instead, it was a waiting game – although it felt like a particularly dangerous form of hide and seek, if he was honest. He’d got in contact with the GDF via EOS, and they’d promised they were on their way. He just had to keep both Scott and himself safe until they did.

The small cave with its narrow entrance had been a find by EOS. Scott, of course, had tried to make him hide in there while he claimed he’d draw them away, but while that had made some sense in the form of the trail of blood leading right to them, it also made absolutely no sense for the same reason. John’s response had been to manhandle his unsteady and rapidly paling big brother into the cave and push him to sit down before he fell down.

His brother had not been best pleased, but John had been far more worried about the bullet and blood loss than keeping Scott happy. Still was, because despite the painkiller and bandaging, Scott was slipping further and further towards unconsciousness. John estimated he had two more minutes, at best, before Scott passed out entirely.

The GDF were more than two minutes out. It was touch and go if the blood trail would lead their assailants to their current location within two minutes. John tightened his grip on the borrowed grapple gun and swallowed.

He didn’t know if it was Scott in particular they were after, or if they’d just been planning to attack the first IR operative they saw. The lack of reliable data rankled; John despised being blind. EOS was digging, but so far nothing of note had come out of that.

But at the end of the day, what they wanted didn’t matter. They’d hurt Scott, they were hunting both of them, Thunderbird One was under assault, and John wasn’t normally the one with the role of protector on his shoulders but today he was, and he was going to do it justice.

They wouldn’t hurt Scott again. It didn’t matter if John had to use the grapple gun in ways it was not supposed to be used, or if he had to use his own body as a shield. He’d keep Scott safe.

The sound of something soft hitting the floor, which had to be Scott passing out because there was nothing else to fall, came at the same time as the voices. Angry voices, clearly following the blood trail, and John tensed.

All his instincts as a rescue operative were screaming for him to hurry to Scott’s side and check his condition. Common sense kept him where he was. Scott was around a craggy corner from the narrow entrance, impossible to see from the main cavern. As long as John didn’t move, there was no way they could get to Scott without going through him.

He kept his breathing low and even, counting his breaths silently to keep them under control. John wasn’t a fighter. Give him a computer and he’d destroy his target before they even realised what was happening, but in person was another matter entirely. He’d never even been able to scare off bullies at school, let alone armed assailants when all he had was the rescue gear in his and Scott’s uniforms.

There were many ways to win a war. Scott or Gordon would tackle the problem head on, offence the best form of defence, but they were trained for that. John wasn’t. John just had stories, some pranking experience, and his brain.

He didn’t need to beat their assailants. He just had to hold them off until the GDF arrived.

The voices were getting closer. Closer, closer, closer. John’s breathing hitched despite his best efforts to the contrary. Timing would be key. If he was even slightly out, then he’d have to fight for real, and while he’d stand his ground, he had no delusions about being able to win. He was too soon down from orbit for that, for starters.

They were close enough now for him to make out the words. Any chance that they had no idea where he and Scott were was destroyed by their discussions about the blood trail they were following. A blood trail that led straight to Scott.

John swallowed again. Sweat beaded on his brow, but he didn’t dare raise an arm to wipe it away. Both hands were locked around the grapple gun, still aiming through the narrow entrance. He couldn’t mess this up. Scott was – unconsciously, unwillingly – depending on him.

He could see them now. They hadn’t spotted him, too intent on the blood trail across the stone floor, but that could change at any moment. Three people, and he knew there were more but hopefully the others weren’t on hunting duty. It wasn’t ideal, but it was the best chance John was going to get.

It was the only chance he was going to get.

He pulled the trigger.

It was Scott he had to thank for the extensive knot knowledge, his big brother coaching him through the Rescue Scouts badges even when he just wanted to get the stargazing ones and leave it at that. Grapple cables weren’t rope, but they were strong and sturdy yet still malleable enough to loop over and around as required until he’d managed a makeshift net. Cable ties from his own baldric, meant for repairs in space, had been deployed as reinforcements.

Lay the net just so, set up large chunks of rocks to fall when hit in the sweet spot, and a rudimentary pulley system from yet another grapple cable – Scott’s baldric had been scavenged bare of useful items, including the trauma kit that was trying and failing to keep the blood in his body – and he had a way to contain the first wave of approaching assailants.

Hopefully.

John watched with bated breath as it all snapped together, cable-net wrapping around the assailants and hoisting them dramatically into the air, counter-balanced by the weight of as many rocks as he’d been able to shift in the short timespan he’d had to set up the trap. There was furious yelling.

A gunshot sounded.

More furious yelling.

The trap held.

How long it would hold for, John didn’t know, but he did know that he’d hear it if they escaped, so with a shaky exhale he backed away from the narrow entrance, clipping the now-empty grapple gun to his own baldric, and hurried to Scott’s side.

The bandages needed changing. John rolled him onto his side, putting him into the recovery position to keep him stable, and dug out fresh supplies. Scott didn’t stir as he stripped away the old, bloodstained, linen and replaced it with fresh strips. A check of his pulse told John what he already knew – Scott was still alive, but had lost far too much blood.

If John had managed to capture all of the assailants, his plan had been to get Scott back to Thunderbird One and head straight for the nearest hospital. Unfortunately, that had not been the case, so he was forced to accept Plan B – wait for the GDF to show up and hope they arrived before any other ill-wishers.

John had only had enough equipment for a single trap.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #tsari writes fanfiction #john tracy #scott tracy #drabbles #thunderwhump #janetm74 #the roles of protector

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bonsaiiiiiii-fics · 3 years ago

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FabFiveFeb 2021 - Virgil week (3)

prompts: a question, “I don’t understand”

Part 1 | Part 2

oooooookokokokokkkkk i know a looot of time had passed and probably everyone forgot about this, but with the hiatus and co i couldn’t post earlier, soooo, yeah, there you go. i highly recommend you reread part 1 and 2 again so you get the idea of what i wrote here. that said, enjoy this finale!

tagging: the host of the amazing challenge, @gumnut-logic (high-key sorry i’m so late hope you don’t squish me too much), and whoever showed interest in the last 2 parts, such as @nourelle-tracy @louthestarspeaker @weirdburketeer @janetm74 @lenna-z @cg29 @psychoticalienjackie @godsliltippy @melmac78 @plushiecuddler @dragonoffantasyandreality @brinalm @vegetacide @katblu42 @rachfielden-xo (yes i’m tagging everyone who liked the precedent parts what about it, fighT ME)

Scott sat for the umpteenth time in the umpteenth hospital chair, heartbroken. His mind was full of thoughts and if he even thought he had to express them out loud he would almost certainly scream.

Virgil was just standing there, sleeping like nothing happened, except for his bandaged right shoulder and some superficial bruising from the climb, which he shouldn’t have done, by the way.

His father was very angry with Virgil, but he had hidden it behind a quite thick veil of concern, which hit him too when the surgeon who removed the bullet embedded in his shoulder announced that the patient had also entered into fibrillation. Also, as if getting shot wasn’t enough. Now he was in a forced coma, to allow his body to heal without complications; he did not risk his life, however, so even if life support was taken away there was no high risk.

Jeff had gone down to the cafeteria to get some coffee, Alan along with him, probably to binge eat as usual; Scott had never understood why Alan could eat so much in situations like these, as if his stomach didn’t care that his older brother was in the hospital.

Scott, on the other hand, remained there, by his side, brooding as usual, starving as usual, worrying as usual.

Although their father had finally returned and immediately took over the reins of the International Rescue, it was still difficult for Scott to let himself go altogether, and return to the role of operator within IR. He often thought about it, how could he abandon a role he had become accustomed to and had made his own for 8 years? The commanding role, which had fallen on his head the day after his father disappeared, along with the various responsibilities that followed.

He thought about it, yeah, and he kept thinking about it, and there was always an answer in his mind, even if it wasn’t the right one. I can’t. His brain always told him that, like a mantra. You can’t.

Jeff somehow understood that, from the day he was rescued, the moment Scott girded his hips with his arm to get him back on the road home. Scott also noticed it, because every time Jeff spoke to him, he looked at him. He looked at him with a gentle, but also a bit authoritarian look. Don’t worry anymore, my son, you don’t need to take on responsibilities that aren’t yours anymore. And he told him without the need to open his mouth, so powerful was a look.

Scott at that moment opened his eyes, and in front of him was Virgil, who was asleep. He was asleep, but it was wrong. He couldn’t sleep now.

"Hey Virg." He tried whispering, like it was a crime to talk to a coma patient out loud. He didn’t get an answer.

"You know? I understand why you disobeyed orders. I don’t think it’s my own reason; it’s just that you care about everyone, unconditionally. You’ve always been the most empathetic of us, like...." he took a little breath. "... mom."

A slight sigh. Jeff would be back any minute. "Who knows how Mom is, eh, Virg? I don’t even want to think that you might be with her right now, because if you are, it means that everything is not good for you. And I...I need you. You must have noticed this, as empathetic as you are." He smiled involuntarily.

He heard a faint noise of footsteps coming from the hallway. "Now I must leave you, Virg. If I don’t get a coffee, I might pass out for a few weeks." He hated leaving his brother alone, but he really needed coffee or a good night’s sleep. The couple of times he left his younger brother alone was to go to a short shower. Of course, International Rescue was off-duty, and it would stay like that until Thunderbird 2 was back on line. None of the brothers worked well when one of them wasn’t there. And Jeff understood that. He understood them.

Scott slowly rose from the uncomfortable chair on which he had also spent many nights, putting a hand on his forehead in the process. He took one last look at Virgil, then left the room, John taking over.

The redhead put his left hand on his brother's shoulder, the other arm leaning against the wall, not yet fully accustomed to Earth’s gravity, and Scott smiled feebly back, then went to the cafeteria. Now it was John’s turn to observe his brother.

Virgil glanced at the snow, occasionally touching it with a finger or moving it with the tip of his shoe. They were both back out, and the air, although it was cold from the snow, did not seem to freeze him at all. "Mom...I have a feeling there’s something I desperately need to know."

Lucille looked at him, smiling. Her skin was very white, like snow. "How is that saying? If you don’t remember it, it means it wasn’t important."

"It is! It’s a person..." Virgil placed his hand on his forehead, closing his eyes and trying to remember.

She looked at him, her hands clenched on her chin and her elbows on her thighs. She had always liked to watch her son think. He had this habit of ruffling his eyebrows and bending a corner of his mouth down as he thought. All of them were different when they were thinking. Scott narrowed his eyes and pulled out his deadly dimples, unwittingly bending an angle of the mouth upwards, John always kept a neutral face, while Gordon had the habit of covering his mouth with the fist of his hand. And Alan...she never had time to find it out.

Usually Lucille could not possibly interfere with the natural course of things, but now it was essential for Virgil to return to his family. Get back to life. This would have been just...a shortcut to get to the final path. A path to which Virgil would have to come on his own, and fight for himself.

"Do you miss your father?" By now she had thrown the stone. Now it was up to Virgil to take it, retrieve the last piece of the puzzle to make it complete, and to ensure himself a way out. And of life.

"Yes..." Virgil replied, with a sad but strong voice. "Sometimes I feel like he’s back...I feel like I hear him..." The piece was slowly getting stuck. "I feel..." The last memory fell on him, like an avalanche. An avalanche that he could feel.

Lucille smiled at him, aware of what his son was about to reveal to her.

"He’s alive! He’s back..." Virgil began to stutter, the memory of his father, sitting at his desk, with gray hair and wrinkles marked by the age, but he did not remember the emotion felt in taking him back, in bringing him home from space.

His heart started beating too fast. So fast that even the Virgil who fought on the hospital bed had the heart that galloped too hard for the tastes of the multiparametric monitor, which began to beep hastily, alarming his doctors, who entered the room en masse.

Virgil took a few short breaths, calming down, but this was not enough because, as he had heard, he was in 'critical conditions’ caused by a 'seizure'. Or at least that’s what he heard.

"Virgil," his mother’s voice took him away from his thoughts, a voice as sweet as the face looking at him.

"I have to go back, Mom." He was quick to answer.

She nodded and smiled. "Don’t you want to be here with me anymore?"

He smiled too. "Now not anymore, I understood what I wanted and I solved what I had to solve." He took a short breath, while she nodded. "Thank you, Mom, for taking care of me one last time..." He was ready to say goodbye.

Almost as if she had intercepted his thoughts, she was immediately ready to answer. "Always remember...that I will never leave, child. I will always be here when you want to talk to me." She put her hand on his chest, right where his heart was beating. "I will always listen to you, even if I cannot answer you."

His big hand covered her hand, holding it tightly. "Thank you." He looked at her. "How do I get back?"

Her face immediately became serious, and her hand moved away from her heart. "You must fight...your fear."

"What...?" That’s when he realized he could feel something. Almost afraid, he turned slowly towards the avalanche behind him...that moved quickly towards his direction.

He suddenly felt nauseous, and he quickly turned to his mother, expecting a smiling face and maybe hearing her say that all this was a joke, because she had the habit of always joking, the same habit that Gordon too had. At that moment, however, he did not know what was scarier, whether the avalanche that threatened to overwhelm him at any moment or his mother’s frightened face.

"There is no other way...?" His voice was very weak.

"No, I’m sorry...and you don’t have much time left..."

"So you expect me to run into an avalanche?"

"I expect you to overcome your fear, to save yourself."

Words so simple, but at the same time incredibly powerful, that they had the effect of a slap in the face. He had tried to save his mother, but all this time he had been under the avalanche. Overwhelmed by fear.

He looked seriously at his mother, who understood, kissing him quickly on the cheek, then he got up and took a running start, charging it with all the fear that, he was certain, will never go away completely. Then he ran, ran to fight his monster, screaming with all his voice in his body, his battle cry.

He entered the avalanche.

Then...

All white.

“Thank you, I was really hungry.” Virgil replied, looking happily at the pizza that Gordon had smuggled to him.

“Heh, don’t get caught.” His copilot winked back at him.

“By the doctors?”

“That too, but by Scott! God know we’ll both get a good piece of talk if he finds out!”

“His favorite man needs carbohydrates.”

“‘His favorite man’ my ass!” Scott entered the room, showing his killer dimples and his pearly white smile. “Did you think you’d eat pizza without me?” The eldest took a slice of pizza, handed it to Virgil, then took another one for himself.

“That was the intent.” Gordon replied, earning a smack in the back of his neck from Scott.

“Have a nice meal too, guys.” Virgil responded with a laugh.

He was about to bite into his beloved pizza, when a black and white butterfly came in through the open window, resting on Virgil’s fingers.

Mom…

-END-

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fallenfurther · 3 years ago

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Homecoming - Earthbound

Chapter 2 of Homecoming. John and Jeff.

Thank you for the response to my first chapter and Josie will return later on as the story develops.. The next few chapters are set within the last episode of the series , between Jeff returning to the island and stepping out Thunderbird Two and him sitting down to take the rescue call. There is no way Jeff is fit and health after eight years alone in space, so these chapters fill in that recovery and continues as he finds his place within the family and organisation again.

This chapter is an emotional one, so trigger warnings for trauma, death, last wishes.

*********

Jeff placed his cutlery down on the empty plate, before leaning back into the cushioned back of the chair. The food was excellent, though anything was better than what he'd survived on for the past eight years. It helped that he knew there was no expense spared for his stay. It felt so strange but comfortable to feel full again and his body was feeling better for it. The nurse popped her head around the door and smiled.

"Want me to take the tray from you?"

"Yes please."

Lauren swished her way over to him, picked up the tray and left him alone. Jeff had various therapy sessions and doctors checking in on him and he welcomed the breaks from them. He just had to keep looking forward, knowing that the light at the other end was to spend the rest of his life with his sons. How he'd missed them. Each one imprinted in his mind, clear as day, spurring him on. They visited him when they could, though it depended entirely upon the number of callouts and if someone was fit enough to fly. International Rescue seemed much busier now than eight years ago. Eight years away from everything. So much had stayed the same and yet the important stuff had grown and changed. Particularly his little Alan. He was the smallest, just, but he'd matured, become more confident and was an amazing astronaut. Normally he would have been angry at Scott and the boys for letting someone so young fly Thunderbird Three. He'd always known the dangers of space. A teenager doesn't. But having seen Alan pilot Thunderbird Three, making her dance elegantly between asteroids, he understood. Alan had flown the Zero-XL to save him. The talent that boy had was incredible. How could Jeff deny the boy who followed so much in his own footsteps, who shared his passion for space? It pained him to know he hadn't been around to help nurture it.

Jeff forced himself out of his chair, joints complaining from his physiotherapy session that morning. The gravity in the Oort cloud had been variable but being back on Earth it had an intensity he could get no reprieve from. John had suggested a skint on Thunderbird 5, but the doctors insisted he have no Zero-G exposure until he was medically fit, insisting his body needed to adjust to gravity first. They also ruled out a trip in Thunderbird Three as the forces that would be applied to his still healing body would be too intense. Jeff was itching to witness Alan fly the Thunderbird first hand. Jeff opened the patio door and stepped out into the warm breeze and sunshine. He still had moments of panic when he realised he didn't have a helmet on, or when he realised it wasn't close by, but the fresh air transported him back to the time before he was stranded. Even now it didn't always feel real, being on Earth. Almost two months and he still had to pinch himself sometimes, still shed tears at the sight of his boys visiting. The small private garden attached to his room was a small haven where he could get used to the world again. He followed the path to the plant-laced wooden gazebo beneath which a table and chairs stood waiting. He took a stroll down the small path circling it, not quite ready to sit yet, the wind chimes tickling above him as he brushed his hand through the purple flowers, sending a wave of lavender in the air.

Eventually he had to sit down. His tablet was on the table where he'd left it that morning. Flicking it on, he pressed his thumb to the corner, activating International Rescue's secure network. John had willingly let him have access, walking him through the new filing system before letting him loose on it. Jeff was sure John or that little AI of his was monitoring every document he saw. He opened up yet another mission report, he'd started making a timeline of rescues, only for it to be completed by EOS, listing the main statistics such as time, craft used, and which sons were involved. The timeline was worrying. International Rescue had started off slow, only going to major rescues, however nowadays barely two days went by without a need to be called out. International Rescue had response times and equipment that outmatched local agencies, but it meant his boys were often being pushed to the limits. There were meant to be fail-safes in place and compulsory downtime to stop back to back working, but all that had been side-lined so lives could be saved. He'd started with the older reports and with each one his sons got better and more efficient at writing them, but he was starting to see their exhaustion. International Rescue hadn't been designed for the workload it was taking on and something was going to snap. Jeff feared it would be his boys. He'd just got them back and now he feared he'd lose one of them.

It was never meant to be this way. Jeff had expected a little increase in workload, but nothing like this. The GDF had tried to help, as he'd found out from the last report about their robots, but that had proved unsuccessful. He didn't want to raise it with them, not yet at least. Jeff planned to finish catching up with the reports, machine specifications and chat with Brains to see what had happened and what could be done. An idea was already forming, but he knew he had to be careful, and knew he couldn't step on anyone's toes. He could see his place in International Rescue wasn't where it used to be, though it had been suggested that he take over the comms so John could rest or do other work. However, this wouldn't solve the problem. They all loved him, were so happy he was back and yet it was exhausted men that visited him. They came often in ones or twos, often with bags under their eyes, sometimes even straight from a rescue in Virgil and Gordon's case, showering on Thunderbird Two which would be parked on the green behind the facility. They would come in trying to hide how tired they were to see him, sometimes a guilty look if they hadn't come sooner. Jeff understood now, he would complain if he didn't want to see them so badly. He should send them home with a clip around the ear and set his mother on them. Instead he opened his arms and embraced them, forever thankful that he still could.

He turned back to the reports, chimes filling the air with each light gust. He only looked up when some light footsteps came along the path, and a smile crossed his face. John, still in his uniform, settled into the chair before him.

"Afternoon Dad."

The smile on his son's face reached his tired eyes. John's inconsistent sleep was something Scott had mentioned. Getting John to sleep properly or to get him out of orbit was a challenge. Though he would often find time to pop down using the space elevator and would get Mum to help EOS with monitoring the world.

"Afternoon John, I'm guessing everything is going well? Will your brothers be joining us?"

"It is and no, they won't," John yawned, "it was a nineteen hour rescue so they are all catching up on sleep."

"Like you should be."

John rolled his eyes bringing a smile to Jeff's face. How many times had the boy done that as a teenager? Memories flooded back of John curled up with a book, Gordon, Alan or both on the living room floor, only for him to roll his eyes at something one of them had said. It was mainly Gordon, informing Alan of things that weren't quite true.

"I couldn't sleep."

"How about we go sit on the bench in the corner, the cushions make it extremely comfortable."

John nodded. Jeff brought the tablet with him and got up, his pace slower than his son's. John already had the cushions out the base and was on the seat when Jeff got to him. They sat down side-by-side, Jeff placing his arm over John's shoulder and pulling him close. His son didn't resist, laying his head against Jeff’s chest. This was the contact Jeff craved. Devoid of it for so many years, he still needed to be reminded that this was real.

"People died."

Jeff sat still, not saying the many things he could, knowing John needed time. John needed to work himself through it, needed to speak and be heard. So Jeff waited.

"It was a mudslide following an earthquake. Collapsed buildings and mud. That's what they had to deal with this time."

"Mud is like snow, it takes and rarely gives back. Hundreds of people are still missing, many bodies that may never be recovered, or will have to be DNA matched to be identified. We can do earthquakes and mudslides, we're efficient, but it takes its toll."

"They are all exhausted, physically and mentally. Grandma's enforced downtime but I don't know how long it'll last. Another rescue and they'll all be up and away before she can stop them. I would ground the craft for her but that would only cause suppressed anger to rise."

John's gaze was aimed at the ground, his whole body was unearthly still except for the rise and fall of his ribcage. Jeff knew John was thinking, debating what to say next. As the minutes passed and John remained silent Jeff knew it was time to coax it out.

"What about you? What weight are you carrying?"

John's fingers flexed, a hesitation, debating whether to share what was weighing him down more than gravity. It was the reason John was here, Jeff knew John saw and heard things the others didn't think about. Or if they did, they were helpless to do anything about it. John needed someone he could trust. He needed his father. Jeff's thumb started to rub the man's shoulder, offering more comfort.

"I…there were just so many people. They all had phones, all calling in. Some were petrified, others screamed, children and adults all with the same fear in their voices. All asking for help, to be rescued. Some were fine but it was a friend or family member in trouble. I talked to one young man through first aid, he had to tourniquet his younger brother's leg. His brother had already lost a lot of blood and was unconscious. I got Gordon to go there but when he found them it turns out the young man was in shock. He hadn't wanted to believe his brother was dead and he had done the first aid on the body. He had refused to leave his brother. It took Gordon five minutes to drag him away."

"I went straight from that to a child who was hurt and her mother wasn't responding. She cried; cried so much. She screamed when Virgil unpinned her arm and again when she realised he was leaving her mother behind."

A tear skipped down John's cheek. Jeff kept quiet, knowing too well what the screams of a child for a dead parent were like; how much they pierce your heart and tear into your soul. No matter whose child it was always painful.

"I heard so many last words. I've a document of names and last requests. Things they wanted to say. They are mainly 'I love you' to various family members and spouses. So many people wish they had said it more. I heard so many phone lines go quiet."

Another tear.

"I was working flat out, Grandma was taking calls from the island, but I still want to have done more. I wanted to save more. Maybe if I had directed Scott here and Virgil there or if I could have kept her calmer her rescue wouldn't have taken so long. So many lives were lost. So many we couldn't save. It's our job to save people. We should have saved them."

Jeff reached his right arm up and hugged John, tears silently falling. He knew there would always be rescues like this, where no matter what they did, many people would still die. There was nothing that could be said or done to fix it. The pain would always be felt. Holding his son, he let John cry it out in a safe place. It was his job, as a father, to be there when his sons needed him. He knew from the reports that he wouldn't be going out on rescues, his body too old and damaged to keep up with his boys. But just as his mother had, Jeff knew he would find his place again. He was still needed, even if it was just to answer the odd call, to help as Mum had all this time, to shoulder that burden and still be there at the end of the day, to help them process it all.

His eyes fell onto the mop of ginger hair, messed up by the position they'd been in, and smiled. It was the result of a hidden gene that had popped up and Lucille had adored it. It shone in direct sunlight and would give John an angelic glow. He’d been their quiet angel. Hardworking, often out of sight, but always there. The man's eyes were closed and he had become a dead weight against Jeff. It'd been more than eight years since a son had fallen asleep in his arms. There would be no complaint from Jeff. He would sit here for as long as John needed. Jeff peered down at his boy, heart full of love and pride for the quiet reserved man.

"I love you son."

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #John Tracy #jeff tracy #homecoming #post rescue #trauma #processing #shoulder to cry on #father son #what john sees #the man who listens #last wishes

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scribbles97 · 3 years ago

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Crushed

A scene from Left Behind that just wouldn't leave me alone but I also never got around to linking up with the rest of the fic.

@gumnut-logic thank you for giving me ideas for Gordon's accident!

@lenna-z and @janetm74 thank you both for all the love and comments on Left Behind... I'm sorry that it got the better of me.

It should have been routine. Just a recovery mission, he had told her with that sunshine grin as he had headed for his chute. Lucy hadn’t needed to monitor him, there wouldn’t be any more to tell until he got back with whatever it was they were meant to find there.

She had always disliked not watching her boys when they were out on missions, but trusted them enough to know better than to hover.

None of them had expected the emergency code. The tone all of them knew and dreaded filling the whole villa.

There was only one son missing from the lounge, John’s eyes wide and lips pressed thin as he looked straight to her from Thunderbird Five.

“Gordon, you’ve activated your emergency code.”

She found herself holding her breath as they waited for some form of response, anything to tell them what they needed to know.

Nothing came.

“Gordon?” John pressed, eyes breaking away to focus on something outside of the scope of the hologram, “Gordon, do you copy? Gordon!”

It was the fear she didn’t doubt all of them were feeling, no more words spoken as they turned as one towards Thunderbird Two. For once she didn’t even hesitate about Alan’s presence, she needed them all where she could see them.

“It’s Gaat.” Kayo confirmed once Thunderbird Two was in the air, “I’m in pursuit of the Chaos Crew now, GDF are assisting.”

Something in Lucy had broken at the revelation. Gordon had been looking for answers for her, had been put in danger by a man with a grudge against her, yet she had done nothing. She hadn’t even been watching.

Their eyes were all on her, waiting for some form of confirmation, some acknowledgement of what was happening. She was their mother, but also their leader.

It was time for her to lead.

“Kayo be careful, if he’s done this to Thunderbird Four we don’t know what else he might do.”

“F.A.B.”

“John,” She swallowed, turning her attention to the rescue at hand, trying as hard as she could to brush away the thought of just who it was they were rescuing, “I need the closest team possible to--”

“Cen Am team have two subs en-route, they were in the area on drills, eta fifteen minutes.” He hesitated, glancing away and then back again, “Lady Penelope will be joining to assist.”

It was all the team she could ask for.

“F.A.B. thank you John.”

He nodded but didn’t close the line, still hovering in the corner of her vision as she looked to the live feed of vials displayed for them all.

“What do we do, Mom?”

Alan’s voice was every bit the small child she still believed he was, even if she knew he was there to help.

She just had to show him how.

“We rig two sub pods, they’ll be able to manage at that depth for the time we need. External cameras on Four are compromised so we don’t know what we’re going in to. Once we have an exact picture, we’ll make a plan.”

“Who--”

“Go and rig the pods, Alan.” Scott cut him off, “We’ll meet you down there.”

It was the first thing her eldest had said since the emergency code had come in. When she turned in her seat, his eyes were fixed firmly on her, hard and determined just like she knew his father would have been in that exact moment.

“I’ll go down with Alan.”

Anger flared in her chest. Gordon was her son, she had already done too little to help and--

“Mom, you’re compromised.” Scott continued, voice softening, “We don’t know what we’re going to find--”

“And you think it’s okay to send his kid brother down there instead?” She snapped back, “No Scott I won’t--”

“Alan pulled John from space.” He cut her off, “You’re blaming yourself for what’s happened. I trust your judgement Mom, but I don’t think it’s the best thing for you to go down there.”

She wanted to protest more, she needed to do something other than just sit there and watch. Except, she knew Scott was right, knew that at any point something could well tip her over the edge and break the camel's back.

A heavy, solid hand on her shoulder made her look across to Virgil. The slightest of nods from him confirming a quiet agreement to Scott’s reasoning.

She trusted her boys to look after one another, knew that Scott would do everything she would. He hadn’t been the one to send his kid brother out there that day, he held no guilt over the situation.

But still she couldn’t simply sit by and wait.

“I’ll prep the med bay, meet you in the module with a stretcher.” She murmured, glancing back to the weakening life sign.

“Okay.” Scott nodded, smiling softly as he reached out to her other shoulder, “We’ll get him back, Mom. I swear it.”

She straightened, eyes fixing on the stats as they dropped again. It wasn’t getting him to the surface that she was worried about.

“Virgil you’ll be needed to see to him.” There was only one fully trained medic among them, and for that she would forever be grateful, “Once Scott and Alan are up you should transfer control to them and see what’s needed for treatment.”

“F.A.B.” He agreed quietly, “We’re coming up on the drop zone.”

She nodded, unbuckling from her seat, “Let’s get our fish back on dry land.”

***

It was torture to stand in the module and simply listen. Alan’s exclamation had given her visions of all the worst situations, only backed up by Scott’s murmur of things being worse than he thought.

She wasn’t sure if the images John had relayed to her from the pod's external cameras were what she had expected or not. The area was known for its hydrothermal activity, but to see one of the stacks of rock pinning Thunderbird Four upside down, the machine crippled under the weight, made her heart twist painfully.

Scott had taken full direction of the underwater rescue, the two stronger subs lifting the chimney whilst Penelope pulled Gordon from the wreck.

Her soft gasp spoke volumes. Part of Lucy wanting to smile at the thought of just how well the pair suited each other, even if they had been skirting around the fact forever. There was fear there too though and it echoed through Lucy’s entire being.

“Get him up to the med bay.” Scott was instructing, “We’ll recover Thunderbird Four and meet you up there.”

A murmur of agreements and before she knew, Lucy was stepping to one side to allow FAB One to pull into the module.

It was hard to not look too eager as she pulled the rear door open, only to stifle a sob at the sight before her. Gordon draped across the back seat, face bloodied and bruised, everything about him just not quite right.

Penelope’s eyes were just as fearful as Lucy had expected as she looked to her, “He hasn’t stirred.”

It wasn’t a reassurance.

“Let’s move him, get him to a hospital.”

The island infirmary wouldn’t be enough for him.

“His helmet was leaking air,” Penelope explained as they moved as one to get him onto the hover stretcher, “I had to take it off, he was almost out.”

Over the years Lucy had heard enough people giving needless explanations to know what it really was.

“You did the right thing.” She assured, “You got him out of there Penny, thank you.”

The younger woman’s smile was tight as the module clunked into its position within Thunderbird Two.

“Shall I send Virgil?” She offered, hovering at a distance as the hover stretcher maneuvered itself into position in its dock.

Lucy nodded, too focussed on setting up the med scan, he needed a line placing, an oxygen mask. Finally she could at least do something.

His baldrick was first to go, cut away and discarded on the opposite side of the room. She didn’t like the unnatural set of his shoulder or his wrist. She didn’t like all the ambers and reds flashing up in front of her. She didn’t like that he hadn’t moved in the slightest.

“Mom,” John appeared above the stretcher, “Eos is going to remote pilot Two to the nearest hospital, Scott and Alan are going to get a lift with Cen Am once they’ve recovered Four.”

She paused as she taped the line in place in the back of Gordon’s hand, “They’re not--”

“They know he’s in good hands,” John smiled softly, “and that time is precious.”

Swallowing against the sudden lump in her throat, Lucy nodded, “F.A.B.”

It was the sharp movement of his chest that caught her attention, the way it moved deeper for a single breath and held there for a long moment before releasing again with a soft cry.

“Gordy?” She murmured, moving to his head, “Are you with us?”

“Momma?” It was barely a whisper through the mask as cloudy amber eyes blinked up at her, “Mm, it hur’s. Really hur’s momma.”

All of the boys had always loved her stroking their hair, and all of her wished she could at that moment. But there was so much blood, a warning still fresh in her mind of a head injury. She didn’t dare touch anywhere that wasn’t okay.

“I’m here baby,” She soothed, reaching out to the hand she had just placed the cannula in, “I know it hurts, Virgil will be here soon to make it better. ‘Kay? Think you can stay awake for that?”

“Mom, it hurts.” He repeated, eyes so distant she knew he wasn’t seeing the scene in front of him, “‘m scared.”

“You’re safe Gordy.” She soothed softly, blinking away the tears that stung her eyes, “We’re all here for you and we’re gonna make it better.”

His eyes focused, amber that matched her own reflecting back at her in a moment of clarity.

“Mom?”

“Right here Kiddo.” She whispered, braving her own fear to reach out and touch his cheek, “You with me?”

Fingers tightened weakly around hers, holding on with everything he had.

“It’s okay.” She whispered, trying to sound more sure than she felt, “It’s all going to be fine Gordy.”

His eyes were still clear as he watched her, clouded with fear and pain. There wasn’t the spark there should have been, no smile as there had been earlier in the day.

“Mom, I can’t feel my legs.”

#Thunderbirds Are Go #Thunderbirds 2015 #Lucy AU #Thunderbirds AU #Left Behind #Lucille Tracy #Gordon Tracy #Scribbles Writes

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gumnut-logic · 3 years ago

Text

Knit Five, Purl One (Knit Three)

Knit One | Knit Two | Knit Three

This is my TAG Secret Santa fic for @gaviiadastra :D

Many thanks to @onereyofstarlight who continues to bear the brunt of my crazy with this one. Also to @the-original-sineater @janetm74 and @tsarinatorment and probably a few other people because I’ve been rambling about this one for a few days now :D Thank you to all of you :D Thunderfam, you are amazing ::hugs tight::

Well, this time it’s Allie’s turn. Lots of Alan in his element in this bit which rambles all over the place and pretty much did whatever it wanted. Virg is appropriatedly grumpy :D As promised, it is as big as Knit One and Two combined and tops out at around 3300 words. Mostly brotherly fluff with a little, tiny bit of Virg whump on the side (only the littlest). Still Kermadec AU, but you wouldn’t know it, cos we’re going into space :D

I hope you enjoy :D

-o-o-o-

“I don’t need babysitting!”

“I’m not babysitting, Alan.”

His second eldest brother sat beside him in Three and Alan glared at him. “Could have fooled me. You shouldn’t even be going. You’re still injured.”

“If you think any of us are letting you go that far out of Earth’s orbit without back up, you aren’t as smart as we think you are.”

“Exactly, babysitting.”

Virgil sighed. “Perhaps if you stopped pouting like a baby, your argument would have more clout.”

Alan growled. “This is going to hurt you.”

“I’ll live.”

“Virgil-“

“Just get us up there and I will be fine.”

Stupid self-sacrificial older brothers. Didn’t trust him to go on his own. Virgil shouldn’t be here, but there was no one else. Scott was out in One, Gordon in Two, Kayo in Shadow and John juggling all of them.

“I should dump you on Five and take John.”

“I’m the demolitions expert, Alan. You are wasting time.”

Alan grumbled again. He was going to hurt Virgil and there was no way to avoid it. Except perhaps increasing time and power usage a little? Wouldn’t help the initial launch, but it might ease up on orbital approach.

He punched calculations into Three’s navigational computer. The numbers that came up were a little kinder.

Was going to suck anyway.

“Thunderbird Three, what’s the hold up?” John’s voice was sharp. Ever since Eos had discovered the situation, their space brother had been on edge.

The possibility of an asteroid hitting a space station did that.

“In pre-flight, Thunderbird Five. Hold your horses, we have time.” Alan grit his teeth.

“Not as much as you would expect, Alan. You need to be up there as soon as possible.”

“FAB, Thunderbird Five.” He knew that, damn it. “Launching in five.”

He triggered the familiar five second countdown.

And forced himself to focus on the launch as Three’s massive rockets fired beneath them and pushed them towards the sky in a multiple G crushing thrust.

Usually this was his favourite part, but the grunt of the man with the healing rib beside him was anything but enjoyable.

Alan altered their trajectory just a little more as they cleared Tracy Island airspace, easing up on the thrust and making for orbit just that little bit slower and at a shallower angle, hopefully giving his brother some relief.

But because of the distances involved, making orbit wasn’t the end of acceleration.

Alan paused and let Three ride her momentum for as long as he could. “Engaging ion engines.” He said it without looking at Virgil.

Three responded beautifully as she always did, throwing them forward into the darkness of space at speeds no other humans could travel.

Alan eased her up to the velocity needed to reach the asteroid in time, his teeth physically hurting, he grit them so hard.

When they finally reached cruising speed, Alan let out a shaky breath and turned to his big brother. “You okay?”

Virgil was pale. “I’ll live.” There was a lot of breath in those words.

Alan settled Three into the long haul ahead. It would take them at least two days to get out there and another two to get back. The boring part of space travel was very boring.

Perfect time for some video games.

But first he had to see to his brother.

Virgil hadn’t moved so Alan took the opportunity to unlatch himself and grab a medkit and its medscanner.

“Alan, I’m fine.”

“It was a strain. Scott would kill me if I didn’t keep an eye on you. He didn’t want you out here anymore than I did.”

“You can’t go on your own.”

Alan grunted, not willing to lose yet another argument on that front. Big brothers were stubborn asses.

He flicked on the scanner and waved the yellow light over the right side of Virgil’s uniform. The readout promptly gave him reassurance that his big brother was still in one piece, if a little creaky.

“Are you satisfied?” Virgil had reason to be a little terse. It had to have hurt.

“No. You want some painkillers?”

“I’m fine, Alan. Stop worrying.”

His shoulders dropped. “Okay, whatever.” It would be completely different if their positions were reversed.

Ever so different.

Big brothers were hypocrites.

He put the scanner away, but he did keep an eye on Virgil. Watched, as the lack of gravity and acceleration slowly let him relax.

But even then it took Virgil half an hour to finally unlatch himself and move about the cabin.

Alan had spent the time going over the details of the mission, unable to deflect his own anxiety until Virgil grew more comfortable. He was going to be difficult to manage if anything went wrong. Back up, yes, but Alan preferred that Virgil didn’t have to do anything.

So Alan double checked the specs of the mission and ground them into his brain. He was alone on this, because if he wasn’t he would be endangering his big brother who really wasn’t up to it.

Eos had detected the asteroid. She and Thunderbird Five monitored all the near-Earth bodies in real time all the time. The slightest deviation of projected trajectories and Eos was all over it immediately.

This asteroid was a smallish one, and it had been predicted to pass close to Earth and it did.

Close enough that an unpredicted orbital wobble combined with Earth’s gravity had deviated that projected trajectory directly into Earth’s L2 Observatory along with all the crucial technology currently stashed at the Lagrange Point.

Their mission was to stop that from happening. It was likely that they would need to blow up the thing, but that was why Virgil was there – to make an assessment onsite.

So Three was crossing the one point five million kilometres involved.

“Thunderbird One to Thunderbird Three. Mission status?”

Ugh, typical.

“En route, Thunderbird One. Velocity stable. ETA forty-six point seven hours.”

“How’s Virgil?”

The groan from his left pretty much summed up that one. “Grumpy.”

“Alan?” The warning in Scott’s tone was enough.

“Vitals are good. No further damage. I will continue to monitor.”

“I’m right here you know.” Virgil was definitely grumpy.

“Acknowledged, Thunderbird Two. Three, this is your mission. You have command.”

“I know, Scott. It’s cool. We’re fine. Relax.” Over the top, really.

There were two grumbles at that, several hundred thousands of kilometres apart.

“Fly safe, Thunderbird Three.”

“FAB, Three out.” Alan let his fingers kill the comm signal.

So now they only had a good part of two days to kill before they could actually do anything.

Protocol would keep him in his pilot’s seat for a good chunk of it, but he would retire to his quarters. Maybe he could convince Virgil to go early and get some rest after all that?

But his brother had grabbed a bag of some kind and was settling into the co-pilot’s seat. Alan frowned as he watched him unpack some needles, unwind some blue-grey yarn and start casting on stitches.

“What are you doing?”

“Knitting.”

“Knitting what?”

“Yarn.”

“Well, derr. What are you making?”

“You’ll have to wait and see.”

“Oh, so a Christmas present?”

“Wait and see.”

Alan grumped. “Okay, be like that.” Turning back to his console, he pulled up the mission and went through the possibilities again.

He had to be sure he kept Virgil safe.

-o-o-o-

As he expected, they made it to the asteroid with time to spare.

Virgil had retired to his quarters with minimal prompting which was responsible on his brother’s part, but still had Alan worried.

There wasn’t really anything wrong with Virgil beyond his healing rib and the remains of the wound in his leg. The stitches had been removed, but Virgil wouldn’t be running any races just yet.

His brother overslept and Alan was quite happy about that.

John reported in on a regular basis and Scott poked them again while Virgil was asleep. Alan confidently reported that their brother was indisposed and couldn’t be woken.

Scott seemed happy with that.

Alan spent the rest of his free time going over what data he could retrieve from this excursion. John had hooked him up with NASA and their astronautical university. While Alan had undergone his own training as a pilot and astronaut with the close tutelage of both John and Scott, he hadn’t trained with NASA. Since he had left school, he had picked up some studies with the university. Nothing with an ultimate goal in mind. He didn’t really care for any letters on end of his name like John. He was just happy exploring space at his own pace.

Unlike other students he did have quite an advantage.

And the university knew it.

So they put up with his erratic interests in order to get a hold of his raw data.

Today’s data was going to include asteroid C-345 and the effects of whatever Virgil shoved into it.

He was looking for basic composition and samples before they destroyed it. Each and every piece of information was important. Alan took some pride in being able to provide that information while doing his job at the same time.

Five’s scans of the object listed it as a C-chondrite type asteroid, but the readings weren’t entirely clear. Spectrographic analysis was claiming more metallic content despite the definite classification of the main composition.

John had extrapolated that perhaps the single body was made up of more than one asteroid that had collided and merged.

In any case, it was looking to be an interesting discovery.

Not as amazing as discovering life on Europa, but furthering human knowledge nonetheless.

He kicked in deceleration at quite a distance, sensors combing the space around the rock. Asteroids often had their own little orbital system of debris and there was no reason to risk colliding with any random crap being dragged around by this lump of rock.

Virgil had returned to the co-pilot’s seat minus the considerable wad of knitted fabric he had accumulated over the last two days. Alan could give his brother some credit, when the man focussed on a task, he was some kind of machine. The amount of knitting he had managed was considerable.

Still wouldn’t let Alan know what he was making. Though at a guess it was a sweater and possibly for Kayo? It certainly wasn’t a stretch. Kayo and his brother had been getting closer and closer since last Christmas.

Why he thought she needed a sweater in the tropics, Alan had no idea.

Right now he had more important things to worry about.

“Thunderbird Five, how are we going for time?” Of course, he knew the answer, but it was a habit of his to chatter before a rescue, or in this case a situation. It let off tension.

John understood, apparently, as he never complained.

“Time to spare, Thunderbird Three. You made very good time.”

And he was never shy with the encouragement either. One big brother thing that mostly he didn’t mind.

Alan shifted in his seat. “I think we’re getting a confirmation of your conglomerate theory, John. That is one hell of a motley rock.”

“Language, Alan.”

Alan rolled his eyes. “Really? Grandma is one point five million kilometres away. Give me a break.”

Virgil beside him snorted. “You think that’s gonna stop her? Grandma has her ways. Safety lies in prevention, trust me.”

Alan stared at him flatly. “What? Since when have you ever crossed Grandma.”

His answer was a smirk. “Once. A very long time ago. That was enough.” He reached out and poked the controls in front of him. “John, can I have a confirmation on this compositional analysis? This can’t be right.” His brother was frowning at the readouts.

“That was my initial thought, but yes, it’s confirmed, Virgil.”

“Then I agree with Alan, that is one hell of a motley rock.” He flicked up a hologram of the asteroid in all its jagged glory. “We have an oddly distributed mass due to a differential in composition here, here and here.” He pointed at the hologram. “One explosive is not going to do it. I’m thinking at least three drill sites with a focus on this metallic mass here.” He highlighted a section of the slowly rotating rock. “If we can’t break that section up, we aren’t going to be successful.” He turned to Alan. “Thanks for the extra time. We’re going to need it.”

Virgil unlatched himself and pushed out of his seat in the direction of the back of the cabin. “I’ll configure a pod for sampling, then prepare the payloads.” A yank on the hatch and he was off into the depths of Thunderbird Three.

Alan found himself rolling his eyes again. Big brothers had a tendency to forget who was in charge, too.

“Thank you, Thunderbird Five. We’re working on it. Thunderbird Three out.”

John’s snort echoed across space.

-o-o-o-

Alan flipped the pod on its long axis, spinning to avoid debris.

“Cutting it close there, Thunderbird Three.”

“I know what I’m doing, Virgil. Give me a break.” He spun the pod again. The little asteroid was definitely a pain in the ass. Beyond having an odd composition, it did indeed have a massive debris field accompanying it. It was making his life just that little more difficult.

His brother grunted, obviously unsettled.

Alan could understand why Virgil was so touchy, but this was Alan’s realm. He was at home out here in this real-life game of Asteroids.

He darted to the left and swooped down under one of the larger fragments, his eyes tracking the position of every body within eyesight and sensor reach.

“Nearly there. Just need to…” He flipped the pod yet again, but this time synchronised with the spin of the main chunk of rock and settled ever so smoothly into a ‘landing’ on his targeted spot, the pod claws shooting cahelium pitons into the surface and latching him there firmly.

“Make it fast, Thunderbird Three.”

Alan sighed. Europa and Gordon had been easier. Apparently, the younger the older brother, the less worried nagging.

But Virgil was right, he didn’t have time to complain. “Securing samples.”

Given the moment to actually look at the landscape around him suddenly had his jaw dropping. Having been distracted by the mechanics of reaching this spot, he hadn’t realised exactly what he was landing on.

Sunlight, unhindered by atmosphere, lit up the crystalline structure of the asteroid.

“Virg, you gotta see this!” He shot the camera feed back to Three.

“Oh.” His brother’s gasp was definitely of the artist kind. “Wow. How is that possible?”

“Stuffed if I know.”

The surface of the asteroid was covered in green crystals. Readouts screamed a variation of olivine with a mix of other common minerals amongst it. Embedded in the centre were a series of almost pure iron lumps that glistened almost as much at the crystals slowly rotating against the stars.

“I’m getting extra samples. This is amazing.”

The combination of drill, claw and catchall attached to the front of the pod were easily manipulated. With the hope of extra information, he also deployed his small fleet of remote samplers. It hadn’t been possible to set them here from Three due to the debris field, but with a bit of luck, they would be able to avoid the worst of it this close to the epicentre.

“Virg, is there any way we can deflect rather than destroy this rock?”

“I doubt it.”

But he could hear the inquiry in his brother’s voice and knew Virgil was running the numbers again.

“It is beautiful.”

“And deadly. There are people in that observatory.”

“I know, I know. But…” The claw held up a large crystal and it glinted in the harsh sunlight. “…we could learn so much.”

Virgil grunted, obviously hip deep in calculations. “We are recording everything. You can give all the data to the university. They will work it out.” Another grunt. “No, I’m sorry, Allie. We don’t have the time or space. It has to go.”

“Damn. I’ll grab everything I can.”

“Keep it safe, Thunderbird Three.”

“Yeah, yeah. Yes, Mom.”

Virgil only grunted in return.

-o-o-o-

In the end, it was easier than expected. Alan gathered as much rock as Three’s return fuel load could account for. They then drilled and dropped off the three required payloads and retreated.

Alan got the feeling Virgil didn’t want to trigger the detonators any more than he did, but his brother was on point and within seconds the asteroid was little more than a cloud of dust that the Observatory’s deflector array would be able to handle easily.

It was quiet in the cockpit as Virgil confirmed the scans lined up with the math as they followed the remains to the Lagrange point and the cluster of technology stashed there.

The crystalline sparkle of olivine was barely seen against the milky way as it passed through harmlessly.

“Mission accomplished, Thunderbird Five.”

“FAB, Thunderbird Three. L2 sends their thanks. Head for home.”

“FAB.” Alan spun his ‘bird about, confirmed the navigational calculations and fired her ion engines, slamming both himself and his co-pilot back in their seats.

Virgil grunted.

“Sorry!”

His brother audibly swallowed. “Necessary, Squirt. Not your fault.”

Alan groaned to himself.

But it wasn’t long before his ‘bird was back up to cruising speed and they were heading home.

-o-o-o-

The samples were amazing.

Alan ran scans as he slotted them into proper catalogued and sealed storage. They needed to remain as sterile as they had been in space in order to preserve them as they were discovered.

Of course, Alan, being Alan had set a side a few small pieces for his own collection. The University could have the majority of the find, but Alan liked a little souvenir himself.

One fragment sealed for eternity, one for his space rock collection on the Island…and one for Virgil.

He held up the beautiful clear gem to the light of the cargo bay and it refracted it green.

Perfect.

“Alan?” Virgil entered from the direction of the cockpit. “You hungry?”

Alan turned and held out the gem. “Here’s your souvenir.”

Dark eyes latched onto the green gem and Virgil pushed off the door without a word.

He was still staring as he gently took the mineral sample from Alan’s fingers.

“Peridot.”

“Yep, perfect colour for you.” Alan turned back to the sample storage and secured it down. He stashed his own little crystal in his baldric so he could admire it on the way home.

Virgil was still staring at his rock. “Thank you, Alan.”

“That asteroid was cool. I wish we didn’t have to blow it up.”

Brown eyes flicked to his. “It was unavoidable.”

“Well, it sucked.”

Almost predictably, a hand landed on his shoulder. “If it hadn’t endangered lives, we would never have seen it.”

“I guess.” A thought. “Hey, do you think we could do some exploratory work with Thunderbird Three sometime?”

Virgil blinked. “I don’t know. Thunderbird Three is a rescue vehicle.”

“Yeah, but she can take us so far and discover so much.”

“The civilian space services-“

“Don’t have the grunt, Virg. Look at what we can do. We could do so much more.”

“Thunderbird Three has to be available to save lives.”

“I know! It’s just…so easy for us…and so hard for them.”

Virgil stared at him a moment. “You’re right.” His eyes dipped to the green gem in his gloved hand. “What do you have in mind?”

Alan blinked. “Uh, I don’t know.”

Those eyes latched onto his again. “Then you better start thinking, because if we’re going to speak to Scott about this, you’ll need a solid proposal with costings attached.”

Alan’s eyes widened. “O-okay.”

But the hand on his shoulder squeezed gently and Virgil’s mouth curved into a grin. “We have the time, after all. Two days to Tracy Island.

Alan couldn’t help but grin in return. “Enough time to finish that sweater, you think?”

Dark eyes narrowed, but his smile returned. “Ample.”

-o-o-o-

They were halfway home when John interrupted with the news that Tracy Industries had been implicated in the fire at the marine centre.

-o-o-o-

TBC

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds #Alan Tracy #Virgil Tracy #kermadec au #nuttyfic #tag team secret santa #tag team secret santa 2021

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katblu42 · 4 years ago

Text

Stuck

Installment 2 of my whump wheel spins - still not particularly whumpy! (Sorry. I’ll get there - I think!).

This one is Alan, Imprisonment and Staircase.

“Scott!” the little voice called.

Ignore it, Scott thought to himself, this assignment is important.

“Scott-ie!” This time louder and in a sing-song tone.

Scott closed his eyes and tried to shut out the insistent calls. Ignore it and he’ll go and find someone else. Except only one other brother was home and he was probably still asleep. Ignore it. Maybe he’ll get bored and give up. Opening his eyes again with a sigh he tried to focus on his history essay.

“Scott?”

He sat up straighter, every fibre of him now on high alert. The voice was quieter but somehow more urgent, having an almost whimpering edge to it.

“Alan?” he called back. “Are you okay?”

“Scottie, I’m stuck.”

Fast as lightning Scott was up from his seat and out of his Dad’s office where he had shut himself away in an effort to get his work completed in peace. He didn’t have to go far to find his baby brother, who had begun to cry. He was sitting near the top of the stairs with his head protruding between two of the banister spindles, hands tightly clasping a spindle on each side of his red face, tugging desperately to try and free himself.

“Allie! Calm down, stay still, okay?” Scott stood where Alan could see him, trying to keep his own heartbeat from pounding in his ears at the sight of his distressed brother. Alan stopped struggling and glistening blue eyes that had been tightly scrunched shut opened and latched onto the promise of safety found in the matching blue eyes of his big brother. “Take a deep breath for me.”

Alan did as he was told, eyes firmly fixed on Scott, who also took a deep breath in, then slowly out. Scott repeated the slow inhale and exhale, with Alan copying him, calming them both.

“That’s better,” Scott soothed. “Now, I’m gonna come up there and get you out, but first I need to get something from the kitchen, okay?”

“Okay,” Alan managed, only a slight waver in his voice.

“I’ll be right back.”

As promised Scott was only gone from Alan’s sight for a moment before returning and racing up the stairs.

“Okay, Allie. We’re gonna try something, but if it doesn’t work I don’t want you to worry because there’s another way to get you out, okay?”

“Okay.” The amount of pure trust in that quiet reply almost made Scott falter.

“I’m gonna spread some of this around your ears, and the sides of your head to make it slippery, and I’ll put some on the spindles too.”

“What is it?” the little one asked, screwing up his nose anticipating an unpleasant answer.

“It’s just butter,” his biggest brother reassured him, “just like we spread on your sandwiches.”

“Oh, okay.”

As Scott worked at slathering globs of butter on his baby brother’s head, he asked how Alan had wound up in this predicament. After all, the five-year-old should know better.

“I wanted to know where you were, but you told me to stay upstairs and I knew you’d get mad at me if I came down, so I tried to see where you were from up here, but I couldn’t see enough, so I thought maybe I could see more if I put my head through here, and . . .”

“And you got stuck.” Alan’s words had come out in such a fast-paced tumble Scott almost felt the need to remind him to breathe. Instead he just kept his voice and his actions calm. By the time the torrent of words had ceased Alan had been on the brink of shedding more tears, but the quiet, gentle calm Scott was steadfastly maintaining was enough to soothe him.

Having spread butter liberally on both Alan and the stair spindles, Scott wiped his hands on the kitchen towel he’d grabbed along with the tub of butter.

“Alright, Allie, we’re going to try and get your head back through here.” Scott indicated the gap between the spindles just under the bannister, where the gap was widest due to the shape of the turned wood.

Alan had to raise himself up a little as Scott helped try to ease his slippery head between the bars imprisoning his little brother, paying particular attention to his ears. The two of them tried various angles, re-positioning this way and that to try and gently squeeze Alan’s head back through the narrow gap. A few times it seemed they were close only to have Alan whimper in pain. Each time they stopped Scott worried that Alan would end up bruised and battered by the process, but the other option had its difficulties, and this way out was preferable if it didn’t take too long.

Alan’s ears were starting to hurt, he didn’t like the greasy feeling of the butter smeared all over his head and he was beginning to wonder whether he’d be stuck there forever, but his big brother wasn’t panicking, so neither would he. Scott had promised him that there was a way to get him out, and when Scott made a promise he knew he could trust it. Scott would fix it.

“How’re you doing, Allie?” Scott asked him. “I know it hurts, but we were really close that time. Do you want to give it one more try?”

He took a deep breath, the top of his nose creased and his brow crinkled into an expression Scott recognised as his scowl of fierce determination.

“I’m ready. Let’s do it,” Alan declared with such attitude Scott had to stifle a fond laugh.

After a count of three, with Scott helping with angles and ear-wrangling, Alan grunted and gritted his teeth through the painful squeeze and suddenly he was free, crashing back into the arms of his big brother. Both of them sat there for a moment, breathing hard, Scott’s arms wrapped protectively around Alan, holding him safely against his chest.

“Good job, Sprout. Everything okay?”

Alan ran his hands over his head, rubbing his ears and smearing butter all over his hands in the process. Everything seemed to be where it was supposed to be, and nothing was really hurting.

“I’m okay, Scott.” He turned and smiled up into a concerned frowny face that quickly softened into a smiling expression full of relief and love.

“You did way better than Gordon did when he got stuck,” Scott said with a laugh.

“Gordon got stuck in the stairs too?”

“Yep. The first time Virgil managed to get him out the same I way we got you out, but it took ages and Gordon cried the whole time. I don’t think Mom and Dad ever found out about that one, but the second time . . .”

“He got stuck twice?!” The look of wide-eyed incredulity on Alan’s face made Scott snort with laughter.

“Yeah. The first time he was about three years old, but the second time he was six or seven, and he was really stuck. After half an hour Virgil was just about ready to grab a hand saw from the toolshed to cut out one of the spindles, but then Mom came home and she got him out in less than a minute.”

“What did she do?”

“Well, Gordon had got himself stuck much closer to the bottom of the staircase, so Mom showed him how to twist sideways, get his shoulder between the spindles and squeeze out forwards through the spindles where Virgil could help him out and down onto the floor.”

Alan sat processing all this information for a moment. He was glad Scott hadn’t suggested going through the bars forward at the height he’d been stuck – it was a long way down to the floor from here.

“We don’t have to tell Gordon about this, do we?” Alan asked.

“Nope. We’ll get everything cleaned up – including you – and it will be our secret.”

#thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fandom #thunderbirds #alan tracy #scott tracy #mostly fluff #not whump #gordon tracy may have snuck in for a mention

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eastertag · 4 years ago

Text

Take A Chance On Me

@tsarinatorment gift for @singmetothesun

—

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

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

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

—–

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

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

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

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

Except… Except Dad had said no.

No.

You’re still too young.

Once your grades improve.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Alan’s curiosity was peaked further.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shouldn’t Scott know that?

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

Not just any hangars. The Thunderbird hangars.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t come here without me.”

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

Thunderbird One’s silo.

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

“Alan.”

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

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

To cheer him up, he realised.

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

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

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

Scott was treating him like an adult.

The door slid open, and Scott stepped in.

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

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

“Beautiful, isn’t she?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He wanted to swallow them back straight away. He was supposed to be saying yes, not giving Scott reasons to change his mind!

Scott chuckled.

“Of course she’s mine,” he said. “But we all know how to operate each others’ ‘birds, Al. You’ll need to know them all, too.”

He said it simply, as though it was a plain fact of life. One day Alan would need to know how to operate all the Thunderbirds. One day Alan would be a Thunderbird.

Scott was still smiling at him. Dad might be saying no but Scott was saying yes and Alan knew Dad’s word was final, but if Scott was so sure…

Alan knew enough about the command structure of International Rescue to know Scott was second in command, and maybe he’d secretly accused his biggest brother of being a rule stickler and a suck-up because he always seemed to do whatever Dad said anyway, but this wasn’t obeying Dad.

If Scott could teach him to pilot Thunderbird One without Dad’s permission, then maybe, one day, Scott could bring him into International Rescue anyway.

“Come on,” his brother said, and Alan’s eyes widened as a panel moved aside, revealing the interior of Thunderbird One.

He’d never seen it before. Despite the windows surrounding the cockpit, her launch speed never gave him a chance to peer inside, and even if he happened to catch Scott landing again, it was pretty difficult to make out the interior.

There were four seats. Pilot, co-pilot, and two passenger behind. Scott slipped inside first, gripping onto hand-holds and stepping on struts until he was in the far seat. From what Alan knew of planes, that was the- the co-pilot’s seat.

Why was Scott in the co-pilot’s seat of his own Thunderbird?

He edged cautiously over to the Thunderbird, reaching out tentatively to touch her hull. Part of him was sure he had to be dreaming, that there was nothing there and he’d wake up the moment he tried to make contact.

The rest of him met Scott’s eyes, his brother’s matching blue full of encouragement, and with a deep breath he made contact.

He didn’t wake up. Dad didn’t appear out of nowhere and start yelling. His fingers didn’t slip through.

The metal was cool, confirmation that she hadn’t launched in a while. Alan knew that, followed his brothers’ rescues with an avid enough obsession that he was gaining a reputation for it at school. Thunderbird Three had responded to a manned satellite in distress yesterday, but it had been three days since Thunderbird One had last launched.

A hand reached for him, and he blinked. Scott was leaning over, across the pilot’s seat and offering him his hand.

“Ready, Al?” he asked. Alan eyed the hand, and then his brother. Scott looked excited, and he realised his big brother was looking forward to teaching him.

He took the hand.

“Watch where you step,” Scott cautioned. “See the bar by your right foot?” Alan looked down and nodded. “Step on it.”

One hand in Scott’s firm grip, and the other fumbling to catch the edge of the cockpit door, Alan obeyed. Scott’s smile widened.

“Now the bar above your head,” he said, and step by step, Alan followed his instructions until he was sat in the seat.

It felt weird, but in a comfortable way. Like laying on his bedroom floor but hooking his feet on his bed.

“Welcome to the best ‘bird in the fleet,” Scott said, and Alan could hear both the smugness that always accompanied his brothers’ insistences that their ‘bird was the best and the same love he’d seen in the caress.

One of his other brothers might make a quip then, and if Alan wasn’t so awestruck about finally being inside a Thunderbird, he would, too. Something about there being too much blue for Thunderbird Three.

Instead, he sent his big brother the biggest grin he could muster, feeling moisture welling in the corners of his eyes. If Scott noticed, he didn’t comment.

“The first lesson’s a bit boring, I’m afraid,” he said, and while he still sounded light-hearted, his face was a little more serious. “But it’s necessary, so I need you to pay really close attention, okay? We can’t move on until you’ve completely mastered it.”

There was more and more seriousness in his voice as he spoke, until the humour was all but gone, and Alan nodded his understanding.

He wasn’t a child anymore. Whatever Scott had to teach him about piloting Thunderbird One – Thunderbird One! – it was important.

“Okay.” Scott reached over to something above his head, and Alan craned his neck to see a solid blue harness that looked like it belonged on a roller coaster just before it swung down and locked in front of him. “Safety features.”

Alan muffled his groan. Scott had said it would be boring, but he’d still been hoping for something a little less mind-numbing.

Luckily, Scott wasn’t in such a serious mode that he couldn’t crack a small smile as he pulled his own harness down.

“I know,” he said, somewhat sympathetically. “But we can’t rescue anyone if we get in trouble ourselves, so you’re going to have to learn this stuff until you don’t even have to think about it.” His small smile widened into a grin. “If you pay attention, it won’t take too long.”

And with those encouraging words, the lecture began.

There was a lot of safety rules.

Alan was also pretty sure Scott’s definition of won’t take too long was not the same as his, but despite it all being to do with safety, his big brother managed to at least make it interesting. The knowledge that he wouldn’t let Alan do anything else – let alone start learning to actually pilot – until he learnt it all was also powerful motivation.

Halfway through an explanation on which rules changed depending on whether or not the sweep wings were extended, Scott’s communicator bleeped. His brother cut off, and motioned for Alan to be quiet.

He held his breath, determined not to let a single sound out.

“Time’s up.” Gordon was talking quietly, and hurriedly. “The meeting ended early.”

Scott inhaled sharply, and Alan had to fight not to do the same. The only meeting he knew of was Dad’s, and if that was over… If Dad found them – him – in Thunderbird One-

“Distract him.” There was an edge to Scott’s voice Alan hadn’t heard before. It was a bit like his get out of the pool, Gordon voice, when he was pulling big brother rank to get a younger brother to obey, but wasn’t quite the same. A little sharper. Crisper.

He was throwing Gordon under the bus. There was no way Gordon would-

“F.A.B.”

-obey that.

Gordon’s voice had been similar. Serious in a way his immediate brother rarely was.

Professional.

The call ended as Alan reeled from the realisation those had been their International Rescue voices – Field Commander and Operative. Dad had never let him near Command and Control, not for briefings, rescues or debriefs. He’d never heard his brothers when they were in International Rescue mode.

Scott slithered around him, hands and feet finding the holds without seeming to even think about it, and then he was standing on the gantry, hands reaching for him. “Sorry, Al,” he said. “That’s all for today.”

With the safety lecture still ringing in his ears, Alan accepted the help back out of the Thunderbird. He didn’t know how long Gordon could distract Dad for before he realised two of his sons were not where they should be, and just the thought of Dad finding out terrified him.

Scott’s fingers flew over a panel, and the entrance to the Thunderbird slid shut seamlessly. His brother did a few more checks, presumably to make sure there was no sign of access, and then a hand was on his shoulder, nudging him out of the silo and back to the elevator.

“John, we’re out of the silo.”

“F.A.B.” his second-eldest brother said, all business – and that voice Alan did recognise, because it had interrupted his calls to John for homework help often enough. There was a pause. “All cleared.”

Some rigidness seemed to seep from Scott’s shoulder as the elevator rose, and Alan blinked as a warm arm wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him snugly against his brother.

“Sorry about the abrupt ending,” Scott apologised. “We’ll pick back up again next time, okay?”

Next time?

Alan squeaked, and Scott smiled widely.

“You didn’t think you were going to learn everything on one go, did you?” he asked, sounding amused. “I can’t promise a schedule – we’ll have to work around whenever Dad’s too busy to notice – but you’ll learn to fly her, I promise.”

Words failed Alan, and there was that moisture in his eyes again, so he did the only thing he could think of and twisted in his brother’s hold until he could wrap his arms around Scott tightly enough his brother was forced to exhale a quiet oof.

Scott chuckled fondly, and Alan felt him return the hug. “You’re welcome, Al.”

The elevator docked and Alan slithered out of his brother’s hold as the doors slid open, only to freeze at the sight awaiting them.

Virgil said nothing, and for one dreadful moment Alan feared that was it, Dad knew. Then his brother winked at him, a grin breaking across his face. As he tentatively followed Scott out, he saw that the hallway was otherwise clear.

Then there was a hand on his head, mussing up his perfectly styled hair, and he sent a glower at the culprit. Virgil just grinned at him again, before looking over his head at Scott.

“Gordon says he can hold him five minutes,” he said. “That was three minutes ago, so you’d better hurry.”

“F.A.B.” Scott replied. “Come on, Al. Let’s go.”

Alan let himself be led away, his brain spinning. First Gordon, then John. Now Virgil. Were… were all his brothers in on it?

Had they planned it?

They arrived at his bedroom door before he could figure out a way to ask.

“Boots,” Scott muttered, nudging him into his room. “And remember: don’t tell Dad, and not without me.”

Alan nodded his promise again, and watched as Scott darted off in the direction of his own room, presumably to take his own boots off.

He yanked his off, stuffing them back in the closet where they lived, before collapsing onto his bed. Something dug into his hip, and he scrabbled at it until it was retrieved.

It was his phone, no doubt dropped there by Scott when he’d fussed over his laces.

Alan stared at it. The temptation to tell Fermat what his brother – brothers – had done was strong, but while Scott hadn’t told him he shouldn’t… the more people that knew, the more likely Dad was to find out. Besides, Fermat would be with Brains, and they were probably too busy talking geek to listen to him even if he tried.

And maybe Alan was looking forwards to the day he could surprise his best friend with the knowledge he could pilot Thunderbird One.

Scott kept his word. Lessons were sporadic, lengths varying depending on how long Dad could be distracted for by either work or a combination of his brothers, but they kept happening as often as his brother seemed to be able to wrangle it.

By the end of Spring Break, he had a decent grasp of the basic controls.

Summer Break, and he successfully ran through the sims without a single mistake. Scott had beamed with pride. Virgil had made noises, and Alan had been introduced to Thunderbird Two.

Winter Break, and Gordon staked his own claim. All the years of scuba diving at his brother’s insistence had paid off, and the thought crept into his head that his brothers had been prepping him for far longer than he’d realised.

Then came the Worst Spring Break Ever.

Alan had been angry – angry at his brothers, at his Dad, at anything and everything – and he’d broken his promise. He’d gone to Thunderbird One without Scott, and from there, everything went wrong.

Too wrong to think about, but underneath it all was the underlying thank fuck that Scott had disobeyed Dad last year. Thankfulness that his brothers had taught him to pilot their ‘birds, thankfulness that it meant the Hood didn’t get his way and kill all those people while sullying International Rescue’s name. His family’s name.

But Dad had acknowledged him. Him, and Fermat, and Tin-Tin. The pin on his shirt was heavy, an unfamiliar weight he’d been waiting for for as long as he could remember. A member of International Rescue. Technically a trainee, but thanks to Scott and his other brothers he’d been an unofficial trainee for a year already. Finally, Dad had let him in.

Alan had almost forgotten how it had all started, until after Lady Penelope had gone back home to England, citing something important or other that needed to be done. Spy things.

Then Dad struck.

“Alan.” He was familiar with that tone – too familiar. That was disapproving Dad, in a very sudden change from the proud father he’d been enjoying in the hours earlier. His brothers – all four of them, with John still rarely down on Earth – stilled where they’d been teasing each other. They knew the tone, too.

Alan had become used to Scott’s presence, and didn’t need to look to know his biggest brother had positioned himself just behind him in silent support. He didn’t lean into him, but the temptation was there.

“You never told me how you knew Thunderbird One’s access codes,” Dad said. Compared to the warmth of earlier, the words were ice cold and doused Alan with a harsh dose of reality. He’d broken his promise to Scott and Dad had found out. That was both promises broken. “And I’d like to know when you learnt to pilot the Thunderbirds.”

Alan had messed up. He’d messed up big time, but he was a Tracy and he might have broken his promises, but the only thing running through his mind right then was that he couldn’t let Scott take the fall. A year ago, he’d been more than happy to hide behind his eldest brother, but Alan was older now.

Or maybe he couldn’t bear the idea of Scott getting in trouble after the hell they’d all had.

“I hacked the sims,” he said, pushing all the bravado he could muster into the words and meeting his father dead in the eye, daring him to doubt him.

“And the access codes?” If looks could kill, Alan would have been zapped on the spot.

“I guessed.”

“First time?” Dad said, doubt clearly oozing from every pore. Alan refused to cower. He couldn’t cower. He had to protect Scott, make sure Dad didn’t find out that Scott had disobeyed him.

He owed Scott that much.

“First time,” he retorted.

“You expect me to believe you successfully hacked the sims without anyone noticing often enough to teach yourself to pilot three Thunderbirds, and correctly guessed Thunderbird One’s access code first time?” Dad sounded furious.

“Yes,” Alan snapped back. “I-”

A hand landed on his shoulder and tugged him back. A blink later and he was staring at his eldest brother’s back.

“I taught him,” Scott said. “Dad, I taught Alan to pilot the Thunderbirds. He got the access code from me, too.”

“Scott!” Alan hissed, unable to believe what was happening. Scott was rigid, stiff enough that all he was missing was the salute to flash back to his air force days, and Alan recognised defensive body language when he saw it – even if he’d never seen it on Scott before. “Scott, no-”

Scott turned his head, and Alan was silenced by a small smile. “I appreciate you trying to cover for me, Al,” he said. “But you don’t have to take the fall for this.”

“Scott.”

At Dad’s voice, Scott’s head snapped forward again. Alan tried to peer around his brother to get a read on Dad’s face – he couldn’t be too mad at Scott, could he? But Alan had also never heard his voice that cold. If Absolute Zero had a sound, Alan suspected it would be like that.

No-one spoke. Alan found himself holding his breath. Then Dad broke the silence with two words that said so much more.

“My office.”

Alan wanted to shout and scream. That wasn’t fair! Scott was the eldest, was second-in-command. He wasn’t supposed to be hauled to the office to be reamed out with the full force of Dad’s temper!

But he couldn’t talk. Hands were finding his arms, his shoulders, and pulling him back into a defensive cocoon of brothers, away from Dad’s line of sight.

Still straight-backed, still stiff as cardboard, Scott obeyed. He didn’t say a word, didn’t look back at them, and Alan wasn’t sure if it was because he thought Dad would somehow get even angrier if he did, or if he just didn’t want to look at them.

Dad didn’t follow immediately, and despite himself Alan found himself thankful for the cluster of brothers half-shielding him from the piercing gaze of his father. It rested on each of them in turn, and Alan realised he was putting the facts together, realising Scott couldn’t have pulled it off long enough for him to actually learn as much as he clearly had without some back-up.

Realising that Alan had been able to pilot Thunderbirds Two and Four as well.

It was John standing in front, taking Scott’s place as the shield. John, the only brother who hadn’t directly taught him anything, but had been instrumental in keeping the access logs and security footage clear of incriminating evidence.

Alan waited with bated breath, anticipating orders for more brothers to go to Dad’s office and join Scott in disgrace, but after a too-long moment of silence, Dad just turned and walked away.

Only once he was gone did the tension ease from the room, his brothers’ shoulders dropping and dramatic exhales of air filling the room – mostly from Gordon, who was clearly exaggerating them.

“Scott,” Alan found himself whimpering, staring wide-eyed at the stairs that lead to Dad’s office.

“Dad was always going to find out one day,” John told him, turning around and putting his good hand on his shoulder. Physical contact from him was rare, and Alan straightened his spine on instinct. “Scott knew we couldn’t hide how much you’d learnt forever.”

“We could have done without the timing, though,” Gordon chipped in. Alan glanced at him to see his face twisted into something between a wince and a grimace.

“Are you all going to be in trouble?” he asked, feeling a little small.

John gave him a small, sad grin. “We’ll be fine. Scott’ll take the fall for all of us.”

That didn’t seem fair. They had all disobeyed Dad – all five of them – so why did Scott have to take the rap? Why hadn’t Scott let him take the punishment? It had been his broken promise that had triggered it all in the first place.

The familiar roar from the direction of the office – muffled by walls and distance in a way Alan wasn’t used to when it was usually him on the receiving end of it – interrupted anything he might have tried to stay about it.

“-got your brother killed!” exploded into earshot, and despite it not being aimed at him, despite it being yelled from several rooms away, Alan froze in place.

He’d never realised the rest of the villa could hear Dad when he was on a rage. How was it soundproofed against the Thunderbird launches but not Dad?

The rest of the words were still muffled, clarity fading away back to an overarching roar, and he heard Virgil make a disbelieving noise under his breath.

None of them spoke, though. Nor did they move, instead remaining clustered together as they listened to the sound of Scott taking the fall for them. All of them.

Alan hated it.

It felt like an age before silence fell, Dad’s tirade finally exhausted. He exchanged glances with all of his brothers, the four of them debating if it was safe to separate and go their own separate ways now it was over, or if they should stay together and wait for the reappearance of the rest of their family.

The latter won, so it was as a cluster they turned to the stairs at the sound of footsteps. Only one set, and something unpleasant settled in the pit of his stomach when Dad’s feet came into view. He still looked unhappy, and when his sharp eyes landed on John, Alan found himself gripping the hem of his brother’s shirt.

But Dad didn’t say anything to John, nor did he speak to Virgil, or Gordon, as his eyes homed in on them in turn. Then the steel landed on Alan, and he tried not to gulp. He was officially a member of International Rescue now. He couldn’t cower in front of the commander – in front of Dad.

Somehow, impossibly, the steel seemed to soften, just a little.

“Your official training starts tomorrow,” he said. “I want you in Command and Control at oh-eight hundred hours sharp.”

Alan felt his eyes widen. His training? Dad was still going to start his training?

“Yes, sir!” The words exploded out of him, his back straightening. He was rewarded with something that, for a split second, looked like a flash of a smile, before Dad’s face was stern again.

“Your training will be with me,” he continued. “We’ll be starting with Thunderbird One.”

There was a ripple through his brothers, and Alan’s breath caught in his throat. Thunderbird One training… without Scott?

He remembered the first time Scott took him into the silo, the way his eyes had lit up with love at the sight of his ‘bird, and the hidden nerves as his brother had waited for his judgement on the ‘bird. Thunderbird One was Scott’s. Scott loved Thunderbird One, and he knew from snatched conversations with all his brothers that Scott had trained them all on his ‘bird himself.

Alan was adult enough to read between the lines. Not being able to officially train him was Scott’s punishment.

But there was nothing he could do to get Dad to change his mind. Protests swirled through his mind, but the words wouldn’t come, and Dad wasn’t waiting for a response anyway. Sentence given, Dad carried on walking, past them and into the kitchen where Alan could vaguely hear murmured conversation start up.

“Damn,” Gordon breathed. “Did Dad just-”

“Strip Scott of Thunderbird One’s training rights?” John finished for him. “I think he did.”

Virgil made another noise, almost keening, but wordless.

Alan just felt cold. This was his fault. This was all his fault. Scott would be absolutely devastated, and it was all his fault.

Scott still hadn’t appeared, and he felt the urge to find him. To apologise, even if all he could offer were words and he couldn’t change anything. Couldn’t persuade Dad to change his mind.

His other brothers slowly started drifting apart, no longer feeling the need for safety in numbers now Dad seemed satisfied with the fallout. None of them went far, but it was enough for him to take a breath and head for the stairs.

No-one stopped him.

Alan didn’t know where Scott would be, but he hadn’t come downstairs, so he had to be in the villa somewhere. He wouldn’t have stayed in the office, either – Dad wouldn’t have let him even if he’d wanted to after that chewing out – so that was one less place to look. His feet took him to the floor with their bedrooms, five open doors in a row.

Four open doors.

Alan blinked and looked again. Four doors were in various states of open, mostly ajar or half-open, but the door that was always open during the day was shut tight.

Scott’s door.

He gulped again. Scott’s door was always open to them; even at night when it was physically closed, it had never felt as shut as it did then. The temptation was there to leave and come back later, and Alan took a stumbling step back almost without realising what he was doing.

He should leave Scott alone. That was what the shut door meant, right? Scott didn’t want to see anyone – see him – so he’d shut them all out. Except… wasn’t it also a cry for help? They had an entire island to escape in if anyone truly wanted to be alone. At least for Alan, if he was in his room… he always knew his brothers would find him there. It was the beaches, the rocks, the jungle, where he went when he really wanted to be alone.

Maybe he was wrong, but this was all his fault. He had to fix it.

Taking in a deep breath, he reached out and pressed his palm flat against Scott’s door. It didn’t move, but he stepped closer anyway, resting his forehead against it as well.

“Scott?” he called quietly. There was no response but it felt like the silence was suddenly heavy. Listening.

Waiting.

It wasn’t a go away, Alan, so he took another breath and found the door controls, switching it to open.

He braced himself as it unlatched, sliding open smoothly, but still there was no reaction from the other side of the door. The thought flickered through his mind that maybe the closed door was a decoy, maybe Scott wasn’t there, but then he could see into the room and the figure hunched over on the bed.

Any doubts that Scott hadn’t been told about the new training plan were dashed at the sight of him. Perched on the side of the bed, his head and shoulders were slumped forward, hands limply in his lap.

Alan had never seen his brother like that.

“Scott?” he tried again, tentatively edging into the room.

“Hey, Al.” His brother’s voice was quiet and unusually flat. Unless he was imagining things, there’d been a small rasping edge to it, too.

Then Scott turned his head to look at him and Alan knew he hadn’t imagined it.

Bright blue eyes glistened, but his attention was caught by the raw red rings around them, a sight Alan had seen in the mirror more times than he cared for, but had never thought he’d see on Scott. But it was the quirk of the lips into the most painfully fake attempt at a reassuring smile Alan had ever seen that stung the most.

Scott was hurting. Scott was hurting so much and listening to the same instincts that always had him teaching the kids that picked on Fermat a lesson, Alan’s hesitation melted away. Letting the door fall shut behind him, he launched himself forward, catching hold of Scott and gripping him in the tightest hug he could manage.

“I’m sorry!” he wailed, hiding his face in his brother’s neck. “I’m so, so, sorry. You trusted me and I broke it and now Dad’s mad with you and I’m so sorry, Scott.”

Scott had stiffened when he grabbed him, a natural instinct to an unexpected tackle-hug, but Alan felt him quickly fall lax again. Arms loosely wrapped around him, too loose to really qualify as a hug, but any reaction was better than none. They stayed like that for a moment before tightening.

“Thanks,” Scott muttered into his hair. “That wasn’t why Dad figured it out, but thanks for apologising.”

“It wasn’t?” Alan asked, “but-”

“You and Fermat in the silo because you guessed the access code or stole it from Brains would have satisfied Dad,” Scott said, and it sounded an awful lot like reassurance even though Alan wasn’t the one that had just been crying. Alan wasn’t the one being punished. “It’s the Hood and someone needing to stop him, and you were the only one that could.”

Scott’s hold tightened again.

“John had to convince Dad you could do it,” he muttered. Alan remembered seeing Dad look to one side, but he’d thought that had been Scott.

“Not you?” he asked, not sure he wanted to know why it hadn’t been.

Scott let out a wet chuckle. “I was still waking up,” he admitted. “Didn’t know what was going on by the comms until Dad ordered us all back to Three and said we had to get to London asap.” He paused, letting out a quiet huff that ruffled Alan’s hair. “Not the first flight I had in mind for you,” he said, an almost dry attempt at humour despite his voice still being wet. “But I knew you could do it.”

“Even if I messed up the landing struts?” Alan asked. The laughter he got was a little louder that time. More genuine.

“Nobody’s perfect,” his brother said. “Her landing struts are a small price to pay for everything ending up okay.” Alan felt him pause again. “But I don’t know if Brains will have them fixed in time for your training tomorrow.”

His voice hitched on the word training and Alan winced.

“I wish it was you,” he muttered. “Things make sense when you say them.”

To his surprise, Scott pulled back from the hug, far enough to meet his eyes. They were still red-rimmed and glistening, even if the grin on his face looked slightly less sad. Slightly more genuine.

“Just make sure to show Dad how good you are,” he said. “I’ll bribe John for the footage.”

Despite himself, Alan laughed. He didn’t think Scott would even need to bribe him; John had been as taken aback as the rest of them at Scott’s punishment.

“Okay,” he agreed. It still hurt that Scott wouldn’t be with him, especially not when it was all his training that Alan would be showing off, but if Scott could still at least watch…

Well, it was better than nothing.

Scott squeezed him tightly again for a moment before letting go entirely. Reluctantly, Alan got the hint and stepped back.

“Are you going to come out?” he asked, and tried not to be too crestfallen when Scott shook his head.

“I’m still not too old to be sent to my room to ‘think about what I’ve done’,” he quoted, rolling his eyes and smiling a watery smile. “I’ll be down for dinner.”

“Do you want me to stay?” Alan offered, knowing the loneliness of imposed isolation, even if it was only for a few hours.

Scott shook his head, but his smile was a little brighter. “I’ll be okay,” he said. “Go spend some time with John while he’s dirtside.”

That was a dismissal, and Alan sighed. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” Scott made childish shoo, shoo gestures and shot him another watery grin. “Go on.”

Alan didn’t want to leave, but it was clear Scott wasn’t interested in company. His eyes were still glistening with unshed tears, and somewhat selfishly Alan didn’t want to see them fall.

“I’ll see you at dinner,” he said, reluctantly obeying his brother’s request. “Don’t be late, okay?”

“I don’t plan on missing out on any of Ohana’s cooking,” Scott promised. “I’ll be there.”

Alan nodded, and with one last look at his brother – still sat slumped on the edge of his bed, but sending him an encouraging grin that clearly said Alan should leave – slipped back out into the hallway.

As he had promised, Scott reappeared in time for dinner, looking much better and clearly cleaned up.

And as Dad had promised, he wasn’t there at oh-eight hundred hours when Alan reported to Command and Control. The rest of his brothers were present, in various stages of lounging as they eyed him, but Scott’s absence was a gaping hole.

Dad didn’t even acknowledge it.

“Put that on,” he said, gesturing to a folded uniform on the desk. White with blue piping, it perfectly matched the one Scott was wearing in the portrait behind him. Thunderbird One’s colours.

He did as he was told, realising it was a little too big for him in the shoulders, but not quite long enough in the leg. The name patch said Alan, but he knew there was no way Dad had managed to get a uniform made for him that quickly. If he squinted, he could see the pale imprint underneath that spelled out Gordon. A hand-me-down training uniform, then.

Dad was wearing his own, also blue-trimmed with Jeff on the name patch, and next to him in his brother’s hand-me-downs, Alan felt like a child playing dress-up.

No. He wasn’t a child. He was a member of International Rescue, had at least some training on piloting three of the Thunderbirds thanks to Scott, and for Scott he had to hold his head up high. It was his eldest brother that had got him here, and even if Dad was furious about it, Alan owed him that much.

He straightened his back and met Dad’s gaze head-on. The look he got back was unreadable and he fought the instinct to look away.

“Let’s go,” the man said, not paying his three middle sons any attention as he breezed past them. Alan glanced at them as he followed, and got three supportive smiles in response. Gordon added an encouraging thumbs’ up.

It was the first time Dad didn’t order him to look away when he typed in the code, and Alan watched him punch in the same number sequence he’d seen Scott enter so many times. From the look Dad gave him, he no doubt knew.

Nothing was said until they were in the elevator, riding down towards Thunderbird One’s silo. Doing the journey without Scott felt wrong.

“You might – officially – know the codes now,” Dad said, “but for as long as you’re under training, you are still not permitted down here without a full member of International Rescue for company. Do you understand?”

It was a step up from the previous Dad-only rule. Alan knew he could badger any of his brothers into taking him down. They’d been willing to do it behind his back, after all. Dad probably knew that, too.

He nodded his agreement just as the elevator came to a stop. The by now familiar sight of Thunderbird One through her access door greeted them, and he watched as Dad entered the same, familiar, code. The door opened as smoothly as ever, and Alan followed Dad onto the gantry.

“First of all,” Dad said, turning and facing him. He was standing straight, towering above Alan, but Alan refused to show how intimidating that was. Being in here with Dad was nothing like being in here with Scott.

Scott always went straight for Thunderbird One, touching her hull lightly as though being separated from her for any length of time had been too long. Even as he was talking, he’d send occasional soft glances his ‘bird’s direction. His love for Thunderbird One was a tangible thing.

Dad was treating her like any other bit of machinery. The difference was jarring.

“I want to see what you know,” Dad continued. “Show me, and try not to launch accidentally this time.” There was a rebuke in there. Alan heard it clear as day, and despite his determination to prove himself an adult, he felt a wince cross his face at the reminder of his blunder.

He’d been too busy showing off to Fermat and panicked when something went wrong. One of the first things Scott had shown him was how to cancel the launch sequence – before Dad got wind that she was trying to launch. It shouldn’t have happened.

At Dad’s command, the access panel slid open and he muscled his way across to the co-pilot’s seat. Nothing like Scott, who moved like he knew her intimately. Alan supposed that was the difference between being in someone else’s ‘bird and being in your own. Maybe Dad was softer with Thunderbird Three.

As soon as Dad was settled, Alan sidled in. It was an action he’d done countless times, and he didn’t need to think about the correct hand and foot holds as he eased himself into the pilot seat and instinctively pulled on the harness.

Then he glanced across at Dad, whose expression was still unreadable.

“Whenever you’re ready,” his father said. Alan took a deep breath, settling the nerves that had suddenly sprung up. It was worse than an exam at school; at least he didn’t have the additional pressure of validating his brother during exams.

He could do this. Scott believed in him. Scott had taught him. He’d piloted her all the way to London to stop the Hood; he could run through the motions cold.

Another breath and his hands began to move, starting pre-flight checks and doing his best to ignore the prickle of Dad watching.

She told him her landing struts had a fault, and he faltered. He knew that, knew Brains had her slated for repair once the hangar was put back together and Thunderbird Three’s engine was replaced, and they weren’t actually going to be flying Thunderbird One, but… if he just ignored that, what would Dad think? Was he supposed to be acknowledging what they both knew, because it was a fault?

His fingers stilled, and Dad sighed. The sound sent a shudder down Alan’s spine.

“I’ve seen enough,” he said, and Alan wilted.

He must have hesitated too long, must have made a mistake in his judgement. Dad was disappointed; he’d let Scott down.

“Scott, report to Thunderbird One’s silo immediately.”

What? He wasn’t going to chew Scott out again, was he? He’d already made Scott cry last night; was Dad really going to be that harsh?

“Dad-” he started, not sure what to say but knowing he had to say something. Scott had taken more than enough of the rap for his unauthorised training already.

“Get back onto the gantry, Alan,” Dad interrupted.

“But- I-” No, he couldn’t just give up. Dad couldn’t make him stop like that, could he?

“That was an order, Alan. We’ll wait for your brother on the gantry.” Dad’s tone brooked no arguments, and Alan reluctantly obeyed.

Almost as soon as he was out, Dad was behind him, nudging him forwards with a hand on his shoulder so he could leave the cockpit, too. Alan hunched over, catching one arm with the opposite hand, and tried not to shuffle his feet as he waited for Scott to arrive.

It wasn’t a long wait. Barely a minute after being ordered out of the Thunderbird, the silo door opened to reveal Scott. His hair was mussed and he looked like he’d run from wherever he’d been as fast as he could, despite the no running in the house rules.

Blue eyes homed in on him, and he flinched. Scott, of course, noticed.

“What happened?” he asked. It would have been a demand if it wasn’t aimed at Dad.

A blur of white and blue landed in his face, and Alan felt his own eyes widen as Scott reflexively caught it.

“Put that on,” Dad ordered. Alan watched Scott shake it out, revealing it was his own uniform.

“Dad?” Scott asked, confusion dripping from the word. “I thought-”

“I know what you thought,” Dad interrupted. “Suit up.”

What was going on? Alan looked between the two of them, seeing his own confusion mirrored in Scott’s eyes while in Dad’s there was something that looked like… satisfaction? Dad was satisfied about something?

He’d banned Scott from training him, but now he was making Scott suit up, and it didn’t make sense. What was he thinking?

It didn’t take Scott long to pull the uniform over his clothes, zipping it up in a rush.

“Well?” Dad said, crossing his arms expectantly.

“You told me I wasn’t allowed to train Alan anymore,” Scott said slowly, although Alan didn’t miss that he was edging closer to his Thunderbird – and him.

Dad hummed. “I trust you’ve learnt your lesson about undermining my authority?”

Scott flinched. “Yes, sir.”

“And you won’t do that again?”

“No, sir.” He was standing next to Alan now, one glove pressing against the silver hull seemingly of its own accord.

“In that case,” Dad said, “I’m not about to compromise an operative by denying him the best training. Your brother here can already do the pre-flight checks faster than Gordon without losing any accuracy.” Wait, what? But he’d hesitated… “I’ll be supervising all training until further notice; I look forward to seeing how far he continues to go.”

“He’s going to give me a run for my money one day,” Scott said, and Alan whirled around to look at him. His brother smiled down at him. He looked proud. “Come on, Al, let’s get this training session underway.”

He slipped into the cockpit, a stark contrast to Dad’s firmness as he all but flowed into the co-pilot seat. This was familiar, and even though Dad was still there, still watching, Alan felt the tension leave his body as he followed.

Dimly, he was aware of Dad settling into the passenger seat behind Scott, but his attention was firmly fixed on his brother, who was running an eye over the controls and clearly working out how far he’d got before Dad had interrupted.

“Well, Al, I think we need to work on your landing sequence,” he said after a moment. Alan was pretty sure that was partially prompted by the pre-flight warning, although it had probably been running through Scott’s mind ever since he realised her landing gear was damaged in London. “Run me through what you did then, and we’ll see where you went wrong under the pressure.”

Confident that Thunderbird One was cold and the engines weren’t going to ignite unexpectedly, Alan reached for the first stage of a VTOL landing, only for Scott to catch his wrist.

“Not what you know is right,” he corrected gently. “I know you can do it from cold. Try to remember what you did on that flight.”

Most of the flight had been a blur of panic and a little bit of rage thrown in. Alan pulled his hand back and closed his eyes, trying to remember what he’d done.

He’d-

Oh.

Sheepishly, he moved his hand away from the control he should have gone to first, and skipped a step.

From the look on Scott’s face – and the fact he’d stopped him immediately – his big brother had already known exactly where he’d gone wrong. But he was still smiling.

“Looks like we need to drill that a few more times until you don’t have to think about it,” he said. “Okay, keep going. Let’s see if you made any other mistakes, then we’ll get to work.”

Alan returned his grin, finding himself completely undaunted by the prospect despite Dad sat behind them, watching like a hawk but saying nothing. Scott was just that good at teaching.

“F.A.B.”

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

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scattergraph · 4 years ago

Text

Fluff #4: Back Rubs

It had been five days since the invasion of the dreaded flu that had rendered Scott Tracy off rescues and detained to the couch for the foreseeable future, or until the weekend at the very least. All in all, he had been taking it pretty well. That was, until this morning, when a close call on a rescue had left the remaining brothers demanding more training on each other’s equipment. There were physical restrictions, of course, which prevented this to some extent. Watching Alan trying to pad himself out enough to fit into Virgil’s Exosuit had been incredibly entertaining for all, but less than useful for rescue scenarios in the grand scheme of things. There were some bits of kit, however, that could have easily been shared, if it weren’t for the fact that Scott just didn’t want to share them. Thunderbird One and the jetpack, for example.

The Commander had managed to kick up enough of a fuss to keep them all away from Thunderbird One, for the time being anyway. His argument that One could be flown remotely by any of them if needed and that they were stressing him out while he was sick was enough to keep everyone away from his beloved ‘bird, for now. He would have to come up with a more long-term plan asap though as he knew full well this wouldn’t be the last he was going to hear of it. Sure, Gordon and Virgil weren’t all that fussed, but Alan was another matter. That kid was desperate to get behind the controls and had been for a long time.

The jetpack, on the other hand, was a battle he had lost pretty quickly and to be fair to his brothers, they were right. Each and every one of them needed to know how to operate it just in case of emergencies and despite Scott’s concerns, the training had been going well for the first hour-or-so. Then Virgil had gone and asked the one question Scott had been dreading all along.

“What does this button do?” the brother in the green sash asked as he explored the pack that was currently strapped firmly to his torso. It had been no problem to adjust the straps to Virgil’s frame as the jetpack was a lot more adaptable than some of their other kit and to be fair to the man, he had picked up the controls much faster than Scott had ever expected him to. In fact, he was picking up on a lot more than he was ever supposed to.

“Nothing,” Scott replied, far too casually, “it was put in as a fallback in case we needed it but it’s not actually programmed to do anything.”

Virgil frowned. “That doesn’t make any sense. For one thing it’s just bad engineering.”

“What can I say, Brains wanted options.”

“Errrm…Brains doesn’t operate that way.” Gordon was in the mix now, fabulous, they were all against him. “If anything, Brains is super careful not to put in redundant stuff. I smell a rat.”

Time to pull out the big guns. Hugging his blanket closer and attempting to look as pathetic and sickly as possible, a move Scott Tracy would under normal circumstances absolutely never use, he weakly coughed out: “Guys, can we please call it a day. I don’t have the energy for this and you’ve already practiced enough to be able to use the jetpack if you need it.” That part, at least, was true. He would never selfishly put an end to their training if he thought that wasn’t the case. He had seen how close things had been this morning without them having use of it.

“It’s not even listed in the manual,” Virgil replied from where he was now closely scrutinising the instructions Brains had worked up for them and blindly ignoring his Commander’s pitiful attempt at a distraction. “That’s it, I’m pushing it.”

“No!” Scott replied, suddenly forgetting his debilitating illness and springing to his feet.

“Why not?”

“I told you, it doesn’t do anything.”

“Then what does it matter if I push it?”

“Well, we don’t know if it might have been accidentally connected or something. It’s never been tested. Better to let Brains have a look at it first.” Scott was clutching at straws now and he knew it.

“I call BS. Push it Virg.” Gordon piped in.

“Agreed, do it.” Alan joined, eyes narrowed on Scott.

“John, any input?” Virgil asked their currently holographic brother who was also watching the exchange with interest.

“I’m all for exploration. If Brains says it’s safe, go for it.”

Ganging up on the sick one, huh? Not cool, guys. There would be much revenge for this later when he was back to full power, that was for sure.

“Virgil, please trust me on this,” Scott tried one last attempt, “don’t push the button.”

“Brains?” Virgil called up their resident equipment expert, “is there any safety reason why I shouldn’t push the little red button on the jetpack?”

“No reason at all, Virgil. I can assure you my designs are all of the highest quality and one hundred percent safe.”

“That’s what I thought. Thanks Brains.” The connection was cut. “I’m pushing the button now.” Virgil replied.

“Virgil, don’t.”

“Pushing the red button.”

“Do not push the red button.”

“Pushing it in Five…”

“Don’t do it.”

“Four.”

“Virg – “

“Three.”

“Come on…”

“Two.”

“Don’t!”

And just like that, the button was pushed…and…nothing happened. Just like Scott had said. Nothing that anyone other than Scott, who had requested the button, and Virgil, who was now wearing the jetpack, would know about, anyway. Thankfully the incredulous widening of Virgil’s eyes as the button was pushed and the power kicked in was not noticed by the other brothers who were still busily watching Scott at the time, giving the second eldest time to quickly shelve any reaction he may have wanted to make.

“So, Virg, what is it? What did it do?” Alan asked as silence filled the room.

“Nothing,” Virgil choked out, before clearing his throat and trying again a bit more convincingly. “I guess Scott was right, it isn’t linked up to anything. I think maybe you and I should have a bit of a chat with Brains about that later, huh Scott? You know, to check if there are any more little buttons like this that could be hiding away in any of our other equipment.”

“Yeah, sure Virgil,” Scott agreed grumpily from where he had fallen back to the couch, nervous and exhausted.

“Wait, I don’t get it. If it really did do nothing, then why all the fuss?” Gordon asked.

“It’s probably the flu,” Virgil replied, coming to Scott’s rescue. “You know how the meds can make him delirious sometimes. We should probably do what he says and end the session after all. It’s been a long day.”

Neither John nor the younger two seemed to buy it entirely, but whatever it was the elders were hiding, they would find out in due course. They had their ways, they always did. All said and done, they waved their goodbyes to John and off they went. All except Virgil, who began the process of extricating himself from the jetpack, and Scott, who sat sheepishly to one side studying his own feet far too hard while refusing to look Virgil in the eye. Even when said brother came and took a seat right beside him.

“So…” Virgil began. “A BACK MASSAGER?!”

“Would you believe me if I said it was there for therapeutic purposes?”

“Not a chance.”

“And how much will it cost me to keep this one quiet? You know, just between you and me?”

“Well, that depends. Firstly, there’s the cost of my time to redesign this thing and hide the button better so that the others will never find out. Then there’s the additional time and cost to have one fitted into Thunderbird Two. Oh, and the Exosuit, of course.”

“Of course,” Scott replied, with a huff.

“And I’m guessing there’s a similar system already built into Thunderbird One somewhere, which we’ll also need to hide?”

“Maybe…” Scott trailed.

“In that case, I’ll think about it and let you know. Until then, you’re still grounded. And if you even think about defying my rules and trying to break out again like you did yesterday, you know what’s going to happen.”

And with a smirk and a “see you later, big brother”, Virgil was gone, off to talk to Brains about a few little ‘improvement’ ideas of his own and leaving Scott to sulk all alone.

So much for Commander’s privileges. Sometimes little brothers were the worst. At least he could be thankful that Virgil hadn’t discovered the code to activate the heated shoulder straps for Winter flying. If he had to build those into the Exosuit as well, they’d never get Virgil out of it.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #scott tracy #virgil tracy #fluff #thunderfluff

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cg29 · 4 years ago

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Because of link issues with this site I’ve decided to paste my WIPS onto here as well as AO3 & FFNet. Starting with the 1st 3 chapters of the fic I’m currently working on, and have also most recently updated.

Reflections

Set after Virgil's crash during the original series episode of 'Terror in New York City.' (Season 1 episode 4) Short reflections from each of the family on nearly losing a brother and son.

Thank you to @janetm74 for the Beta on C3.

Chapter 1: Scott.

Italic/Bold speech is not mine and comes from the original episode.

“The wheels have gone; I can’t hold her… I’m… I’m going to crash!”

Scott’s heart lurched at the pure panic emanating from Virgil’s voice, but there was nothing he could do as he watched Thunderbird Two squeal across the runway with dark heavy flames springing forth. Finally, and thankfully she came to a stop and the pure white foam rained down on her distinguishing the blaze… But his little Brother was still inside… “What’s going on,” he yelled over his communicator, “why is no one getting him out?”

‘T…They’re on their way Scott,’ Brains replied, ‘I’m h…here to a…assist you with l…landing.’

‘I don’t need any damn assistance, get the med bay prepped for my brother!’

‘FAB!’

Okay, a bit harsh maybe, but Virg was in there… He’d attended too many fire related incidents, he knew the consequences if someone wasn’t rescued quickly… God damn it, they had to get him out… Finally, bringing Thunderbird One into the hangar, Scott unbuckled and shot out of his chair. The further procedures he was required to run through could wait… Virgil needed him more.

…

“How is he?” He puffed out, racing over to his father just as his two brothers were bringing Virgil out of his singed bird.

“Unresponsive… Head injury, smoke inhalation, possible broken ribs,” Gordon reeled off.

“Let’s get him to the infirmary,” Jeff said, allowing his two youngest to go ahead with Virgil before looking back to Scott, “are you coming?”

Scott heaved out a breath and nodded. “Yeah, I’m coming!”

…

A few days later…

He stared down at his sleeping brother, it could have been so much worse, and the words from that moment still danced in his mind…

“Thunderbird Two from Thunderbird One, come in Virgil... Virgil are you okay? Virgil, pull her up… Can you hear me? Come in Thunderbird Two... Virgil, you’re crashing… Pull her up… Virgil, get a grip on yourself, you’ve got to pull out of that dive!”

If his brother hadn’t dragged himself out of that dive at the last second, he wouldn’t be here… And to be honest, he didn’t know if he would be either. He would have dived Thunderbird One in after her sister ship, and tried everything within his power to pull Virgil out, but it wouldn’t have worked, and both of them would have gone down…

“You did good son.”

“Ha?” Scott mumbled, looking to his father who was standing beside him.

“You did a good job. You talked your brother through a very severe situation, and you got him home. You saved his life Scott, and because of that he will be back to himself before we know it. Now, stop thinking about the alternatives.”

“How did you know?”

“I know you,” Jeff nodded towards Virgil who was shifting in his bed, “looks like he’s waking.”

Virgil groggily forced his eyes open.

“How, are you Virgil?” Jeff questioned.

“Welcome back to the land of the living!” Scott added.

Virgil sat himself up. “What happened to Thunderbird Two?”

‘TYPICAL!’ Scott inwardly chuckled while his father went on to answer. If his brother was already worrying about his bird, then his dad was definitely right… Virgil would get better, and soon they would both be out there together again.

Chapters 2 & 3 featuring John & Gordon below the cut.

Chapter 2: John

“Thunderbird 5. My home away from home. I love being here, the solitude suits me and because of that I’m the one who is up here the most. Don’t get me wrong I adore my family and I enjoy spending time with each of them when I’m on leave but being here amongst the stars that I’ve gazed up at in wonder since I was a small boy makes me feel so peaceful. Four days ago, that tranquillity was shattered, and for the first time ever I am finding myself wishing that someone could replace me, someone could come here and take me home.

You see my first younger brother, the one who holds us altogether with his natural calming and added creative abilities was nearly killed while I was sleeping. I know, I know, me sleeping didn’t cause his crash, but if I had been awake then maybe I could have done something to help him, like hacking the Sentinel and stopping them from firing on his bird. Instead, I was on ordered downtime after two back-to-back missions which had kept me awake for over forty-eight hours. The first required Thunderbird fours assistance, the second was in space with Alan. After I called in the third requiring just Scott and Virgil my dad, believing it was a rescue that wouldn’t require my expertise, ordered me to communicate any vital information I had to my brothers, then relay Thunderbird Five’s communications to Tracy Island so I could spend the next ten to twelve hours asleep. I managed the full twelve and after a shower and food I was ready to return to work. Except, the reply I received when contacting base wasn’t the one that I was expecting.

Ten minutes it took for me to make contact, I can’t begin to explain the thoughts that had rampaged through my mind when no one was responding, Alan finally answered looking slightly pale and very tired. Immediately I demanded to know what was going on, the answer drained me completely. The Sentinel had fired missiles at Virgil, thankfully dad had been able to reach Washington and stop the meaningless attack, but the damage that had already been received was great and my little brother was extremely lucky to make it back to the island. Well, I say lucky… Head injury, smoke inhalation, broken ribs, several cuts, and bruises. Yet, it wasn’t until the following day that he regained consciousness… But he was still alive, and that’s what mattered.

After a long chat with the youngest to make sure he was coping I signed off and instantly logged into our islands security feeds so I could see the crash. Yes, I know it sounds a little morbid, but the reality was probably not as dramatic as what was playing through my mind. Thankfully, although extreme, it wasn’t. However, what seeing that crash didn’t do was alleviate the need that I still have now to see and talk to Virgil. What it did do was produce another need, one that I could do something about, and that was to make sure that the man who recklessly fired at the kindest person you could ever wish to meet receives some sort of justice. Nothing too malicious of course, we are in the business of saving lives and not taking them, but maybe I’ll put my hacking prowess to use and make sure he gets discharged from his position. Whatever I choose though won’t be pretty but will be fully deserved…

…Oh, one moment, I seem to have a call coming through from home - - - - It’s Virgil… Sorry, but I have to go, he still looks really groggy and probably won’t be able to talk for too long, but I’ve desperately been needing this chat… Catch you guys later, Thunderbird Five out.”

Chapter 3: Gordon.

The ocean before him was calm, the turbulent thoughts raging inside his heart were not. All caused by his current location. The Sentinel… Gordon had arrived two hours before and introductions had immediately been made between himself, the crew, and the Captain. The same Captain who had given the damn order to shoot Thunderbird Two down. Yes, they had presumed that an attack was possibly imminent. Nonetheless, they should have done a comprehensive check before going all gung-ho. Then they would have realised that it wasn’t a strike vessel, it was an International Rescue aircraft, and a person was on board. A person who was loved. Loved by a family who had already been torn apart by the loss of a mother and wife. A family that didn’t deserve to lose anyone else.

They had been reckless, and even though most on board had asked after the wellbeing of his teammate, the Captain, the idiot who had ordered them to fire had not made any queries. He had approached him, introduced himself, and then begun immediately filling him in on their trajectory and any further details he might need. After he had contacted Scott, the Captain had ordered one of his officers to assist, then sheepishly made his excuses and left, guilt plastered all over his face. Five minutes later Gordon was being shown to the sleeping quarters where he could get some shut eye in between any updates he needed to make.

He would probably take some downtime soon. For now, he just wanted to gaze at the ocean. The sea made everything better. Here he could switch his attention from the surface to air missile launchers that had taunted him with their sickening capabilities upon arrival, and instead concentrate on his mission. A mission that would normally be routine. Instead, two men who were trapped and injured had to wait just over twenty-four hours. Two lives might be lost because they shot his big brother down. Gordon gripped the rail and slowly breathed out while focussing on the rhythmic pulse from the ocean waves, and the fact that Virgil, although severely injured and definitely needing some time to recuperate, had survived the atrocious crash.

However, it had come so close to being a different outcome and the gut-wrenching, mind-swirling sickness at the thought of ‘what could have been’ had buried itself deeper and deeper into his heart and refused to release its grasp. Needing to go inside to retrieve Virgil had made those feelings more horrific. Sure, he had saved countless lives from fires, but to have to rescue a brother, a member of his own family, ‘that’ he wasn’t used to. His brother had been crumpled over, a deep cut on his head was bleeding, and his eyes were tightly closed. For a horrible moment, both himself and Alan had stood there before moving forwards. He thought he had lost Virgil, that his big brother was already dead. Thankfully, upon reaching him a pulse was discovered. Virgil was alive. Professionalism immediately kicked in, and he and Alan worked together to get him on a stretcher and out of there as quickly as possible.

Since then, Alan had avoided Virgil. Obviously, the kid was still in shock and processing what had happened. Hopefully, by the time he returned his little brother would have gone to see Virgil, otherwise he would need to drag him in there. Of course, he had done the complete opposite and had not wanted to leave his brother’s side. He needed to ease up though. Virgil knew what his game was and had tried to reassure him several times that he wasn’t going to disappear on him. Yes, he would need to step back a little when he returned, after he had once again checked that his kind-hearted, generous brother was still alive and well.

His ever-forgiving brother, who never held a grudge, had even suggested that they use the Sentinel to save lives. Okay, that made sense, the two men were trapped; their lives were what mattered, not how he felt about the Sentinel. Unfortunately, Gordon wasn’t that big of a person, and boy was he stewing over his feelings right now. A yawn emitted from him, and he looked at his watch. There was still just over two hours to go before he needed to check-in with Scott. Plenty of time for a power nap in the quarters. He certainly needed one. During the past week he’d either been helping out with two, doing his usual maintenance checks or sitting by his brothers’ side and he hadn’t managed a lot of downtime.

Tomorrow would bring a tough rescue and he needed his full alertness to save the two men, especially with the lack of time they would have left. There was also Virgil’s ‘big brother’ voice inside his head yelling at him to get some down time. He breathed in the fresh air, allowing the knowledge that he would continue hearing his brother’s nagging to engulf him. A smile formed. That’s what mattered, not his infuriation towards the Captain, or his current location. Virgil was alive. Thunderbird Two would be restored to her former glory. His eyes switched from the azure sea to the vastness overhead. Then, one day soon she would be soaring with her pilot, his best big brother, through those illustrious oceanic blue skies.

chapter 4 Here...

#Thunderbirds Fanfiction #Thunderbirds #Thunderbirds Original Series #Terror in New York City #Thunderbirds OS #Thunderbirds Are Go

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