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

[edorazzi]

Happy birthday to my gorgeous, amazing @officialladynoirette!!!!

After my amazing Thunderbirds bday gift from last year, I counter with a shameless thirst trap of her favourite iR bird. Just showing off his tattoo, of course! 👀

[idontknowreallywhy]

Resurface 28 - Rend

Story so far

I’ll be honest - this next section has fought me because while it’s easy enough for me to say “Noo the puppy pile makes us feel better but isn’t going to Fix them, they need to Talk like Grown Ups”, it’s been tricky to drag them into a place where they are ready /willing to do it, big bros especially.

Thus it seemed possible the motivation that might be most effective might come from a littler bro-who-must-be-protected actually needing that talk. Hence Alan needed to be broken first.

Except then Gordon had a bit of an internal breakdown himself (because I couldn’t just make Alan cry, nooo I had to make him bleed didn’t I? 😏) so this next part is a bit of a scene set for that / catch up on all their mental states from the POV of a certain squid who could challenge big bro for his racing inner monologue crown…

Apologies if it’s kind of slow / doesn’t seem to go anywhere. I promise I’ve written the end and I think it’ll be worth it when we get there.

💚💛❤️💙🧡💚💛❤️💙🧡💚💛❤️💙🧡

Gordon leant heavily against the kitchen sink and dabbed ineffectively at his damp hands with an even damper towel.

They looked clean now.

They weren’t.

Something about a brother’s blood lingered, invisibly, and when he closed his eyes to catch his breath he could still feel the warm slickness of it. Somehow oily, it made his fingers unnaturally frictionless as they moved against each other and his stomach churned at the sensation.

Once lowered, his eyelids felt heavy, itchy. Swollen. Realistically at least one of them was going to end up blackened by the dizzying impact between his face and a fury-fuelled elbow. He’d not seen that coming…

Leaden as they were, his eyes shot open again in surprise as something tickled his big toe. The cleaning bot having finished its consumption of the broken glass was nudging at his foot. The googly eyes he and Alan had superglued to it on a carefree whim so many months ago were jiggling away and it looked for all the word like a sentient being trying to reassure him.

It wasn’t of course, but he suspected there was one behind its behaviour and glanced instinctively up at the ceiling.

The bot butted him more sharply and he redirected his attention to the rest of his family. Apparently unaware that the glass threat had passed, they were huddled on a pool float island in a kitchen floor sea. It would be comical if there weren’t so many things wrong with the picture.

The first one was obviously that his only little brother had been leaking blood all over the place from several nasty slices to his hands and fingers. It was nothing short of a miracle none of the tendons were compromised and - he knew they should be thankful - but it was hard to focus on that right now. Not in these circumstances… when the injuries were… recklessly… bizarrely… self-inflicted. Where a frenzied Alan had tried to force the tumbler back into its proper shape with his bare hands, as if he believed he could fuse glass with sheer willpower. And when he failed Alan had actually fought Gordon rather than allow him to help prevent the cuts getting any worse.

That had been... well. Very Wrong.

Scott and John were nearly as pale as the little guy was. This wasn’t unexpected, he supposed - there was something about Alan being hurt, even relatively trivially, that really messed with all of them on a kind of primal level.

Another big problem with the picture was that the person doing the patching up wasn’t Virgil. It was always Virgil, unless it was Virgil doing the bleeding then… well, it was usually Gordon actually. They were all highly trained first responders and perfectly competent, and Gordon in particular had worked hard under his wingman’s eagle eye to become nearly as proficient. However, it was an unwritten Tracy law that when ol’ Steady-Hands Virg was present, he did this stuff.

But he wasn’t. He was there, sure, holding Alan on his lap, but no more than that. Not advising, not encouraging or doing any of the other Virgilly things he should be doing. Just… watching, not entirely present, like he was stuck behind some bloody curtain.

And obviously nor was it Gordon armed with the suture needle, which was just as well because he wasn’t feeling so steady-handed himself right now. Which was not unrelated to how Done he was with that curtain. And the fact Alan’s grip on things had shattered more violently even than the glass he’d sideswiped with a wildly gesticulating arm… Gordon was a split second too late seeing crunch coming. He hasn’t seen the result coming.

He should have seen it coming. Of course he hasn’t been as fine as he’d pretended. Alan had pulled a Scott on him and no mistake.

Grandma would have been the obvious next candidate for first aid administration but had backed away quietly at the high-intensity-blue-lasered command even she knew it was best to heed without argument.

It was Scott. Scott who snatched up the tweezers to painstakingly remove the remaining shards from shredded flesh, Scott who now wielded the needle. Because for some reason Scott wouldn’t contemplate anyone else doing it. Gordon suspected that the chance to fix anything… to do one practical thing to help was something his biggest brother desperately needed before he fractured too. Gordon was a little concerned someone would have to stitch the Commander’s bottom lip up next, such was the abuse it was undergoing. John was watching Scott’s every move with the mind of calm, neutral expression that failed to conceal, from Gordon at least, a few fault lines of his own.

The only one missing was Kayo. And Kayo was likely burning out Shadow’s engines somewhere over the Pacific Ocean as she hurtled back towards the Island. Nobody hurt Alan on her watch, not even Alan.

Hell they were a mess.

A sudden release of breath and Scott presented Alan’s hands for Grandma’s approval. Then there were bandages gently applied, baby brother knuckles kissed twice by the only real father figure the kid really remembered and then a pause while everyone avoided everyone else’s eyes and wondered what on earth to say next.

In the end Scott took the blunt approach:

“Why, Allie?”

“I had to fix it. It was for Virgil and I had to fix it.”

“Fix… your glass?”

“The mess… I had to… You don’t… you wouldn’t understand!!!”

Scott’s face was evidence enough of that but his voice was far calmer than the turmoil Gordon could see in his eyes

“No… I really don’t but I need to, what’s got into you Allie?”

“It was all my fault I’m sosorryVirgil. I’m so sorry, I’m always so damn cl-clumsy.”

The only one not looking baffled by now was Virgil but Gordon couldn’t be sure if that was because he was still a bit out of it and hadn’t been following. Alan huddled in his lap, Virgil had wrapped his arms around his little brother and his chin rested on the top of his head. He looked tired…

No. Not just tired… Virgil looked… resigned?

Gordon knew his eyes had widened as the realisation hit - Virgil knew. He knew what was going on. What on Earth had happened between the two of them that nobody else had noticed?

“Allie, talk to us. What is your fault? Whatever it is, Virgil isn’t holding it against you, right Virgil?”

Virgil just pressed his lips into Alan’s hair and closed his eyes.

Alan himself took a breath and appeared to steel himself.

“It’s my fault Virgil got sick.”

[gumnut-logic]

The sensor buoy he threw off the side of their boat sunk into the depths somewhat and sharpened their sensory net to activity underwater including sounds and movement. The holographic interface threw up a three-dimensional display of the water under and around the boat up to a kilometre across.

The aquanaut placed the projector in the middle of the table. “Would you look at that.”

Vigil stared at the somewhat blurry dots and shapes moving across the display. “What?”

Gordon rolled his eyes and, reaching into the hologram, zoomed in on one spot teeming with dots of movement. The middle of the table was suddenly full of a school of large fish.

Virgil shifted back and he wasn’t the only one.

“A little warning next time, bro.” Alan was frowning at Gordon.

“Eh.” And no, their aquanaut did not care, his eyes latched on the fish. “A school of tuna, southern bluefin, in fact. Good to see, though they are at the edge of their range.” He grabbed his tablet and, while four other brothers stared at him, he entered some data, his eyes dancing between the two displays.

Virgil couldn’t help but smile. Scott caught his eye and did the same. Virgil’s smile became a grin.

Gordon didn’t notice. His fingers darted into the hologram again and minimised the tuna only to bring up another school of fish on the other side of the display. More notes were made on the tablet.

The silence around the table was profound. Even John had a small smile on his face as he watched Gordon.

A dark shape moved amongst the fish. It was much larger and it wasn’t until it slid into the centre of the school that it became clear exactly what it was.

“Wow.” Alan voiced the awe for all of them. Well, except Gordon who was still staring at the fish.

Virgil resisted the urge to reach out and touch the hologram of the shark cruising through scattering fish. He wasn’t sure what type it was, but it was big.

A moment later Gordon realised they were all staring. A glance at the shark and he punched at his tablet. “Bonus! She’s tagged!” Another stab or two. “Hilda? Oh my god, it’s Hilda.”

Hilda?

“Who’s Hilda?” Virgil asked the question, but Gordon was absorbed in what he was doing.

“I did not expect to find her this far south.”

“You know this shark?” Alan’s voice was small.

“What? Oh, yeah, Hilda likes to feed in our lagoon.”

“What?” Scott’s deeper voice cut through the stunned silence. “That shark was in our lagoon?”

Gordon blinked up at him. “Well, yeah, how do you think I tagged her? Been following her movements for the last two years. She loves some of the smaller fish that feed in the coral reefs. She can’t quite fit into all of them, but she enjoys herself in any case. Caught herself a couple of seabirds from the colony on Mateo a few months back. It was awesome.” Not once did his eyes leave the display and the shark swimming across their dinner table.

“I am never going swimming again.” Alan’s voice was tiny.

Gordon finally looked up and his eyebrows shot up. “Hey, she’s cool. You lot aren’t tasty enough anyway.”

Scott sighed and dropped his head into his hand. “Why do I bother?”

-o-o-o-

[katblu42]

The Letter

Been a while, but here's a thing for @flashfictionfridayofficial

Thunderbirds fandom. Approx 920 words.

Warnings for grief/mourning and mention of death. I may have cried while writing this.

“Scott?” Virgil approached his big brother quietly, cautiously.  “Are you okay?”

The piece of paper he held was shaking slightly, and when Scott looked up at Virgil his sapphire blues were glistening with unshed tears.

“I . . .” he swallowed hard and held the fragile piece of slightly yellowed paper out for Virgil to see.  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Virgil’s eyes widened as he scanned the handwritten words on the page and recognised the content.

“Where did you find this?”  Scott seemed unable to respond for a moment, but Virgil’s eyes were glued to the page.  Some of the ink was smudged with some kind of water damage – two distinct round spots near the bottom of the page – but the paper was dry, the damage old.  “I mean, I remember writing it but I don’t remember keeping it, or giving it to anyone.”

Scott pointed to the pieces of a picture frame on the desk.  The frame that usually held one of the last photographs of all five boys with both parents.  Along side the photo and the broken frame were a few other small pieces of paper, some with their mother’s handwriting on them, a pressed flower that Virgil recognised as one of Mom’s favourites and a scrap of embroidered fabric.

“Dad must have kept these things hidden in the back of the frame.  Reminders of her, I guess.  But the letter . . .”

Dear Mom,

I don’t really know why I’m writing this letter.  I just miss you so much and I didn’t know what else to do.

I wanted to talk to Scott because we always tell each other everything, but I don’t think he really wants to talk about this right now.  I know he’s hurting just like we all are but he seems to be coping by keeping everything as normal as possible for everyone else.  Especially Alan.

Scott is the one making sure all the chores get done and everyone gets to where they need to be on time and does their homework and stuff.  He’s taken charge, which is good because Dad’s not really doing that right now, but it’s bad because I think Scott’s not letting himself be sad that you’re gone.  He’s trying not to give himself time to think about it.

I can’t talk to Dad.  No one can.  Except maybe Grandma sometimes.  He went back to work so quick after the funeral and he stays there late a lot.  When he is home it’s like he hides in his office.  I’m not sure, but I think being in the house with all of us but not you hurts him too much.  Sometimes it even feels like he can’t look at us without seeing that you’re missing.

Gordon and Alan are too little.  I mean Alan still asks when you’ll be coming home.  He doesn’t understand what never means and Scott and John and I don’t really know how to explain it, so we just don’t and hug him tight instead. 

Gordon is old enough to understand death means we never get to have you here with us anymore but he wants to know why Heaven can’t have visitors.  He has so many things he wants to show you and ask you about.  I hope it’s okay I told him he could always talk to you because you can still listen even if you can’t answer.

Sometimes I worry a bit about John.  I can’t talk to him about this stuff either because I know he’s struggling with it too.  He’s gone quiet.  Even more quiet than normal.  He still helps with Alan and Gordon and does all his chores but I don’t think I’ve seen him smile or heard him laugh since you died.  Not even when Allie and Gordon get up to their mischief.  Plus he hasn’t gone up to the roof to look at the stars at all in ages.  Not even when I offered to go up with him.  I know you two used to stargaze together.  I wish you could let him know it’s okay for him to do that without you.

Mom, it’s so hard without you.  Sometimes I don’t know what to do and I know that if you were here you would have the answers and I feel so lost because I don’t know who else to turn to.  I miss you so much and I wish more than anything that I could have you back just for a day.

Love you always, Virgil.

“Why would he keep this?” Virgil’s fingers traced the creases where the paper had been repeatedly folded.  “How did he even get hold of it in the first place?”

“Why did you write it?”

Virgil finally tore his eyes away from the letter and looked back at Scott.  He couldn’t form the words to explain, but some of the emotional turmoil he felt was mirrored in his brother’s face and he realised he didn’t have to.  And suddenly his big brother was wrapping him in a welcome embrace.

“You were grieving and felt like you had no one you could confide in,” Scott said softly.  “I think when Dad found it he realised he needed to be there for us more and kept it to remind him of that.  We should have been there for you, Virge.  I’m sorry.”

“You were,” Virgil whispered back, returning the hug.  “In the end even Dad was better at it – all of us being there for each other, no matter what.”

[right-brain-of-froggy2]

Christmas in July Chapter 19

Here’s a short and simple little story for y’all today: To Christmas! Hope you enjoy! :)

AO3 link here!

“Well, my dear little brother,” Virgil stars, sidling up to Alan spread eagle on the couch. Everyone’s enjoying their Thanksgiving meal food comas after a well deserved catered feast. Hey- just because they aren’t in America anymore doesn’t mean they can’t enjoy some good turkey and mashed potatoes!

Alan cracks open an eye. He mumbles something incomprehensible, trying to kick Virgil away. “G’way. Trying to sleep here.”

“You wouldn’t be so tired if you realized what day it is.”

“It’s a Thursday.”

“And…?”

“It’s Thanksgiving.”

“Technically, it’s past Thanksgiving by my standards. Which means…”

“It’s Black Friday?”

Virgil pokes Alan in the cheek with something. One peek and he sees it’s a golden outdoor Santa decoration; its inside is filled with string lights and covered in gold glitter. A streak of sparkles stays on Alan’s chin. That perks the youngest up right away.

“It’s Christmas season, baby!” Alan whoops.

Somewhere across the living room, amongst the pillows and dessert dishes stacked about the holoprojector, Scott groans. “Give it at least until December 1st.”

“Nope. The deal is nothing until after Thanksgiving.”

“I don’t know if this counts.”

“We already have so little time!”

“Yeah, because you’d trash the place in tinsel in October if you could.”

“And so you give us thirty one measly days instead.” Alan falls into Virgil’s side as if the lamentation sapped all his strength.

Scott takes one look at Virgil, sparkly Santa tightly in hand, and decides it’s not worth arguing. He lets the turkey tryptophan do its job and take him back down to a food filled dreamland. John is out cold next to him, using Scott’s thigh like a pillow. Gordon and Kayo are curled up on the couch with the best holoprojector view, polishing off the cherry pie with A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving rerun in the background.

“You boys better not overdo it in one day,” Grandma says from behind them. Alan jumps, not expecting her presence to sneak up right behind them. Virgil hands off the decoration to Alan and pulls a Santa hat from his back pocket.

“Have a little faith Grandma! We never overdo it.”

They overdid it.

Not in the sense that there’s too much Christmas-y spirit, oh no. There’s never too much of that. But Alan’s pouting with no brothers in sight and no decorations left to hang. It took four days of Virgil and Alan’s Christmas adrenaline paired with a light rescue load to decorate the entire villa.

Thunderbird One is docking in her silo as Alan tries to think of something else to throw Christmas up onto! The stockings are hung for each and every one of them, hand embroidered by Grandma and touched up by Virgil. Even EOS has a little one right next to John’s Starry Night print stocking.

Tinsel is wrapped about the banisters of the stairs in a flourish of blue and silver. Virgil dug out the Christmas throw pillows to replace the boring solid color ones of the couches. A balsam fir tree so grand that Scott had to carry it home in One sits empty except for lights at the top of the lounge balcony. Ornament decorating is off-limits until next week when John has a scheduled downtime. Alan and Virgil’s room are covered head to toe in decorations. Worry not, that was the first place the brothers tackled.

The silos are a no decoration zone. Which, Alan agrees, is fair. He did sneak in and leave a few stuffed snowmen in the Birds in case they come across a rescue with children.

“Damn! I can smell that tree all the way from the locker room.”

Alan looks to find Scott coming up with two red cups in hand. His suit’s still on with the sleeves wrapped around his waist and undershirt on show. Alan wrinkles his nose.

“And I can smell you from over here.” Alan fake gags. “Why didn’t you shower yet?”

“Huh, well apparently I have a little brother who doesn’t want his spiced latte.”

“What? Gimme!”

Alan pops up and reaches for the cup he says labelled with Alan. Scott holds it above his head while taking a sip of his own. Realizing that Scott can keep his latte above his head a lot longer than his patience can hold out, Alan pulls away.

“Here I thought you’d be grateful I didn’t let it cool any longer than it had to while I showered and changed.”

“I am grateful, you idiot,” Alan retorts, sticking out his tongue.

“Mature.”

Scott passes off the red Starbucks cup and Alan downs a third of it in one long drink. Who cares that they live on a hot tropical island?

Rather than going down to clean up quite yet, Scott walks to the kitchen with Alan hot on his heels. He finds the deli turkey in the bottom fridge door and pulls it out; Scott shovels the plain meat into his meat as Alan finds a spot at the kitchen island.

“You get any decorating done today?”

Alan pouts. “No. It’s all done and I can’t think of anything to add!”

Scott hums. He keeps munching on the turkey in lieu of a real meal. “You seen Virgil today? Gordon’s been working on Four all day and said he hasn’t seen him.”

“ALAN!”

On cue, Virgil comes scrambling up the stairs from the basement. Arguably their least used staircase as the only thing down there is long term storage. Alan jumps up as Virgil crashes his way over, depositing three Rubbermaid boxes on the ground.

“Oh no…” Scott whispers to no one but himself. Virgil’s pupils are blown wide with excitement.

“I found another four boxes of decorations!”

“Hell yeah!”

[cg29fics]

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!"

[littleoldrachel]

"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.

[tsarisfanfiction]

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.

[bonsaiiiiiii-fics]

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-

[fallenfurther]

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."

[scribbles97]

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.”

[scattergraph]

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.

[cg29]

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...

[gumnut-logic]

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

[katblu42]

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.”

[strongerwiththepack]

I got Hypothermia & Cabin - with Virgil & any other bro 😊

Thank-you! Prompt from the Whump Generator. Also my first ever ask which is exciting XD

Virgil & Hypothermia & Cabin w/ some John on the side!

Virgil feels numb all over as he’s dragged back to consciousness. It’s like he’s waking up from a drug-induced sleep except there’s far too much pain for that to be true. The too-bright light behind his closed eyes is making his head throb and he groans pitifully.

There’s definitely something wrong, so with great protest he blinks his eyes open and all he’s sees is blinding white for a few seconds before his eyes adjust. Snow. Everywhere. There are trees above him and the snow is still gently falling.

He looks down at himself and he’s half submerged in the snow…in his island clothes. It’s then the pain makes it’s way through the numbness and he shivers violently, disrupting the snow that had fallen on him.

He starts gasping as he forces his uncooperative arms to push him into a sitting position. His clothes are soaked through and he’s sitting in the snow in the middle of nowhere. His breaths puff out, visible in the frigid air and he uses a near-by tree to pull himself up to his feet. His legs tremble dangerously and he has to blink black spots out of his vision.

Dammit. Virgil thinks to himself. What the hell happened?

Virgil wracks his brain and parts start to come back to him. He’d been skiing with John. They both had a long weekend of leave. That didn’t explain why he was now freezing his butt off in the middle of nowhere though. He reached for his watch only to find his wrist bare. That can’t be right, he never takes it off.

If he doesn’t start moving things are going to end very badly. He scans the area around him. The snow has mostly covered up any tracks of how he’d gotten here but the snow directly in front of him is much more uneven than behind him to he guessed that was his best bet.

Letting go of the tree that was semi-supporting him he stumbled forwards. It was like the cold had seeped into his bones and every step sent a stab of pain into his joints. His wet jeans rubbed uncomfortably against his frozen skin.

The dizziness was becoming a problem as he followed the path of uneven snow, grabbing a hold of each passing tree to keep himself grounded. God knows how long he’d already been out here.

The snow was getting heavier and he had to squint his eyes. There! Up ahead, a cabin stood out against the backdrop of snow. It definitely wasn’t the ski village but he’s about 2 minutes away from passing out in the snow again so it looked like his best option. John would be looking for him by now.

The cabin looked less inviting up close. Rotting wood and broken windows weren’t going to offer much protection but he didn’t have a choice at this point. The door opened with a creak and he had to grip the doorframe to stop himself from falling straight through.

His heart sunk as he peered around and saw only one table and some rickety chairs, the rest of the cabin was bare. He took a shaky breath. It would keep him out of the snow. John would find him soon.

As much as he wanted collapse right there his training wouldn’t let him rest. He paced back and forth around the room trying to keep his blood flowing. It became more of a shuffle as time passed and Virgil barely even comprehended the fact that he was moving as he dragged his feet across the ground.

Just keep moving. Keep moving. Keep moving.

His thoughts were muddled but he managed to keep up his slow shuffle far longer than he should have been able to. Eventually his legs gave out and his knees hit the wooden floor with a crack.

He placed his trembling arms out in front of his and sat, breathing heavily. He wasn’t getting back up again. He managed to crawl over to the corner of the room and prop himself up against the wall. He pulled himself into a tight ball and placed his hands under his armpits.

Come on John. Where are you? He thought.

And then he drifted.

*

John was frantic. Virgil had stepped out this morning to get some more wood for the fire in their cabin. It was only a few meters from the front-door but he hadn’t come back in again. It was their last day here, they’d been planning on going up the ski slopes one more time before they left. Virgil wouldn’t have left without telling him.

They’d had a nice trip so far, the two of them were definitely the more relaxed members of the family. Last time they’d gone skiing as a family he and Virgil had either been dragged along with Scott and Gordon to do extreme off-piste skiing or they were frantically worrying about Alan trying to copy his more daring older brothers. They’d had a much more relaxing holiday this time around.

Well until Virgil decided to go missing that is.

He tried calling through their watches with no response so after an hour and still no Virgil he’d tracked his brother’s whereabouts. The location pinged in the resort café. If Virgil had spent an hour ignoring him just to get his morning coffee, John was not going to be happy.

He pulled on his boots and waterproofs, walking across the resort to said café, ready to give his brother an earful. His chest tightened when he arrived and there was still no sign of him. Their watch locations were extremely precise, and John zeroed in on a group of guys being rowdy in the corner. He clenched his fists. The guys from the bar last night.

He stalked over, worry for his brother overshadowing his reluctance to approach them.

The saw him coming and turned to look at him as he approached.

“I believe you have something that belongs to my brother.” John gritted out.

The table erupted in laughter and one of the guys sneered. “That prick make it down the mountain already? We should’ve left him further up boys.”

“Mountain?” John questioned angrily. “Where the hell is my brother?”

“That’s a no then.” The guy smirked. “Half-way up the Balgay mountain, exact location isn’t coming to me.”

John was done with these guys, he just need one thing to find his brother. He held out his hand. “Give me the watch.”

John’s tone must have been verging on dangerous because it was tossed his way without argument. “Things worthless crap anyway.”

He ran out of the café as the guys laughed again. He and EOS would deal with them later. Harshly. Right now, he needed to find his brother.

He activated his own watch as he ran back to the cabin. “Come in Tracy Island.”

“Tracy Island at your service.” Gordon’s voice came across the comm. “What can I do for you holiday goers?”

“Gordon! Virgil’s in trouble.” John panted out as he ran. “I don’t have all the details, but he might be hurt I don’t know.”

“What do you need me to do?” Gordon asked, entirely in professional mode now.

“Have Thunderbird Two on standby, I’ll keep you posted.”

Tracking Virgil’s past movements led him to where his brother must have been left. He came to a halt on his rented snowmobile and noticed the disturbed snow. He quickly followed the tracks, maybe his brother had made it down already and was fine. The track ended at a derelict cabin and John had a sinking feeling.

The door banged off the wall as he slammed it open. “Virgil?”

And then he saw his brother. Slumped and unconscious against the far wall. “Virgil!”

“Going to need that pick-up Gordon.” He relayed to his brother. “And hurry.”

John didn’t wait for a reply as he kneeled down next to his brother and gently shook his shoulder. “Hey Virg. You okay?”

His brothers head lolled at the movement, not reacting to the touch. The plaid shirt was damp under John’s hand. He shakily pressed his fingers into Virgil neck and breathed a sigh of relief at the faint pulse he felt there. His skin was like ice while his cheeks and nose were red and irritated. Frostbite.

John was going to kill those guys.

Thunderbird Two was still at least 20 minutes out. He needed to do what he could.

He started to peel off his brother’s wet shirt, gently talking to him as his did so. “Hey Virg, you’re okay now. We’ll get you warmed up in no time.” He soothed as he pulled the shirt down his unconscious brothers arms. “I’m just going to get these wet clothes off of you.”

He awkwardly manoeuvred his brother out of his vest as well before wrapping his own coat around Virgil’s shoulders, hoping it still held some of his body heat. As he pulled it closed, his brother’s eyes fluttered open to half-mast.

“Jo’n?” Virgil mumbled.

“Hey, I’m here. You okay?”

Virgil just blinked slowly and puffed out a few heavy breaths.

“Hey, hey that’s okay.” John soothed as he rubbed up and down his brothers arms. “Just stay awake okay? Your girl is on her way, we’ll be home soon.”

Virgil hummed and his eyes drifted shut again.

John gripped his brothers chin muttering. “Come on Virg, I said no sleeping.” Virgil’s eyes squinted open. “Just focus on me okay?”

Virgil held his gaze in affirmative. “Okay. Just stay awake, and I’ll tell you all about what I’m going to do to the guys who left you up here, okay?”

Virgil continued to stare at him with slightly glazed eyes which he hoped was a good sign. His brother was far too unresponsive though, Gordon better hurry.

“Okay bro, I may even get creative just for you.”

So just settled in and talked to his brother. He was never one for small talk but if it kept his brother awake he would ramble for as long as needed. He’d let Gordon take over soon.

For now, he just talked and waited.

fin.