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halorocks1214 · 5 years ago

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ბარტერი (a Thunderbirds fic)

Chapter 1: გატაცებული

AO3 Link

Word Count: 3892

Summary: And here they thought getting their father back was the least of their worries.

i make no promises for this fic. the upload schedule will be totally willy nilly because i havent really been feeling the whole writing thing and because of my other fics and projects and irl shit. i hate to admit it but im on the fence on whether or not this will actually be completed, BUT, i still am surprisingly proud of this so im posting it anyway. hope yall enjoy!

“Okay, what’s the dealio?”

Gordon easily skipped around his younger brother with a slightly faux-naive voice. They were currently out in the field, damn tsunamis not being picked up by the D.A.R.T. soon enough, and while Gordon knew better than to talk about personal things during a rescue, it was the first time in a while he even had the chance to talk to Alan.

Who was currently more forlorn than Gordon was aware he could be if the way he watched his toes kick whatever small rock they strutted past was any indication. It took a moment for Alan to register his older brother’s question, but when he did, he blinked a few times before looking at Gordon with a raised eyebrow, “What?”

Gordon was going to play this slyly. Treat it as banter, not an interrogation. Gordon idly leaned over and picked up a stick. He started to twirl it, never meeting Alan’s gaze directly, “I don’t know, you seem off. Just wanted to see if it was anything I could help with.”

Alan went back to kicking the pebbles, shrugging his shoulders in a way that said ‘this was a big deal but I don’t want you to know that’, “Oh, sorry, just tired. It’s not my fault I was having a wonderful nap in the closet only for John to make me tumble out of it due to the alarms. The fact that we’ve been out here for God knows how many hours doesn’t help.”

Gordon’s chuckles at that statement were slightly fake. Alan was hiding something, and if Gordon had to imitate Scott, well, then it was only Alan’s fault, “Yeah-huh. Sounds good.” He focused on the stick, pretending it was a wand and waving it around as such, “Decided on a college yet?”

Alan still didn’t look up, and Gordon could hear the noises of rocks getting kicked and traveling a foot or two. Alan answered him monotonously, “Uh, not really. I’ve narrowed it down to three. I haven’t brought them up with anyone other than Grandma though since the last thing I want to do is create a World War between our older brothers about which one is better.”

Gordon snorted but then got serious again. Dammit, Gordon, you are not letting him worm his way out of this. Again, “If I promise Scout’s Honor will you tell me them?” He cheekily grinned at Alan, which got a small smile out of the younger brother. Nice, getting closer. Now Gordon was doing that rubber pencil trick with the stick, way more immersed with the visual illusion than he probably should be, “Hmm, is it girl trouble?”

Alan rolled his eyes, but Gordon could tell he was getting annoyed, which meant the older brother was getting close. Alan kept his facade up, crunching a stick underneath his feet as he started walking just a little faster, “If you mean ‘Kayo chased me for accidentally spilling paint on Shadow’s nose’ then yes, I’m having lots of girl trouble.”

Gordon winced wholeheartedly and sympathetically. He remembered when he accidentally tripped and spilled water all over the front of her one night. He wasn’t aware she was a fan of throwing them into the pool just as much as he was until that night. It was in annoyance, but still, Gordon considered it a similar hobby between them regardless, “Yeesh, sorry for bringing up traumatizing memories bro.” Squinting at the stick he was playing with, he put it over his lips like a faux-mustache, lightbulb dinging in his brain with joyful glee, “Boy trouble?”

Alan groaned at started walking way faster than Gordon. Once he was about three feet away from Gordon, he shouted while still facing forward so Gordon could hear him, “Oh my god, let it go, Gordon!”

Bingo, Gordon thought he hit the jackpot. Throwing the stick away and keeping his distance from Alan, his grin went ear to ear with excitement at what he thought was figuring it out, “Oh man, okay, wait, hang on, is it that Bear kid? The one Scott rescued for the umpteenth time last week? Or, wait, didn’t Conrad visit you up at ‘Five two weeks ago during your rotation?” Giggling, Gordon rubbed his hands together mischievously, “Allie, how dare you. Romantic or not, it’s my job to help you out with these things--”

Suddenly and abruptly, and shutting Gordon up, Alan turned around and glared at Gordon while his fists were haphazardly clenched at his hips, “Fine, Mr. Nosey, you wanna know? It’s about Dad, okay?!”

Well, there went any ability to joke in this situation. Gordon lost his smile completely and stared mindlessly at his younger brother, who was breathing heavily and still glaring, but Gordon could tell there was a hint of anxiety behind his eyes.

Dad had been back for about two-and-a-half months now, and the Tracy family seemed to be settling into a new routine with him. Everyone was happy Jeff was back in one piece, none more so than Jeff than himself. They quickly figured out how to slowly integrate him back, starting with daily chores, reaching him having permission to help out with IR, and now they were getting ready to reintroduce him back into Tracy Industries.

The anxiety in Alan’s features was suddenly all Gordon could see in them, followed by Alan shaking his head and turning back around, “Shit-- forget I said anything, that’s not why--”

Before he could even think, Gordon shot his arm out to grab Alan by the wrist, his amber eyes wide with careful thought. He needed to think these words through. The idea that Alan was nervous regarding talking about his own dad was... “Allie… I know you didn’t have as much… time with him, but he’s your father too. You don’t have to hide any opinion about him for me, for us.”

Alan still wasn’t looking at Gordon, but the older brother definitely saw the tiny and hidden flinch the younger brother made at your father too. Gordon barely held back the sharp inhale he wanted to make. Okay, that was an entire suitcase, one he, unfortunately, couldn’t unpack right now (as much as he loathed to admit it that was a Scooter problem), so he focused the first problem he figured out, “Allie, are you upset Dad is back or?...”

That got Alan to turn around, “No! Jesus, Gordon, of course, I’m happy he’s back. The only reason I graduated right before we left was that Scott and John both told me to go do something while we waited because “the way you’re bouncing on your toes is going to burn a hole in the ground and Grandma won’t like that,” remember? I’m ecstatic he’s alive and back home.”

Letting Alan gently go, Gordon took a deep breath to reorganize his thoughts, “Okay, then what about Dad has got you so worked up?”

Alan was suddenly much younger than the fresh, getting-ready-to-go-to-college, young man Gordon saw this morning, “You remember that argument between Scotty and Dad, right? The one about five weeks ago that we shouldn’t have listened in on but did anyway?”

Gordon flinched, not wanting to remember that argument.

The two have made up since then, but it was a shock to just about everybody on the island, including John and Virgil, who the blondes nervously told the morning after so they could get some kind of reassurance the world wasn’t ending. In the Tracys’ quest to have their Fairytale Happily Ever After, it never occurred to them that their father might not like how they were running things.

Scott made a decision that didn’t sit well with the older man, and he let his son know that in tactless, Jeff Tracy fashion. Scott’s decision wasn’t the best per se, certainly not the worst, but he could’ve waited for some better options, but Jeff couldn’t just say that outright, that he was concerned about his son taking risks like that. He had to immediately jump to the idea that Scott’s leadership might be lacking suddenly.

It also didn’t help that Scott couldn’t just fucking say that, while he was sorry for being slightly rash, he didn’t like being undermined after years of successful leadership. He went straight for the fact that Jeff had been gone for the past eight years. Scott didn’t blame the man for it, God no, but the insinuation that Jeff wasn’t any better than Scott because of it stung everyone in the room. Because being reminded of the fact that Dad was technically a dead man for a big portion of all of their lives wasn’t bad enough.

Gordon forgot that Scott could be too much like Jeff for his own fucking good, as well as the fact that Scott did get it from Jeff Tracy of all people.

Adult men Gordon’s ass, two old and stubborn as hell mules more like it.

They were both stuck on the fact that now there might have to be challenges of authority, and frankly, now that the oldest outside of Grandma put that idea on the table, it bothered everyone else barely more than those two combined.

Jeff apologized for how he acted after Grandma ripped him a new one, and Scott apologized for jumping the gun a little bit too (after Grandma yelled at him as well), but there was no promising no second fight, least of all one like that.

It was a little like being a kid and watching Mommy and Daddy fight for the first time.

Long story short: it sucked ass.

Alan took a shuddery breath and brought Gordon down from that memory. Alan then proceeded to wrap his arms around himself, rubbing up and down in a weak attempt to ground himself, “I just… what if he had all these ideas about me while he was up there, and what if I’m completely different from those ideas and it disappoints him?”

Oh, sweet Jiminy Cricket.

What the hell was Gordon to say to that? Jeff was a loving a supportive father, more so than others. Gordon remembered all of his swim meets and such for a good reason, so his first response to that statement was easily of course he would be proud of you!

But there was an ever so tiny thing that grabbed Gordon’s tongue from saying that outright. It was honestly minor, so he wasn’t sure why it kept hitting him like a fucking truck.

Eight. Years.

Jeff Tracy was a remarkable man, and even more remarkable father, but nobody spent eight years in isolation, let alone spent it thousands of miles up in space, without it having some kind of consequence. Jeff would never outright disown his sons for anything as long as it wasn’t illegal or got themselves or others hurt, but he was human, and he had preferences just like the rest of them had.

So, disappointed? Hell no. But potentially shocked and uninterested? Less supportive than other endeavors? Gordon loved his father, but he had to admit that he was at a loss. There weren’t Dead Men for Dummies books anywhere, and it sucked to say it, but Jeff was different. They were different, and the only way they would know how this Jeff reacted to things would be an in-the-moment experience, and if Scott’s and his argument was the first concrete example they had...

With how different Gordon was to the rest of his family, he always worried that he would never fully fit in. When Jeff came back he was excited just as much as Alan, as the rest of his family, but Gordon was always worried about his dad the most. He cheered him on at his swim meets, sure, but Gordon was always keenly aware of how the man, outside of taking him to and from them and, well, cheering, lots and lots of cheering, never really asked more than How did it go, sport?

Gordon wanted to be the only Tracy with that fear. It sucked, but in the end, his family always came through even if they weren’t aware of his anxieties. Now that Alan has them, over his father no less…

That just brings them right back around to the start: Gordon would be lying to himself if he knew what Jeff thought of him, let alone Alan.

Alan was a perceptive person, and if Gordon lied to himself, Alan would see that and know Gordon was lying to him as well, and that would very easily make the situation worse.

However, before Gordon had any chance to say something, words pulled from his ass or otherwise, anything to ease his baby brother’s low thoughts, footsteps rustled in the distance, causing the two blondes to snap their heads to look to the side. What they saw were two men, one larger and older, another younger and seemingly out of his comfort zone, in a sense. Gordon was going to chalk it up to ‘being a rescuee after a tsunami’, but his squid senses were tingling, and he felt himself easily go slightly taut.

The younger stranger blinked a few times before snapping his head up to look at the two IR Operatives in front of him. His eyes lit up, and Gordon suspected it wasn’t because he was about to be rescued.

“Oh, shit, these guys are young. How much do you think they would sell for?”

And just like that, Gordon’s gut twisted into a killer pretzel and was dropped off a five-story building. This had to be a joke, had to be. These kinds of people were only supposed to exist in horror stories. In the dark parts of the internet that are mainly regarded as myths, created to scar the poor children who snuck onto their parents’ laptop without permission. Even if they were real, Gordon and Alan couldn’t have had that bad of luck to--

“Remember what we said about famous people? Forget the ages, these guys are International Rescue. Most clients will throw physicality to the wind if something famous is involved.”

Gordon also thought that your pupil shrinking to the size of the tip of a needle when you’re terrified was a myth, but as the blood completely drained from his face and left him white as a sheet, he had to concede he was wrong about multiple things tonight.

Holy hand grenade in a fucking handbasket.

The state of shock his body was forcing him to enter was bad, like, shock-blankets-are-required level bad, but trembles from a different body right next to him snapped him back into attention.

Alan was trembling, his grip on Gordon’s arm so tight that the older brother wouldn’t be surprised to find bruises when his outfit was finally taken off. There was only a marginal amount more color compared to Gordon behind those freckles, and Gordon couldn’t tell if his brother’s pupils were any smaller with the way the kid was flicking them around like crazy, “Wha-- what are they talking about?”

Ah, shock was one hell of a bitch.

Alan was 18 years of age, an adult. He flew a rocket into space for a part-time job. He also lived on an island where he was mainly homeschooled and was soon to be off at some kind of college (maybe even online classes). As embarrassing as it could be, his family wasn’t going to be the puritan fam that shoved the mere thought of sex to the sidelines. Alan had four older brothers who spent a significant amount of time on the mainland around other people more than the youngest could ever dream of. Most time of which was spent in their respective high schools (or Olympics fields, ‘cause Gordon wasn’t exactly of age when he still had school over there) with hot girls and boys-- similar hobbies or not-- that had the same level of hormones flying about.

They knew things and weren’t afraid to answer any question Alan had.

Also, Alan had a huge internet hobby; video games, browsing social media, you name it. The kid’s probably heard stories that would give Scott hernias for days. Alan had to have stumbled across the topic of human trafficking somewhere, whether it was the plot of a teen-rated video game or something as simple as a news article. At the end of the day, this kind of thing was something everyone was subconsciously aware of, but you didn’t think about it because A, it was awful, and B, more often than not, it didn’t happen to you.

But the way Alan stared at Gordon like the prankster held the stars in his palms-- as if he could snap his fingers and bring them to safety in the blink of an eye reminded Gordon that Alan was always a little bit more sheltered than any of them could help it. Alan was one of the last things their mother gave them, and the way John and he essentially became her just split into two people hurt more than any of them would be willing to admit.

Alan knew the horrors of the world firsthand, but he never had to fully grasp it because his older brothers would be there to shoulder it for him.

Always.

Like hell Gordon was going to drop that tradition today.

“Alan, run.”

With a shove and a half, Gordon ripped his little brother’s hand from his upper arm and sent him in the other direction. Gordon also ripped his own heart in half as he ignored the somewhat naive cry of Gordon! as it got quieter and quieter. Despite the guilt, Alan listened and booked it. Like a baby calf being told to run away from starving lions while the mom stayed behind to protect it. Gordon, mostly satisfied that his bro was safe, turned around and swallowed the bile that was rising in his throat.

He was hoping his glare could be as scary as Scott’s or even Virgil’s, but the way the creepy strangers just chuckled as if the threat he posed was no bigger than a tiny kitten filled Gordon with both anger and fear. They knew he was from IR. If they weren’t scared of him, what did that mean they were prepared for?

The older man stated an order, one that had Gordon’s blood run cold, “Go after the other. I got this one.”

Gordon got out half an angry “Hey!” before the man that spoke suddenly charged at him. On reflex, Gordon put himself into a fighting stance and prevented both of them from toppling over. He hardly considered it a victory, though, as the other guy who was ordered to run after Gordon’s baby brother was gone and out of sight before Gordon could even look up after nearly having the wind knocked out of him.

Gritting his teeth and shoving the man off of him, bringing his arms up and curling his fists with a glare brighter than his hair, the only plan he could go with was the one where he took this guy down as quickly as possible. Right now, the only solace Gordon had was the fact that his brother was a quick puppy. He didn’t only need ‘Three to move at the speed of light.

C’mon, Alan, show me why Track was worth it.

Focusing completely on his enemy, Gordon figured the man was intentionally slimy with his words, as the only thing he did in response to Gordon tensing like a cornered animal was to chuckle in cold amusement, “You’re a wily one, they’ll like that.”

Don’t throw up don’t throw up don’t throw up don’t--

Gordon reinstigated the fight with a snarl, landing a punch that didn’t cause as much damage as he wanted, but it was enough for him to gain a slight upper hand. The man wasn’t thrown off balance, nor did he majorly flinch back from the recoil, but he did understand that he had to play more defensively. It was like two stubborn stallions fighting over the mare in the area.

One young and smaller and quicker, his age not a roadblock but an easy strength. If he hit just right his opponent would topple over as quickly as he could throw his fists. The older one, however, was still larger, and while he might have been slower and less agile, his age allowed more wisdom and understanding. He’s probably seen (and kidnapped) many like Gordon, so he knew exactly how to play him like a damn fiddle.

It was hard to say who would win until one of them was either running for the hills, beaten and bloody, or dead at the victor’s feet.

Gordon wasn’t sure how long they went at it, but he knew it was longer than he liked.

He was somehow barely winning it regardless, and he was fully prepared to give Penny a big heckin smooch for the lessons that were currently saving his life, but even with her endless knowledge and background, she couldn’t prepare Gordon for dirty tactics. Stallions fighting over mares usually just involve two of them.

Right as Gordon was able to grab the man’s arms and wring them around his back, a magical third person appeared, different to the second one that went after Alan, like a freaking wizard with his own magic wand.

Which was also known as a cattle prod to most.

The pokey object was jabbed into his side. Fire filled his body, making him scream out in pain. Gordon remembered when he and Virgil messed with one back on the farm as kids and how they learned their lesson the hard way. He was hoping to never “learn” it again. Yet as a couple thousand volts flared throughout his abdomen, even with the suit, he had to relent and let go of his makeshift hostage. His body was on autopilot and it said get away from source of burning pain.

His body tried, oh, it tried, but what was previously his prisoner managed to stand in the blink of an eye and swing a fist into the side that wasn’t being tortured by an agricultural device. With another short, cut off scream, Gordon fell over onto his ass. His wheezes were brutal, the air not wanting to come back into his body despite itself. At this point, the logical part of his brain was telling him he wasn’t going to get away and he should save his energy to withstand whatever these people were going to do to him, but as always, the emotional part was overriding everything.

Shit, guys, help! Scotty, Virg, Dad--

He turned around to be on his hands and knees and scrambled to try and run as Alan did. He might be faster in the water than on land, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t one quick son of a bitch when he wanted to be. It was enough for his gym classes, it was enough when he needed to run away after a successful prank, it was enough when his grandma needed a new test subject...

But it wasn’t enough here.

The cattle prod was shoved into the back of his neck, and with it came darkness and a growing sense of dread.

Please, Mom, get Allie to our family.

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #gordon tracy #alan tracy #my post #my fic #i FEEL like im forgetting tags wtf. im 99% im not but STILL #hang on i added (a thunderbirds fanfic) to this cuz now that i look at it #that title is VAGUE AS HELL lmfao

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