#jeff Tracy

[idontknowreallywhy]

This makes me cackle every time 🤣

Oh Gordy! 💛

Poor Virgil!

But he clearly took the message to heart…

Guys… Help.  This stuff is now stuck in my head. 

[tracyislandinmymind]

I like to think that every time someone mentions how much Scott looks like their father, Gordon loudly answers that it’s because he cloned him in a lab.

[idontknowreallywhy]

WIP whenever

An out of the blue reblog (thank you!) of my Fathers’ Day story suddenly got me back on the Jeff train for the duration of my train journey… given I’m not sure how long this ticket is valid for I’ll post as far as I’ve got…

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“Dad! Are you alright? Do you need anything?”

Jeff staggered backwards slightly - he hadn’t been expecting the door to open within less than a second of his finally summoning up the courage to knock and realised belatedly he’d been relying on a few extra moments to summon up the next bit to actually explain why he was there.

Scott caught his arm under the elbow and steadied him. Jeff murmured a jumbled mess of syllables which fell midway between “thank you, I’m fine” and “sorry to disturb you” and felt a little cold sweat prickle as he realised he was still looking intently at the doorframe, at that puzzling crack through the lock, rather than at the person he had come here to see.

Jeff lifted his gaze as far as his son’s cheekbones and hesitated. With a shiver of guilt he realised that not since that first moment… that moment time stood still as he caught his son’s wrist and saw only a lost little boy staring up at him… since then he hadn’t let himself look properly, hadn’t let himself maintain eye contact with his eldest. Not for the whole time he’d been back.

Too afraid that he’d see her.

Even more afraid that he wouldn’t.

Get a grip, Tracy. It’s just your little boy.

He steeled himself to make the infinitesimal shift to meet Scott’s eyes, for only the second time in eight years… perhaps even sixteen… and sure enough there she was, staring directly into Jeff’s soul from behind that blue tinted glass.

How was it possible to feel both elation and despair simultaneously?

Scott’s frown deepened and the bemused and concerned curiosity hardened into cobalt lasers of assessment as he took charge.

“You look a little pale, Dad. Come and sit down.”

“Can we talk?” Jeff finally managed to push the three tiny words out just as they became unnecessary. Scott startled a little and blinked rapidly.

“Um, of course whatever you need. But… sitting down. You need to sit down.”

“Alright.”

Jeff allowed himself to be led into the room and looked around with interest. It was essentially unchanged in all those years but for a new blanket, some extra cushions and a lot of extra art on the walls, all undoubtedly Virgil’s except for the collection clustered into the relatively small space between the closet and the bed which proved to be the more childish efforts of others, the cracking finger paint and fading crayon carefully preserved with clear glass frames.

He suppressed a groan as he lowered himself into the big blue armchair and let the cane fall to the floor beside. Scott picked it up and propped it against the wall behind. Accessible, but out of sight.

His eldest son perched on the edge of the bed and looked at him calmly and attentively. Jeff wasn’t fooled - he could see the tension around the jaw which betrayed the anxiety Scott was hiding and wondered if the son could recognise the same in his father’s face.

A deep breath.

“You’re not in trouble, son.”

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[lenle-g]

@idontknowreallywhy said: Jeff but where Jeff actually looks like he’s spent 8 years alone on a rock and my hand slipped also I got struck with the idea that it'd be cute to give his hair a little of John's cowlick when it's lost its styling

[call-me-casual]

So for fun I’ve been coming up with Classic episode ideas that (when I have the time) I’ll try to write out in full as actual scripts to experiment with style and improve my writing!

So far I have four episodes:

The Hightail and the Thunderbird -

A former air force buddy of Scott’s put himself in mortal peril as he pushes an experimental craft to the limit to prove once and for all who is faster.

Source of Secrecy -

Lady Penelope is forced out of her comfort zone when she must pretend to be a renowned scientist to investigate mysterious deaths in the Swiss alps.

He said, She said -

When a police chase ends in disaster, International Rescue is called in to save the day - but as details unfold from those involved, a question arises: who is to blame for the destruction?

Hair's breadth from death -

When Jeff Tracy is captured by The Hood, it’s a race against time to find him as International Rescue is faced with an ultimatum - surrender the Thunderbirds, or their father’s life?

If anyone wants to have their own fun with these ideas, feel free! ^^

[edutainer2022]

With Jeff's return, there's a new dynamics of there now being two father figures on the island. And some unaddressed logistical and legal issues arise. This is a Jeff and Scott story. I'm always fascinated with them navigating things new and old, post Zero-XL.

As ever, many thanks to @janetm74 for support! Another night of bombings brings on a fic.

TWO FATHERS (TWO SONS)

Being dead was tedious, as it turned out. But not as tedious as coming back to life. The paperwork alone was threatening to swallow them whole. Jeff had a strong suspicion he hadn't even been privy to the worst of it - Scott handling the steel cage fights with the various red tapes across various countries, Tracy Legal, the TI Board, and the GDF. With a strong, if discrete, assistance of John's hacking and communication skills, he suspected (but never asked, for plausible deniability). He was more than greatful for that. His own energy was mostly channeled to gruelling rehabilitation and reacclimitization, and to not going insane from joy of being with his loved ones again. He was prepared to wrestle back every second the exile in deep space cut off his life expectancy. Truth be told, he'd be more than happy to let it all be and just stay on the island, basking in awe at his amazing boys and friends. But his sons were adamant the world got Jeff Tracy back, reinstated to his full glory - Scott's the strongest voice in the chorus. So he rolled with it. He could never again deny his eldest anything.

He might have kept to himself the increasing worry over the hue of grey pallor and deepened frowns exhaustion was casting over Scott's features those days. Every trip to the States or elsewhere to deal with the ever arising issues - an unseen struggle. Jeff's return was supposed to lift the burden off of his boy's shoulders, not add to it.

He was lounging on the couches that afternoon too, waiting for Scott to come up from the hangars. One just landed into the pool, heralding Scott's return from yet another trip to New York. In the meantime Jeff busied himself with going over more rescue logs. A habit he tried to dedicate whatever spare time he got to. Dear God, there were so MANY rescues over the past almost decade. So MANY close calls.

The elevator clicked and Scott came round the corner, his suit jacket already off, tie loosened. The young man's face looked wane, lost in thought. Jeff waited till Scott sat down next to him on one of the couches. He'd adopted another new habit - to ask how his boy's were openly and mean it. To process every word for concealed pain. But Scott was more or less an exhibit of how he felt - forehead pinched in a frown and eyes squeezed against a building headache. Jeff was half of a mind to skip chat (and possibly a nightcap) and altogether to order his son to bed, braving The Look. But Scott spoke first.

"Dad, I need to fly you in to see the lawyers and the judge next time. To transfer custody."

Oh... Jeff hadn't given it much thought, all the other priorities and sensations vying for his attention upon return. He just resumed being the boys' Dad - never for one second over the solitary years away had he stopped thinking of himself as such. But of course, Allie and Gordie having been orphaned minors, guardianship arrangements must have been made. It didn't surprise him one bit Scott had stepped up. As he did with everything else. If Jeff were honest with himself, his eldest did so a lot longer than eight years.

"Gordon aged out, but Allie's still a minor. I will need to forfeit guardianship and return parental rights to you."

There was a weariness in Scotty's voice, in his whole posture. An air of defeat. Jeff raised a hand to run a circle over the hunched back in a silk dress shirt, but his palm hovered millimeters shy of contact. It was supposed to be for the better! Their world was finally, painstakingly turning the right side up again. Scott was never supposed to be a father to the Tinies. If anything, Jeff had harbored tentative hopes his eldest might have started a family of his own by then. Yet he couldn't deny that for Gordon and even more so for young Alan - Scott was the one father figure they knew best. Allie was just a little kid when Jeff went missing, and now he was an incredible youth - brave, kind, smart, funny, exceptionally skilled and professional. He was growing up to be a remarkable man that Scott raised him. Jeff was still catching up on a decade worth of cultural trivia and technological updates, he couldn't presume to be making fully informed choices regarding the boy's future. He knew what he had to do. His hand landed on the son's shoulder finally and gave it a warm squeeze. Scott looked up, wrought with worry.

"I think we should leave it as is, Bluejay. Allie is gonna be eighteen soon, so the point is moot. This changes nothing for us here, at home. I'm your Dad. I will always be! But for the world of college funds, and insurances, and stock options - you're his parent."

Blue eyes regarded him with doubt. Scott drew in a breath to protest, but Jeff was not done.

"Allie will trust you with things he would never share with me as he grows older. Just you wait! For that you're his parent too. You have been for a while, son. I wish things were different, I wish I could lift that much weight off your shoulders. But I promise to be there every step of the way - for him and for you."

Scott's lips were moving to say something, but no sound followed. Damp blue gaze was searching Dad's face, astonished. But even despite welling tears, his son's features looked lighter. Calmer. Like an old ache got soothed. Maybe it had.

Jeff gave his elder boy's shoulder another soft squeeze and moved to stand up, having made up his mind.

"Fancy a nightcap, son? C'mon, I know you haven't worked through ALL of my good stuff. And then you're going straight to bed, Bluejay!"

He made a pointed gesture that probably resembled his own mother a bit too much. But he could indulge himself in mischief just that once. His failed attempt at a stern glare was met by a smile and mirth dancing in bright blue eyes. As Scott sprung up to follow him, sketching a salute, he could consider his goal accomplished as a father for the night.

[pareidoliaonthemove]

They've just solved the mystery of what Jeff Tracy ate for EIGHT YEARS in the Oort Cloud!!!

[scribbles97]

The Nightmare Come True - Part 5 and The End

Thanks @loopstagirl for the original idea of this whole fic that spiralled far further than I think either of us expected. Scott's POV 1 | Part 1 | Scott's POV 2 | Part 2 | Scott's POV 3 | Part 3 | Scott's POV 4 | Part 4

Christmas had come and gone as loudly as it always did in their house. 

The best gift for Gordon was the day his oldest brother had turned up at a training session alongside Jeff, the kid hadn’t stopped talking about it for a week. Jeff had been confident Scott would soon be making his way into the pool himself, especially if his request for an olympic sized pool on their newly purchased island was anything to go by. 

John and Virgil had both returned home for the holidays full of stories and with open invites for their big brother to visit them at their respective colleges come the following semester. Scott had been keen, immediately opening his calendar and circling dates between appointments and other plans. 

Even Jen had paid a brief visit, greeting the younger brothers as old friends proving just how much Scott had spoken of them all to his squad at one point or another. 

By spring Jeff had noticed just how Scott had begun to fill out again, his time in the gym paying off and rebuilding the muscle that had been lost. He was starting to relax, to enjoy life as he once had and found the confidence he had always worn like a comfortable jacket. Gradually, he was becoming a version of the son Jeff recognised. 

March was spent in the air, racking up supervised flight hours after passing the required psych exams. It had taken time for him to be comfortable in the pilot's seat again, but Scott had said himself that being in the air was as natural to him as being in the water was for Gordon. All he had needed was a supportive shoulder, one that Jeff was willing to offer. 

By his birthday, Scott’s full pilot’s license had been reinstated, giving cause for a celebration alone without the news of John’s new Space Rated status. They had called Virgil on hologram, celebrating from their separate corners of the country louder than they had done over the festive period.

It had been late in the night when Jeff had found Scott out on the porch, a letter discarded but evidently not forgotten in his lap.

“I was going to tell you earlier, but the surprise party kind of distracted me.” Scott had smiled as Jeff had joined him on the step and poured them each a measure of whiskey.

“Cambridge offered me a spot to study English Lit, it’s all online so I’d only need to go over twice a semester so I’d still be able to--” He paused to glance over his shoulder, making sure no younger brothers were lingering in the kitchen.

Jeff had chuckled, glad that Scott was doing something for himself, something that didn’t immediately lead to any plans that had seemingly always been in place.  

“You don’t have to, you know?” He had pointed out, “If you want to take some time for yourself before joining the Project…”

Scott had shook his head, grinning as he sipped his drink, “I want to get in the air again, Dad, and that rocket? I’m not letting you have all the fun.”

Both had laughed at the implication, wordlessly reaching their glasses towards one another in a silent salute to everything they had overcome in that year alone. 

Things still weren’t perfect, Alan and Gordon were far from happy about moving to a boarding school away from their family. Scott still had a way to go before he was back at his full strength and fitness, but with the encouragement from Val and Lee, he was well on his way to outperforming them all. 

“This is what I need.” Scott had nodded, “Despite everything, I’m glad we’ve ended up here Dad.” 

Jeff had slung an arm over his shoulders and pulled him close, “Me too kid, me too.” 

Of course, it hadn’t lasted. 

A short eighteen months later, Jeff had been shot into the farthest reaches of their solar system. He had been sure that he would never see his family, his boys, again. It hadn’t mattered what he had tried with the engines, there had been no way for him to get home. He had tried, time and again to find a way to get through to them but it had eventually become apparent that all he could do was try to stay alive.

He had taken to sketching and writing when he wasn’t trying to keep himself alive, focussing on thoughts of each of his boys. How Scott was at least back doing something he loved, that John had made it to space as he had always wanted to, that Virgil was close to graduating with Honors on his engineering degree, that Gordon would have made it to the Olympics, and Alan at least had four older brothers to look out for him. It had been the thought and memory of them that had kept him going, the irony not lost on him that it had been the same things that had kept Scott going through his imprisonment. 

There had been little else to occupy him over those long years. 

He had never given up hope, not even as the planetoid had begun to separate beneath his feet, he had known they would come. 

Right at the last possible second, he had spotted Scott. 

Just like that, their roles were reversed. 

Scott had stepped up in the time Jeff had been gone, and the more he had seen of the man his eldest had become, the more his heart had hurt. 

He had dropped out of his Literature degree almost immediately after Jeff had gone, had taken up the role of commander in International rescue, and the role of Father to younger brothers that weren’t ready to be orphans. Once again, thanks to Jeff, Scott had lost sight of the man he wanted to be for himself.

Once again, Jeff had vowed to set that right.

There had been months of recovery, hospital appointments and physiotherapy, most of it familiar from the year before he had taken the unexpected trip. Scott had resolutely been at his side through all of it. 

“Alan asked how you did it…” Scott had started one night, sat out by the pool waiting for Virgil and Gordon to return home from a rescue.

Jeff hadn’t needed further clarification as he had trailed off. He’d had therapy that morning, had spent the day pulling his boys closer after talking about what the isolation had done to him. Of course, they had all picked up on it.

“I imagine much the same way as you did during the war,” Jeff admitted softly, “Thinking of your family, remembering all the good times.”

Before he had left, talking about the war had been coming easier for Scott. It hadn’t taken long for Jeff to realize that Scott had clammed up once he had no longer had his father to talk to about such times.

Scott snorted, looking out to the horizon, “Admittedly, it’s a good method.”

Jeff smiled sadly across to him, “It got us both a long way.” 

It had gotten them both back home, back to their family, to somewhere where they could find their feet again and work towards the version of themselves they wanted to be.

The man sat next to him was physically recovered from his time as a prisoner, but had never found a solid enough footing to find himself amongst all the chaos life had thrown at them.

“You didn’t end up where you were aiming, I’m sorry for that.” Jeff sighed after a moment, reaching out to Scott’s shoulder, “Because of all of this, I think you lost yourself again Scott.”

“I--” For a moment it seemed like he was ready to argue, before his shoulders had fallen and he had nodded in admission, “I became who I needed to be.”

They had shared a look, one that spoke of burdens that had fallen back on tired shoulders that had barely gotten free before being weighed back down again.

“You deserved to live life for yourself Scott.” 

Scott ran a hand through his hair, “I know that now.”

“I know it wasn’t my fault,” Jeff continued, “but I’m sorry I wasn’t here to help you see that, Son, I’m sorry that life has been so cruel and unfair.”

Scott’s arm wrapped around his shoulders, “I’m glad you don’t blame yourself.” 

Jeff would never admit to him that it was a concept he still sometimes struggled with, but something he was working on regardless. His son didn’t need any more burdens. 

“So,” He started, looking across with raised eyebrows, “Alan’s headed to college in the Fall, how about you take another look at that Literature degree?”

Scott’s laugh was full bodied against Jeff, “Yeah, I suppose that doesn’t sound like a bad idea.”

Laughing with his son, Jeff nodded to himself. 

They were going to be just fine.

[loopstagirl]

WIP Wednesday

“I’ll give him another ten minutes,” Jeff said into the phone, “then wake him.” 

“How much sugar did he have?”  

The laughter in his wife’s voice made him smile. Jeff looked over to the couch that lined one wall of his office. His two-year-old son was fast asleep, his father’s jacket draped over him. 

“More than he should’ve, less than he wanted?” he said by way of evasive answer. “How’s Johnny?” 

“Finally settled for a nap as well.” He could hear the relief in Lucy’s voice. “Although that probably means he’ll be up all night now.” 

They were still trying to get into a routine with the new baby. Scott had thrived off a routine from the moment they brought him home from the hospital, but John seemed to be doing things his own way. 

It was why Jeff had taken Scott out for an afternoon at the park, soft play, and one too many treats. He’d needed to pick up some paperwork from his office and knew his young son still got excited about seeing where Dada spent his days. It had only taken Jeff a couple of minutes to find the right file, but it was long enough for Scott to crash. 

“Go and put your feet up,” Jeff ordered. “I’ll get Scotty home and to bed, then take John so you can get some rest.” 

“Love you.” 

“You too, babe. We won’t be long.” 

He hung up. For a moment, he just watched Scott sleep. If he woke him now, then Scott would likely fall asleep in the car. If he gave him another ten minutes, he might be able to keep the child awake on the journey home and bedtime might not be a complete disaster. 

[mrmustachious]

I know it's a popular headcanon that Gordon joined WASP of his own choice, and it's quite common to also headcanon that Jeff was against this and tried to stop him (which of course leads to juicy fics of Gordon going behind his back and forging his signature to get in etc etc)

But now I'm thinking of what if Gordon never wanted to join WASP, but Jeff made him because he wanted his son to be more 'manly'. He's not fitting the mold that Jeff expects of his sons (I know we like to think of Jeff and Gordon butting heads because they are so different) so he forces Gordon into the military (and follow the good example of Scott) despite Gordon's wishes to just continue his swimming and Olympic career

And of course the hydrofoil accident happens which could lead to Gordon blaming his dad for putting him in this career he didn't want and almost got him killed. Or maybe he doesn't blame his dad, but Jeff is still wracked with guilt knowing that if it wasn't for him, Gordon would never have been in that accident

Food for thought

[tracyislandinmymind]

Chapter 4 is go.

Word of warning, this is not a happy chapter. Please have a peek at the chapter note.

Because we could not leave Scott happy. Ever.

No Beth this time round. We’ll leave her with Madge for this one.

Said I’d do it, and I did.

First chap of Stress Diamonds is up.

Scott Tracy knows devotion - to a father recovering, to brothers that revere him, to a world ready to combust at any given moment.

But he can’t shake the fear that one more oath might be a stretch too far, even for the indomitable Thunderbird One.

Scott-centric, multi-chapter, lots of brothers… all that good stuff.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62265385

[idontknowreallywhy]

Fathers Day 4 - The Other Father

(Parts 1-3)

This one has been brewing a fairly long time. The 3 short sections I posted a while ago form a perfectly good trilogy and we could happily leave it there…but I did sneak in a hint that a certain somebody overheard at least part of the conversation between Scott and his siblings.

And I’m determined to force Jeff to confront his many failings as a parent and make a start on sorting things out with his sons, especially the eldest. Haven’t quite got there yet (of course it would be terribly out of character for me to actually finish the story 🙄) but they are moving in the right direction at least.

It feels a little rougher than I’d like but I haven’t managed to post a whole chapter of anything for over a month and perhaps am a little wobbly on that score but… here goes…

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Jeff hovered uncertainly outside the door to his eldest son’s bedroom, pretending to be minutely interested in the glued crack running down the doorframe through the locking mechanism and out the other side. There was probably a story behind that, an attentive father should probably ask about it… he started to raise a hand to knock but lost his nerve and continued to hover.

Well, truth be told, he wasn’t so much hovering as leaning very heavily on his cane like the frail old man he always swore he’d never be. Certainly not at his age. But he was uncertain (whilst leaning in a solid and definite way) about whether to do the thing he had been so very certain was a good idea an hour ago but about which, NOW… now he was here… at the door… at Scott’s door… he was suddenly deeply unsure.

Jeff didn’t really do unsure and uncertain. That had never been his style. He’d always been blessed with a great deal of confidence in the plans that came to him and that confidence was justified by the fact he usually pulled them off.

Nor was he the kind of man who stood in corridors staring at inanimate objects while engaging in a rambling inner monologue.

And yet, here he was…

It was amazing what eight years of solitary confinement on a rock could change.

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One hour earlier…

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He eased himself down on to the lounger and closed his eyes, trying to fix in his mind the new version of that sound he’d dreamed of for so long - the laughter of his children. All of them. Together. Happy. Safe. The glowing memory of it had sustained him for years. The fear that he might have somehow extinguished it for good had kept him awake in the dark for far more hours than the mundane concerns about food, oxygen supplies…

Survival.

The voices were deeper now than the ones he’d remembered. Not quite so familiar. But still so beloved. They were still his babies. Lucy’s babies. They’d just grown. A lot. In innumerable ways.

Slowly, so as not to overbalance when gravity tugged at him, he leaned over and felt around underneath the seat to retrieve what he’d initially assumed was a piece of litter but now knew with a prescient certainty was going to be incredibly important.

“It was always you…”

He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. Or sneak around like a teenager. He was supposed to be in bed but he’d found himself desperate to breathe oxygen rich but un-climate-controlled air for a few moments. As the lingering agoraphobia of the depths of infinite space warred with the claustrophobia born of the small liveable portion of the Zero-X that had been his entire world, Jeff had found his heart rate increasing and knew he wouldn’t sleep without proving to himself once more what the sea breeze felt like on his face.

And he’d snuck down the back stairs because they’d hear his balcony door open and come to check.

Then he’d have to explain.

If he explained, they’d just worry.

And today of all days, when the void between what he knew he was and what he desperately wanted to be to them all had loomed and sucked at him so hungrily… Well. How could he ever be their Daddy again if they had to be looking after him all the time? It was all backwards.

It had been so long since he’d been a Daddy. Far longer than the time he’d been stranded. He had been a good parent, once upon a time. Lucy had said so and he’d always trusted her judgment. To Scott and Virgil anyway. With John he’d done his best too, albeit the boy could rarely be persuaded to leave his mother’s side, but they’d had a decent relationship.

And there had been a time he was Daddy to five. Little Gordon chattering away at his knee while baby Alan’s bright blue eyes peered up at him from the impossibly tiny bundle in his arms. Lucy’s chin on his shoulder, her cheek brushing against his own… he’d known his place in the world, they were blessed with the privilege of raising these little ones together.

And then she was gone. And somehow everything good about Jeff went with her. Including Daddy.

He’d as good as orphaned them back then, eight whole years before it became official.

Eight more years to regret it after that.

Miraculously he now had his much longed-for chance to make it right. But for all the thinking and regretting and self analysis of those castaway years, he still wasn’t entirely sure where to start. He knew what he had to mend, he knew when and why it had all broken, but not how to fix it, if it was even fixable at all.

And now in light of what he’d heard, he realised that whatever “fixed” was, it might look rather different from what he’d spent all those years imagining.

And if he had been more honest with himself… he’d always known that. He let the card fall open in his lap.

“Still true.”

It was. It was absolutely true. Gordon and Alan were Scott’s kids, in all the ways that mattered. They knew it. Jeff knew it. And for all his desire to compensate for the time they had lost, he knew with absolute clarity he did not want to replace their eldest brother’s place in their lives. He had no right to.

He had no desire to. Not now.

He needed to make sure Scott knew that. His knees creaked as he shot decisively to his feet and he staggered slightly before snatching up the cane propped against the back of the lounger and making his purposeful… alright, shuffling way towards his old office.

He needed to find a pen.

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And so here he was by the doorway, the card tucked into the pocket of his bathrobe, trying to think of an opening line. Some appropriate words to broach the subject.

Jeff Tracy was pretty good with words.

He used to be king of the press conference, inspirational teacher of young astronauts. A dreamer of big dreams that could recruit almost anyone to his cause given time. He was used to being in command. When he spoke, people listened.

Yes, Jeff Tracy could make words work for him. With strangers, anyway.

With family it was different.

Especially with one in particular.

Oh, he and Scott had talked a lot. When he was home from space tiny-Scott had been his shadow, trailing him around with his excited, bouncy hop-skip drinking in all his father’s adventure stories. In fairness some of those maybe became just a little exaggerated by the lure of the warm feeling the admiration in those sparkling blue eyes created.

As time had passed the skip-hop evolved into a leggy teenage stride, precisely matched to Jeff’s own. There was less bounce in it, but the sparkle was still there. The constant reminder to Jeff Tracy that he was admired far more than he really deserved to be.

But then it had all gone wrong.

Part of the problem with Scott was he looked like Lucy. He didn’t resemble her much at all, physically - Jeff’s firstborn was pretty much a clone of himself, everyone said as much. No. It was that he looked the way she had. When he was really looking. Something about the intensity of his gaze… the colour of Scott’s eyes may have been from Jeff but the power of them was all her. It was like facing down a strangely warming X-ray.

Yes, the issue Jeff had was that Lucy looked at him out of his eldest son’s eyes and it made him confused and lonely... and so very uncertain about everything that was important.

About whether he could do any of this alone.

About whether he had got a single thing right since she’d gone.

It had made him defensive and short with his son. And when he snapped at Scott, when the same uncertainty, the same confused loneliness was reflected back at him… that chased her away and replaced her image with only himself and he couldn’t bear it.

So he stopped looking.

And so as Scott took on her role, as his son parented far better than the father had the capacity to manage, Jeff backed away and allowed him to do it. He’d let his teenage son be father to his children while he hid away inside himself and focussed on the things that Jeff had been able to do long before he ever met her - he inspired strangers, he dreamed, he commanded.

And Scott had grown up way too fast. And Jeff couldn’t fix it.

There were some short conversations that came close to the one they really needed to have in the aftermath of the Bereznik situation, when Jeff had feared he’d lost his eldest boy for good. But the important words had got stuck in his throat and he’d had to settle for an affectionate pat on the shoulder. Scott had seemed to feel safer with Virgil present anyway and his second son was incredibly protective of his big brother… of course that hadn’t been conducive to bringing up more difficult topics. Although Jeff knew he could have engineered the circumstances if he’d had the nerve. By the time Scott had recovered and they’d both thrown themselves into the Big Project, the moment seemed to have passed.

So they talked Tracy household admin, school admin. Most of all, they talked about the Project, Scott almost as excited as he was about that. His son admired and encouraged and gently challenged him in exactly the way his mother would have. It worked.

It was comfortable. And Jeff had been too much of a coward to make it uncomfortable.

He’d been home nearly two months and he’d nearly missed his chance again.

Not this time.

He raised his hand once more and let his knuckles fall against the door.

🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙

“Scott?”

“Yes, EOS?” His reply was muffled somewhat by a mouthful of toothpaste.

“Your father has been stood outside your door for seven point five minutes.”

Some of the toothpaste migrated to his pyjama shirt. “What?! He should be in bed!”

“And yet he is currently located in the corridor. Just thought you’d like to know.”

“Is he ok?”

“His heart rate is a little elevated but his other vitals seem as healthy as they have proved in recent weeks.”

“I… ok, alright. Thanks for telling me.”

“Of course.”

Scott scrubbed pointlessly at the mark on his shirt and headed out of his en-suite towards the hallway door, where he paused and compulsively tidied his hair.

He reached for the door handle then jumped out of his skin as a loud knock sounded inches from his face.

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TBC when Jeff can work out how to start the conversation ;)

[lenle-g]

from this fic WIP by @mariashades, requested by @janetm74 <3

The engine of Lee’s little Piper PA-28 fixed wing roared into life and little Scotty, all of four years old, squealed in alarm and clapped his hands over his ears. Jeff, standing well back at the hangar, scooped Scott up and held him close until the plane had taxied over to the runway.  “Y��know, planes aren’t that scary,” he fondly said as soon as the plane was far enough away. “It’s just noise, nothing to be afraid of.”  “‘S not?” Scott asked, big eyes looking up at his father as he peeled his hands away from the sides of his head.  “Nope.�� Jeff smiled. “Besides, we need the noise to fly, and that’s what we’re here to do, right?”  “Right.” Scott nodded, his little face so serious it made him go all gooey on the inside at the sight.  “So,” Jeff affected a serious mein (Lucy always called it his ‘Top Gun’ face), pulled his aviators out from where he’d hooked them on his shirt and put them on his nose. “Let’s saddle up, kiddo.”  Scott immediately put on his kiddie sized aviators (and Jeff went even gooier on the inside) and announced “Let’s saddle up!”  “Attaboy!” Jeff beamed as he walked over to his plane.

[call-me-casual]

Friendly reminder for everyone that Jeff Tracy is canonically gen z

You’re welcome

[edutainer2022]

An unassuming coincidence on a Friday night leads to an unforeseen chain of events. Jeff Tracy is badass. Teen Scott doesn't always follow Dad's orders to the letter. A kidnapping goes wrong. And I'm always intrigued by TAG Jeff up and packing his young sons into increasingly remote locations.

Many thanks to @janetm74 , as ever, for kind support!

ERGO PROPTER HOC

In hindsight, so many things aligned that day that normally wouldn't. His late evening conference call with the GDF Headquarters in a different time zone got rescheduled because of, ironically enough, a storm raging through Central Europe, that demanded consolidation of rescue and dispatch efforts. So that would mean he'd be home before his sons' bedtime (not that the elder three still pretended having one), for once. On a Friday. His mind drew a rather shameful blank, trying to remember the respective school and club schedules. Scott had been juggling the pick-ups and so much more since... well, for far too long.

Anyway, a call from his eldest's basketball coach settled the score - the boy sprained a wrist early into practice. The coach was following protocol and was more comfortable with sending Scott out to the hospital for a proper X-ray. Jeff's eldest son would never have called him at work if he could help it - unlike the father, he actually did remember the agenda for the week, and A LOT was riding on that GDF call. But the coach likely wanted to avoid liability for delay. It was too soon to break the practice up or to let Scott sit it out with an ice-pack and then bum a ride from one of his friends (or bargain with them to skip hospital altogether and give him a ride home, more like). The coach also wouldn't hand Jeff's underage son over to a stranger, a status in the Tracy wider social circle Kyrano was vehement to maintain. Anyhow, the stars aligned so that Jeff was available (and quite a bit worried by the time he got there). Which might have bumped the stars some more into giving him a flat tire.

They ended up taking Scott's car to save time, Jeff driving. The trip proved a breezy affair as there was no damage beyond a sprain. Nothing a brace, some cold, Ibuprofen and rest couldn't fix. Jeff saw how the latter might prove a problem, though, with the three year old Allie practically living in Scott's arms. But that was to be a problem for Dad Jeff to deal with later that evening. In the meantime, they had some much overdue quality time one on one, complete with some take-away burgers and a backseat full of stacked pizzas and other delicious goodies for the all-boys movie night at home.

Jeff's enjoyment of the afternoon was slightly marred by Scott apologizing up, down and backwards for interrupting Dad's workday. That, and the boy being obviously in more pain than he let on. But that too was an issue for Dad Jeff to tackle later. For the time being he let himself enjoy his eldest son's company.

***

The drive back to the farm was to be swift and uneventful. He could see Scott, paler than Jeff was strictly happy about, fighting off fatigue, and wondered if the movie night would quickly turn into a puppy pile sleepover. That thought might have twitched annoyance in his gut as he saw a two-car crash ahead, blocking an otherwise empty road. He didn't want any delays on the way to spend a Friday night with his kids.

Jeff was used to trusting his gut. It got him through tight fixes in a war, out in space, all the way on friggin' Mars. It helped him navigate the World Council and GDF convoluted politicking, and the cut-throat business scene. So now, when one of the drivers, engrossed in dispute, looked up at their approaching car - Scott's car - Jeff's gut was blaring a red alert.

An imperceptible shift in stance to reach for the weapons, the cold glimmer in the eyes, the vaguely familiar faces of Gaat's "assistants" launched Jeff's mind into a breakneck tumble. He assessed the situation and weighed the options. From the passenger seat big blue eyes were glancing up at him in worry as Dad's hands tightened at the wheel, his face momentarily hardened. Jeff made a move for the glove compartment, then remembered they were in Scott's car. No gun! The curse that followed had the blue eyes dilate wider, startled. He was scaring his son, which entirely defeated the purpose. Okay, new plan! The seatbelt clicked off.

"Bluejay! I need you to take the wheel now! Don't stop, drive off! Tell Kyrano to get you and the boys away at once! He'll know what to do!"

"Dad!!!"

The face of his young self was sheet white now, bright blue almost black with disbelief.

"Dad! What are you gonna do?! I CAN'T LEAVE YOU HERE! Dad, what's wrong!?!!"

They were approaching fast, he didn't take the foot off the pedal, hoping to give Scott momentum. And a chance to flee. The goons on the road were openly smirking now. He could see the sunset bounce off one of the gun barrels.

"I need you to do exactly as I say, son! It's an order! Don't stop, don't look back! GO!"

He didn't have time to placate a frightened child, even if the last thing he would see in life would be the horrified features of his son. He could think of worse ways to go. Smaller shaking hands, one in a brace, clasped the wheel. He knew Lord Hugh's "multitalanted valet" had taught Scott extreme driving, so he ought not to doubt the boy's ability to speed through. With one parting glance he opened the door and jumped, aiming to tackle one of the henchmen to the ground.

***

Whoever his erstwhile friend sent out, were certainly not expecting a combat hardened veteran with rigorous astronaut training under his belt. Nor a father determined to protect the most precious with his life. It nearly came down to that too, as they were no amateurs either. But they definitely didn't expect Belah Gaat's brother, skidding into the fray in Jeff's farm truck. Jeff didn't anticipate Kyrano as well, but couldn't turn down the much needed help. On second thought, it didn't surprise him Scott obviously disobeyed his order. The realization didn't add to his piece of mind one bit.

Leaving Kyrano to deal with the henchmen and with the police (in whichever order he saw fit), Jeff, though visibly worse for the wear, vehemently shot down the suggestion to wait to pop into a hospital and floored it home in the truck. He needed to hold his kids!

***

The house was dark and quiet to the point it seemed empty. Jeff could feel this heart pounding as he checked the sitting room, kitchen, the boys' bedrooms up on the second floor, and even the attic. Scott's car was haphazardly parked on the driveway, so they didn't leave. Logically, Jeff knew the kids could be hiding somewhere on the farm property, while Kyrano was dispatched to help him in a fix. There were no signs of struggle anywhere in the house. But logic eschewed his rational thinking till he hadn't spotted his sons - safe and sound. Jeff was about ready to expand the search perimeter to the barn, when he noticed the basement door locked. After the TV-21 sabotage and Belah's thinly veiled threats, the hurricane shelter was transformed into a fully stocked panic room, complete with a touch pad lock. Jeff promptly ran the scanner and made his way down an equally dark stairway. On his last steps down he was momentarily blinded by a flash of light. His eyes adjusted to a siluette of Scott, clutching the gun, usually stashed in a coded safe. The boy was visibly trembling, but held the weapon steady, level with Jeff's torso - the wrist in a brace supported by the uninjured hand. The flash of light couldn't hide the pallor and the thin line of Scott's lips, pursed tight against the pain. The other boys were huddled behind him - John and Virgil hugging the Tinies between them. John was brandishing a torch.

"Put the gun down, son! It's Dad!"

It took a moment for the scared minds to process his words and for the eyes to adjust and identify the intruder.

He let the breath out only having removed the gun from Scott's grasp and tucked it securely out of reach, once the safety clicked back on. The next instant the eldest boy nearly collapsed into him and he had his arms full all five sons. The ribs that took a significant battering protested, but Jeff didn't care. He took his time liberally distributing soothing hugs and kisses over each and every mop of hair. His face was a mess of cuts and bruises as well, but that would have to wait. He needed to feel his boys breathing, warm and alive, and close to him.

That day indeed ended in a puppy pile, albeit not the way anybody expected. He left the in the basement for the night - for his own peace of mind. He kept the gun tucked into his belt - for the same reason.

Once the boys settled down into uneasy sleep, including little Allie bursting into tears and Scott persuaded to take another painkiller, Jeff did another round of kisses on assorted brows, noses and temples, and made his way back up to the kitchen, trying not to wake them up with his own grunts. He needed to see about those injuries, finally. Gaat's crooks did a number on him.

He probably should have known better than to sneak away from his eldest. Sure enough, light steps soon followed him into the kitchen. Scott slipped from the basement and made a beeline to the medical cabinet. The movements of a slender teen's figure were sure even by the moonlight. Nible hands produced gauze, antiseptic cream, and cold packs with practiced precision. The boy's face was serious and wrought with concern. At some point the shadows shifted and Jeff nearly swayed on his perch by the kitchen isle - he had to blink hard, twice, to let the gossamer vision pass.

"How did you get the gun, Bluejay?"

Scott froze midstep to soak a clean washcloth for Dad's gushes. Jeff mentally kicked himself. That was relatively far removed on his priority list at the moment!

Angular shoulders, still in the team jersey, shrugged.

"John hacked the safe code way back - we needed Allie's birth certificate for daycare."

Jeff had to brace himself on the edge of the counter not to keel over and keen, like a kicked dog. Ashamed.

The boy shifted from foot to foot and visibly braced himself, ready for a reprimand. When he turned back to Jeff, blue eyes were silver with tears.

"Are you mad at me, Dad? I couldn't just leave you there!"

How could he be? The boy's disobedience and quick thinking, ultimately, saved his life. He beaconed Scott closer and draped an arm around the still bony frame.

"I know, Bluejay! I'm not mad. I just need to be sure you'll follow my lead when it's about you and your brothers' safety, deal?"

"Yes, sir."

The answer was barely above whisper - the teen was still notably trembling, exhausted and anxious. Jeff sealed the deal with a kiss to the side of the boy's head and gave them both a moment, cheek resting on the disheveled curls. The kid was chasing him in height so fast.

Scott shifted away, startled by a sudden thought.

"Dad! How did they know you'd be driving!?"

They didn't. The roadblock trap was set up to kidnap a teenager, driving alone late. Terrified eyes searched his face for an answer his son had already figured out. He shifted to adjust the embrace tighter with both arms and guided the boy's head into the crook of his neck. The soft half-sob, half-gasp nearly tore Jeff apart. Come dawn, he'd need to make arrangements to relocate the boys far away. Kyrano and Hiram would help him turn Gran Roca into an impenetrable fortress. To begin with. He'd spare no effort to keep his sons safe.

[pareidoliaonthemove]

Tale of an Iron-Clad Stomach

Sally Tracy swept into the lobby of the exclusive rehabilitation and physical therapy facility Jeff was relegated to as he reacclimatised to Earth. She was at the head of a troop of four of her grandsons, plus Brains and Kayo, and had a mysterious box tucked under her right arm.

“Good morning, Janice,” she greeted the young woman – dear God, was she old enough to be out of high school? – on reception duty.

“Good morning,” Janice chirped back. “He’s in his room with Alan, they’re expecting for you.”

Sally smiled. “And have they been behaving themselves?”

“Well,” Janice looked a little worried. “Alan has been an angel, but his father…” She grimaced. “Mr Tracy has decided that he is less than impressed with his prescribed diet. He’s been saying…” Janice flushed.

Sally grinned. “I’m guessing he’s been casting aspirations on my cooking abilities.”

The flush turned crimson as the mob behind Sally sniggered and nudged each other. “Yes, Dr Tracy. He’s been saying that as he grew up eating your cooking he had a cast iron stomach and could cope with anything.”

Sally snorted as the sniggers turned into full blown laughter. “So I had heard. And have heard before, usually to Jeff’s detriment.” She patted the box. “I think I have something here that will quiet him down good and proper.”

Janice smiled. “Just so long as the doctor’s don’t find out, Dr Tracy.”

Sally grinned and thanked Janice, before leading the group into the facility.

Hurried mutters behind her resulted in Virgil stumbling – obviously pushed – to her side. “Ah, Grandma…?”

Bless the boy, he was as sweet and as kind as the day was long, and all he ever wanted to do was help, so being sent – as the designated Medic – to challenge her – the Doctor was not something he was going to be comfortable – or subtle – about.

She smiled reassuringly. “It’s okay, Virgil. You’ll all find out what’s in the box soon enough. Yes, it is capable of hurting your father, but it has done so in the past – he’s unlikely to repeat that mistake. All I’m going to do now is remind him of that and what his limits are.”

“Ahh…” Virgil was saved from having to find a response to that by their arrival at Jeff’s room.

The door was ajar, obviously waiting for their arrival, so she tapped perfunctorily on the doorframe and swept in, the others piling into the room behind her. Jeff was resting on the bed, laying the pillows of the elevated section, a bolster cushion tucked under his knees. Alan was perched next to him, his torso pressed up against his father, with his knees drawn up higher. They were both focused on the pair of holograms projected into the room: Lee Taylor and Val Casey.

Jeff jolted at the intrusion. “Ma! Boys! Is that the time?” He glanced at the holograms guiltily.

There was the usual chaos as everyone went through the greetings, complicated by the extra two people ‘in’ the room. As the chaos settled down, and everyone settled into their selected seats: Grandma in a chair by Jeff’s other side to Alan, John beside her; Gordon, Kayo and Brains arrayed on the other side of the bed, while Scott and Virgil perched in chairs at the foot of the bed, Scott firmly planted between his father and the door.

“So, Jeff,” Sally began, “how has your week been?” She smiled innocently. “Is the food good?”

Val flushed and began making her excuses, and not-so-subtle hints to Lee that he should be doing the same, but Sally cut her off. “No need for you to leave. You’ve gone to a lot of effort to call, both of you, and you’re practically family.”

Her tone allowed no argument, and both stayed on the line. Sally turned back to Jeff. “How is the food, dear?”

Jeff squirmed. “Who ratted me out?” he asked, petulantly.

“Jeff, dear, you were missing for eight years. You really think we’re not burning out the switchboard, calling to make sure you’re really here and it wasn’t a dream?”

Jeff sighed. “It’s not like it was deliberate, Mom.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “It was eight years. Eight years eating nutrient mush processed from the rocks of the Oort Cloud. It kept me alive, but it didn’t really do much for me taste wise. I just really, really want a steak dinner. Is that so bad?”

Sally sighed, and patted his hand. “I know. It’s not bad to want it, Jeff; but as you said, you spent eight years eating nutrient mush. You’re stomach isn’t up for that steak dinner yet. If you try … well, it won’t be pleasant – for you or anyone else.”

Jeff sighed. “I guess I know that, but … I guess I want reassurance that I’m home, too. And the bland food I’m getting,” he slumped, and mumbled to his clasped hands, “it doesn’t help. It feels … it’s more like there than here.”

Whimpers rose from numerous throats around the room, and from all sides hands made aborted moves to touch Jeff. Sally reached out and grasped his hands in hers. “I know, baby. And I know that patience isn’t your greatest strength, but you’re going to have to be patient. It’s like when you were learning to fly, or undergoing astronaut training. One step at a time.”

There was a sigh from the bed. “It’s a matter of time, Dad. You’ll get there,” Virgil offered.

“And when you do, we’ll have the biggest, most elaborate, steak dinner to celebrate – no holds barred, the whole cow, all the trimmings,” Scott offered.

“So start thinking what you want, we’ll need every minute of the time sort out the menu,” John added. Then, casting a grin at Scott, “because you can bet Scott’ll make sure we have test runs to ensure everything is just right for you. And he’ll throw himself under the bus as the quality assurance.”

“And in the meantime,” Sally added, “I brought a little something to cheer you up. It might … spice up your meals.”

Jeff had brightened up as they spoke, and had a full-blown grin on his face as he accepted the box from Sally, his eyes bright with the anticipation of the gift – and the others all leaned closer, as eager as Jeff to see what was in the box.

Jeff pulled the lid off, and stared at the object within. His expression somewhere between amusement, horror, and heartbreak. Alan leaned forward, a frown on his face. “Is that … hot sauce?” he asked, then gagged. “What is wrong with the people that made it? Why would they call it that?!”

Gordon bounced a little in his seat. “Call it what?”

Lee made a sound between a wheeze and a laugh. “It’s not …” he began, “she didn’t really bring…”

Jeff nodded. “Yep.” He lifted a bottle out of the box, and held it up. “Hot sauce. The hot sauce.”

The holograms of Val and Lee began laughing hysterically, and the others looked between the bottle, Jeff, Sally, and each other.

It took a long time for the laughter to settle down enough for Scott – who had taken the bottle from his father’s hand, and showed it to his brothers, they all recoiled on reading the name on the label, but none of them were enlightened to the reason for the laughter – to tentatively ask, “What’s the story with-” he glanced at the label again and baulked at the name “-this?”

Sally took the bottle off Scott, and passed it back to Jeff, who carefully, reverently, put it back in the box, nestled among the packing material. “Your mother gave me this, my first birthday after we were married,” he said, his eyes not quite focused on the room.

There was a collective holding of breath by his sons – Jeff rarely spoke of Lucille, any information they could coax out of him was rare and precious. Nobody wanted to risk disturbing him as he spoke.

“I’d been bragging about how growing up eating Mom’s cooking had given me a cast iron stomach – never got food poisoning, could handle hot chilli, no problem. So she brought me this…” He reached forward, and Scott surrendered the bottle to him. “It’s made from Carolina Reaper Chillies, they’re the hottest ones allowed for human consumption.” He smiled. “She kept mentioning that fact, but I kinda … missed that point.”

There was a wry chuckle. “She put on a birthday dinner, with some of our friends and a few of the other astronauts. Everyone was really interested in the hot sauce, and there was encouragement to try it.”

There were twin snorts from the holograms. “It didn’t take a whole lot of encouragement,as I recall,” Lee drawled.

“You weren’t exactly trying to dissuade him, as I recall,” Casey laughed. “And as I recalled you poured some on your dinner readily enough.”

Jeff grinned at his best friend. “Long story short, there was a limit to how much spice I could handle.”

Sally laughed, short and not entirely amused. “Poor Lucy called me absolutely distraught. None of you went light on the sauce. Apparently you couldn’t speak, your eyeballs were about popping out of your skull, you were sweating at a greater rate than Niagara Falls, your face was bright red, and you were having trouble breathing.” A glance at the hologram of Lee, “the lot of you.”

Alan’s jaw was hanging loose. “What happened? What’s the first aid for first degree chilli burns?”

Sally grinned. “Dairy. Full fat dairy products. Preferably milk, although in this case, it didn’t cut it. Luckily your mother had lots of heavy cream for some cooking she was planning. That was enough to kill the burn.”

Lee grimaced. “Yeah, but we’d been hitting the beers. Mighta killed the burn, but most of us were queasy as all hell for days afterwards.”

Sally snorted. “No sympathy. You all should have known better. The one I feel sorry for was Lucy, poor girl honestly thought she’d poisoned half the astronaut corps in one go.”

“So what happened?” Gordon asked, spellbound.

Jeff laughed. “We were all humbled. It burned going in, and it burned going out. We were all pretty gun-shy of spicy food for a while, I can tell you.” Jeff smiled, a little sadly. “Lucy was miserable, thought she’d near killed me – and at the time, it sure felt that way. She’d honestly never thought that I’d actually try to eat the stuff. Thought she was buying me a decoration for the barbecue area I was setting up in the patio. Truth be told, I should have known better, but … well, we’d been on the booze, and there was more than a bit of testosterone in that room.”

Jeff stared at the bottle nestled in it’s box. He rubbed at his eyes, and nobody commented on the dampness on his eyelashes.

The room was silent for a long moment.

Finally Jeff heaved a sigh. “I have my limits. I’m not ready for that steak dinner. But I will be. Right?”

“Right,” Sally squeezed his arm, gently. “And we’ll be here to help you. All of us.”

Notes:

Soooo my Christmas present to brother-in-law the younger may have near poisoned him…

In my defence, I made it very clear the ‘hot sauce’ was made from Carolina Reaper Chillies, that they are the hottest chilli’s currently available for human consumption, and honestly: would you put something in your mouth that was labelled ‘Rectum Wrecker’? I thought I was getting him a talking point decoration for his new barbecue area; not actual food!

After a couple of days when it was apparent that he was okay, I got to thinking it was a very Tracy thing to do...

The standard disclaimers, I do not own Thunderbirds, either the TOS or CGI Series. (Although I do own copies on DVD.)

I do not do this for money, but for my own (in)sanity and entertainment.