#john tracy needs a hug

[edutainer2022]

So it's done! The little story that tidied me over this week of missile hellfire and long stretches of power outages. Jeff is back from Oort Cloud and is forced to question his strengths and aptitudes when things go unexpectedly very, very wrong very fast. All boys get to feature, eventually, but Scotty is having the worst time of all. Many thanks to @janetm74 for cheering me on through brief patches of power going up.

GRAVITY

Some days were worse than others. Some days the heady rush of pure JOY and BLISS of being back with his beloved boys, his Ma, in his own home, back on his own PLANET, beneath the blue skies, breathing unprocessed air... were not enough to tide him over the bone deep weariness. Days, when the bustling world around was suddenly too much effort. Too much, period.

That morning he woke up, gruff and bleary, feeling every ounce of gravity amplified weight down to his marrow. He didn't remember sleeping a wink, but he knew he was late. The corner of the blanket peeled away, catching on his stubble, revealed a silhouette perched on the side of his bed. Scott. Already dressed to the nines in a suit that looked like it was shipped straight from the Milan runway. It probably had been. His son's aftershave was fancier and more expensive than he could ever afford or had any clue to choose at that same age. Predawn light was casting a grey hue over Scott's features, gleaming in silver highlights, making him look older. Tired. His eldest looked hauntingly like Jeff felt, sagging under the crashing weight, stretched thin, even put together all sharp like that, bright and early. The sudden heartache of that thought came out as a hoarse groan.

They were supposed to meet several executives first thing in the morning to get Jeff up to speed a bit more. To get the company brass reacquainted with the Tracy Patriarch too. There had been many new promotions and appointments over the past eight years. But Jeff could barely keep his eyes open. The thought of getting up and moving gave him a shiver, which, in turn, deepened the worried frown on Scott's face. The taut lines in the corners of his son's eyes and mouth became prominent. Much as the pallor and dark circles, belying a sleepless night. Scott took a call out in One, right off the roof of Tracy Tower. It was the fastest and most expedient option, regardless of Virgil's protests. That's how Jeff remembered most of his sleep being drained by nightmares - One screeching off and him spending eight endless years calculating and hoping (praying) the rocket plane made it out of the Zero-X launch blast radius in time, taking his son to safely far enough. He winced at the memory and squinted against a nauseating headache. Scott's worry was obviously reaching the red zone.

A firm hand landed on his shoulder, then moved to press for the pulse. His boy's fingers were uncharacteristically cold, but maybe Jeff was just catching space chills.

"Dad, are you alright? I will cancel the morning! I'll get you to the hospital right now, then Virgil will fly Grandma in!"

The on the go plan was all IR Commander, but blue eyes blown up twice the usual size in panic was Scotty at any given time Dad was about to disappear. Again. He hated the treacherous frailty that got his unwavering boy so scared. As much as he hated the very idea of hospitals, enthusiastically shared by all his children.

"It's okay, Bluejay! No need to worry! Just one of those days. I'll sleep it off. You go ahead with the meeting and I'll rise and shine to have brunch with you, deal?"

Between the Zero-XL assembly under wraps, the possibly one-way mission to the middle of the galactic nowhere, and Jeff's subsequent laborious rehabilitation, the Tracy Industries senior executives really needed some quality face time with the Tracy-in-charge. So they would have it. Jeff was under no illusion he was in any shape to be that, anymore. Scott was, still. But that would have to change maybe sooner, than they both wished, if mornings like that became a recurrent thing.

Scott didn't appear entirely convinced and there was definitely a ping being sent up to Five to monitor Jeff's space-addled sleeping hunk extra closely. However, the anxious scowl softened into warm mirth as Scott smiled down at Dad's rugged face. Cool fingers moved from the pulse point to brush away the matted grey curls from Jeff's forehead. The gesture was definitely well practiced on any and all of the younger brothers, but in that moment all Jeff could see in the slight tilt of the head and a special, radiant fondness in the blue gaze, was the boys' mother. He nearly choked on a sob and covered his eyes, feigning a fit of cough. Scott moved immediately to give him a glass of water from the bedside table. Once done blinking away the stinging moisture, Jeff caught the tail end of a hastily covered wince in the boy's features. If he were operating at full capacity, he would have probably dug to the bottom of it with proper insistence. As it were, Jeff settled for a squeeze of the premium wool clad bicep:

"How're you holding up, son? Tough night?"

"I'm okay, Dad! You don't need to worry! A couple of bruises here and there. Mostly my ego, as I landed in a heap when the jetpack gave out. I'll never hear the end of it from everyone!"

The edges of Scott's "cheeky flyboy" smile were tighter than Jeff should have been placated with. But gravity was already pulling his lids down.

***

He marginally remembered a quick tender peck on his forehead, or maybe he dreamt it up, conflating the endless years of longing for his mother and for his wife even before that. The scent of his eldest's aftershave, laced with a familiar wiff of One's fumes, lingered and calmed him down. He came to think of it as home and hope over the past months. Jeff next woke up to an anxious face of a different son.

John's hologram practically vibrated with anguish, bouncing on the bedside comm unit. Eyes wide and wild, John looked all too much like an Alan Jeff last remembered - eight years old and left at the Warton boarding school for the very first time.

"Dad!!! What's going on!?!! Are you alright?!!!"

Jeff's headache still didn't agree with the yell, audible practically from orbit. He didn't master much but an incoherent grumble to that.

"Somebody called 911 to the TI Conference Room for Mr. Tracy! I can't get through to Scott's comm! You were supposed to have a meeting first thing today! Are you okay!?"

Words rushed and stumbled one over the other, so unlike John's usually impeccable, professionally honed articulation. It took an extra moment for John to compute Dad's state of underdress - a testament in and of itself of the ginger's distress.

"Dad? Are you still in bed?"

Awareness was catching up with him and with it the heavy drag of gravity and dread. His ginger spaceman was still faster on the uptake, his own overwhelming horror finally pinned on a name:

"SCOTT!!!"

The only Mr. Tracy at the TI Conference room at that moment. It all was coming to Jeff in bits of a disjointed puzzle - the overnight rescue, Scott's ashen paleness he chalked up to lack of sleep, the stifled painful grimace his son wasn't quick enough to hide. And Jeff wasn't there for him!

***

If the younger employees of Tracy Tower were secretly looking forward to meeting the Resurrected Space Outcast, Founder of Tracy Industries and International Rescue, Hero of the Century and a Living Legend - Jeff Tracy - it was probably not barefoot and clad in pink flamingo print pijamas, sporting a bedhead and an overnight shadow, stumbling his way down the hallway at an alarming speed with a formidable assistance of the wall and an occasional doorknob. Jeff practically flung himself into the Conference room and nearly toppled over several people in expensive suits, crowded over a prone body on the floor. He shoved somebody's shoulder aside with enough force and less ceremony than was maybe appropriate.

His knees hitting the floor gave a jaw-jiggling rattle and it remained to be seen if he'd be able to make it back up unassisted, but he didn't give a damn. Scott was still and sheet white against the navy blue of the carpeting. Somebody had the presence of mind to loosen his tie and unbutton the shirt. Scott's face and chest were wet as someone apparently tried to sprinkle water on him to ease the fainting. To obviously no effect. Jeff might have noticed a shadow of bruising on the toned torso, but his eyes were on the beloved yet lifeless waxy face. He cupped Scott's cheek and shifted the other hand to rub his sternum forcefully .

"C'mon, Bluejay! Give me those eyes! Time to wake up!"

Either the father's voice or the strenal rub had the effect - Scott eyelashes fluttered and a sliver of blue became visible. Jeff felt encouraged, thankful the baffled and paniced executives were giving him a wide berth.

"There you go, Scotty! Open them up for me, eh? Dad is here, Bluejay!"

Jeff moved his palm from Scott's chest to grab a cold limp hand and squeeze. His other hand never left the son's cheek, the thumb caressing cool clammy skin carefully. Give the boy a sensory anchor.

"Stay with me, kiddo! It's alright!"

Blue eyes were still cloudy and unfocused, eyelids heavy. Scott seemed to have just then noticed Dad's presence.

"Dad? Yu'came?"

Jeff's chest constricted. Of course, they were supposed to be in that meeting together. But Jeff succumbed to weakness and left Scott alone. Again.

"I'm right here, Bluejay! Dad is here!"

The pained, far-away gaze still didn't land on him.

"Yu'never come... Only Mom comes... I call'n'call an'yu'never come..."

He was feeling cold sweat and shivers raking his own body, his head was swimming from strain and fear, but he had to keep Scott conscious and talking.

"Dad is right here! I'm with you, Scotty! Just look at me! Can you do that for Dad?"

Scott seemed to have made an effort to look at him, the brilliant blue almost black with strain.

"Yu'never come when I'm dying..."

With that Scott's eyes rolled back into his head and a thin rivulet of blood trickled down the corner of his lips. Jeff couldn't tell if his son's skin went colder to his touch as his own hands went icy numb. There was a distant sound coming through the pounding in his ears - an animal-like wail of Scott's name in a voice Jeff didn't recognize as his own. Space shifted around him, bodies shuffling urgently as more people entered the room. Multiple hands were prying him away from Scott's unmoving body, but they would need a crowbar. Jeff was putting up a fight to stay latched to his son, or so he thought. In the middle of a vicious flail he was suddenly tipping sideways some distance away, Scott completely obscured from view by a wall off luminicent lined uniforms of paramedics. And Jeff's world went black.

***

[Lucy, please! I know you miss him, love! Oh my God, I KNOW, baby! I know you're all alone there! Please, don't take him! PLEASE! He hasn't lived yet! Our boy, Luce! I let him down so much! I'm so sorry! I asked so much of him, and he gave up everything! I screwed up! Take me, hon! If you absolutely must, take me instead! I'll watch over them all with you, dear! But you can't take him! You won't! I know you won't let him! He needs to live! Please, don't let him stay with you, Lucy! PLEASE!]

***

He started awake yet again with his eldest son's name on his lips, voice hoarse like he'd been shouting over the ocean surf, crashing on the island shore. Caramel eyes were startled by his roar that time. Gordon was quick to collect himself and put on a smile.

"Hey, Dad! You're awake!"

Not unlike Scott's early that morning (was it still the same day?), Gordon's grin was thin, taut, not bright enough to cover the shadows visible on tanned skin. Jeff tried again, putting a worth of questions into the name:

"Scott?"

Gordon's smile faltered and Jeff felt the heady rush of weightlessness, his mind slipping away from the tether of sanity.

"Scotty's in surgery, Dad! There was internal bleeding and he crashed in the Conference room. The paramedics said he coded there, but they got him to the hospital on time! They're working on him now!"

Coded. Scott died on his watch. Because Jeff wasn't there. He took a breather, let his boy take over his slack and his duty. Again. Scott was paying with his life when Jeff was unfit to deal. Again.

He shifted in what appeared to be a hospital bed, but the range of his movement was limited by the IV line, now pulling at his hand. Gordon stopped him from getting up, hands, weighing his shoulders back on the mattress, a lot stronger than he remembered.

"Whoa, Dad! Nah-uh! Stay put! Your BP tanked and you blacked out there too!"

That probably explained the dizziness and the hospital ward spinning slowly around him. Jeff took a cautious look around the room, but for the monitor tracing his vitals it was empty. Gordon read the question in his gaze.

"Allie got so worked up with worry - he threw up. John's with him, helping to clean up. Grandma's watching the surgery and consulting in the OR gallery. They actually let Virgil in the OR! Those puppy eyes are a menace! Or maybe Johnny-boy donated the hospital a research lab or something. Anyhow, they let him stay with the anesthesiologist - you know how Scooter's body eats through painkillers! Freakish metabolism and all! So they wouldn't want him wake up mid surgery,  and Virgie knows the dosage and his stats by heart. It's good, right? Scotty's not all alone in there!"

Gordon was rambling, not pausing for air, and Jeff knew that to be the boy's primary tell for intense anxiety. He reached for his second youngest hand to ground himself as much as to offer comfort.

The door hissed open and Alan waded in, followed by a mile of ginger topped blue. Allie's face was blotchy and ashen, fresh tear tracks marking the skin. John was gripping the boy's shoulder with one hand. He had a tablet clutched to his chest with the other.

"Dad!"

Alan sounded so young Jeff's heart ached. He lifted the IV bound arm and Alan was quick to tuck himself to Dad's side, lanky teen limbs curled into a ball. The boy was not bothering to be discrete about crying again. Gordon flopped over Jeff's legs, uncharacteristically lost for words and craving contact too. Jeff waited till John walked around and perched by his shoulder. The ginger was engrossed by the video feed on his tablet. The live stream from the OR Jeff was not sure the hospital authorized or even knew about. He didn't care. He was dying to ask how the surgery was going, for how long, but Jeff wasn't sure how much John had clued the Tinies in. So he craned his neck to better see the screen and waited. Silence stretched. Virgil's massive form in sterile scrubs, cap and mask was visible, hunched over Scott's face, his fingers drumming lightly over the brother's bare shoulder. Jeff couldn't tell if Virgil was tapping in Morse code or playing out a mute tune. Either way it was definitely a way to reach through to big brother and not to disrupt the doctors. The surgery site was a hustle of frantic activity Jeff didn't dare follow too closely. At some point John's eyes went almost sea-green dark and the grip on the tablet turned his knuckles white. Jeff squeezed his shut, hugging Alan's trembling shoulder closer.

[Please, Lucy! No! Please!]

Time stretched further without meaning in perfect silence. John finally shifted to get up and announced:

"They closed him up! He'll be wheeled to Critical Care now."

Turquoise met caramel across the ward and it occurred to Jeff the statement was addressed more Gordon's way, as the blond was on his feet immediately. There was a LOT of communication between his family going right over his head. Maybe they didn't trust his strength that day. Or maybe they were just too used to not factor him into the synergy of their tightly knit world. Either way, it hurt more than he could ever let them know.

Gordon got his cue and was peeling Alan up and away from Jeff's side.

"C'mon, Al! Let's go find Grandma before she instills fear of hell into the nurses! And maybe grab some snacks for everyone! On my word, Dad DOESN'T want the local variety of green jell-o!"

Alan, as well as everyone else in the room, knew it for what it was worth - a diversion tactics to get him away. Allie could be stubborn with the best of them, and he wasn't a kid anymore, despite a widely acknowledged belief, but he knew there would be no real talk of Scott's post op prospects with him around. Not right then at least. Besides, the boy looked veritably drained by fear and all the uncertainty, and could use a change of scenery.

Shortly after Gordon chaperoned Alan out the doors to Jeff's ward hissed again. Virgil appeared like a giant ghost, swaying on his feet. He shed the surgical mask, gloves and cap, but was still in the OR scrubs. Drenched through with sweat. John was by his brother's side in one long stride. The boys leaned into each other for a long moment, their foreheads touching. Jeff longed to envelope his sons into a massive hug and let them draw strength from their father, as should be. He longed to rush to Scott's side and hold on to him as tightly as he knew how, not letting the boy slip away. He longed to console the Tinies and shoo away the haunted desperation from their eyes. He longed to ascertain them all they were not loosing Scott. Because they couldn't. HE couldn't. But he was marooned by the stupid IV, bedridden by gravity, exhausted by dread and guilt, eating him alive. Not for the first time that day Jeff felt redundant and useless, a fragile husk rolling around, causing mere nuisance.

Virgil heaved a breath to center himself and John stepped around him to head out. But not before giving his brother another quick fierce hug. Virgil seemed to be gathering his bearings, his mind booting up, previously lost in whatever he saw and felt going on in that OR.

"John, wait! Scott is critical. They won't let you in!"

John's face was a chiseled mask, a shade paler yet, if it were at all possible.

"I just bought this hospital equipment enough to research immortality. I'm going to be with my brother!"

With that he was gone through the door. Virgil seemed lost for a moment, lonely in the middle of the room. Chocolate eyes landed on Dad and just like that - the dam broke. The tidal wave of years worth of fear and pain, and toll of anticipatory grief as well as the actual one, for reasons Jeff only began to piece together, breached through defenses and Virgil collapsed into his father's eager arms, sobbing.

***

Maybe it was fitting he only got to do his vigil bid by Scott's side after all his kids, and his Ma, had exhausted themselves. Maybe it was his turn to step up, finally. Or maybe he wasn't ready before. How could he be? No amount of bracing himself could prepare Jeff for seeing Scott in the Critical Care unit - translucent and perfectly still - machines doing breathing for him, pumping blood for him, doing all the living for him. Even after That Place there was more life in his son's body, more tangible reality beneath the gossamer skin. His son's spirit was nearly unmoored, yet Jeff felt like he was the one needing life support. A lifeline. So he reached for the one that had yanked him from the brink more than once, led him out of cosmic limbo, sure and true - his son's hand. And held fast.

***

[I'm right here, Bluejay! Dad is here! I never come when you're dying, because you're NOT! I'm right beside you! Mom will show you the way home! I'll be waiting right here, son! I'm not going anywhere, I promise!]

[edutainer2022]

'COTTY'NUGGLE

It wasn't common for John to be clingy. 'John' and 'clingy' seldom even occurred in the same sentence. John and physical contact was a rare occasion enough, so the death grip their ginger spaceman had on the biggest brother, both sprawled on the couch after a dodgy debrief, was hard to miss. Something happened on the last space mission. Something that wouldn't make it into their report. Something that had John tag along back to the island in Three, leaving Alan up in Five to man the comms. Something that now had John clutching a perplexed and visibly exhausted Scott to his chest, turquoise eyes daring anyone to pry big brother away. Nobody challenged John's claim.

Virgil was concerned, but kept to the piano, in the orbit of the shaken brothers, but giving John a berth he obviously needed. The medical scans checked out green. Whatever happened was not a physical injury. A silent thanks to Mom went up for that. Virgil could bide his time and wait till the brothers were ready to talk. Or not.

Soft sounds of piano music was accentuated by the slap of bare feet from the general vicinity of the kitchen deck. Unlike Virgil, Gordon took the pile of brothers as an open invitation and all but bounced in place, excited:

"We're doing the ''cotty'nuggle'!"

Along came an expert dive on the couch and a mild "omph!" from Scott. His arms went instinctively to tighten around the swimmer's back as Gordon wriggled and settled more comfortably. John's hand shifted to clasp Scott's on top of the Hawaiian shirt. His other hand moved up to shield Scott's eyes from the overhead lights.

Virgil smiled to himself as he regarded the scene. "Cotty'nuggle" as part of Tracy lingo originated with him, that's all an 18-month old Virgil ever wanted to do - snuggle his big brother. Snuggling Scotty was a refuge, a solace, a grounding reassurance in a whirl of life that kept taking so much. Virgil was beginning to feel left out, so closed the piano lid and drifted to the far end of an already crowded couch. John was being positively squashed by the combined weight of solid lean muscle. Virgil opted to perch himself on the armrest, lifting Scott's long, long legs into his lap. John met his gaze over the side of Scott's head, cradled on his shoulder, but said nothing. Gordon was apparently beginning to drift into snoozeville, blissed out by the brothers' warmth and light circles over his shoulderblades. The birdy-blinder trick, however, wasn't working for Scott as John expected. Biggest brother was awake and leaned his head closer, so a breath above whisper could be heard.

"You good, Jay? Gords and I are heavy, we're crushing you."

John reacted by tightening a hold on Scott's hand and shifting his palm from the brother's eyes to card through untamed curls. Scott showered after the mission and didn't come up to the lounge put together to the nines, as always - a clear signal something was very much off. There was a brief pause before John answered, as if considering the weight of the living, breathing body against him.

"You're here. I'm good."

Virgil caught the forlorn turquoise gaze again at that, but John closed his eyes quickly. Not yet, then. Later he'd get to the bottom of it. For now he let John enjoy the one perk of gravity he probably didn't mind at all - the real warm weight of a snuggled brother in his arms. Alive.

[a-little-bit-of-tradition]

Chicago PD : 5x01 (Part 2/3) Jay and/or Hailey scenes

[idontknowreallywhy]

Resurface 30 - Reposition

Story so far

I was going to post a WIP but realised that the next chapter had got so long I may as well cut it and post in two or three parts, the first of which is here. Do they actually get to the point yet? No. No they do not. But they are thinking about it.

Also - please do not treat my all-advised and much-mangled metaphor as legitimate advice on how to save someone from a rip. I’m a seaside girl so feel compelled to say - DO NOT DIVE INTO RIP CURRENTS PLEASE AND THANK YOU.

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There were a lot of hugs over the next couple of days. Pretty much wherever Virgil chose to sit he’d find himself sharing the chair, or at least the elbow room, with at least one family member. Usually more. During waking hours they moved around the villa like iron filings trailing a magnet.

The filings weren’t generic in their behaviour of course. Alan favoured a hand hold and a continual commentary on whatever happened to be crossing his mind - Virgil encouraged this, still not entirely persuaded by his baby brother’s assurances that he now accepted nothing had been his fault. There was perhaps more of the eldest in the youngest than in any of the rest of them, yet Virgil didn’t have the same instinctive read on the younger man���s expression. He was more than content to keep him close until he could be sure.

John, by contrast was quiet, watchful and specialised in the almost undetectable shoulder nudge. His presence was most striking for its tangibility and yet again Virgil found himself wishing it didn’t always take something awful happening before he could enjoy it.

Gordon, unfussy, tended to cling to whatever part of Virgil was available and on one occasion had abandoned all pretence of cool and leapt on to his back to be transported around, limpet-like, until Virgil threatened him with Four’s sonic hull-scraper.

Kayo had become surprisingly obsessed with ruffling his excessively curly, unstyled hair at every opportunity. Except today she was pouting because in celebration of waking up with the last traces of meds almost entirely expunged from his system, Virgil had reached for his beloved pomade (the recipe for which he’d only slightly tweaked from the version his father had used) and finally tamed the floof so he could look as well as feel more like himself again.

Even Brains had been unusually present recently, having just transferred his hours of poring over technical specs on his tablet up a few thousand stairs. Which meant Virgil got to join in and they’d exchanged some useful ideas for modifications with Alan chipping in not unintelligently. Until the engineer started to ask Virgil’s thoughts on some upgrades to Shadow at which point a series of crashing noises from the kitchen area had spooked him and he’d darted for the stairs muttering something about time-sensitive testing. Gordon had snorted about how at least Scott might reduce the washing up carnage he always produced while on meal-prep if he smashed it all as he went along. Virgil chuckled but it felt a little hollow and his throat was dry.

Scott… well… Scott had taken on the brunt of the food prep duty and had thrown himself into it with his usual energy. It had not gone unnoticed that every single one of Virgil’s childhood favourites had appeared on the table at some point over the last week. A steady stream of cookies and pastries had also been emerging because “Virgil needed fuel for his recovery”. Given his freakish lack of activity Virgil wasn’t convinced he needed quite so much extra fuel but had had more than a little assistance in consuming them. Alan had enthusiastically proposed shutting down Tracy Industries altogether as they could make just as much profit with a bakery if only Scott would get his priorities right more often. The chef had been toasted heartily for the good fortune of avoiding Grandma’s genes.

John and Virgil had exchanged a glance, both remembering what the younger two did not - that on the occasions where the messages from the moon base, or from the Mars mission had dried up - their Mom had channelled her anxiety and helplessness into frantic baking sprees. The community cake sales were never so well stocked when Jeff was safely planetside.

When not engaged in destroying the kitchen, Scott had hovered as expected but he hovered at the edges of the pack. Encouraging smiles, chuckles in all the right places as affectionate banter flowed. He teased a little, he ticked the tinies off for their excesses and he argued with John about a mathematical theorem Virgil knew his normally fastidious brother had deliberately misquoted to get a rise out of the older man.

Unlike with Alan, Virgil was entirely immune to this particular facade - a lot was not right with his best friend. His voice was wrong, too steady, unnaturally even. He was constantly just out of reach which was utterly wrong for Scott who was the most tactile human he knew. The man even looked wrong for some reason Virgil couldn’t put his finger on.

Grandma had been keeping a weather eye from a distance, albeit usually in the same room, or perhaps one away. Virgil glanced up and caught her eye as she leaned on the balcony of the mezzanine. She’d smiled, initially, and then frowned a little, raised her eyebrows and looked deliberately towards Scott, who was currently entirely unnecessarily explaining to Alan why he needed to finish high school. The woman had never been one for the subtle hint.

His brother was lost at sea, caught in a rip tide and drifting from the safety of the beach and Virgil had the only life preserver. It was inevitable that the circumstances of his illness would have knocked his eldest brother off course and Virgil still didn’t know exactly what had happened. All the possible implications rushed and sucked menacingly just below the surface and he knew the only way to reach Scott in time would be to face his terror and dive into the current to find out for himself what it carried.

Yet he never seemed to be in quite the right position at quite the right moment to make the leap…

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Sometimes the boys just needed dragging into the right places.

“I’ve taken the liberty of informing Casey that International Rescue is on hiatus for at least another seven days.”

Sally released Scott’s arm and insinuated herself between Virgil and the coffee machine - the one piece of kitchen equipment with which she held no beef.

“The GDF will cover what needs to be covered. EOS is monitoring and will let us know if that appears to be falling apart.”

Her eldest grandchild rolled his eyes and somehow his entire body followed.

“Give them a chance, Scott, they may surprise us yet. Tracy Industries is in the perfectly competent hands of your COO and all the regular SMT meetings are postponed for a month due to your sabbatical…”

“My… my what?”

“You heard.”

Scott stood, hands on hips and gaped like a fish while Virgil tried to surreptitiously cover his grin by resting an arm on the kitchen island and leaning on his hand. Sally struggled to keep a straight face as he misjudged and his elbow slipped off the edge.

“The regular maintenance schedule has been paused - Brains has pulled the guts out of Thunderbird One and spread them all over the hangar and Two is both wing- and engine-less so neither is going anywhere fast. I believe Shadow is next on his list…”

Sally found herself wishing she had a camera to catch the identikit expressions of horror on both the boys’ faces - the same one they thought she never saw when she announced she’d been baking.

“Gordon has taken John, Kayo and Alan diving off the new reef. There is nothing left you boys need to do other than have that conversation you’ve been avoiding.”

She placed two steaming mugs of coffee on the countertop, reached up her hands to effect simultaneous destruction on both immaculate hairstyles and left them to it.

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Scott ran an anxious hand through his hair, trying but not quite succeeding to recover the precisely gelled arrangement and Virgil suddenly realised what had been bothering him about Scott’s appearance. Something HAD changed.

He peered at his brother’s hairline.

“You’ve dyed it!”

[astranite]

Oh this!!! So tender and so painful.

[edutainer2022]

This turned out sadder, than I expected. Oh well... Virgil gets to contemplate Renaissance art as Scott finds a baby in the earthquake debris. John makes a brief, bit meaningful appearance. There be angst and melancholy, and lots of Earth and Sky love.

CW: mention of earthquake and destruction; mention of a minor character death in an earthquake

BABY BLUES

Their tech would undoubtedly blur the image for security purposes, but Virgil made a point to commit the sight to memory. It didn't get more awe-inspiring or symbolic than a figure in blue, ascending into the air from the smoking pile of rubble and ashes, a small bundle cradled in a sure arm, against the backdrop of a cloudless sky, the blazing sun providing a natural halo around the stunning visage. It made Virgil think back to the stained glass windows and frescoes he got see for the first time in Rome, dragging his grumpy brothers around and pulling every favor and blackmail chip to see more of what Renaissance had to offer to an aspiring artist.

Scott landed next to Virgil, killing the jetpack, and the bundle in his arms made its presence known with a wail, breaking the spell. A baby! The sole survivor, apparently, of that building collapse in an earthquake. A baby boy, to be precise. He made it, thanks to his mother throwing herself over the crib. The crashed ceiling didn't leave her any chance. Rendered quiet in the face of an abject tragedy, that hit them all close to home, Virgil concentrated on assessing the baby for possible injuries and smoke inhalation. That was a bit of a problem as Scott was yet to relinquish the hold of the child. Parallel to Virgil's ministrations he knew John or Eos would be already running the database checks for any relatives, hopefully a father or grandparents. The first sweep came up empty fairly quickly - the owner of the demolished house was never married nor had any close relatives listed. The baby boy's birth certificate registered no information on the father, but did give them a name - Jeffrey. Jeff. Talk about symbolism.

Miraculously, the medscan flashed nothing more aggravating than yellow - baby Jeffrey escaped the ordeal relatively unscathed. Still, they had to get the child to Two's infirmary and then to a nearest hospital STAT. Babies were extremely fragile, especially in a danger zone like this. Virgil reached to transfer the now somewhat quietened baby to his hold, but, to his surprise Scott wouldn't let go. He shifted the small weight to one arm and with a flick of one hand slaved One to TB2 controls to fly in formation, turning on his heel and marching to the green bird, a baffled Virgil in tow.

Virgil busied himself with fixing a tiniest oxygen cannula on the fussing boy, as Scott materialized once again with a blanket and a bottle of formula, picking the baby up. They kept all kinds of supplies in Two, for all kinds of rescuees, of course, still Virgil found himself pausing in surprise again. Scott waved him away to pilot, his focus completely on the now happily munching little Jeffrey. Virgil turned one more time before leaving for the cockpit, catching Scott features soften and glow the way he only remembered the biggest brother look at a much younger Alan.

Virgil's heart constricted at the weight of everything their brother gave up, was still giving up every minute of every day, to be what they all and the whole world around needed of him. Part of his mind wandered into the forbidden territory of calculating if they could successfully baby-proof the villa. Or maybe not so forbidden? They had the resources and the manpower of responsible adults (well, almost) at home now, right? It takes a village, they say. Well, they did have a small taskforce of people completely dedicated to making sure Scott got every ounce of happiness and fulfillment he deserved, regardless of his take on the matter. It could work. Safely in the cockpit, Virgil pinged John over an isolated channel.

Baby Jeffrey was placed in the pediatric ward for an overnight quarantine and observation. Virgil hung out nearby, as Scott stayed, transfixed, by the huge bay window, overlooking the rows of tiny beds. Two would need to leave soon to pick up Gordon and Alan in their pods - the earthquake mission was almost wrapped up - but there was still time. He certainly didn't want to startle or hurry Scott away. Not now.

A cry down the hospital hallway disrupted the quiet reverie. Both Virgil and Scott turned their heads in the direction of the sound as a young man, not much older than Scott, practically flung himself at the IR Commander and sobbed. Virgil's first instinct was to regroup for danger, but there was no menace in the stranger's fierce hug - only relief, gratitude and sadness. The man couldn't seem to stop weeping on Scott's shoulder, a jumble of frantic thankyous and I'msorries muffled by the IR uniform. The man was baby Jeffrey's father. John was exceptionally good at data analytics and cross-reference. A part of Virgil, he wasn't particularly proud of in that moment, wished he weren't. But it was just as well. They had a huge spat with a then fiancée and broke up - she never got to tell him they were expecting. John examined the data through the late mother's social media and financial records, ran the numbers and identified the man in the neighborhood, thankfully, unaffected by the earthquake. The guy was shaken by the grave news, but extatic to meet his son and adamant to step up. Which he did immediately, rushing to the hospital and pouring out all the emotional turmoil to the leader of IR who saved his baby. Virgil nudged Scott away by the elbow, gently, as Jeffrey's Dad took over the vigil by the ward. Where he belonged.

Gordon reported they were ready for the pick-up, and generally ready to leave that particular disaster behind them, but Virgil still lingered where Two and One were parked in the field. Scott was yet to say anything after they left the hospital and was staring up at the sky. It was the kind of wistful gaze that usually filled Virgil with dread - as if Scott was not all there, missing something up, amidst the endless blue, as opposed to staying on sturdy earth with them. Virgil summoned all the courage he could and ventured to speak first:

- You can have that, you know? - he nodded in the general direction of the hospital, the baby they left behind. Virgil found his conviction strengthen, as he spoke. - You CAN. If you want to, you can start a family. We'll all help!

Any adoption agency would fall over themselves if Scott Tracy as much as blinked their way. And any child could not be luckier to have Scott Tracy for a father. If Virgil ever believed in anything, that was their biggest brother was born to be a Dad. He only wished the biggest brother in question shared that faith.

Scott shook his head slightly, in cadence with some unvoiced thoughts, his eyes not leaving the skies:

- I shouldn't. I should've known better.

Virgil took a sharp breath for a vehement contradiction, but the wrist-com blinked blue - John was inquiring their ETA to the original danger zone.

Scott looked back down on him with a rueful smile, that threw all Virgil's panic stations into red alert:

- Go, pick up the Tinies, Virgie. Go!

For the second time that day he was reminded of the art in Rome, when looking at his brother - the serene bliss and detachment of martyrs and saints, captured in marble.

- Aren't you coming, Scotty? Let's go home. Please! Please!

Virgil found his voice cracking into a plea, small and scared, as his hands moved to clasp, almost spasm, around his brother's. He wasn't above adding the biggest, teary puppy eyes to a litany of begging, in an irrational hope of compelling Scott to follow the cue. If they could just go home now, it would be alright. It will all be alright from there.

Scott returned the gentle squeeze of the hands and shifted his eyes back to the sky:

- It's okay, Virgil. I'll stay at Gran Roca tonight. I need to talk to Mom.

***

Fifty two thousand miles above John mused, not for the first time, that Open Comms was, by far, the best of their protocols - that, and the compatibility of all their crafts with all their properties - as he gave Eos instructions to reposition Five over the family estate and to prepare the space elevator for a trip down. Noone was wallowing and mourning a self-professed lost chance at fatherhood alone tonight.

[astranite]

Cotton Candy Bubblegum Icecream Means Sticking Around No Matter What.

A fic for @squiddokiddo of Gordon and their oc Sea-Squirt Tracy with some fluffy hurt/mostly comfort between siblings, for a hope this cheers you up even a little as you’re hurt too and this is the closest I can get to giving you a proper (very gentle) squid hug.

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57426040

Squirt drawn by Squiddo here!!!

.💛💛💛

“Hey Squirt, how are you doing bud?

Gordon sat down on the side of their bed, transferring several plushies to his lap so he didn’t squish them.

The kid frowned, hugging the fin of their giant ikea shark closer. That had been a fun trip for them both when they got it together.

“Sore.”

“Ouch, yeah no wonder. ” Gordon scootched a bit closer. “I getcha, back and neck injures aren’t fun at all.” He had plenty of experience in that department.

“It really sucks, Gords.”

“I know and it does, a lot. You did really well on the misson though, I’m proud of you. For all of it but also for taking care of yourself too when you were hurt so Virge and I could look after you.”

Squirt reached out the hand that wasn’t holding onto the shark to hold onto Gordon’s hand.

“Thanks.”

They paused for a moment then cracked a small smile from beneath the pain. Gordon knew that smile well. “I totally did it for the stickers though. I got two, a manta ray and a blob fish.”

Gordon grinned along with them, leaning into the joke, the laughter, the tiny bits of joy that could be grasped in a rough spot. “Aww those are cool creatures. Virgil only gave me one last time!”

“That was because it was a literal paper cut. From y’know, wrapping paper. I liked the gift though. ”

A couple of sea creature erasers wrapped up in shiny yellow paper that Virgil would recycle into an art project was a something just because to cheer Squirt up a bit when they were having a rough week. The tiny paper cut part was regrettably true. Only regrettable that he should’ve known he could find another sea flap flap sticker, it had just been hiding. It would’ve still would up stuck to Squirt somehow.

“I was most grievously injured, young Thunderfledgling.” Gordon pointed out the largest of his hydrofoil scars on his forearm, a long line of pinkish-white sliding up its length.

Squirt snorted with laughter then winced.

Gordon squeezed their hand. “You ‘kay?”

“Yeah. Ouch. Everything really hurts.”

“Alright. You just say if need me and Virge to check you over again if its not getting better and we can work out whether we need to go to the hospital.”

Squirt made a face.

“Yep, I mean my reaction exactly. They’re shit places to be but important.” Gordon ruffled Squirt’s hair, ever so gently and brushing the ginger curls so those deep brown eyes could definitely see him and know he meant it. “I’m here for you though and I’m going to stick by you whatever happens. You’re my little sibling.”

Gordon let it sink in for a moment.

They didn’t need to say anything as Squirt slowly shuffled to lean into Gordon’s side, more difficult with their injuries.

Gordon put his arm around them to give them a hug, extra careful because he cares about Squirt ever so much but sure and steady so they know he’s got them.

“You wanna watch something together or anything?” He offered.

“That’d be nice.”

“There’s icecream in the freezer I can get you too if you want it.”

“What flavour?”

“How does celery sound?”

Squirt raised a scathing ginger eyebrow. Okay they nearly squinted the other eye closed at the same time but they did it! Wow though they were spending way too much time beating John at chess for them to have picked that mannerism up so vividly.

“I’m kidding! I got you bubble gum and cotton candy last time I was doing groceries and I know for a fact where Alan hid the popping candy and where John and Scott decided to put the sauces cause they are way too tall for the rest of us.”

That got another little smile from Squirt as they pulled up the tv menu from the holoprojector in their room.

Even though they were hurting, Gordon loved to get to spend some time with his littlest sib and would take care of them no matter whether that was resting up here or trips to the hospital, laughing with them or comforting them when everything go too much, all the while doing his best to be a safe harbour they could return to in the storms.

[phading]

Hi, it's me!

Okay, so there’s probably a lot you don’t know about me. So just in case you’re in the least bit interested:

I try very, very hard never to read incomplete fics. Purely selfish, and the result of reading far too many heart-grabbing stories that never got finished. If you need kudos or encouragement or anything else to continue, I’m here and over the moon excited to read anything you’d like to throw at me. Just let me know what you want in return - comments, critique, suggestions, hugs, encouragement, emojis, whatever ...

I posted one fic a chapter at a time, and I doubt I’ll ever do it again.

Characterization is everything.

If you’ve noticed an absence of Brains, Grandma, Lady P, Havoc, etc… in my fics it’s because I don’t give a twit. Perhaps one day I will evolve beyond this simplistic state.

I suck at prompts, challenges and deadlines. My muse is never in the right headspace at the right time.

I have a ridiculous need to keep it believable when really, the stuff that goes on in the show – no matter how much I adore it – is often somewhat miraculous.

It’s the future, people, I’m allowed to invent things.

In real life, I write kids’ books.

To the best of my knowledge, I’m the oldest member of the Thunderfam. Challenge me if you think you can claim the title.

The first thing of importance I ever wrote was a full length Star Trek Next Gen novel which I submitted to a few select New York publishers (oh, the innocence of youth) . Surprise, surprise, many of them actually read it and sent back comments written on famous restaurant napkins.

So, in light of all of the above, I’m once again doing my own thing. Inspired by the recent “10 opening lines from 10 recent fics” post I’m changing it up to “10 opening lines from 10 WIPs”.  I mean, seriously, I’m a newbie here and have far more WIPs than I do finished fics. So here’s what’s – pray to the anti-depression, anti-chronic pain gods  – coming up …

A WHOLE LOT OF SUPERFICIAL The uniform discarded in a heap on the floor outside the showers was expected – the purple neoprene wasn’t. (Virgil, Scott, shaping up to be humour)

THE LAST ZOO ON EARTH “Say again, John. I thought you said we have a situation at a zoo.” (All brothers, major rescue, major whump, pissed off Gordon)

THERE ARE NO CANNIBALS ANYMORE “Sir! I need you to calm down!” (Hurt Virgil, this one could go graphic in a hurry)

IT DOESN’T HURT Virgil glanced up from the piano keys, searching for inspiration but instead witnessing his fish brother's spectacular dive off the board – a dive that would leave his re-built back in shambles. (Fishtank, chronic pain)

TIGHT ROPE “I’m sorry, John, but if she’s dumb enough to try and pull off this ridiculous stunt, I see no reason why we should save her from her own stupidity.” (rescue gone sideways)

STARSTUCK Alan Tracy had been looking forward to this moment for a very long time. (Hurt Virgil, guilty Alan, Thunderbird 3 whump)

STELLAR “Hey, John, what’s this?” “It’s personal, that’s what it is!” (Guilty John, comatose Gordon, poetry, John has a secret)

CASPIAN John Tracy blinked open his eyes, breath catching when he discovered the most beautiful thing in his universe mere centimetres from his face. (John, OC-John’s lover, angst, Marks and Wings, John is not only a telepathic Ave but he’s bi!)

PSYCHOTIC MEDIUMS The probe entered Earth’s solar system broadcasting a symphony of alien sound that instantaneously drove the half-a-million or so humans who were listening insane. (Virgil centric, angst, sci-fi)

THE JOHN-CODE “Hey, Eos, you wanna help me test this new game?” (Alan, John, Eos, virtual games gone wrong.)

[alexthefly]

I have no words. 😭💙

Scott had blood on his hands.

It wasn’t a new thing. It happened far too often to really be anything out of the ordinary. But it was different when it was his brothers’.

Oh, so different.

Technically, his hands were clean. After all, between his uniform gloves and the first aid gloves, his skin was sanitary.

But it wasn’t.

He could feel it.

Virgil woke the moment his ‘bird’s engines flared up. It was almost predictable. It was actually a good thing. But he hadn’t been coherent, stuck in the moment he last remembered. Gordon was his entire concern and it took every reassuring word and action Scott could think of to calm his brother down.

And behind him, Gordon had slipped into unconsciousness.

Fortunately, the trip was ever so short and within minutes they were on the ground again.

Virgil was still fretting. Scott had to strap his head down to prevent him from moving it, but his brother wasn’t aware enough to realise why.

His distress broke Scott’s heart.

Gordon’s silence just scared him.

But now they were both in expert medical hands. The fact Scott knew the doctor on duty was both a reassuring and ridiculous thing.

But now, alone in the waiting room, he only had himself for company and the images and the beating of his overtaxed heart thudding in his ears.

There were a multitude of things he should be doing - checking in with the GDF, following up on the danger zone, checking in with John, Grandma...Alan.

But for one moment, just one, he let himself sit down on one of those blasted plastic waiting room chairs he hated, and dropped his head into his hands.

It was far from the exemplary conduct of the Commander of International Rescue. His uniform grated against his skin, but he needed to clear his head, calm the panic and reset to face it all again.

A gentle hand on his shoulder startled him enough to gasp.

Familiar and kind aquamarine eyes caught his as John crouched down beside him. “Hey.”

Scott let out a breath. “Hey.” He straightened and sat back in the chair giving himself space. “They’re going to be okay.”

Voice soft. “I know.” John unfolded again and sat in the chair next to him. “How about you?”

“Me? I’m not injured.”

“No. But it hurts anyway.”

Scott’s lips thinned, but he didn’t answer that. There was no purpose in answering. It was acknowledged, even if he didn’t want to admit it. Instead, he pushed off from the chair and threw himself to his feet.

He had things to do.

That hand caught his arm. “Scott, wait.”

He turned to watch John stand up and face him. Quiet and calm. “Stay. Eos is managing the rescue. Aunt Val is managing the GDF component. Grandma is on her way.”

Scott looked down at the floor a moment. He needed to be doing something. Virgil’s cries were still bouncing back and forth in his head and Gordon’s silence was echoing. Blood and metal and mud.

But most of all it was the senselessness. He was willing to give his life to save others. He knew his brothers felt the same.

But this?

No one was saved. It was a random fluke of nature. A mindless tornado that could have taken everything as easily as it took the lives of the people they were trying to help.

And no one had been rescued.

His brothers hadn’t even had a chance to start.

It reminded him of an equally mindless avalanche, oh, so long ago.

The blood was sticky on his hands.

“Why don’t you get cleaned up?” John’s voice was soft as always, calm as always. This was why he was the Thunderbird he was. Why Thunderbird Five worked as well as she did. His brother was his ‘bird.

John’s hand shifted from Scott’s arm to wrap around his shoulders. Hell, the man was still getting taller. Scott wasn’t used to looking a brother directly in the eye and god forbid he have to look up.

He was the eldest, after all. It was fit he be the tallest.

“C’mon, I’ll keep you company.”

And before Scott could protest, John herded him out to Thunderbird Two and her ample bathroom facilities. A shower and his mud and blood-spattered uniform was replaced with a red flannel shirt and a pair of jeans both too big and too short at the same time.

He had Virgil poking him for not restocking his spare clothes since London three days ago.

He idly wondered if the rest of his brothers sported a Virgil voice in the back of their heads.

Scott knew that his, at least, never neglected a smart-assed word at any appropriate moment.

Today he almost welcomed them.

But the shower and the fresh clothes helped clear his head and slow his thudding heart. It didn’t clean the blood off his hands and he still had the urge to scratch them raw. He curled his hands into fists.

Returning to the cockpit he was confronted by the missing hover stretchers, but worse was the hologram playing in front of John.

Obviously, Two’s external camera, he watched as nothing other than a combine harvester attempted to kill his brothers. John played with the controls, flipping the scene back and forth obviously attempting to ascertain exactly how his brothers were injured.

But Scott’s eyes just latched onto that massive airborne machine. A killing machine that tried to take his brothers.

Holographic pixels measured out how close.

Ever so close.

“Shut it off.” His voice was sharp and cold.

John jumped as if caught with his hands in the till and the hologram vanished. “Sorry.”

Scott bit the inside of his cheek. “I’m going back to the hospital.” He didn’t bother to wait for an answer. He just lowered himself through the hatch and strode ever so fast back into the building that held his injured brothers.

-o-o-o-

Two Birds with one Stone

[gumnut-logic]

J Protocol

The Protocols

This one is a long time coming and I've been staring at it for hours, so have no idea if it is good enough and it hasn't been read through by anyone but me, so I'm going in blind.

This is for @onereyofstarlight who has waited long enough ::hugs::

I hope you enjoy it.

-o-o-o-

John liked to be alone.

It allowed him to rest, to think, and to be himself. There were no demands on how he needed to act, what he was wearing or what he felt like saying.

Alone he could serenade the stars, karaoke dance to his ABBA collection, read without anyone commenting on what he was reading, and, hell, leave the bathroom door open if he wanted to. Being alone had its advantages.

But it also had its disadvantages.

Today had been an unpleasant one.

The fish brother in the back of his head cried foul and described it in much more colourful terms, in several different languages - did Gordon actually know how to speak Greek? All of the above would have had Grandma threatening to clean his mouth out with soap, but really, John couldn’t help but agree with the description.

Even the thought of his little brother had him smiling just a little as Thunderbird Five slowly grew larger.

He had been out in his exosuit, something he usually enjoyed when a rescue was close by. This had involved a couple of idiots in orbit who had done something very, very stupid.

And it cost them everything.

John had been fast, but space was faster and it took their lives.

Scott had been on comms at the time. His eldest brother had all the kind words amongst the command decisions, but a mission failure was still a failure and after the long shift before it, John was just tired and sad.

Returning home to Five was a relief, but there was part of him, a very small part of him, who missed the loud of home.

He liked being alone.

But he loved his family.

And today sucked all the ass.

Gordon, watch your language.

Talkin’ to yourself, bro.

Solitude also tended to promote conversations with himself.

“John, which airlock will you be using?”

But then, was he truly alone?

“The rear ‘lock, Eos. The suit needs some repairs and a good clean.”

“Should I alert Virgil?”

“No, I can manage.” But that would be an excuse to see his big brother. Virgil wasn’t a fan of space, but he would drop by at any hint of John needing help.

A glance in the direction of Tracy Island, in midnight darkness just like the whole half a planet beneath him.

John sighed as he slowed, firing reverse thrusters to kill off his velocity, to a smooth pacing of Five. Splattering himself across her solar panels would certainly be an undesirable end to an already shitty day.

Eos had the airlock open and waiting, enabling John to slip in quietly. Five crept around him with her protection. Being out in space was a raw experience. Beautiful, but raw. His ‘bird provided a sense of security with cahelium between him and the harsh environment.

The airlock sealed and the air pressure welled up, familiar in its reassuring caress. The inner door slipped open and he pushed off gently into the module he had left in such a hurry several hours earlier.

He ran through the disassembly routine for his exosuit, robotic arms pulling it gently from his body. For some reason he found himself leaning into that metallic touch.

Damn, maybe he had been away from Tracy Island for too long.

He would have to schedule some leave.

But he had that experiment running…and Auckland University were waiting for his write up on his comet. He could do the writing on Tracy Island - would his brothers give him the space?

The pun was ignored.

His brothers tried. He knew they tried. They respected his wishes as much as they could. Didn’t understand them, but respected them. They knew social interaction took energy he felt better spent elsewhere. They knew that what worked for them didn’t necessarily work for him.

They tried.

Hard.

But he also knew they missed him.

And he loved them for it.

Returning to Earth added him to their lives in three dimensions and they often wanted to take advantage of that. Hell, he wanted to take advantage.

But there was transition time from space to Earth, and all the stuff he had up here, and…

God, he was tired.

The mechanics finished up, leaving him floating free in the centre of the module.

He let himself drift just a little.

“John?”

Eos didn’t ask if he was okay, but the question was there anyway.

He sighed. “Stash the exosuit, I’ll do the repairs tomorrow.”

“Yes, John.” How did she put so much emotional inflection into those two words?

He refused to sigh again, simply reaching out to touch the wall and nudge himself towards the airlock leading into the central hub of Five.

The room lit up as he entered, the familiar map of the planet below spreading out across the spherical walls. The rescue indicators were clear for once in his life and he was quite happy to pass by the map and head for the gravity ring, aiming for his bathroom and the chance to clean off the sweat under his uniform.

“Hey.”

The sudden appearance of a body blocking his path confused his exhausted brain and he was slow to connect the dots of green, blue and heavy lifting brother.

“Whoa, Johnny, take a breath.”

A hand steadied him where his reaction had sent him spinning just a little.

“Virgil? What? Eos, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Virgil asked me not to. You said I should listen to Virgil, so I did.”

John deflated, and sighed in exasperation. “Virgil, why? You scared the shit out of me.”

That earned him a raised eyebrow.

Okay, so plain, old boring swear words weren’t usually his thing, but he was tired.

That eyebrow twitched in his direction.

Oh.

“Just dropping in for a home visit. That last situation was a rough one.”

“I’m fine, Virgil.” He pushed past his brother. “Just need some sleep.”

“Uh-huh.”

John rolled his eyes as he pushed himself out into the ring, his feet lightly landing in the low gravity environment. He strode across cahelium reinforced glass. “If you’re going to order me back to Tracy Island, I rather you didn’t.”

Virgil was obviously following him, the soft squeak of his specialised boots on the glass a not unfamiliar sound. “Haven’t even thought about it. Just wanted to drop by and see how you were going.”

“At two in the morning.”

“I’m a night owl.” He could feel his brother’s smile bounce off the back of his head.

John grunted as he reached the doors to his rooms. He turned to his brother standing behind him. “I’m going to get cleaned up. Back shortly.”

“Scott says debrief in the morning, but I would like to check you over before bed.”

“Really?” It was whiney and childish, and he earned that extra eyebrow arch, but damnit, he was tired.

“Really.” And there was just that touch of steel in Virgil’s voice. Not quite the same as Scott’s commander tone, but just as final. “Don’t make me come in there after you.”

“Fine.” He threw open the door and wished he could slam it behind him with all the petulance he felt right now.

Virgil didn’t answer, nor did he follow him.

It only took a moment or two for the guilt to sink in and John was faced with the fact that Virgil was worried about him. He climbed up into orbit, into space which he didn’t enjoy, to check on his little brother, only to encounter …John.

He let his head drop against the glass of his bedroom wall. Because of the lower gravity, his forehead did not hit with any of the thump he needed it to.

A sigh. He would apologise, but first he needed to get clean.

-o-o-o-

It was a bit longer than he had expected when he finally emerged from his rooms, but he felt just a little bit more human for the clean and new spacesuit.

Time also helped. His head had been caught up in rescue gone bad. Those few extra minutes helped him step back and breathe.

Virgil wasn’t outside his door, which, considering he’d likely left him with the impression he might have to hogtie John to get the readings he needed, was a surprise.

“Eos, where is Virgil?”

“In the infirmary. John, do you like pineapple?”

He frowned, heading in the direction of the small room set aside for medical needs on the gravity ring. “Yes, why?”

“Even if it is on pizza?”

“Uh, no. Pineapple should never be put on pizza.” He frowned as he slipped into the infirmary. “Have you been talking to Gordon?”

“Yes, and he is most emphatic that pizza should include pineapple in its toppings.”

“Gordon has issues.”

Virgil snorted. “That he does.” His brother looked up as John entered. Apparently, he was doing a medical supply inventory.

He had removed his baldric and harness, and was standing in his overalls-styled uniform without his usual green. It wasn’t right.

As if sensing John’s affronted senses, Virgil frowned. “You okay?”

John shrugged and sat down quietly, and obediently, on the small bed. “You need the green.”

Virgil looked down at himself, wrinkling his nose. “I do feel kind of naked.”

“So why did you take it off?”

“Didn’t need it. Need the suit for safety, but didn’t want to clink every time I moved.” He pulled the medscanner out of it protective sleeve on the bulkhead.

John held up a hand. “Sorry about before. I-“

Virgil put a hand on his arm. “Nothing. Been there, it’s not fun. Understandable.” And that was the end of that.

Virgil gently pushed John’s arm down to his side and began waving the scanner over John’s body.

Ten seconds later he turned off the scanner. “You’re good. Could do with some food, drink and sleep, but everything else is fine. You don’t even have any bruises.” A gentle smile. “You’re good, John.”

“Thank you.” There was a double meaning there, good in health and a compliment on a good job done. “And thank you for coming all the way up here. I could have saved you the trip.” He did know how to use the medscanner, after all.

“There is more to your health than what that scanner can tell me.” Virgil eyed him as he put the device away. “Besides, I like to see my all my brothers from time to time.”

“The time, Virgil. You should be in bed.”

Then as if to throw John completely out of whatever universe he was currently in, Alan bounded through the door. “Virg, it’s working. All ready to go.” His littlest brother looked up. “Oh, hey, John.” And he darted out as fast as he had entered.

“What?” The word burst out of his mouth. “How-?” He glared at Virgil. “What’s going on?”

But Virgil just straightened and smiled. “J Protocol.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope.” Virgil strode past him and pushed open the door. “Come with.”

John found his mouth open and had to shut it. “Virgil-“

“Nope.” His brother waved an arm towards the door. “C’mon.”

Instinctively, John knew that if he didn’t move, Virgil would start on more drastic transport options. After all, John had seen his heavy lifting brother throw Scott over his shoulder in exasperation.

Virgil always got his way eventually.

John let his shoulders drop and walked through the door.

This time he felt like stomping instead of slamming, but the same emotion was behind both.

“Virgil, I’m fine.”

His brother nudged him forward as he shut the door behind them. “Good. Keep it that way.”

“But-“

A strong arm wrapped around his shoulders. “John, you need this.”

“I-“

But his brother herded him through the airlock into the central hub of Thunderbird Five.

The sphere was full of brothers.

And pizza boxes.

Scott was sitting cross-legged like some kind of suspended Buddha, poking at his phone. Gordon was upside down chattering non-stop to Alan who was the right way up - there was no ‘up’ in space, but there definitely was an ‘up’ on Thunderbird Five, despite the lack of gravity in her central hub - and conversing with an ease that spoke of extensive space experience.

An irrational sense of pride of his littlest brother swelled John’s heart.

All at once the three brothers realised John was in the room.

“Johnny! Welcome to the party!”

Alan flipped midair in an obvious over-the-top move to land right next to John. “Hey, John, way until you see what we’ve done.”

John frowned. “What have you done?” They better not have messed with his ‘bird.

But Scott had unfolded and was narrowing in on John with a frown. He didn’t say anything, just glanced a question at Virgil who gave him a nod.

His two eldest brothers were irritating when they did that, especially when the non-verbal conversation was obviously about him.

Scott reached out and gently clasped John’s arm. “Good job out there today.”

Yesterday, technically. “What are you all doing up here?”

“Pizza party!” Gordon’s eyes were glowing with glee.

“At 2.30 in the morning?”

Scott shrugged. “Sometimes pizza is just needed.” And there was something in his big brother’s eyes.

Goddamnit, he was fine.

But then Scott gently pulled him into a hug. It wasn’t tight, just a wrap of his arms around John, his head resting, just touching John’s shoulder.

The room was oddly silent.

And John found himself leaning into the hug. His brother’s caring touch etching into his skin, drawing him in deeper, feeding a need he hadn’t realised he had.

His head fell quietly onto Scott’s shoulder. The moment it touched, his brother’s grip tightened just a fraction before loosening again…so, so gentle.

Oh god.

But then Scott was equally as gently pulling away, blue eyes eyeing him as if unsure how he would react. Perhaps gauging his next move.

A big hand landed on his back and its partner wrapped around Scott’s shoulder. “I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry.” Virgil nudged himself between them, aiming for the huge pile of floating boxes.

The moment snapped and the world started moving again. Gordon and Alan joined Virgil with the boxes, happily discussing toppings…which ultimately led to the ongoing war between yes-pineapple and no-pineapple on pizza.

Gordon was never going to win that one, outvoted four to one, but he was a determined fish and kept up the battle at every chance.

It was a familiar sound of home.

Blue eyes were still staring at him. Saying so much unsaid.

“Hey, Johnny, me and Virg set up something cool for you.” Alan was bouncing as much as he could in a zero-g environment.

It forced John to look away from Scott. “What have you done?”

“Virgil said he wanted to set you free, but keep you safe, so we did this.” Alan poked at his wrist control.

And the hub walls disappeared.

What?

All his brothers, the stack of pizza, the random slice of pepperoni that chose that moment to drift through his eyeline - all of it, and them, was floating above the night side of Earth with nothing around them.

Thunderbird Five was gone.

His breath caught in his throat. “How?”

Virgil was smiling as he gazed at the view, pizza slice in hand. “A few more sensors on her hull, improved communication with the holoprojectors, and a little bit of programming by Alan, and you have your own space-themed holodeck.”

He stared at the lights of Auckland and Sydney. “You built me a holodeck?”

“Isn’t it cool?!” Alan was definitely bouncing.

John nodded. “Yeah, it’s cool.”

“This is the default view. It draws directly from Five’s exterior sensors. What you see here is what you’d see if we were outside. But I did add a few of my favourites for you and tweaked the input from your telescopes.”

Alan poked at his wrist control and Earth vanished.

It was replaced with a view of the Andromeda Galaxy. They were staring down at a sea of swirling stars surrounded by the deepest darkness.

“It’s not interactive, though. The processing power required for this resolution is huge and Five does have a much larger program it needs to keep safe.” He looked up for a moment, but when there was no response, Alan warily turned his attention back to John. “If you want to add more views, we’ll need to up Five’s storage. We should probably do that anyway. Never hurts to have more storage.”

“Says the video game addict.” Gordon snorted.

“Hey, your holos of fish take up more room than my games.”

“Are you kidding? Zombie death 16 pushed me onto external storage.”

“That was an accident.”

“How?”

“I may have put it on the house servers twice.”

“What? Did you delete it?”

“Of course I did.”

“Guys?” Virgil’s voice was ever so tolerant.

Gordon and Alan glanced at John. “Sorry.” It was a chorus of the both of them.

No, this was fine. It really was.

Andromeda glowed beneath them.

His family was…being his family.

And there was pizza.

He let himself float and closed his eyes.

The smell of toasted cheese and tomato sauce, peppers, that unique pizza smell.

His brothers talking quietly - Gordon and Alan still at it, but desperately trying to be quiet about it. John would look at digital storage options both for Tracy Island and Thunderbird Five tomorrow.

At the moment…

A soft touch to his shoulder and Virgil was offering him a slice of cheeseburger pizza, his favourite.

Scott had gone back to being aTracy Industries Buddha…until Virgil coasted past, snatched his phone out of his hand, and smoothly replaced it with a slice of pepperoni and cheese.

Scott’s protest was muffled by Virgil’s glare.

John bit into his pizza slice surrounded by his family and an amazing projection of his second favourite galaxy.

Yes, he liked to be alone.

But he also loved his family.

And they loved him enough to follow him.

-o-o-o-

[idontknowreallywhy]

WIP Wednesday

It’s way easier to drive the bros to the point of desperation such that they’ll cry and hug than it is to make them actually SIT DOWN AND CALMLY DISCUSS IT LIKE GROWNUPS and I confess I’ve found myself at a bit of a loss as to how it could come about.

But then the brainwave hit, and I deployed the secret purple weapon… this will likely all change but I enjoyed the concept thus will share…

💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

“I’ve taken the liberty of informing Casey that International Rescue is on hiatus for at least another seven days. The GDF will cover what needs to be covered. EOS is monitoring and will let us know if that appears to be falling apart.”

Her eldest grandchild rolled his eyes.

“Give them a chance, Scott, they may surprise us yet. Tracy Industries is in the perfectly competent hands of your COO and all the regular SMT meetings are postponed for a month due to your sabbatical…”

“My… my what?”

“You heard.”

Scott stood, hands on hips and gaped like a fish while Virgil tried to surreptitiously cover his grin by resting an arm on the kitchen counter and leaning on his hand. Sally struggled to keep a straight face as he misjudged and his elbow slipped off the edge.

“The regular maintenance schedule has been paused - Brains has pulled the guts out of Thunderbird One and spread them all over the hangar and Two is both wing- and engine-less so neither is going anywhere fast. I believe Shadow is next on his list…”

Sally found herself wishing she had a camera to catch the identikit expressions of horror on both the boys’ faces - the same one they thought she never saw when she announced she’d been baking.

“Gordon has taken John, Kayo and Alan diving off the new reef. There is nothing left you boys need to do other than have that conversation you’ve been avoiding.”

She placed two steaming mugs of coffee on the countertop, reached up her hands to effect simultaneous destruction on both immaculate hairstyles and left them to it.

[edutainer2022]

@janetm74 Oh, I'm glad you asked! Maybe darker than the prompt intended.

CW: suicidal thoughts; mental health issues.

THE GOOD PLACE

His time was up. The realization hit him with such icy clarity his fingers went numb.

He asked himself so many times, why he had survived THAT PLACE. How COULD he. Was he even really alive. After Dad was gone it came to him - he needed to fill in for Jeff Tracy. However pale a replica, they needed him. Till the kids grew up. Till the company climbed back from a sudden nosedive. Till IR found its sealegs again. Till the Hood was captured. Then the Mechanic. The Chaos Crew. They all needed him. Now Dad was back and his borrowed time was up.

Dad was everything everyone ever needed, not Scott. So his mind reached for the familiar comfort of "the good place" - he could be gone before the euphoria settled down and everyone blamed him in earnest for not saving Dad sooner, before Dad looked into how utterly he screwed up running IR on so many occasions, before everyone hated and disowned him. His time was up. He was under a false impression he maybe got a lifetime after all, after TV-21. His time was up in That Place, he only got to go on to fill up for Dad. Now Dad was back. He had outstayed his welcome. He didn't even know who he was anymore, where he stood. Not a Commander, not a test pilot, not a CEO, not a father. Not Jeff Tracy. But that was alright - he could put himself to good use as a Thunderbird one last time. As a brother. Soon. THAT was a good place to be.

***

Jeff noticed the signs he spent years praying were behind them to never be seen again. Not Since Scotty's return from the hospital, from THAT PLACE. A faraway look, electric blue eyes dim, soft, but sad. Short bursts of dissociation, especially among the bustling activity and chatter around Jeff, as the other boys, Kayo and even Brains were talking a mile a minute, relegating their antics and heroics. Jeff had an unnerving feeling Scott had handed him an armful of lively sweet puppies he'd been looking after and nurturing, and was quietly fading into background, like a ghost. Jeff's heart went cold at the memory.

The last time something remotely like that happened, Scott was slipping into the ideation of death as a release from torment (and later - emotional pain and survivor's guilt) he used to resort to in Bereznik prison. The boy only mentioned it to the high profile trauma therapist Jeff hired. Till Jeff did something he was never proud of, but would do again in a heartbeat. At Jeff's behest Kyrano broke into the doctor's office and copied the session notes - Jeff was too desperate to care about ethics, too afraid he was loosing Scott to pain still, even safely home, and needed answers. Jeff never spoke of it to anyone. He was now devastated to recognize the same signs after his return - certifiably the happiest time of their family lives.

***

He didn't master the courage to confront the eldest up front, but Jeff got his worst fear confirmed soon enough. His own voice went hoarse in the horrified chorus over the comms as Scott shoved Gordon and several trapped miners into the overweight elevator crate and stayed behind awaiting the explosion, his smile serene and kind. It was a testament to his boys' ingenuity and coordinated effort, or an ultimate miracle pulled by Lucy in heaven, that they managed to reach Scott underground in the nick of time and snach him up, only with a couple of scratches to show for it, before the mine turned into a well of liquid fire. That, and a black-eye, as a raging, traumatized Gordon decked him.

Jeff called off the formal debrief till morning. He spent some time sorting out the shaken, devastated boys before finally locating Scott all the way up at the Roundhouse. His son was seated on the barrister of a terrace, overlooking the ocean. Alone. Jeff considered his options, trying his best to recall the therapists notes from long ago. His primary goal was not to startle and not to accuse. Jeff opted for settling quietly behind Scott's back, so the boy could lean on him if he needed to. The father's hands went up to settle on the young man's shoulders, but Scott barely even stirred in acknowledgement. That was the kind of fugue state Jeff feared the most. He made sure to keep his voice down to almost a whisper.

"I need to ask you something, Bluejay, but you first need to promise you will forgive me. Deal?"

A soft hum was Jeff's only answer and he dared to prod further.

"Are you in the Good Place right now, son?"

He could feel the shoulders tense under his palms, but Scott didn't bolt away. Jeff took that as a yes. A slow tilt of the head and Jeff could see pain and anxiety in blue eyes. Scott was expecting a betrayal. Jeff could feel the crack in his heart awash with a wave of agony.

"Dr. Ross never told me anything, kiddo! I stole her notes. I needed to know how I could help you. As I do now!"

There was another small sound, too close to a whimper this time. Scott dropped his gaze to the ground down the slope. Jeff treaded further, ever so carefully.

"You could tell me why you needed to slip to the Good Place, if you want to. But you don't have to, Bluejay! It's alright".

Jeff ventured a slight pressure on the boy's shoulders to have him lean against his chest. The silence stretched for minutes, filled by the shrieks of seagulls above. Jeff bid his time.

"I didn't save you sooner. I gave up. Everyone could have so much more time with you if I hadn't stopped looking. Instead, I played pretend. My time is up, Dad."

Jeff could hear the tears in the quiet, broken voice, but let them flow. It took everything in him not to shake the boy by the shoulders, wrap him in a bear hug and scream in protest. He remembered the doctor's notes how dangerous it was to break the delusion violently. Scott could shut down. Or worse... Jeff shuddered and tried to regain what little composure he could.

"I see, Bluejay. I understand. I'll just stay in the Good Place with you then. Right here, eh?"

That elicited the reaction Jeff hoped for against hope. Blue eyes flashed up at him in horror.

"You can't stay, Dad! Everyone needs you! You need to go be with them! You can't stay!"

Jeff's hands never left his son's shoulders, clutching the boy ever so closer to himself. Scott was trembling.

"But I wouldn't know the way out, see? I don't think I can do it without you, son. You'll have to show your Old Man the way out."

He could feel his fingers go numb with dread. Jeff wasn't lying one bit - he was sure he couldn't do it without Scott. Any of it. Never could. His son's frame went limp against Jeff's chest. Defeated. His voice was barely audible.

"I don't know a way out, Dad. I don't even know who I am, anymore. I only know what I have to do. I need to go."

Now was not the time for Jeff to bask in his own despair. His own deepest fear upon return was not knowing who he could even be to this incredible young man, who was EVERYTHING for everyone around and so much more. Now Jeff needed to grasp at a thinnest straw to pull his son from the brink of the void.

"That's okay, Bluejay. How about we find you together? And then you'll find a way out of the Good Place. I'll be right behind you every step of the way."

He sealed the promise with a soft peck on the temple and was rewarded with an almost imperceptible nod. That was a start.

Jeff's vision swam from tension. Surprisingly, that's when more light steps entered the terrace. He should have been accustomed now to the habit the elder boys developed to monitor Scott closely for any signs of distress. Maybe Jeff himself was still on probation as far as dealing with the worst of it was concerned. After some gentle prying, Scott's nearly lethargic weight was taken off Jeff's arms. Huge brown eyes glistened with tears, before squeezed shut as Virgil enveloped his big brother into a crushing hug. Jeff nearly toppled backwards, completely drained, but unexpectedly strong arms caught him. John. His ginger boy pressed the his into Dad's shoulder as they both watched Virgil cradle Scott close.

"We would need those doctor's notes, Dad."

Jeff started at the whisper. Then sighed. Of course John monitored their conversation after the dramatic events of the day. John and Virgil were ready to intervene. Jeff shook his head in time with his own thoughts. The copied notes were destroyed. Kyrano took pictures with an obsolete film camera, so there would never be a leak. Otherwise John would have already found and accessed the digital files, no doubt. What Jeff read about the state of his eldest psyche back then left him so desperate he did the unthinkable - he came clean to Dr. Ross about the breach, taking full responsibility, offering her to press charges in exchange for any smallest pointers how to not let Scott slip away. He also gave her back all the photos and negatives to destroy. She opted not to prosecute him, but refused to disclose or discuss her sessions with Scott further. Jeff, however, got a valuable insight into his own fatherhood out of the stern berating he endured. So maybe that was a way to go - solicit help to have Scott come back to himself. He didn't need to call Kyrano for smuggled away negatives. His boy was going through a similar struggle again, but he was a different man doing so. So was Jeff. To help his son he needed help being a better father too. He needed to call Dr. Ross.

Jeff smiled and reached up to clasp Jon's hand. His other hand moved to ruffle Virgil's hair, then Scott's, as the brothers were still fused in an embrace.

Writing Prompt #2771

"I don't know who I am anymore." His voice was barely audible.

"That's okay. Let's find you together."

[edutainer2022]

I am on a long, long commute from Paris back to Ukraine, so I may be able to wrap up some WIPs, if the fancy strikes.

It's a "Tracy fever" little fic, but nothing too angsty, just pure fluff and an attempt at levity.

PUPPY BASKET

A puppy basket. Jeff didn't recall who exactly coined the term - his wife or himself. Or maybe his mother. The point was - with three kids so close in age (and then two more down the line) the flues and colds, and stomach bugs tore through the bunch like a wildfire. There was not enough manpower in the household to keep up with sick boys quarantined in different rooms. So it was just easier and more expedient to stash the sniveling and coughing, and sniffling, and generally miserable puppy ball in the master bedroom. Lucy and himself took shifts sitting vigil, giving meds and fluids, kissing burning up brows. If he were planetside, of course. Later, when the boys' mother was gone, it would be, likely, Scott's room and the elder boys taking up watch hours, while he was busy with grief and work. The one time he came home from New York to find all five boys succumbed to a flu, pretty much delirious in his room, little Alan hoarse from crying - even Scott too weak from fever to call Grandma (and too anxious to call 911 lest child services got a wiff) was a memory he didn't dare revisit often. He could distantly recall that a feverish Scott would be restless, Virgil would be cuddly, John would be clingy. Gordon would peel off any scrap of clothes on him. Someone would invariably end up upside down with feet propped on the pillow.

That morning got him investigating in Scott's room first thing. Gordon and Alan drew a short straw and were off for a supply run early on (a bright and whistling Gordon and a grumpy half-asleep Alan). Virgil was not expected down this side of 10 am, John was just back from orbit the night before. But Scott never made it to see the Tinies (did they even call the boys that anymore? Alan was starting college in a month!) off, have his run and a morning coffee-cum-strategy session with Dad - something that had become a new, cherished routine for them. The parent alarm in him, that never lay quite dormant even through the endless night of the Oort Cloud, was now blaring full force.

Fair enough, Jeff found his eldest room in an uncharacteristic disarray - a blanket kicked off all the way from the foot of the bed down to the floor, last day clothes scattered on the carpeting - something he came to recognize more as the youngest style, not Scott, who had tried to emulate Dad's military crisp order since he was five and learned to make his own bed. Scott was soon found by his father's increasingly concerned gaze in the middle of the bed, tangled sheets and disheveled curls a testament to a night of tossing and turning, breathing shallow and raspy. Jeff's immediate guess was a nightmare - heaven knows he was no stranger to warding off those, plaguing his boy's naturally light sleep. But a fine sheen of sweat, covering Scott's face and neck, belied a different answer altogether. Jeff wasn't surprised, when the brow he reached for to smooth away the soaked fringe, was burning. Scott wasn't asleep per se - eyes squeezed shut against a headache - but he definitely wasn't alert and present either. Jeff wasn't surprised, but he was getting increasingly panicked. His own mother gave him a semi-clean bill of health and was currently in Kansas, helping a friend out. The time difference made the call tricky. Not impossible, of course, there's no inconvenience Grandma wouldn't go through for him or his boys, for which Jeff was eternally greatful, but all the more weary to disturb his getting increasingly fragile Ma more, than necessary. Kayo was visiting with her own father, so that was not an option as well. The problem was, with Grandma away, there was no medic on the island. Unless, of course... Jeff remembered Virgil determined and precise with a medscanner, and later - all business and in-trade jibberish with the medical staff at the rehab center he had to spend first months back on Earth at. Despite budding worry, as Scott keened quietly and shifted under his father's soothing touch, Jeff smiled fondly. Virgil was, arguably, the closest to his Grandpa in looks and demeanor, but looks like he followed his Grandma's professional leanings. He should try and wake Virgil up. Scott was definitely under the weather.

As if on cue, the door opened and a gigantic burrito walked in. Jeff started. The burrito was, upon a closer inspection, a human, barefoot, wrapped up in a blanket head to toe. The walking burrito was also eliciting grunts and a lung-splitting cough. Ouch. The intruder ignored Jeff completely, sidestepped the bundle of clothes on the floor, and collapsed on the bed, next to Scott, wrapping the latter immediately in a cocoon of limbs and blanket, like a cuddle pillow. Scott is restless, Virgil is cuddly... Jeff was beginning to get a bad, bad feeling about it. A quick dive into the fluffy depths of fabric and hair confirmed his fear - Virgil had a fever too. That left...

"John!" - he had to spring from the edge of the bed with speed and agility that would make his physiotherapist proud in time to catch a swaying ginger son from planting face first on the floor. John appeared soundlessly, a ghostly vision, almost translucent where he would normally be pale. A sneeze almost send them both toppling again, but Jeff managed to maintain balance and helped John walk the short distance to the other side of the bed. There was no question how the ginger was going to spend his spiking fever - the moment he climbed onto the mattress, John attached himself to Scott side like a limpet, the way Jeff had only seen Alan do so far. When sick, Scott was restless, Virgil was cuddly, and John was clingy. Well, the more things changed, the more they stayed the same. Puppy basket is go!

Jeff was halfway through the mental checklist of things he would need to make the logistics of his three eldest sons down for the count work (fluids, medscanner and monitors to keep track of the fevers, ask Brains if the medkits were in the same spots now, call Ma as soon as the time difference would permit, coax, trick and blackmail the boys into cold meds and cough syrup, call Gordon and Alan to stay away for the day and to go fetch Grandma from the farm, make sure Brains was alright and quarantined in his lab and rooms, check himself up, because Jeff needed to be on top of his game for the sick boys - the day and the following night could be tough), when a loud shriek pierced the silence of the room. Scott was frowning and trying the disentangle himself from Virgil's death grip. Jeff reached for his agitated son's shoulder and rubbed a thumb over - in the haze of the fever Scott could get disoriented and start fighting any restraint. Jeff knew the boy would never forgive himself, if he hurt Virgil, even unintentionally. But Scott was not to be easily placated. His face contorted with effort and, likely, a worsened sinus pain, to Jeff's astonishment, the young man grabbed a barely protesting John, lifted him bodily over his own frame, like he was a... well... puppy, and stuffed him into Virgil's arms, that immediately closed the hug around a different brother, as Scott rolled to the side in a sleek stealth maneuver. He would have rolled all the way over the edge of the bed, had Dad's arms not stoped him. That must have computed to the cold addled brain as "safe", since Scott stopped struggling almost immediately and let out a snuffle in a voice Jeff hadn't heard since when the kids' mother was alive. "M'hot", Scott complained without opening his eyes. Jeff reckoned he should probably be more concerned about photosensitivity and the fact any of the boys was yet to notice or acknowledge him. Jeff made an attempt to hoist Scott up against the headrest, but thought better of it as another painful keen escaped. Instead, he sort of rolled the son back to the center of the bed, closer to the pile of other brothers. Scott seemed game for that and shifted to snuggle and spoon against John's back. That elicited a hum and a sneeze from the ginger. Virgil didn't stir. Puppy basket indeed.

Satisfied that Scott was settled for the moment and the other boys seemed to have fallen asleep, Jeff felt confident enough to go looking for the fever vigil supplies and an extra coffee for himself. But he didn't leave before leaning to reach the assorted temples and forheads for the mandatory kiss better. So sue him, he missed a lot longer than eight years of being their Dad first.

A detour to the infirmary, a chat with Brains, a lot more strained one with Ma and an anxious one with the Tinies later - Jeff was on his way back to Scott's rooms. Gordon and Alan, of course, offered to come back and help with their ailing brothers immediately. But Jeff shuddered at the idea of having all five of the boys sick at once. He was good, but the tenure in space was taking its toll. The youngest boys would be well supervised under Grandma's watchful eye, till it was safe (or absolutely necessary- something Jeff tried not to dwell on) to return to the island.

The sight that greeted him upon return to the bedroom tugged the corners of his lips up despite himself. Seeing his sons sick or hurting in any way brought him no joy, but the picture was just too precious and hilarious at the same time. John has shifted upside down, somehow, so Virgil was now cuddling his brother's feet. John was also curled in an upside down ball, head resting on Scott's stomach. Scott, in an attempt to cool off, cast his long, long limbs every which way, including over Virgil's lap and head, in a comical replication of the Vitruvian Man. As Jeff stepped in, though, the eldest shifted again, to curl himself around John protectively and to draw Virgil into a one-sided hug. Jeff needed to go ahead with the med scanners and to get the boys awake long enough to make sure they got a drink of electrolytes and some saltines, but first he paused to reach for his comm watch and snap a picture of the puppy basket. He would cherish the moment while it lasted. And he could always use it as blackmail backup against these three running themselves to the ground - under the threat of the photo being leaked to the Tinies.

[alexthefly]

Is anyone else hugging their screen right now...? No? Just me? 😭💙💚🧡

[lenna-z]

Hello! This is something I had in my drafts for a long time and I saved it for today when I realized it fit the theme.

There's Virgil/Kayo because I can't hold myself.

For Virgil's birthday...

I hope you like it!

-An Antique Gift-

“Gift time! Happy birthday, Virg!”

The youngest’s voice echoed in the hotel bar, and unintentionally excited him. Gifts were exciting no matter what age you were.

A hand on his shoulder; and a plate of cake appeared on the other side.

Hand gently gripped his shoulder, and then a quick kiss was placed on his cheek.

“Happy birthday, love.”

He took the plate and left it on the bar counter, then he gently grabbed her waist. He slowly guided her towards him.

Their eyes met, she was taller in standing than he was sitting, so he wrapped his arms around her waist.

She was wearing a mini black dress that completely hugged her body and had been driving him crazy since she wore it.

A mischievous smile appeared on her face when she realized where his eyes had wandered.

“God, you look gorgeous, Kay.” Her cheeks flushed slightly.

“So... Have you enjoyed your birthday so far?”

It was impossible not to notice the hint in her voice.

They had actually arrived at the hotel last night and he thought today was all about the two of them. After a lazy morning, they had set out to see the city's beautiful sights.

When they arrived at the hotel, it seemed very spontaneous to go to the bar, maybe the dress distracted you more than he thought. When they came down to the bar, everyone was already there.

It was a nice surprise to end the day with the whole family.

“Every day is enjoyable as long as you are." He straightened up a little to get closer to her ear and whispered. "And ever since I saw you wearing that dress I want to take it off you."

He pulled back a little to look at her face and he was sure that he had a triumphant smile on his face when he saw her trying to hide her grin by chewing her lower lip as he expected.

"God, Virgil Tracy..." Well, she had started it, and the grin on her face showed that she was enjoying it.

He returned to his previous position and continued. "And yes, it was a perfect birthday."

"It's not over, you haven't received your gifts yet."

And before he could even think of an answer, his lips were on hers.

A hand slipped to his cheek and-

“Hey! Get yourself a room!”

Kay reluctantly broke away from him and he was sure that both of their cheeks were the color of Thunderbird 3.

“Actually, we already booked a room.” And her smile was contagious.

Scott’s eyes were wide enough to pop out of his eye sockets, after she gave Virgil a suggestive look. “How can we help you, Scott?”

“Alan said it was gift time... I came to give a present to the birthday boy... and did I mention that your girl is scary, Virg?”

Scary? Beautiful, gorgeous... she was a lot of things and he was very lucky to have her.

A soft kiss on the cheek was a sign that she would leave them alone. "Don't forget to eat your cake, love."

He stood up from where he was sitting and turned to his brother who caught them.

Gordon appeared from behind his brother, looking very eager to give him his gift. Maybe a little too eager.

“Happy birthday, big bro!”

And he left a yellow box in his hand to him and fled backwards. The box was adorned with tempting colors, and his hands were trying to open it almost immediately.

“No. Before opening that box, it needs to be examined physically and chemically.”

He turned to Gordon to gauge his reaction, his face almost like a child whose toy had been taken away.

He made a mental note to thank John for saving him later.

“I promise this time there are no prank in the box!” But Kay had already picked up the box. “No! Tan... Kayo!”

The face of his brother, who was helpless at the end, was definitely worth seeing.

“You guys really don’t know how to have fun!”

“Last birthday, we were having fun until the emergency siren sounded when the box was opened, Gordon.”

“But- Scott...”

“Maybe another time, bro.” John put his hand on Gordon’s shoulder as if he understood him, but his voice was certainly not sad.

Everyone was laughing and having fun, it was already late and he didn’t think there was anything else in the plans than gifts, at least for his brothers.

A new sketchbook, watercolor and dry pencils of the highest quality brands, shirts...

And Kay was last...

Grandma had kindly thanked them for this day and left. When she turned around, he was almost certain that she had made one of the suggestive glances at the others.

And when they were finally alone, he would be able to truly thank her.

She was slowly approaching him, her hands behind her back.

“So today wasn’t a good enough gift?”

She held out the box to him and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“You deserve the best.”

“I already own.”

Slowly he lifted the lid of the box, which had a simple but elaborate decoration, and he was out of breath.

“I saw a gromophone in your art workshop, quite old but very beautiful. And a few times I’ve seen you care for antique clocks. I just-“

“Kay- that’s perfect.”

It was an antique wrist watch and it was still working. The metal strap was shining like new. There was a small green stone that sparkled brightly on its cream-colored dial. It was truly a wonderful piece.

"Did I mention how much I love you?”

“Hmm... Maybe?” She was looking at him with an infectious smile.

Arms wrapped around his neck, and he gently placed the box on the nearest table, clasping her waist softly.

“Thank you for today, it was a wonderful day.”

“So you like antiques?”

“My Grandpa had a magnificent collection of antiques. He’d spend hours working on them, and I liked the way they looked old when I was younger.”

Clocks, tables, dishes... he took care of them all and gave them new life. He still remembered his Grandpa’s delight when he had managed to get that gromophone to work.

“The gromophone was from his collection. There are even a few records still working.”

Her face lit up as he continued talking. Maybe it was because she heard he loved her gift, or maybe it was something else.

"I'm glad you liked it."

Honestly, he would have liked anything from her, but he didn't usually talk about this connection with his grandpa, and this was something he didn't expect.

His brothers knew he used to love antiques, but the hobby had been shelved recently. Kay had noticed his interest, though.

She rose on her toes. Her hands on his neck slid down to his cheeks, and he tightened his grip on her.

"Kay..." When he looked into her eyes he could see that this conversation was going somewhere else.

She pulled him into a kiss, slow and gentle. He could taste the champagne lingering on her lips. His hand involuntarily moved to her cheek and he deepened the kiss until he was breathless.

When their lips parted, neither of them pulled away, and he kiss the tip of her nose and leaned his forehead against hers.

"Now.... shall we go up to our room?”

And he didn’t need to hear it a second time.

Virgil and Grandpa Grant's antique hobby was something that suddenly came to my mind. I don't know if I was thinking of anything different when I wrote this, but I hope you like the idea. I'd love to know what you think!

[astranite]

Notes- Christmas TAG secret santa fic.

Because of this post and @janetm74 and @edutainer2022 here are my additional notes for my 2023 thunderfam secret santa fic.

It contains brainstorming that became part of the og fic and notes as a continuation for the car ride. It was actually these that I came up with first and intended to write but got side tracked with explorations of getting ready, especially given the prompt i was given was “Every day is a school day” with Jeff and Lucy. Also deadlines!

Mind that this is pretty much as is from my notes in its entirety, complete with spelling errors, partial sentences and utter lack of cohesion as I jumped between ideas.

Link for the fic proper on ao3.

---

“Every day is a school day” Jeff and Lucy. And everyone.

Car drive to spent christmas with Grandma and Grant at Gran Rocha. The preparing and road tripping shenanigans.

getting all five kids plus themselves and luggage into the car on time as chaotic as a school day. Jeffs line?

S15, J13, V12, G 6?7, A3

Wake-up call. Alarm going off Lucy tired and grumpy where Virgil gets it from. I’ll get the kids up and you can head straight to the coffee. Jeff fooling around like mock drill sergeant. Scott’s grumpy teenness and chucking a pillow at him with surprisingly good aim for supposedly asleep. Scott getting up. Bed hair mess that Jeff runs a gentle hand through pulling him into a hug. Virgil and John. John and Bagel the cat curled up together. Both hissing at him in unison. Virgil needed to be hugged and woken up more slowly. 

Down in the kitchen. Jeff kissing Lucy and trying to steal her coffee. No you cannot steal my coffee Jefferson Tracy, you have your own.  Lucy’s massive science pun mug. Hair in her face looking like little Virgil. 

HURRICANE LUCY. Time skip to about to go?

packing- John wanting to fit telescope. Or “But I did leave my telescope behind” but bag full of books. 

Last min shoving presents in. Neighbour to feed the cat.

Scott nabbed the car keys first on massive ** many different  keychain so neither Lucy nor Jeff could lose them. Swinging them around his finger, “can I drive” Parental chorus of “No!” Doesn't have license yet but is learning to pilot. argument of Grandma lets me drive on the ranch. Thats the beat up old ute and theres nothing much out there to hit any way.

And they were done. Bags were in the car, kids were in the car, last final bathroom stops had been had.  Lucy patted down her pockets. Keys! She didn’t have them, so Jeff must except that he didn’t. Surely the couldn’t have lost them with the neon pink rocket ship key chain attached to prevent this. Until they both spied Scott leaning against the drivers side door and swinging them around his finger.  

“So, can I drive?” Scott asked as if he didn’t already know the answer to that question. 

“No,” came the parental chorus. 

Then the other kids repeating them, picking up on it slightly behind. 

Scott grinning and tossed the keys in the air one last time then caught them. He passed them to Lucy’s waiting hand prompted by a stern eyebrow. 

7 seater beat up car. Drive- Kansas to Texas. approx 9 hours to 8 1/2. Lucy english thinking its ages. at least america had good highways. and from her mothers tales at least kangaroo spotter was a redundant position. 

Panic at dress clothes for Christmas day

someone packed no underpants. Gordon only packed underwear and swimmers. Trying to sort laundry at last minute. Jeff’s haphazard packing of his own clothes with getting everyone else in military order. Lucy remarking jokingly, “Mightve gotten to mars adn forgot your space suit. 

Jeff the nerd, calling Grandma to tell on our way, “Houston we have take off”. Kids dramatic countdown. A “finally”. FOnd eye rolls. 

John and Virgil at back seats. Johns already long limbs folded up.

Scott getting the dubious privelige of the middle row. but centre seat between Alan and Gords car seats and on big brother duty. 

Lucy hoping but not expecting to get some rest on the trip. Up all night getting ready. has mystery novel to read. but trying to wrangle kids. Putting Jeff’s cowboy hat over her face to keep the sun off as she sleeps.

Stops for toilet breaks. Lunch fast food. “Do not let gordon have soda.” Johns burger order. Virgil picking pickles out to give to john. The chips stealing. Trying to eat and drive. sending older ones in to fish younger out of the play area. losing Scott to it too, send in John planning it like a mission.

Jeff adn Lucy discussion over what coffee is supposed to do. ADHD Jeff. starting with Scott asking for coffee, cheekily. No, we dont need you any more hyper. Jeff’s confident, “Coffee doesnt do that” Even same with Aa. spirited debate. JSSo that means I can have some? eff still saying no coffee for Scott.

Lucy driving at some point. 

If Lucy had to hear one more rendition of baby shark she was the one who was going to get out and walk.

music and Lucy and Virgil comparing synesthesia.

John reading massive heavy text book, splayed out across knees. not getting car sick, serve well for astronaut. for fun, reminded he didnt need to study. 

Scott bored and restless. tinies asleep. no phone signal. twisting around, being told off for seat belt, trying to see what Johns doing. seat swap and he and John are in the back doing maths and physics, heads bent together. virgil eyes closed but awake or leaning around car seats to look out the windows, bobbing head to music through headphones. 

when John adn Scott get stuck, calling questions out to Lucy. Jeff snoring in front seat, head on lucy;s jumper, went from wide awake to clonked out even after the coffees.

Virgil using breath on fogged up windows to draw. Scott and John used it for math.

Gordon are we there yet. Alan copying him. 

naming animals and animal sounds. then naming sea creatures. then sounds of sea creatures. some known, some gordon happily making them up.

car sickness. Scott getting car sick, in spite of crazy spins and flips but then hes in control. another reshuffle, Jeff wedged into the middle seat, Lucy laughing and looking in rear view mirror at tall, broad shouldered husband folded awkwardly into the back. John and Virgil back-back. Scott getting shotgun, window open and nauseous. Vomit bags in glove box because learnt from past fiascos and puke in hat story. Scott grumps would be fine if I was driving 

some point tinies and Jeff all asleep.  John and Virgil happy together. Lucy getting to check in and chat to scott. 

on destination. everyone there, big family.  Lee? Kayo adn Kyrano and Kayo mother. Jeff brothers? packed into the big ranch house. noise and merriment. hot dry texas air. smell of good food cooking. some slight odour of burnt. 

explain lucy parents farm????

“The eagle has landed” finding rooms, unpack car. eldest three in together. youngest. 

John overwhelmed after trip, not wanting to talk to anyone. near tears at thought of going into party. going to stable to spent time with horses. 

Virgil running up to Grant and talking his ear off, to much delight of both parties. Grant, still broad shouldered and strong from farm work, charcoal black hair now salt and pepper grey. 

Achievements getting caught up with. Jeff telling grandma about scotts, Scott proud but a bit uncharacteristically shy, leaning into a side hug. 

the comments of how big the kids were all getting, and theyd better not be having more. Lucy laughing and very nope five is plenty enough. 

somewhat tired cranky, sticky dusty kids. Gordon spilling something sticky on him in the last hour, waiting to get there to wash him off. Recovering excitement at bath. 

grandma’s welcome cookies. 

——- other fic. Graduation. car crash. Injuries—the bruises. Scott burst into tears with brothers because he wants mum