#john tracy needs a hug

[edutainer2022]

Another story to tide me over through a blackout. Scott has a DNR and it nearly reaches a breaking point for everyone, but mostly for John. It's a Scott and John story, but Gordon has an important feature too.

Thank you, as ever, to @janetm74 for all the amazing support!

WHERE THERE'S A WILL

The doctors were considerate, compassionate even, given the family status and the scale of impending global and personal tragedy, but insistent - a decision needed to be made. Scott needed to be taken off the vent and if respiratory functions didn't resume, well... The hospital management were as discreet as possible, but the telltale glee was hard to hide when the doctors regarded "organ donor" on the esteemed patient's chart. A Christmas come early - Scott Tracy was young and extremely fit, and, of course, eager to save as many lives as possible as his last ever feat. It was the family's call.

Virgil seemed to barely hear the honeyed drone about a noble purpose of a life lived in service. His focus was on Scott exclusively - biggest brother's pale face and a limp hand, clutched in his both.

"Come back to us, Scotty! C'mon, don't leave me! Don't go!"

Grandma reclused herself from judgement, suddenly looking paper thin and frail, and every bit her advanced age, full of loss. She concentrated on keeping Alan from the worst of it.

Gordon raged and raved at the doctors. Scott would NEVER give up. Neither would they! Then Gordon raged and raved at a still, lifeless Scott, till completely exhausting himself and curling on the edge of the hospital bed.

Kayo and Brains were silent ghosts at the perifery of the unthinkable discussions. So were Penelope and Parker. It wasn't their place to decide, but it would be their loss to grieve a lifetime.

John knew. He felt like the tethers keeping him planted on solid earth were snapping and he was floating into the cold, dark infinity of space - lightheaded and nauseous. Detached and numb to everything. Because he knew. Attached to Scott's will was a DNR clause. Biggest brother didn't want to go on like that. To be a burden of failed hope. Always all too eager to race beyond the horizon. To follow Dad and meet Mom...

John knew, so he spoke up - for his brother couldn't. And just like that he felt the tether snap.

Virgil growled "NO!" and just clutched Scott's hand tighter. Grandma cried, for the first time in many years. Kayo steered Alan away and looked back at John like she was going to hunt him down and lurk in shadows later. Gordon raged and raved, for a good reason this time. He spat out names John didn't even contest and vowed to disown John if he went ahead with pulling the plug. Then he stormed out.

Brains looked at him like he'd killed MAX.

John felt about ready to disown himself. But he stood his ground - that was Scott's call, not theirs.

Deep down John understood. His own darkest fear had always been the loss of self. But it did little to feel better about loosing the beloved brother. The one thing worse was feeling like he was killing the beloved brother. Maybe more than one, if Virgil's reaction was anything to go by. Definitely more than one, for John knew he wasn't coming back from that.

***

The one thing Scott was apparently unable to do ever was ignore the brothers' pleas. He breathed. The dam broke then. The hospital bedside was a mayhem of happy hugs and happier tears, and cheers. The nurses had to shush the rowdy, extatic bunch down.

The Tinies flung themselves at Scott's still motionless, quiet form. Virgil never left his side, just adjusted the grip of the hand.

John bolted. He barely made it to the bathroom before throwing up. And then broke down completely, his knees buckling and sobs raking his whole frame. Grandma hunted him down later with a reassuring ruffle of copper hair and a lopsided squeeze of the bony shoulder. But John could barely look her in the eyes. He wasn't sure how he could ever live with himself again.

Scott still had a long way to go, however, from an unassisted breath to consciousness. Anxious tension hung in the air and John was feeling every inch of the taut rope.

***

Scott had been in and out of it for several days. Each movement of eyelids or a slightest shift of the fingers - an effort. There was never fewer than one family member by his side, within reach. Sometimes several at once, somebody curled up over his covers, somebody holding on to his hand or carding carefully through his hair. But never once did his waking window focused on a much missed lanky ginger figure.

Until that one moment, around lunchtime, when the private hospital suite was otherwise deserted. Murky blue eyes, still groggy and unfocused, landed on the tall frame folded almost in two, kneeling by the bedside.

John had his whole face pressed into the brother's knuckles, clutching them fervently. Dried out tear tracks seemed to have been staining his face for some time. Rugged stubble shadowed the usually clean cheeks.

Scott's fingers shifted lightly, tenderly, to brush his brother's face.

"Hey!"

Scott's voice was raspy, barely a whisper. John started, dropped Scott's hand like he was burned, and nearly jumped away to the window.

"You're awake! I'll go get Virgil!"

John was mumbling and stumbling over simple words, which he never did, normally.

Scott's brow frowned, clearly upset.

"Don't go, 'ohnny. Long time no see."

John's fingers fidgeted, he did his best to avoid the blue, tracking him relentlessly, if with strain.

Fingers, thinned after a long coma, beckoned the spaceman feebly.

"Grandma told me. Thank you!"

John keened and shrunk away.

"Don't!!! You can't! You should hate me!"

He stopped screaming only having noticed Scott winced.

"I pulled the plug! I nearly murdered you! How can you forgive me?!"

John's own voice cracked and tears were streaming liberally.

Scott turned his hand palm up, prompting his brother to connect again. His voice was small, but earnest.

"You fought for my choice, Johnny. Nobody ever did."

The sound John made at the back of his throat was pure pain. For everything Scott was meaning. A flash of ginger across the room and John was sprawled across big brother's chest, bawling his heart out. Scott lifted his arm against fatigue to hold his brother closer.

John gulped down a choking sob and lifted his face to be level with Scott's gaze.

"That was a one time thing, brother. Don't make me do it again! I can't!"

"Johnny, please..."

"No!"

John's eyes were glassy, almost manic.

"No! Listen to me, Scotty! If it were me, or Virgil, or Allie, would you give up?"

"Never!"

Scott's answer came as naturally as a breath.

"Right! You'd hope for a miracle till the end. And then you'd make it happen. So will we!"

John's voice grew steadier by the second.

"Brains, and I, and Eos - we'll push the edge. We'll think of something nobody has ever imagined before! You deserve nothing less than a miracle!"

Blue eyes were glistening with a sheen of moisture too, by then. John rested his cheek over big brother's heart, exhausted.

The door opened and Gordon slipped in, taking in the scene before him. The ginger's back tensed and Scott shifted a pointed gaze up at the Fish. Gordon perched on the other side of the bed and reached to rub a circle over John's shoulder blades, before reaching to clasp Scott's hand.

"It's okay. We're good! We ARE!"

John visibly relaxed and Scott closed his eyes, spent by the turmoil.

Gordon flopped himself over John's prone form, wrapping both brothers in a true squid hug.

Scott was out like a light, breathing calm and even, by the time all others trickled back into the ward quietly, adding layers to the Tracy pile.

[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

[astranite]

Oh this!!! So tender and so painful.

[loopstagirl]

Febuwhump DAY 21: put on display

With Scotty of course!

For @Febuwhump day 21: Put on Display

Highest Bidder

Goosebumps rose on Scott’s arms, and he shivered. The loose grey tracksuit bottoms his captors had forced him to wear did nothing to hold the heat, not when his upper body and feet were bare. With his hands cuffed behind his back, he couldn’t even hug his arms around himself to keep warm. 

He didn’t say anything, though. He was no worse off than any of the others in the room with him. He recognised some of them: powerful businessmen, one guy he was pretty sure was a prince of some far-off place, and a few children of government officials. 

None of them were bound. There wasn’t the need. They were all huddled together, dreading when their captors would return and haul another out of the room, not to return. While Scott didn’t know what was going on, he was starting to get a pretty good idea. He’d heard the cries and jeers whenever the doors opened. On one occasion, he was certain he heard numbers being called.  

They were being auctioned off. The rich, the powerful, or, in his case, just the unlucky. Although that wasn’t strictly true. As he’d been bundled into the back of a van, groggy as whatever they’d hit him with started to take effect, he’d heard them grumbling that their target had been his dad, not him. But Jeff Tracy was a hard man to get on his own whenever he was off his elusive island: his son had been an easier target. 

Scott was glad. He was so used to protecting his brothers that it felt good protecting his father, too. His dad had connections and resources that Scott could barely comprehend. If anyone was going to find him, it would be Jeff Tracy. With John’s help. 

He’d come to in this room, his clothes gone and dressed in just joggers. He’d have been embarrassed that they’d changed him while he was unconscious if he hadn’t been in the USAF for three years. There was no privacy in barracks. There was no privacy with four younger brothers, either. 

Not everyone had been as accepting as him, however. A few soft-bellied middle-aged men had protested loudly until a gun had been pushed in their faces. Then they’d shut up and sat down, meekly doing as they were told.  

Maybe they’d been right, Scott thought. He’d been outnumbered and overwhelmed when he’d tried to fight back. Now, his hands were locked in metal bracelets and every time they came to get someone else, a gun was trained on him. He should have bided his time, waited until they’d come for him and the civilians were out of immediate danger from stray bullets. 

Scott snorted, earning a few curious looks from his fellow prisoners. They’d all sat, stunned, when he’d launched himself at the guards. Not even the men who looked around his age, fitter than their older companions, had helped, but sat there, wide-eyed, as Scott rushed the men holding guns. 

There had been cries when Scott had been dropped to his knees, a fist in his gut, a boot in his kidneys. But they’d been shouts of fear, not outrage. By the time he’d caught his breath and managed to straighten up, his hands had been tied behind his back and he was being watched. 

He understood their curious looks now, though. Even if they knew who he was, they’d know he was a civilian just as much as them. His Air Force days were over and as far as the rest of the world believed, he sat around living off his dad’s money. 

“My mother will pay,” a young man mumbled, his voice only just audible. He looked to be around Virgil’s age.  

Scott would have felt sorry for him, if his younger brother hadn’t taken on the mantle of saving the world despite having no training or a background in military or medicine. There was something inherently weak about this young man that Scott had to grit his teeth not to snap at him to pull himself together. The old man who could’ve been their grandfather was managing better; glaring at their captors even if he was in no condition to fight back. 

"So will my company. We usually have a policy not to deal with terrorists, but...” 

Scott rolled his eyes as the man trailed off. “Let me guess. You won’t pay out if any of your employees get into trouble but you expect them to hand everything over for you?” 

“I don’t know who you think you are, young man, but all you’ve done so far is cause more trouble. You’re going to get us all killed.” 

“That’s Scott Tracy, you twerp,” the older gentleman said. “A decorated military history and a billionaire father who has done more than just run a business.” 

“Tracy? Tracy? Well, well, looks like living the life of a rich boy isn’t going too well for you, after all,” the man sneered. 

Scott looked away. It didn’t both him that the rest of the world saw him as a playboy even as they were thanking the nameless rescuer pulling them and their families to safety. But it did mean that most of these people wouldn’t follow him. Not unless he made them. 

“Look-,” he began, but before he could say anything else, the door opened again.  

Three guards came in, two with drawn weapons and one with a clipboard. One of the armed men covered Scott while the other pointed his gun in the vague direction of the rest of the prisoners. The third man consulted his list. 

“Jeremy Hendricks. On your feet.” 

The second guard approached the man who’d been so sure his mother would pay. He gave a terrified squeak, trying to move backwards but hitting the woman behind him. 

“Take her,” he said, “she’s got more money than me.” 

If looks could kill, the guards wouldn’t have needed their weapons. The woman shot Jeremy a disdainful look. 

“I am Sandra Mactinosh of the Mactinosh group. Whatever demands you have, you will receive funds.” 

The guard sneered. “It’s not you who will be paying though, love.” 

He reached for her, and she flinched back. Scott sighed. 

“Take me.” He made it awkwardly to his feet. His guard took a quick step back, levelling his gun with Scott’s chest. Scott gave him a sideways look. 

“You’re not going to get any money if you shoot me,” he pointed out, “so drop the act.” 

The guard looked flustered, glancing towards the man in the clipboard. He was regarding Scott thoughtfully. 

“Yes,” he said, slowly. “We have some parties who are very interested in you, Mr Tracy. Maybe we should separate the wolf from the sheep, before anyone gets any ideas.” 

His gaze took in the splashes of colour already blooming on Scott’s exposed torso. 

“More ideas, anyway.” 

He clicked his fingers. One of the guards hurried out, no doubt to inform their patrons there was going to be a change of order. When he returned, there were another two men with him. 

The newcomers took hold of Scott’s arms, hauling him up and dragging him towards the door. 

“You keep fighting, son,” the elderly gentleman said. 

One of the guards approached, snarling, but Scott started struggling. He was under no misconception that he could break free (his hands were tied; he didn’t know where he was; he couldn’t leave these people!), but it was enough to draw the attention back to him. It was clear an old man was not going to offer more of a fight than words. 

They forced him out the door, bundling him along a short corridor and into an auditorium. It should’ve been even colder there, but it was full of people. 

Despite the audience being in darkness, the spotlight focused on a small area set up as a stage, Scott saw enough. These were not the type of people his father would have business meetings with. The criminal underworld, the gangs and ruthless thugs that destroyed so many lives through weapons, drugs, and fear. 

He was pushed to his knees in the centre of the stage. 

“No. This one they’ll want to see.” The voice was silky, sending shivers down Scott’s spine.  

Two of the men chuckled while a third got to work. It took him two tries before he managed to throw a piece of rope over a light fitting. While he tugged it into position, another unlocked Scott’s handcuffs. He couldn’t try anything, not with a gun jammed under his chin to ensure he stayed still. 

They moved swiftly. Whoever these people were, they knew what they were doing. No one could kidnap and ransom off such high fliers without being leaders in this market themselves.  

Before Scott could offer more than a cursory struggle, the cuffs had been released, his hands pulled in front of him and secured with a zip tie. They looped the end of the rope over his bound wrists and heaved. 

Scott was dragged up, first to his feet, then to tiptoes. Someone gave a low laugh. His feet were still touching the floor but only just, leaving him fighting for balance as he tried to find purchase. 

“If you don’t recognise him, you’ll all know his name. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you... Scott Tracy.” 

The light blinded him as the jeers rose from the audience. 

“How many of your operations has Jeff Tracy closed down? How many times has this family send aid relief to an area that should’ve been indebted to you? Well, now I say it’s time for the Tracys to repay that debt! 

“Look at him, ladies and gentlemen.” The auctioneer moved closer. He reached up, gripping Scott’s hair and pulling his head back until his throat was exposed. It was one of the most vulnerable positions Scott had ever found himself in, and he’d been in a few over the years. 

“Look at this physique. He’d be wasted on your drug lines, but put him in the fields to harvest your crops and you’ll make record profit. Of course, you’d have to go old school to keep him in line, maybe a touch of a whip.” 

The audience laughed again. Scott locked his jaw, forced to stare at the ceiling but adamant they wouldn’t get a reaction out of him. 

“Those of you with fighting pits, place your bets, gentlemen! These muscles, this body... He’d make a killing. Maybe you don’t know, Tracy was part of the USAF. He’s a trained killer, ladies and gentlemen. Put him to work.” 

The hand moved from his hair to his chin, gripping it tightly between finger and thumb and forcing him to look out over the crowd. Scott kept his gaze fixed on the far side of the room. He saw a red light blinking there. It took him a moment to focus, then he realised this entire thing was being recorded. No doubt some of the drug lords couldn’t make it in person and were bidding online. 

It should’ve scared him, how global this operation seemed to be. Instead, he bit back a smile. This wouldn’t just be going across the world – it would be beamed into space as well to reach the satellites. Where a certain brother of his would no doubt be furiously trying to work out where Scott had gone when he’d stepped out for some fresh air during a business meeting his father had asked him to attend at Tracy Industries.  

He’d save the embarrassment of being seen in this position until after John had sent someone to come and get him. 

“...for your ladies,” the man was still droning on. “The perfect decoration to impress guests. I’d advise keeping a gag to hand when you have civilised company around but you could dress this boy up to impress. Or,” he gave Scott a horrible smirk. “Undress. Your preference.” 

There were some titters amongst the crowd. Finally, the auctioneer let go and moved back to his podium.  

“Shall we open the bids at 2 million dollars?” 

Scott zoned out. His fingers tested for weakness in the rope; his gaze scanned the dim room as best he could with the lights shining on him. They’d have to bring him down to sell him off. His captors were in the room but there weren’t enough people for each member of the audience to have their own protection here. Scott didn’t doubt they’d be waiting outside somewhere, but things got messy during a handover. He just had to bide his time... 

“Half a billion.” 

Scott jolted. Not because the offer was ludicrously high (his father might’ve taken down a few less than scrupulous businesses over the years, but surely he hadn’t annoyed anyone that much), but because of the voice. It was quiet but menacing, hatred pouring from every syllable.  

The crowd went silent. Even the auctioneer blinked a couple of times before regaining his composure. 

“Half a billion! Come on, ladies and gents, can anyone top that? No? Going once.... Going twice... Sold! To... to... Who did just buy him?” 

A figure stood up. He moved towards the stage on silent feet, a long robe billowing around his ankles. It didn’t look humorous though. Scott felt goosebumps rise again and this time, it wasn’t the cold.  

He wasn’t a tall man, but the crowd parted to let him through. He stepped up onto the stage. 

“Thank you, sir,” the auctioneer said. It was clear he had no idea who this man was, either. Out of the corner of his eye, Scott saw him frantically gesturing at his guards, trying to figure out how someone had entered what was no doubt a highly controlled arena without his knowledge. 

The man didn’t answer, just approached Scott. He stood with his back to the audience, studying him intently. Scott glared back, but didn’t give him the satisfaction of saying anything.  

“Can I put a name to your purchase, sir?” 

“You can call me the Hood.” His hand rose and he placed a long, slender finger under Scott’s chin. The touch was gentle, but there was power in it as he forced Scott’s head first one way, then the other, examining him. 

“Oh yes,” he said in a voice no more than a whisper. “You’ll do just fine.” 

Despite himself, Scott spoke. 

“Who are you?” he demanded, glad his voice didn’t betray him. The man standing in front of him had an icy grip on his heart that Scott had never felt before. There was something almost terrifying about this small, bald man with his piercing yellow eyes. 

“Your father’s worst nightmare,” the Hood said, his voice still too low to carry. “And you’re going to help me destroy him.” 

Scott made to speak, refusing to let this man have the last word. But it was as if he physically couldn’t. His jaw was locked and only a strangled noise slipped from him. 

“We’re going to have lots of fun, you and I.” The Hood’s hand moved from Scott’s chin. He placed a palm on his forehead, not noticing Scott recoiling.  

Before Scott could move further, a blast of pain so intense that it drowned out everything but his screaming senses tore through him. Blackness closed in and the last thing he saw before he blacked out was the man’s eyes. 

They weren’t just yellow. They were glowing. 

[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!]

[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 ill-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.

💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙

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…

💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚

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.

💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙

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!”

[skeefee-sky]

so!! here's the rewrite of that one story i was talking about c: the, 'genderbent but not genderbent' story... or... i still don't actually know what to call it x'D shall we go with Sister Tracy?? i dunno >w<

anyway! i definitely do have more ideas for this AU now, so, expect more from me c: cause after doing this rewrite, my brain got flooded with ideas xD so, yeah haha. keep your eyes peeled xD 👀

💚💛 TB ~~~ TB ~~~ TB ~~~ TB ~~~ TB ~~~ TB ~~~ TB ~~~ TB 💛💚

The villa was oddly quiet for an afternoon. Eldest and youngest brothers were still away on their own solo rescues, middle brother monitoring from space, other members of the family off in their own corners of the buildings. The slowly, setting sun threw colours across the peaceful lounge, of brilliant pinks, yellows and oranges. The second-eldest Tracy drank in this time of day, in the rare moment she wasn’t caught up in a rescue, pulling out her sketchbook to document the colours.

Today was different.

Vivienne sat on the high edge of the pool, her sketchbook resting untouched on her knees as she stared up at the sky. She was distracted, her mind solely on the rescue that had happened earlier that morning. She’d never felt so disappointed in herself before, but something today… Something had really stuck with her, and she hadn’t been able to shake it all day. They’d rescued the construction crew; she should have been satisfied. But something her younger brother had said…

“Don’t you dare.”

Tranquillity interrupted, and she’d spoken the words the moment she sensed movement behind her. Gordon froze in his slightly hunched over position, hands raised in the air. The blonde made a teasing grumble as he dropped and plonked beside her.

“You’re getting good. I was only fifteen steps away this time!”

“Yes. Because I’d really be that unsuspecting when you’re about to push me into the pool…” Vivienne smirked, adjusting her position.

“It was the perfect opportunity!” Gordon chuckled, brushing a hand through his hair before he lent back on both hands. “I’m not here to push ya though, Vin; promise. Just wanted to, check in… you know.”

Being one of the only girls in a family of all boys had its perks, sometimes - she did really appreciate when her brothers checked in, even if at times it did get bothersome. It often reminded her of the true bond she had with them. Shifting again, Vivienne pulled her knees up to her chest, nursing her sketchbook.

“Yeah… Guess I, was a little funny after the mission today…” she admitted. Gordon slightly raised an eyebrow; ‘a little’?

“It totally was because of what I said, huh…?”

Vivienne swallowed. Technically, she hadn’t been the only one worried - Scott and John had voiced their concerns too. But of course Gordon's focus would be her word.

“I thought, you were actually going to go through with it…” the second-eldest murmured, muffling her words onto her knees as she closed brown eyes. “I’d, be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about what could have happened.”

It had been a tight spot, and Gordon had gotten stuck. But his big sister had been there to pull him and the construction crew out, and the aquanaut had only come away with a few scrapes down his right arm. Vivienne knew it could have been much worse…

“You know me, Vinnie… Always making you and Scotty worry,” the blonde laughed softly, playing with the threading on one of his bangles. “No matter how old we are…”

Brown eyes quietly darted over to watch him, taking in the features of her little brother. No matter how old they were…

She still remembered the days a much younger brother would come to her, asking for stories about the sea and mermaids, or trying to join in on her piano practicing. She didn’t like to remember the days that included tears, concerned voices, or much needed hugs where little hands would curl into her clothing and not let go for a while… A weight suddenly against her shoulder returned her to the moment, and she glanced at her younger brother as he comfortably rested his head against her.

“I didn’t mean to, Vin…”

“I know, squid…” Vivienne hummed, uncurling a little so she could place the sketchbook beside her and then tucked an arm around him. “… I’m your sister. I’m made to worry.”

Gordon's weight shifted as he let out a sigh and leant into her. She was, and, that meant Scott didn’t have to worry as much… They shared their worry levels. That probably came with being the eldest. Of any of them, the aquanaut always considered himself the closest to their sister, and secretly enjoyed her comfort more than their eldest brother's. Brown and amber eyes followed the sun as it finally disappeared beyond the horizon, and Gordon eventually lifted his head at the soft rumbling in the distance.

“Sorry you didn’t get to draw your sunset before Scott came home, heh…” he apologised.

“Plenty more opportunities,” Vivienne mused, giving him the gentlest nudge as she sat up and crossed her legs, tucking the sketchbook back into her lap. Thunderbird One’s engines grew louder. “… Thanks, Gords. I needed that.”

The aquanaut hopped up, beaming a grin at her as he held out a hand to help her to her feet. The amusement in his eyes faded a little before he spoke again.

“You always told me it’s okay to be worried in the moment, especially when things happen out of your control. You remember that too, big sis,” he pleaded; the two of them taking steps back toward the villa as their brother’s Thunderbird approached. Vivienne almost missed Gordon continue over the roar of the ship’s engines once they were safely inside.

“Promise I won’t be losing an arm anytime soon!”

She only laughed and rolled her eyes before looking away to watch the silver rocket descend under the pool before them. She needn’t worry, but she did it anyway. She was never going to be like her brothers in certain aspects, but if they needed a rock; someone to listen, someone to comfort, she was going to be there.

No matter how old they were.

[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.

[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

[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.)

[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-

[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!

[skymaiden32]

Negotiations

Read on AO3 here

Fandom: Thunderbirds

Tagging: @dragonoffantasyandreality @thundergeek59 @janetm74 @katblu42 @liseylou @amistrio @uniwolfcorn (Please ask if you would like to get alerts when I update or post new stories.)

Thundertober Day 3: Armour

Alan thinks they may have gone a little too far with the armour on his uniform.

Continuity: TAG

------

“Are you sure I need all of this…?” Alan asked, still a little uncertain as he waddled out of the fitting room. 

“Yes.” His four older brothers and grandmother in front of him chorused, causing Alan to grumble. 

He huffed. “I can barely move in this thing.” He was only vaguely able to gesture at the full body armour currently situated over his uniform. “And it’s really heavy…”

Scott grinned. “Good. That means it’ll work.” 

“Yep.” Virgil nodded. “Some of Brains’ finest work, if I do say so!”

“Plus,” John cut in. “Everything feels lighter in space anyway. It’s perfect for Thunderbird 3 missions.”

Alan sighed. “That still doesn’t mean it’s good for missions on Earth, Johnny…”

“Sure it does.” The older astronaut argued. “You’ll be on Thunderbird 2’s support crew; you need heavy duty stuff for that.” As an afterthought, he muttered, “And don’t call me Johnny.”

Gordon nodded in agreement. “When I tell you about all the scrapes and bruises me and Virg have gotten just for handling some of that equipment…”

“Yeah!” Alan tried to protest. “But you guys weren’t given full body armour to wear!” At that moment, Kayo walked into the room. The Tracy’s watched as their adoptive sister took one look at Alan, and immediately had to stifle a giggle. Alan frowned. “See? She thinks it’s too much. Hell, Brains probably thinks it’s too much! You guys are being way too overprotective…”

“And is there anything wrong with that young man?” Grandma Tracy interrupted. “Your brothers and I just want to make sure you’re safe…”

“I know but…” Alan sighed. “Maybe we can compromise on it? I don’t need this much armour.”

“Alright kiddo,” Scott took charge of negotiations. “What do you wanna get rid of?”

Alan smiled innocently. “Is everything an option?”

Scott deadpanned. “No.”

“Eh. It was worth a shot.” The teen shrugged. “I’ll wear the shoulder pieces. Honestly, I think they make me look cool.” He admitted.

His older brother hummed. “Wear the chestplate too and we’ll call it even.” He held his hand out. “So, Mr Tracy, do we have a deal?”

Alan was quiet for a good few minutes. On one hand, he could try to get just a bit more out of this. On the other hand, Scott was serious about this. All of them were. And when someone in his family was serious, it meant they weren’t messing around. Scott wouldn’t budge. He never did when it came to safety. Alan smirked, reaching his hand out to accept Scott’s. “We do indeed…” The teen winked. “Mr Tracy…”

Scott rolled his eyes as he let go of Alan’s hand, pulling him into a hug and ruffling his hair. He was glad Alan had agreed to at least part of the armour, because if anything happened to him, he'd never forgive himself for not convincing him to wear more of it…

[tracybirds]

"snoozeville" with Alan? (although that's normal for him, so if you're not sure what to do with that, I don't mind if you pick someone else instead)

Thank you for the prompt and for your patience :D Alas, Alan's pov for this one wasn't quite working, but I hope you enjoy this alternative :) (now off to snoozeville myself!)

snoozeville: [character] falls asleep somewhere that isn’t their bed.

---

Scott groaned, shoving away the reconnaissance reports as he scrubbed at his eyes. The dim light of the tablets formed an oasis in the inky dark and the villa was silent but for the faint crash of waves against the cliff. The night was clear and calm and he padded over to the windows to gaze out at the rippling reflection of the moon above. The stars twinkled as he picked out constellations, the instinct from his scouting days as present as ever. He winced as he spied Orion in the east, its steady rise enough to tell him how late the hour had become.

He yawned, turning off the tablet screen and making his way up to his room by the light of his communicator.

The habit of checking in on his family hadn’t always been as compulsive as it was now, but Scott didn’t think it did him any harm. It was needless reassurance perhaps, but at each door as he listened to soft breathing and the murmurs of dreams, he could feel his own heartbeat starting to slow.

Gordon’s room was closest to the lounge, with John’s opposite, to compensate for their sunrise and nocturnal activities respectively, so as not to disrupt the heavier sleeper in the family.

Scott nudged the door open, suppressing a smile to see Gordon sprawled across the bed and hugging a pillow with one arm. The aquarium light through the water gave the room an eerie glow like a underwater grotto. This was as silent and still as Scott ever saw his brother and he took a moment to enjoy the peace.

He backed out of the room quietly and turned to John’s room. He laid a hand on the solid oak door to ground himself, knowing John wasn’t there and resisting the urge to check all the same. A small part of Scott felt guilty not including him in the nightly ritual even when he was absent, but John loathed any perceived invasion of his privacy and it wasn’t worth the inevitable argument when EOS tattled on him. So he compromised, hand on the door, and called up Thunderbird Five.

“You’re late tonight,” observed EOS. “He’s already asleep.”

Scott grimaced, remembering the long, arduous evening he’d left behind.

“Tell him I’m sorry,” whispered Scott. “I lost track of time.”

“He worries.”

“Ditto, then.”

EOS said nothing and Scott sighed.

“I’ll catch him tomorrow, I promise. He’s really sleeping?”

“Three hours and seventeen minutes. He has entered his third sleep cycle tonight.”

“Good,” said Scott softly. “He needs it.”

“So do you, Scott Tracy.”

“Goodnight, EOS.”

He shut down the call without waiting for a response.

Alan’s room was dim and dark, carved into the side of the mountain with no natural light except from that which was funnelled down through the rocks as a skylight. These provided a link to the outside world, the sky and stars that he loved, and a much needed release from his endless video games.

Scott peeked in, hardly noticing the empty bed. It has been a long time since he’d given up on wrestling his youngest brother into bed each night and Alan genuinely seemed to prefer the floor. Scott wrinkled his nose at the musty smell, making a mental note to ask Alan to do a spring clean of the place. There was no sound, not even Alan’s usual quiet snuffling, and Scott frowned, stepping forward into the room fully.

“Allie?” he called softly, picking his way across the floor where gaming gear lay abandoned and dirty clothes were strewn wildly. The moonlight shone through the skylights, illuminating the empty space where Alan normally slept.

“Alan?”

Scott swore to himself, his heart rate spiking as he hurried into Virgil’s room.

“Virgil,” he hissed, “Virgil, wake up.”

“Whaa-?” mumbled his brother, one hand already groping for his comm as he struggled upright. “Is there an emergency?”

“Alan’s gone,” said Scott. “He’s not in his room.”

Virgil blinked blearily at Scott.

“Oh,” he said. “Alan’s in your bed.”

Scott froze.

“He’s what?”

“Yeah, I guess he wasn’t feeling well.”

“Why didn’t he tell me?”

Virgil shrugged. “You looked busy. Don’t worry I took a look at him. Just needs rest now.”

Scott felt the words slice into him, although he knew Virgil was merely stating fact, not placing blame.

“Thanks, Virg,” he said, swallowing down the guilt that stuck in his throat. “Get some sleep, I’ll look after him.”

Virgil grunted, asleep again before his head touched the pillow and snoring lightly as Scott turned out the light.

He crept towards his own room, not bothering to turn on the lights. Everything was organised with military precision. The only anomaly was Alan, and Scott felt carefully for him before climbing into bed.

Alan stirred beside him, curling into Scott’s chest as he wrapped him in a gentle hug.

“Hey, sprout,” said Scott. “Not feeling so good, huh?”

Alan shook his head silently.

“What type of hurt are we dealing with?”

“Throat,” whispered Alan. “Head. Everywhere.”

Scott held him close, humming as he thought.

“Virgil said he gave you something? When was that?”

Alan shrugged.

“I can get you something else,” began Scott, but Alan shook his head once more.

“Please,” he croaked. “Just stay. And sleep.”

Scott thought he could do that.

[feel free to send me a prompt plus a character!]

(yes I still have a fair few to write but they're so fun!!)

[edutainer2022]

I'm chilling at a bus station in Budapest, waiting for my commute back home, so I added a couple of bits to the TV-21 aftermath story (both in the past and in the TAG present).

DO-OVERS

"It isn't what it looks like!"

It really wasn't. He wished John's eyes didn't turn to hard crystal from where the brother was standing in the bathroom doorway. Scott knew the turquoise lazer scanners already did the math and counted the pills, scattered on the tiles. But it WASN'T what it looked like. Scott spilled them.

Well, technically he threw them on the floor like they were burning coals, but the intent counted, right?

His hands were shaking. Everything was wrong. TV-21 was lost. Again. No amount of upbeat platitudes Scott said to calm down  and cheer up Allie could make it better. He let Dad down. Again. He didn't save what mattered to Dad most. Again. He just wanted to stop shaking. Or maybe to just stop. Maybe John, pale in the doorway, didn't need to know that.

He hadn't touched the prescription bottle in his bathroom cabinet for years. Since a smirking mustached general on a GDF committee, assembled to evaluate his claim for IR to go operational again, wondered out loud how they would know his judgement in the danger zone would not be impaired, if the GDF discharged him for being too traumatized to see straight in the first place. His therapist wouldn't be happy about that, but he stopped taking her calls around the same time too.

Today he just needed to calm down. He needed to be strong for Allie, who didn't remember Dad's first Thunderbird, and for Gordie, who did. For Virgil and John, who remembered Dad's dark, stormy grief and withdrawal from them. For Grandma, who needed him to see her son's dreams through.

One little pill, maybe two. But his hands were shaking, as the TV-21 exploding conflated with a different one behind his eyelids - so much combustion energy to take Dad away. So one pill became a palmfull. He was just staring at his hand for a while. Okay, it WAS tempting. John DEFINITELY didn't need to know about that. It would just stop. All of it. The pain, the failure, the fear, the losses. Gone. Like Mom was gone. Like Dad was gone. [No matter what he said or did could make it right.]

But then he saw his brothers, ashen from grief and days of crying, all clad in black suits. Again. Alone and lost without him. Again.

So he threw the pills forcefully away, as if burned. They clattered like pebbles on the tiles and skipped everywhere. That's when John came in, because John too knew his tells. And now John didn't believe him, clutching his shoulders and shaking, yelling that he drank water, yelling into his comm for Virgil and a bloodtest kit. Even if it wasn't what it looked like. Not really.

***

Virgil was doing what he did best - fixing. Maybe also hiding. He couldn't fix TV-21 and Dad's shattered dream. He couldn't fix Scott's heartbreak and poorly hidden assumed failure now any more than he could fix it all those years ago. But he COULD help fix Four and with it - the mood of the despondent little Squid. One brother sorted out was exponentially better than zero brothers. Then his comm blared red.

The code was "Two-one", and 2-1 meant TV-21, and TV-21 was bad news. Bad, bad news. John's grim, tense face in the holo confirmed as much and Virgil felt the island shift and spin beneath his feet, as he legged it to Scott's rooms.

***

[Once the Tinies were settled for the night, Scott stayed down in the living room to try and catch Dad on his way out of the office. He'd been locked in there for the past several hours with the young engineer, who designed TV-21. Shaken by nearly loosing Dad to the crash, they only ever glimpsed a flash of fuming fury when Dad and "Brains" returned from the failed test flight. So Scott lingered on the couch way past the bedtime in hopes to talk to Dad some more. A mistake, as it turned out.

The teen's attempt at a smile and a simple, if heartfelt, reassurance was shot down sternly when Dad finally emerged for a glass of water and a stifled curse, only to disappear again back into the study, lit by gossamer holo-light of schematics and figures in the conference call.

"Nothing you say or do can make this right, Scott! Go to bed!"

Virgil and John watched in horror, from behind the rails of the upper floor, how Scott swayed, as if slapped, when the door slamed behind Dad again. The lanky figure then doubled over, bracing himself on a chair. Scott tried and failed to gasp through a wrecking sob, clamping a hand over his mouth to suppress the sound.

The brothers were frozen in shock, hesitant what to do as Scott looked about ready to keel over. He was probably hyperventilating, air weezing with effort through constricted pain.

Virgil stepped tentatively towards the stairs, John clutching his sleeve nervously. But Scott steadied himself for a moment only to bolt through the kitchen and out of the back door into the pitch darkness.

The brothers didn't wait any longer, practically tumbling down the stairs and on to the back porch, but Scott, the high school track star, was long gone.

They would be in so much trouble if Dad caught them downstairs, awake, on a school night, but Dad obviously was... otherwise occupied.

John, pale and wide-eyed, on the verge of tears himself, kept dragging Virgil's sleeve to run after Scott. Only which way? The farm bordered on the meadow. It was already dark. Scott could be anywhere.

Where Scott went - Virgil followed. That was the way of things. It included Rescue Scouts and multiple other pursuits. So the boy tried his best to push through the stinging of his own eyes and think like big brother, the Falcon Scout, would. They needed flashlights. The night was chilly, gusts of wind rattling the loose tiles on the old barn. Scott ran out in his sleep tee-shirt. So they would need to pick up his jacket too, on the way out. But first, they needed to placate and possibly bribe Gordie into keeping Allie from crying if he woke up. And they needed to figure out a search grid for big brother. Letting Dad in on the commotion wasn't an option.]

***

["Mom, I can't! I try and I try, and I try, but I can't! Nothing I say or do makes it right! I'm not enough! Mom, please! I canticanticanticant! I can't do this, Mom! Mom! Come back! I can't!!!!!"]

***

[A child's crying could be heard all across the quiet house. He didn't heed at first, habitually. Scott would deal with it. And on the rarest occasion that he couldn't - one of his elder boys would step up and sort little Alan out. He focused back on Hiram's muttering and the red dots flashing in different points of TV-21 the projection. The weak spots that led to the fiasco. The weeping didn't stop and eventually gave way to a high pitched wail. Jeff winced. He really didn't have time for that! He'd have to have sterner words with Scott. His ONE job was looking after his brothers. There was nothing more important than the project they launched with a young Dr. Hackenbecker. And it blew up in Jeff's face, quite literally so.

He stood up to his full hight. Hiram paused mid-rant with a polite smile. Jeff gave him a nod and jogged up the stairs, already exasperated. The hallway was dark - no light in any of the bedrooms.

The Tinies' room greeted him with a sight of Gordon clutching an inconsolable Alan in a squid hug, trying to muffle the sobs. Little Allie had dissolved into hiccups, vaguely resembling a call for ['Coddeeeeeh!!!!!]. Gordon's eyes blew up in panic as he saw Dad towering in the doorway.

Jeff took a long stride and plucked the crying child from his brother's death grip, then turned on his heel and marched down the hallway to the nearest room, shared by Virgil and John. The door flung open into the empty dark silence. The boys were not there. Jeff was fuming by then. Of course they'd use the opportunity of Dad being busy and sneak in with big brother to chat away all night. Or game. Or watch a movie. Or whatever it was teenage boys were not supposed to do when a parent was BUSY. Gordon was hot on his heels when he yanked the door to his eldest's open, clearly even more afraid of staying behind than he was of Dad's ire. Allie, who had quietened a bit in Dad's arms, screeched anew. Scott's room too was empty. Meticulously made bed had been untouched since morning. Three of his sons were gone.]

TBC