#pre 'The Long Reach'

[pareidoliaonthemove]

The Pact

A Prequel to 'The Question', this takes place before 'The Long Reach'.

It was late into the night on Tracy Island, even the habitual night owls of Virgil and Brains had given up and called it a night.

The lounge was bathed in the glow of the stars and the moon, the watery blue glow emanating from the pool rippled against the ‘smart-glass’ ceiling and reflected down to the floor, creating a faint and ethereal moving carpet.

Scott Tracy, seated at the desk, noticed none of it. His attention was focused solely on the holodisplay in front of him. Orange light exploded in the centre of the display, flooding harsh light in the room, and temporarily whiting out the other lighting effects.

Scott stared at the virtual screen, his heart clenching once more at the sight. He didn’t know how many times he had watched this recording, over the last eight years, each time, desperately hoping for a miracle, for something other than the explosion.

For Dad to be alive.

And now, he knew, Dad might be.

Scott should have known. Should have had more faith in his father. Should have seen the signs.

In the recording Colonel Casey, the intercept pilot, the Hood, and his father all predicted the massive explosion that would take place should the Zero-X’s engines overload.

Scott stared again at the explosion. It had certainly destroyed his world, and that of his brothers, but it wasn’t the extinction-level destruction that they had all anticipated.

Brains had calculated the failure mode himself; the Mechanic’s calculations had agreed. Scott had learned long before then not to doubt the shy genius his father had hired, and he was grudgingly admitting that the Mechanic’s abilities were not to be doubted, either.

Dad had managed to get the Zero-X to gain altitude, but not enough to avert an extinction-level event; he hadn’t even cleared the atmosphere.

Scott should have known that something wasn’t right. Should have known that his father hadn’t died in the inferno.

Scott shouldn’t have stopped looking.

And now Dad had been trapped in deep space, at the very edge of the solar system for eight years, and he had managed to get an SOS message back home.

Scott watched the fireball bloom and fade again, his mouth dry. His father hadn’t died in the heart of that retina searing fireball; but Scott knew there was a very real possibility that he had died since, in the cold darkness of space.

And it would be Scott’s fault.

Because he had stopped looking.

The vision faded into static, and Scott counted the familiar four second count, waiting for it to restart but the display faded into darkness after the count of three.

And there, standing on the other side of the desk, was John.

Scott started violently, shocked by the unexpected flesh and blood apparition that stood before him, green eyes sharp under frowning ginger eyebrows.

Scott braced for the ear-blistering lecture that a pre-dawn in-person visit by the astronaut always heralded.

“We need to talk.”

Scott stared, his brain freewheeling at the words, conjuring up a rapid succession of disastrous scenarios: there was a problem with the mission timeline, there was a problem with the new Zero-X design, there was a problem with …

“Walk with me, Scott.” And without waiting for a reply, John turned and headed for the stairs.

Exhausted, Scott’s body responded without waiting for his brain’s permission, and he soon found himself sitting on a lounger, facing John, who sat at his feet, straddling the chair, that green gaze pinning him in place like a butterfly specimen.

Scott found his voice. “What is it, John? What’s wrong?”

John stared a moment longer, before speaking.

“You are, Scott.”

When there was no response, John continued. “You’re setting yourself up for a nervous breakdown. Again.” John paused, looking down to his hands, before looking back up to Scott. “It’s not your fault.”

“Isn’t it?” Scott inwardly recoiled at how bitter his voice sounded. “Dad’s out there, John. Alone. For eight years. Because I stopped looking.”

“No.” His brother’s voice was calm, toneless, and the audible equivalent of words chiselled in granite.

“Yes! I knew all along that that escape capsule was out there. I knew all along that escape capsules are absolutely stuffed with cameras and sensors for the sake of the investigation that the launch of one of those things instigates. I should have looked for it, eight years ago! We could have been launching this mission eight years ago, John! Eight years! What if Dad died waiting for us? Waiting for me!”

“We all knew all along about the escape capsule. You. Me. Virgil. Gordon. Alan. Brains. The Mechanic. Grandma. Lord Hugh. Lady Penelope. Parker. Colonel Casey. Lee Taylor. Any number of the Global Defence Force Analysts and Leadership. Any one of the security people who worked on the investigation after the theft of the Zero-X. Any one of the legal types who participated in the Coronial Hearing that declared Dad dead. Any one of the Tracy Industries engineers, security specialists, incident investigators, or lawyers. Any one of us could have made that realisation, any one of us could have instigated a search for the escape capsule. Any one of us could have recovered that footage.” John stared at Scott. “So why are you the only one responsible?”

Scott had no answer. The list of people who could have made the realisation, the list of people who could have launched the chain of events that would have led to Dad’s rescue years earlier overwhelming him.

John was merciless. “You feel guilty for not realising. I get that, Scott, I do. I feel guilty. I wasn’t able to track the Zero-X beyond that point. I’m the guy who hacks every camera to get you the information you need on a rescue, so why didn’t I think about the cameras and scanners on the capsule? Virgil and Brains, and even the Mechanic, they’re all engineers, and they’re all kicking themselves for not even considering that the Zero-X worked as designed.”

John exhaled nosily. “I’m worried about Dad, too, Scott. I’m worried what we’ll find. I’m worried how we’ll all cope if he’s dead. Hell, I’m worried how we’ll all cope if he’s alive.” John stared up into the sky. “Space does bad things to the human body, Scott. I’ve been laying awake at night because I keep imagining all the medical problems he’s going to have after eight years with no real sunlight, micro-gravity, and god-only-knows what to eat.”

He recaptured his brother’s gaze. “But I’ve got faith, Scott. We know he survived five years, because that’s how long it took for the Calypso to get to its furthest point. He managed to get a signal out to the Calypso, managed to reprogramme Brahman, to send out the SOS, and accelerate the Calypso’s return to earth.”

John laughed softly, then. “Actually, it’s ironic. He exiled himself to the very edge of the solar system prevent an extinction level event, and in trying to call for a rescue, damn near caused another one.”

The thought startled Scott, and an unwitting chuckle escaped him. “When we get him back, let’s not mention that to him, yeah?”

John smiled. “Probably for the best.” His gaze sharpened. “And speaking of for the best, Scott …”

The moment of levity was brief, and Scott felt a familiar weight settle in his chest and stomach. “John …”

“This has gone on too long, Scott. You’ve been tearing yourself apart since we got word of what happened.” John sighed. “We thought maybe this was how you grieve, throwing yourself into doing things. It seemed that way, especially after what you did when …”

John shook his head, unable or unwilling to say ‘when Mom died’, Scott couldn’t tell which. And he was glad for it, because Scott didn’t think he had the emotional resilience to hear the words spoken.

“But it’s more that that. Virgil’s been saying it for years. International Rescue is dangerous, we all know that, and we’ve got the scars to prove it, but you …” John stared at Scott, his eyes haunted. “Scott, it’s like you’re daring death to come get you. Like you want it.”

John stood suddenly, looming over Scott, who, startled, lost his balance, and half fell off the lounger at John’s feet. He stared up at his younger brother.

“I’m going to say this, and you are going to listen, Scott. Killing yourself will not bring Dad back. Killing yourself will not bring Mom back. You shouldn’t have ‘died in their place’ or any such romantic nonsense. You think losing you in their place would have hurt less? You think Alan would be better off having Dad instead of you? You think Gordon would have lived his Olympic dream without you? You think Virgil would have coped? Do you think I would have?”

Scott opened his mouth to protest, but John didn’t give him the chance. “Dad wasn’t always there, Scott, but you were. All those business trips, late-nights and weekend meetings, all those crises and troubleshooting conferences. Dad was at work. You were here. You were with us. You think the family fell apart when Dad disappeared? It was nothing compared to what happened when you did, Scott.” John shook his head. “You never saw us at our worst, because our worst was when you were gone.” John stared his older brother dead in the eye; seeming to will Scott to understand what he was saying with the force of his glare, laser burning the words into the tissues of his brain. “Losing Dad was your worst nightmare, Scott. We had you, we could cope without Dad, we knew that. We can’t cope without you. Please” John’s voice broke slightly “don’t make us try.”

Scott automatically reached out to his brother, his body reacting while his brain was in freefall. John collapsed down against him, hugging him back, clinging fiercely to what he couldn’t bear to lose.

“It’s all I’ve ever known, since the day they told me I was going to be a big brother,” Scott eventually whispered. “Every time Dad went away, it was always the same: ‘you’re the oldest, you’ve got to look after them – don’t let me down’. Last words Mom ever said to me ‘look after your brothers for me, Scott.’ Last thing Dad said before he went out to intercept the Zero-X. ‘Look after them till I get back.’” Scott stared. “How can I do anything else?”

John stared. “We finish the XL and go. We’ll find Dad, and we’ll bring him back. Alive or dead, we’ll bring him back. He will be back, and you will have fulfilled your duty.”

Scott stared out at the ocean, dark under the night sky. “What if he blames me, John?”

“Then he’s not the man I remember. And he’d be wrong, and we will make him understand that.” And that wasn’t John answering, it was Thunderbird Five – all calm certainty, authority and decisiveness. He wasn’t offering an opinion. He was stating a fact.

They sat in silence a long time, before Scott suddenly stood and took a couple of steps towards the cliff edge. “How do we do this, John?”

John moved to stand beside him, a half-arms-length away. “Small steps. First we find Dad –”

“Kind of a big step that, John,” Scott observed softly.

John shrugged. “Not really. We’ve nearly completed the final phase of testing. Navigation options have been calculated and programmed in – final decisions will be made on the day. Launch is in just over 48 hours. Logistically, it’s practically done already.”

Scott grunted, but didn’t comment.

“Next step is to return home. Every conceivable course of action needed has been planned down to a fine detail, what we do, depends on what we find.”

Scott nodded. He knew John was right. Every possible outcome had been considered and planned for. They had top medical teams on standby, even if the medics didn’t know it themselves. Medical treatment plans had been formulated under the guise of Tracy Industries sponsoring a space medicine symposium, with a hypothetical scenario for recovery and rehabilitation of astronauts stranded long term in deep space – an International Rescue initiative responding to the colony on Mars, had been the justification. They had even planned out their father’s funeral, allowing him to be interred alongside his wife and father, with an official public memorial.

“That’s the bigger picture. How do we deal with the … intimate?”

John stared. “We get rid of that recording, for a start. No more home video movie fests of Dad being blown to kingdom come.” John slumped, staring at the paved surface under his feet. “I should have got rid of it years ago.”

“I thought you would try,” Scott confessed. “I took precautions.” He could feel John’s gaze on him like a laser. He smiled, wryly. “Multiple copies encrypted on multiple servers. Physical copies, even, in safety deposit boxes. I doubt even you could find them all.”

“Keep one physical copy.” John decided. “Let Eos hold one digital copy. In case we ever need it. But let her decide if it is necessary for us to see it. Get rid of the rest.”

Scott considered. “And what do I get from this?”

He felt, rather than saw John start beside him. “What?”

Scott turned to face his brother. “I’d be making some big concessions. What do I get?”

John’s jaw dropped. “You’re seriously negotiating over this?”

Scott nodded, his eyes narrowing. “You’ve said what you want. What do I get out of it?”

“You mean other than a longer life expectancy?”

“Nobody’s guaranteed that, John. We both know that too well.”

John frowned. “What do you want, Scott? You obviously have something in mind.”

Scott nodded. “Time.”

“Time? I thought that was what you were getting?”

“Your time.”

“My time?”

“On earth.” John gaped. “Regular rotation to operate from Tracy Island. Later, if Alan wants, you can trade off with him. But you get your butt down here, regularly, and spent time with us, in 1G, not that equivalent centrifugal force you get up there.” He nodded at the sky to indicate Thunderbird Five. “Because as you said yourself, John, space does bad things to the human body.” Scott shook his head. “You said you couldn’t cope without me, and not to ask you to try. But what makes you think I could cope without you?” He reached out and poked his brother in the chest. “What gives you the right to ask me to try?”

John stared. “Okay,” was all he managed, his voice strangled.

Scott raised an eyebrow. “Okay, what?”

John breathed deeply and swallowed. “Okay, if you will make changes, seek help, and get rid of that video, in order to improve your mental and physical health; I will spend more time on Earth, improve my physical regime, and stick to it.”

Scott frowned, considering the words, turning them over in his head, looking for any loophole his brother could exploit. He couldn’t find any. He held out his hand to John. “Deal.”

“Deal.” John took his hand and they sealed the pact in the same way they had sealed many pacts over the years, as boys and men.

They stood in silence for a long while, contemplating the ocean and the stars, and the future, before finally Scott yawned. As if on cue, John replied in kind.

Scott nudged him. “Bed, John. Sleep.”

John nudged him back. “Same for you.”

They walked together back to the house, separating at the lounge without speaking, Scott to head to the rare luxury of his bed, and John to the hangers so as to return to Thunderbird Five and his quarters there. The next few days and weeks would be disturbing enough for all of them, no point worrying the rest of the family by breaking routine just yet.

Neither knew what the next few days would bring, and how that would shape the rest of their lives, but they had at least the beginnings of a plan, a course of action to start them off and some idea of the destination they were heading towards. No doubt it would be hard work, but individually and as a family they were no strangers to hard work.

And they believed one thing, above all others: that when someone cried out for help, they deserved an answer.

Especially when it was one of their own.

Notes:

Part of the ‘Questions, Answers, and Other Family Matters’ series.

In Part 2 of ‘The Question’, I threw in a line about Scott not being able to see the Zero-X footage anymore, and didn’t think anything about it.

Well, time passed, and I thought about it.

The standard disclaimers, I do not own Thunderbirds, either the Original Series, the Movies (both Supermarionation and Live Action), or the Thunderbirds Are Go Series. (Although I do own copies on DVD.)

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

[murmel-malt]

The Order of the Green Hand was a knightly order founded by House Gardener, the Kings of the Reach, whose sigil was a green hand. Only those both virtuous and skilled in arms were offered membership. The last members of the Order died with King Mern IX Gardener at the Field of Fire during the Aegon’s Conquest.

The World of Ice & Fire, The Reach: Highgarden

a redraw of my contribution to last year's Reach Week x

[stuckinapril]

Going out tonight for the first time in a month. I’m sitting in a leather skirt and a sequined club long sleeve and Naked Wolfe boots. My tits look great. Curls are amazing. The faintest hint of a shimmer on my eyelids. And yet here I am doing Anki cards while we wait for the Uber

[midweastindigo]

midwest indigo can be so personal

[elvenbeard]

Not Yet

Just a random little scene that might wanna still write out in full in the future. Angst, what angst? I would never...

100% blame @humberg for the wonderful upcoming poses fueling me with angsty thoughts and scenarios 💜

[angsttronaut]

Does anyone else have the misfortune of remembering multifandomfanatic23/ville234/multifandomfanatic9? They have yet another username they're using on discord, under the username umbreonfanatic. I would strongly suggest blocking them- he makes creepy fanfiction requests and gets hostile towards people who refuse. There are various screenshots of his behaviour under the cut:

[outeremissary]

🍉🍪🍕 for Ismene?

Thanks for the asks, Ash! This took longer than expected because after drafting the answers I went to fact check some lore and um. Spent over an hour reading about libraries. Whoops!!

[prompt list]

🍉: Does your OC have a particular piece of jewellery that they always wear or refuse to part with?

Ismene has a black velvet choker she wears almost constantly (an item which is fortunately easy to keep secure on the road and in fights). The choker was a gift from Imoen from not long after Imoen was first brought to Candlekeep, and one with some backstory to it. Around that time Candlekeep had hosted a noblewoman for several weeks who was a dedicated lover of scholarly pursuits bursting with admiration for the monks of Candlekeep. It had been her dream to visit the great library and learn from it, and she treated the hallowed library and its keepers with nothing but the utmost reverence. For the other residents of Candlekeep, however, she seemed to have nothing but contempt- even for the little elf girl who helped to mind the reading rooms and who carefully shelved the books for the librarians between visits. Ismene became a frequent target of the woman's ire. The woman complained frequently of her presence, berated her for her presumed background, treated her as a servant, and harshly criticized the work she did. After a day where Ismene attempted several times to correct the woman for violating the rules of a reading room, the woman went to one of the Great Readers and went on at length about the girl's insolent behavior, accusing her of singling the woman out for harassment and attempting to steal from the woman's bag.

Imoen saw Ismene crying after being scolded over the accusations, and the morning after the woman suddenly found herself with real problems on her hands. Somehow a bottle of ink had cracked in her bag, leaking all over her fine clothes and ruining pages of her careful notes. For the rest of her visit she seemed tormented by an endless string of accidents. Things broke or went missing, her food burned, the floors outside her room were always just slick enough with half done mopping for her to slip... Although she went to Winthrop more than once over these incidents, her complaints fell on deaf ears after weeks of tormenting the inn's staff with false claims. On the last day of her stay, the woman reported frantically that a favorite choker, one which she had worn frequently during her time at Candlekeep, had gone missing. Although she turned half of Candlekeep upside down searching for it, she never managed to find it, and she left the library fortress disconsolate over its loss. That night Imoen presented it to Ismene as a gift. The girls have been fast friends ever since (though they did both get in trouble over the clearly stolen item).

🍪: What is something that's sentimental to your OC?

Any of the many things that remind her of Candlekeep- she misses her home dearly, and has not been happy to leave. The smell of books, the gentle warmth of the afternoon sun in a comfortable seat by a window, the droning sound of chant... Any of it can take her back for just the briefest moment. Maybe the most potent, but thankfully the least bittersweet, moments of sentiment come from time spent with Imoen talking and braiding hair as if they were girls again. Ismene isn't one to voice gratitude, but she's incredibly thankful for Imoen's companionship.

🍕: How does an OC spend a lazy day?

Ismene spends huge portions of unoccupied days sleeping. She can easily sleep for more than twelve hours when not interrupted, and she doesn't mind the time lost. She loathes having to wake before dawn to maximize daylight while traveling; even though elves have no real need for sleep she always sleeps on rest days in towns like she's catching up from weeks of deprivation. Of course, in her eyes her sleep is far more valuable than the sleep normal people experience because of the visions she receives in her dreams.

Aside from sleeping, she enjoys reading and will spend her waking hours squirreled away in a library given the chance- in the small towns of the Sword Coast these are often collections belonging to temples or wealthy private individuals, and identifying who locally has a worthwhile collection to attempt to access is one of her priorities when arriving somewhere new. Often there's little truly new and worthwhile in these collections relative to Candlekeep, but occasionally she's pleasantly surprised. Although on other occasions she is prematurely escorted out of the library after revealing to unhappy owners expensive forgeries or offering unsolicited critique of the gaps in their collections...

I wish I could say she had other things she spent time on as a hobby, but unfortunately Ismene is the number one nerd who never goes outside unless dragged and it really is mostly that.

[weirdbabs]

do you think buffy woke up in a post 9/11 america?

like i know season 6 aired on 10/2/01 so technically yes but that doesnt necessarily mean it was the same day in universe. buffy came back 147 days after she died (148 the day she came back) which is a little shy of 5 months. her mom died during spring break which would be the end of march, and then things started moving pretty quickly from there. you figure that was 3ish episodes where only a couple days passed between them, then there was a break where they were trying to fall into a routine, and then 4 episodes where i think 3 days passed. so there was at least like. 10 days maybe between her mother dying and her dying, but thats literally trying to take the least. that puts us at early april, which puts us right around 9/11/01

so did she wake up post 9/11 and which is funnier?

1. she wakes up post 9/11 and is trying to figure out why people are suddenly so patriotic and talking about terrorists, struggling to figure out how everything couldve changed so much in so little time

2. she was up pre 9/11 and feels even more so like shes trapped in hell with horrible violence all around her when it happens

or 3. she wakes up on 9/11. she had her own personal 9/11 on 9/11

[solarismp3]

i think i have finally reached a point in my photography where i don't need too edit my photos in order to feel like i like them or they look good. i spent so much time trying to find a good way to edit this photo and make it look more interesting but i already like the original

[sleepcults]

i have a "feminine" style, cant afford top surgery, hrt not available to me, & most ppl in my life are transphobic, so i've just accepted i'll forever be a girl and those who are open minded enough will use the pronouns i prefer. but even deep inside i know they will respect me but never accept me they will never look at me and see anything other than a cis woman bc i'll never be passing enough

[relamb]

that one quote that's something along the lines of "what good does grief do? nothing, but longing compels me" is so deputy coded

[dexaroth]

↖ numba one peanut lover

[irregularbillcipher]

i do think it's funny how many people in the lisa fandom seemed to go "oh nern is one of the oldest party members," because it's something i've seen sort of consistently. i know he had a wife (god rest her soul) and they seem to have been married a while, so he had to have been an adult long before the flash, but he's not the only one who was married-- the DE even implies that olan's children reached adulthood pre-flash so there's a strong possibility olan is meant to be older than nern but everyone just assigned nern as the group's resident Old Man

[fire-gift]

my life mission rn is to stop reading fanfics until i finish reading tvl 💀

[vampfucker666]

my #1 goal when i finally get my gender shit together is to be able to stop thinking about it <3 please for the love of god i want to stop thinking about it <3

[sadbitchboi]

because I ran out of space in the tags I’m also adding here. PUPPET SHOWS!! I loved seeing them as a kid and now getting drunk/high/tripping while seeing them is so fun. God I could go on forever about all the shows I’ve seen. Def more than 25 tho

*by live theatre i mean plays, musicals, operas, ballets, concert versions of musicals, staged readings, & things of that nature. EDIT: YES this includes amateur, local, kids, high school, & community theatre. almost every show i've seen has been local

if you want, list the names of the shows you've seen in the tags!