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pareidoliaonthemove · 4 days ago

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Tale of an Iron-Clad Stomach

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So what happened?” Gordon asked, spellbound.

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

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

The room was silent for a long moment.

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

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

Notes:

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

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

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

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

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

#thunderbirds are go #fanfiction #my fanfic #jeff tracy #sally tracy #lee taylor #colonel casey #scott tracy #virgil tracy #alan tracy #gordon tracy #john tracy #hot sauce #gifts that go wrong

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