#shit happens i was unavoidably detained

[beauleifu]

so u said chapter will be out today i dont read your fic but like, u always say that? feels like u keep going back on ur word. just saying. try to keep it consistent.

wtf man

[justthehiddleswrites]

Late to the Party | Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Summary:  Reader is running late for Tom's big event and Tom is mad about it. He will make sure the reader is punished for her behavior before the night is through.

Warnings: Smut,  Spanking, dom!Tom, Vaginal Sex, Aftercare, Possessive Tom, Light BDSM, Punishment

-

“Shit!” you hissed under your breath as you slammed the door behind you. You rushed to the bathroom, throwing your clothes off. You would clean up later. You were late. Very late. The kind of late the White Rabbit from Alice in Wonderland spoke about.

Two months into your relationship with Tom, and this was the first big event together. Tom imparted upon you not to be late. And now you were due at his house in ten minutes and you were just stepping into the shower.  “Fuck!” you snapped as you stepped out of the car and saw Tom standing at his door waiting for you thirty minutes later.

Tom looked at his watch, exchanging scowls between you and the time. He placed a terse kiss on your cheek as he grabbed your elbow with a sharp yank.

“Ow.” you exclaimed as he led you to the car. Tom pushed into the seat and slammed the door shut before walking to take his place at the steering wheel.

He started the car and took off in complete silence. You waited until Tom got well into the drive before clearing your throat and looking over at Tom. His hands gripped the wheel so tight his knuckles turned pale.

“Thirty minutes.” he said in a cool even tone.

“I can…” you stuttered. His cold tone unrecognizable to you. Tom showed only affection before.

“Thirty minutes!” Tom shouted, his face turning red. “How can you possibly explain thirty minutes?!”

You stared at the floor for a moment. “I lost track of time when I met with a friend. I didn’t mean to be late.”

“You LOST TRACK!” he bellowed as his nostrils flared. “You knew how important today is for me and how important being on time and there is nothing you can say to make that right.”

Tears pricked your eyes. The car came to a stop and Tom jerked his door open. He stomped around the car and pulled your door open. He leaned in to help you out of the car.

“I will deal with you later tonight.” he sneered through gritted teeth, “Let’s get through the rest of tonight first.”

You gulped as Tom pulled you from your seat and snaked his arm around your waist, pulling you tight against his side. The two of you climbed the stairs to the building. A young man at the top of the stairs paced the doorway. His eyes lit up as Tom came into sight.

“Mr. Hiddleston!” he started as he shook Tom’s hand. “We have been waiting for you.”

Tom shot a glare in your direction. “Sorry about that. I was unavoidably detained.”

Your cheeks heated.

“They told me to take you backstage as soon as you arrived.” the man continued, “If your date continues inside, my colleague will get her seated.”

Tom gave a small nod of the head to the man and release you from his vise-like grip.

You hustled inside as the young man ushered Tom down a hallway. Another young man led you to a large ballroom set up like an auditorium. He led you to a seat towards the front. As you sat down, the lights dimmed in the room.

A man walked up to the podium. “Thank you all for your patience. Please allow me to introduce our guest of honor, Tom Hiddleston!”

Tom walked onto the stage to thunderous applause. He threw you a small wink as he stood behind the microphone.

“Thank you all for waiting on me tonight.” the audience clapped. “I assure you, the people responsible for my tardiness will be punished.”

The audience laughed while Tom shot you a knowing face and you furrowed your brow at Tom’s comment. What did he mean punished? you wondered as Tom continued on.

You tried to concentrate on Tom’s speech but your mind continued to drift to Tom’s comment, and you squirmed in your seat but you stopped when Tom caught your eye and narrowed his glance at you.

Before long, Tom wrapped up, and the audience applauded. He headed off stage and the young man who ushered you to your seat pointed you towards the reception area.

As you made your way to the bar, you scanned the room for Tom but there was no sign. You sidled up to the bar and placed an order for a glass of wine. An arm snaked around your waist as the bartender handed you the glass.

“I would suggest something stronger.” Tom whispered in your ear.

You giggled as you turned your head to peer at him.

“What did you have in mind?” you giggled.

Tom’s smile dropped and his eyes darkened for a moment. “Punishment, darling. You made me late.”

Your mouth opened to respond when someone came up to speak to Tom. As quickly as his face darkened, a smile splashed across his face.

The entire evening, Tom kept you close to his side. His hands gripped your waist as though you might escape with hands migrating every so often to splay across your butt cheek. His nails dug into the flesh, enough to sting but not leave a mark.

By the time the two of you left the event, you felt both aroused by Tom’s public displays of affection and anxious by his comments. The ride back to Tom’s home seemed awkward as tension hung in the air. Once you pulled up to the house, you didn’t wait for Tom to open your door.

“Sorry again, honey. I guess I will call it a night.” you called to Tom as you headed to your car.

“Where do you think you are going?” Tom snapped as he slammed the door shut and stomped towards you.

Your brows furrowed in contemplation, wracking your brain for something you forgot. Tom stared you down as he approached you.

“Wait! I remember!” you squealed as you pulled up onto your toes to kiss him on his lips. Tom pressed into you as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer.

“Call you tomorrow?” you asked pulling away. Tom nodded.

You turned and headed towards your car but Tom held tight onto your wrist.

“We’re not done here, darling. Get inside.” Tom jerked you towards his house.

“Why?” you stuttered.

Tom leaned in behind you, grabbing handfuls of your ass. “Because your ass is going to be seven shades of red after that little stunt tonight.” he hissed into your ear.

“What!?” you shrieked. Tom glanced around to see if anyone heard you and dragged you into the house. The door slammed behind him and he flicked the lock shut.

“Get upstairs. Take off the dress, leave the underwear. Sit on the bed.” he demanded.

You scrambled up the stairs as his tone left no room for negotiation. You stripped as soon as passed the door and sat on the edge of the bed, hands fiddling at your side. After several minutes, Tom came through the door. He looked at you through narrow eyes.

“So, pet…” Tom popped the “p” in the word. “You have been awfully naughty tonight. Making me late for an important event.” He tsked his tongue as he pulled suit jacket off, hanging it up in the closet. “Whatever am I to do with you?”

You watched with wide eyes as he unbuttoned the cuffs of his dress shirt. With precision, he rolled up each sleeve exposing his toned forearms; you bit your lip to suppress the moan building in your throat. Tom looked at you with expectation.

“I’m waiting for an answer.”

Tom’s words jolted you back to reality. “Um… punish me?” you ended the sentence on an up note.

Tom smirked. “That’s right, love. And how do we punish naughty girls?” He moved to sit in an armchair nestled in the corner, his legs splayed as always.

He rubbed his hands together and beckoned you to sit with him. You rose and walked over in timid steps, uncertain of what will happen next. Your senses on high alert. Tom patted his thigh, and you sat down, more hovering on his leg. Tom’s warm hand rubbed up and down your back, sending shocks of electricity through you. He leaned in and placed soft kisses on your cheek, lips and neck. You let a deep sigh out and your shoulders relaxed. Tom smiled at you and then in a flash, spun you around in his lap and before you realized what happened, you laid across Tom’s thighs, ass on display.

“Now for your spanking…” Tom quipped as his hands rubbed your ass through your underwear, warming the skin.

“What!” you attempted to squirm out of his grip but he held you tight.

“Stop squirming and take your punishment or you will force me to tie you down.” You settled down. “Now… for a first offense, how many strikes? Twenty?” You laid there in silence, too scared to say anything. “I think ten should be sufficient. Do you agree?” You nodded. “I can’t hear you.”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, sir.”

Tom chuckled as he pushed his sleeves up further. “That’s my girl, now count out each strike, my love.” With no further warning, Tom’s hand cracked against your right cheek.

“One.” you whimpered as the pain radiated through your body.

Another crack to the other side. “Two.”

CRACK! The third strike hitting your lower ass where it meets your thigh. By this time, the assault brought your arousal alive. “Three.” you groaned.

Tom smiled at the change in your voice. His hand hit in a swift motion.

“Four.”

The next four strikes came in rapid succession, with barely enough time for you count each strike. Your ass burned like fire at this point. Tears streamed down your face from both pain and pleasure and you gushed between your legs. You opened and closed your legs against Tom’s thigh, desperate to find relief and friction.

“Almost done, darling.” Tom chuckled at the sight of you. He could see the skin reddening under your thin panties and the wet spot grew larger by the second. He licked his lips and shifted in his seat, his own arousal growing uncomfortable.

You fell limp against his legs, unable to resist the onslaught. Tom ripped your underwear down to your knees and you gasped. Your red skin shone in the room’s light and Tom groaned at the sight.

CRACK! “Nine.” you whimpered, your voice hoarse.

“Your ass is exquisite in red, darling.” Tom commented. You looked at the ground, unable to see the twinkle in Tom’s eye.

The last swat hit directly upon your glistening sex and toppled you over the edge. You screamed in pleasure. You forgot to count, but Tom let it slide. Tom held your body firm against his legs as you came down from your orgasm. He wrapped his arms around you and lifted you up placing you on your back on the bed. Your backside burned, but you didn’t care.

“Darling, look at the mess you made.” Tom gestured to the wet spot on his trouser. He undid them and pulled both his trousers and underwear down to his ankles. His cock erect and leaking pre-cum. Tom took himself into his hand and pumped a few times.

“Fuck!” you panted at the sight of him.

Tom winked. “As you wish.”

Tom crawled onto the bed and propped himself above you. You winced at the pressure of your backside with Tom’s weight, so Tom flipped you so he lied on the bed and you straddled him. He teased the tip against your folds.

“Tom… please.” you begged as you lined yourself up. Tom held you up for a moment, a bruising grip against your hips. In a single thrust, he sheathed himself within you.

“Gods! You are perfection!” Tom groaned as your arousal and warmth surrounded him. He bucked his hips into you, spurring you to rock on his cock.

“Nhnnmhmm.” you moaned as a second orgasm stirred inside you. Tom continued to thrust deep into you, pressing against your g-spot each time.

“That’s it darling, let go. Cum for me.” Tom pleaded, his fingers snaking down to tease your clit. You gasped at the added stimulation.

After a few moments, you orgasmed again. “God… Tom… Fuck!” you exclaimed as you clenched around Tom.

“Y/N!” Tom cried as he released his release, thrusting one final time into you. You collapsed onto Tom’s chest. He slid his hands up and down your back. When his hands ventured onto your ass, you winced.

“Sore, love?” Tom asked, his eyes filled with concern.

You nodded.

“How does a nice bath sound?” he kissed your forehead as he slipped out of you and rolled you off of him. He stood and walked to the bathroom, starting the water in the tub.

You groaned as you rolled onto your side, unable to lift your head or move your arms. The pain from your backside started to radiate into your legs. Tom was not gentle with his punishment. You felt his strong arms lift from the bed and carry you into the tub. The warm water soothed your aching flesh.

“How’s my good girl?” Tom asked as he wet a washcloth.

“Good.” you gave a wink.

Tom gave a devilish grin. “Good to know.”

[dindjarindiaries]

Bittersweet - Chapter 3: Flirting With the Enemy

summary: As Marcus pursues Lisbon, you try to think of a way to prevent his heartbreak, and even consider teaming up with an unlikely ally.

warnings: angst, guns, food, i don’t remember all the details of this episode and i didn’t want to rewatch it so i tried my best okay

rating: T

word count: 3.896k

previous part ⟸ masterlist ⟹ next part

chapter 3: flirting with the enemy

Your morning routine is filled with nothing but strings of curses and wild rushing, feeling relieved that you at least don’t have to dress up as per usual—or at least, that’s the text you woke up to from Marcus. Probably because it’s a day you’re not supposed to be working. But, according to the homicide team, you’ll finally be getting your thieves, and somehow proving the murder in the process. That’s still the last thing on your mind as you realize that, thanks to your late-night grieving session with Andy, you woke up much later than you wanted to.

You don’t even get to eat breakfast—again—as you arrive to work, praying that the elevator moves faster somehow as you ascend up to your floor. You practically toss your stuff onto your chair when you get to your desk, leaning your hands on top of it and taking a deep breath before you turn around to find your partner.

Yet, he’s already found you, extending both a cup of coffee and a granola bar out to you as he raises an eyebrow. “Tough morning, Sunny?” Marcus asks, chuckling a bit when you eagerly accept both things from him.

“Yeah,” you agree with a huff, breaking into the granola bar with relief, “I guess you could say that.”

Marcus shakes his head and he’s about to say something, but your focus has gone haywire because your tired brain can only think about how the hell he looks so handsome today when he’s only wearing a casual t-shirt, jacket, and jeans instead of his usual suit. You practically rip off a piece of the granola bar in frustration—whether it’s towards him or yourself, you don’t know. Marcus continues with whatever he was about to say as he furrows his brow. “That’s two days in a row, partner. Is everything okay?”

Your exhausted and exasperated mind is so close to telling him the truth, to confessing that you’ve been in love with him for longer than you can keep track of and the idea of him pursuing a woman that’s in love with another man makes you want to go absolutely batshit crazy, but you swallow the words back with the bite of your granola bar as you manage a smile. “I’m fine, Pike. Thanks for the concern, though. Let’s just say it’s… personal.”

Marcus purses his lips and nods knowingly. “Ah. It’s Andy-related? You’re sworn to secrecy?”

You shrug. He’s given you the perfect lie to run with. “You know how it is.”

Marcus smiles and lightly punches your shoulder. “What a good friend, always giving advice at the expense of your own sanity and sleep—myself included.”

You try not to let your smile falter, but damn. Being put in that friendzone is just the cherry on top of this crazy morning. “Yep. You know me.” You force an awkward chuckle with the words. You hope Marcus can accost your strange behavior to your lack of sleep.

He takes a deep breath, gesturing with his head out towards the place where Wiley works at the computer. “Well, Sunny, I hope the coffee helps, because we’ve got quite the stunt to pull today.”

You raise an eyebrow as you finish off the granola bar and toss the wrapper inside your garbage can, reaching for your coffee and starting to follow Marcus to Wiley’s desk. “What do you mean? I thought we were just catching them.”

“Oh, we are.” Marcus lowers his voice as he goes on, making sure only you can hear him. “But, I guess Jane’s got some elaborate plan to lead us to his lair and prove he killed that man. I don’t know.”

You roll your eyes and take a sip of your coffee. “Of course.” You keep your voice hushed just like Marcus did as you continue. “They obviously don’t know how we keep things short and to the point in the art theft department.”

Marcus chuckles. “Whatever works for them, I guess.”

“Well, whatever you pick up from this—,” you gesture with your arms to the homicide team’s space you’re now entering, “—please don’t bring it to our cases. It’s way too complicated.”

“Alright, Sunny. I won’t.”

You give Marcus a grateful smile that he returns, making you pray that you don’t get weak in the knees as you arrive behind Wiley’s desk. He fills you in on the progress so far this morning, trying to explain at least part of Jane’s wild plan and how you both fit into it. He’s got footage of the two of them pulled up on his computer and you have to restrain yourself from bristling at the way Marcus looks at Lisbon. This is still your job, and a dangerous one at that, and you can’t afford to be distracted all the time by your love life—or, lack thereof.

As if the morning wasn’t already crazy enough, you soon find yourselves en route to the house Jane and Lisbon have been in, your handgun in tow as Marcus drives the both of you there.

“So, why are they sending two art theft officers after a murderer?” you ask Marcus, causing him to snicker with a shrug as he makes a turn.

“I stopped asking questions,” he confesses, looking over at you with amusement. “But as far as I know, we’re just supposed to detain the thief from last night.”

You scrunch up your nose. “The one who hit on Fischer?” Marcus nods, and you make a noise of disgust. “Perfect.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t let him do anything to you, Sunny,” Marcus assures you sweetly—just as he always does. He’s so kind to a fault and it never fails to make you smile, though you know the danger of that. You know how people like to take advantage of it. You know that you’re watching it happen before your very eyes with Lisbon, even if she’s not conscious of how she’s doing it. “The rest of the team’s going after the leader.”

“They can have whatever action they want. I just want our art and our thieves.”

Marcus hums in agreement, but you watch his eyes widen as he pulls up to the house. “Shit, they’re already here,” Marcus mutters, gesturing to the white van that’s parked just beside the house.

Adrenaline rushes through you as you tighten your hold on your gun. You and Marcus share a look as you reach for your door handle. “I don’t like this, Pike.”

Marcus grimaces as he looks at the house. “I’m sure it’s fine.” He’s worried more than usual—and you know why. He knows who’s in that house and so do you. You wonder if he’d be just as worried if you were the one who was in there.

The car full of the rest of the homicide team pulls up next to you, and both you and Marcus step out of the car once they do. You look to each other before following them inside, both your hands bracing themselves on your gun as you enter. One of the thieves is already there holding Lisbon at gunpoint, but she quickly gets the upper hand on him by reaching for her own gun, and he turns around to realize he’s been compromised.

“Where’s the other guy?” you whisper to Marcus, still holding tight to your gun with both hands. “The one we talked about earlier.”

He gestures with his head towards the tall, spiraling staircase. “My guess is upstairs. We’ll probably be the ones to greet and trap him down here.”

You nod, getting a better grip on your weapon as you wait behind one of the pristine white walls with the others to keep yourself hidden from view. Marcus’ focus in the moment seems to be entirely on the task at hand, which means yours is, too. Your heart races in your chest as you wait for the sound of footsteps on the stairs, your arm nearly brushing against Marcus’ as you lean against the wall.

When the sound comes, you’re quick to jump out with Marcus, aiming your weapons and managing to keep your adrenaline-fueled trembling to a minimum. You and Marcus share yet another look as the thief seems to give in, offering up the bag he’s carrying and letting himself be cuffed. You tuck your gun into your pants as the threats seem to dwindle, looking to Marcus to see him also looking at you.

“Now what?” you ask him, raising an eyebrow.

“I think they’ve got it from here,” Marcus tells you. “We just have to rendezvous back at headquarters and interrogate these guys.” He gestures to the two men who are already cuffed.

“Are we supposed to transport them?”

Marcus twists his lips. “I hope not. I don’t want them in the back of my car.”

You chuckle and shake your head at the craziness of it all. The art theft department’s never been one to be sporadic on the scene of a sting, so running around with the homicide department who’s more complicated in their work makes things much different than you’re used to.

Eventually, everyone ends up back at headquarters, and after a round of interrogations and a feast of pizza, everyone begins to settle in the break room. You’re beside Marcus and you can’t help noticing—as usual—that he keeps looking over in Lisbon’s direction, who’s sitting at a table by herself. You’re trying to absorb yourself in this piece of pizza to block it out, but as soon as he speaks, you realize it’s unavoidable.

“I think I’m gonna go talk to her,” Marcus whispers to you, and you look over at him as you swallow a bite of pizza to see his dark eyes glittering nervously at you.

No, you want to exclaim to him, don’t break your heart again! Can’t you tell she’s in love with someone else? Can’t you realize I’m standing right here? Instead, you give him a reassuring nod. “Go for it, Pike!” you whisper-shout, surprised with how well you’re able to fake your enthusiasm as you take another bite of pizza. “Now’s a better time than ever.”

Marcus exhales deeply, nodding as he looks back in her direction. “You’re right. I can do this.”

You pat his shoulder with your hand that’s not supporting your paper plate. “You can do this.” Even if I can’t.

Marcus starts to walk off in that direction, but he stops himself, turning back to you to place a hand upon your shoulder. “Thank you, Sunny,” he murmurs genuinely. “No matter what happens.”

You smile wide at him, hoping he doesn’t hear the crackling of your heart as it begins to fall apart in your chest. “You’re welcome, Marcus—no matter what happens. I’ll always be here.”

Marcus smiles at that, giving your shoulder a pat before he keeps walking off towards Lisbon. You look at the scene with longing, the pieces of your broken heart sinking into your stomach like rocks as you watch it all happen. Of course, he’d taken your last few words in the context of a friend, even though you’d meant so much more. How could he know that? Marcus may be damn good at his job, but he can also be so clueless—and you just hope it won’t lead him to getting his heart broken once again.

You’re not creepy enough to listen in to their conversation, but it must be going well, because you see them laugh together a few times and soon, they’re making a move to get up and leave. Marcus lets her go first, and before he leaves, he turns to look at you and give you an excited thumbs up. You return it, hoping that your own smile is still convincing as he leaves with her. You finish off your pizza with a vicious tug of a piece of crust, throwing the plate into the trash can with a little more vigor than you should.

As soon as you leave the break room, you see Jane held up with Marcus and Lisbon, who seem to be having a rather awkward exchange before Marcus and Lisbon continue towards the elevator. You can see the way Jane takes a deep breath, his shoulders sagging ever so slightly in the same way yours probably did upon watching Marcus leave. Then, his eyes meet yours, and you can see the same thing you feel reflected in him.

You don’t know what possesses you, but you make your way over to him, raising an eyebrow. “Looks like you could use some coffee,” you tell him, swinging your car keys in your fingers as you speak. He raises his brow back at you. “There’s a twenty-four hour café down the street if you want some.”

Jane hums in interest, and you try to read him for something more—but you can’t. You figure he must be the most terrifying person to be interrogated by. When he speaks, his voice is as calculated as ever. “Interesting. I could’ve sworn you didn’t like me.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes as you tighten your hold on your keys. “I’m not asking you on a date, Jane. I’m just trying to be nice.”

Jane narrows his eyes at you and you don’t like the feeling of being read so easily. Whatever mind game he’s trying to play, you won’t give in. “Hmm. Alright. I’ll meet you there. What’s it called?”

You give him the name, and he nods to confirm it as you head to your car. Before you take off, you pull out your phone, chewing on your lower lip nervously as you write out a text to Andy.

me: andy... i think i’m about to do something very, very bad… 🥴

You send it and lock your phone again, heading to the street and thankfully getting a spot on the street just in front of the café, thanks to the later hours of the night. You see that you’ve gotten a response already when you pick your phone back up.

andy💞: ma’am! what are you doing? whatever it is, stop it and call me. right now.

You sigh as you look up and see Jane pulling in right in front of you.

me: too late. i’ll call you later.

You pocket your phone and get out of your car, leading the way for you and Jane inside as you order—paying for Jane’s coffee as you’d said before—and sitting down at a table far away from the windows, just in case someone from work happened to walk or drive by. There’s only a few other people in the café, causing you to keep your voice lower than usual as you speak.

“So, I, uh—,” you attempt to begin.

“You’re in love with Pike.” Jane’s words are short, sweet, and to-the-point, causing you to choke on air as you sputter for something to say. Jane simply chuckles and takes a sip of his drink before continuing. “I know. I ‘read minds.’ Remember?”

“Okay. Whatever.” You take a quick sip of your coffee to try to prove that you’re not as flourished as you actually are. “You’re in love with Lisbon.” Jane shrugs, and you scoff as you lean forward on your elbows. “Oh, please. Don’t try to deny it. I mean, can’t you tell that she feels the same way?”

Jane shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“‘It doesn’t matter?’” You huff as you lean back in your chair, crossing your arms aggressively. “So, it doesn’t matter that you know you both have requited feelings for each other, and you’re not doing anything about it? You’re letting her go off with some guy she doesn’t even have true feelings for?”

“She does have feelings for him.” Jane takes a thoughtful sip of his drink, and the way he’s staying so calm right now is infuriating to you. “Even if she loves me. It’s possible to be torn between two men, you know.”

“Yeah, but tonight is their first date. If you just told her your feelings now, she’d stop this altogether.”

Jane remains silent for a moment, sipping and tapping his finger against his cardboard cup. You have to try yet again not to roll your eyes as you sit there, waiting for him to say something. When he speaks, he leans forward on the table, looking at you with a raised brow. “It seems to me that you’re only doing this to have Pike for yourself.”

“No. I’m doing this because, by you staying silent on all of this, you’re setting an innocent man up for failure and heartbreak when she realizes further down the road that you’re the one she wants.”

“You mean, the same heartbreak you’re feeling right now?”

You lean forward as you’d done before, failing to hide your frustration as you widen your eyes at him. “This isn’t about me. This is about you hurting someone else just because you won’t open your damn mouth.”

Jane smiles—yes, the bastard smiles—at your words. “Really? Because it seems like both of us would be at fault here, should that be the case.” You raise an eyebrow, but before you can question him further, he goes on. “I’m not the only one holding back secrets, Agent. Why don’t you tell Pike how you feel?”

You finally give in to the act of rolling your eyes as you draw a sip from your drink. “Because, Jane, I told you. This isn’t about me. Me telling him about my feelings won’t do anything because he doesn’t feel the same way. He’ll still stay with Lisbon and get his heart broken.”

Jane narrows his eyes at you. “Are you so sure he doesn’t feel the same way?”

You think back on the embarrassingly obvious friendzoning from earlier today. “Yes. I am.”

Jane shrugs. “I don’t know. He looked at you an awful lot today.”

You hate the flicker of hope his words give you, knowing he’s just looking for excuses to get you to stop putting him in such a tight spot. “That’s not the point.” You take a deep breath and recenter yourself, both your hands slipping around your cup as you look at him. “Listen, I’m not asking you to confess your long-time feelings to Lisbon right now. I guess I’m just…” you trail off, trying to think of how to say it.

“Proposing that we scheme together until one of us confesses?” Jane finishes for you, and surprisingly, it’s rather close to what you’re thinking.

“Sure. Put it that way.” You reach into your pocket for your phone as you sigh lightly. “I’ll need your phone number just so we can talk about this.”

Jane chuckles with obvious amusement. “Buying me coffee and asking for my number? And I thought you said this wasn’t a date.”

“It’s not.” Your response is quick and curt, void of all amusement—though Jane’s eyes still twinkle with that emotion. You hand him a blank contact. “For business purposes only.”

“For business… purposes… only.” Jane repeats the words as he types out his information in your phone, smiling almost smugly as he hands it back to you. He then rises from his chair and extends a hand towards you. “Pleasure doing business with you, Agent.”

You accept his hand in a shake as you grimace slightly. “This is highly confidential, Jane. I mean it.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t let Pike know you’re inserting yourself into his love life.” Jane nods before he leaves the café, and you sigh as you sit back down and open Andy’s contact, instantly calling her as you prop your phone up with your hand.

“Bitch!” Andy greets you with an incredulous exclamation. “What the hell are you up to? Where are you?”

“Hello to you too, Andy,” you scoff, looking around to make sure no one heard your best friend speak like a sailor. “I’m at the café down the street from work.”

Andy raises an eyebrow at you. “Alone?”

“Now I am, yeah.” You’re too ashamed to admit who you’d been with before.

Her dark eyes narrow at you. “Girl… who were you with?”

You look down at your cup for the moment, which suddenly seems very interesting as you squeak out your answer. “Remember the guy who Lisbon’s in love with? Well, I—.”

“You did not.” Andy leans closer to her camera as she looks at you with disbelief. “Please tell me you’re not scheming with that guy.”

“Listen, we’re not…” you trail off, sighing as you remember exactly what you both shook on. “Okay, maybe we are. Maybe.”

“Ma’am!” Andy groans and falls back in her seat. “What the hell are you doing? What happened to seeing what happened and letting Marcus be happy?”

“He’s taking her on a date tonight!” you try to defend yourself. “I just—I can’t watch this happen in front of my eyes, Andy! He’s gonna get hurt again!”

“And he’s gonna get hurt even more when he finds out you’re meddling in his love life!”

You groan with frustration as you realize she’s right. You slap a hand to your forehead and drag it down your face. “Look, we’re not gonna do anything crazy. I’m just trying to convince Jane to confess his feelings to Lisbon so we can avoid Marcus’ heartbreak in the first place.”

Andy tuts and shakes her head. “I don’t think this is a good idea, girl.”

You feel a pit in your stomach, but there’s nothing you can do about it now. “I know. But… I just, I can’t sit by idly and let him get hurt again, Andy. I have to at least try to help him.”

Andy sighs and raises an eyebrow at you. “I understand, Miss Thing. You have a big heart and right now it’s bleeding for Marcus.” You nod to agree with that. “But, girl, he cannot find out you’re doing this.”

“I know.” You can’t imagine what it would be like if Marcus realized you were doing something like this. Any potential to have a friendship with him in the future would be gone—and a relationship would be completely out of the question. “We’re keeping it confidential.”

“You better.” Andy still releases another breath, one of her hands toying with her jet black hair as she stares at you. “Be careful. I’m serious. You’re dealing with a lot of people’s hearts, here.”

“I will,” you assure her, smiling bittersweetly as you give her a nod. “I promise.”

“Alright. Keep me updated, girl.”

“As always.”

Andy smiles at that. “Love ya’.”

“Love you too, Andy. Bye.”

With that, you hang up, heaving out a sigh as you hold your head in your hands. You know you’re going in way too deep, now, but it’s too late to turn back. All you can hope for is that you can save both your and Marcus’ hearts in the process and not ruin something you haven’t even gotten to start yet.

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[gumnut-logic]

Father

Title: Father A Tale of Sotto Voce Author: Gumnut 10 – 13 Oct 2018 Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS Rating: Teen Summary: Perhaps it was worth the pain, in some small way. Word count: 6627 Spoilers & warnings: Spoilers for Season 2, Sotto Voce and Il Mago  Timeline: Set shortly after Il Mago. Author’s note: So here we are. This took longer than expected and I'm not really sure it is what it needed to be, but it is what it is. This was written for @the-lady-razorsharp who welcomed me into this wonderful fandom, showed me around and continues to be a wonderful inspirator (and a fabulous writer as well :D). Thank you, hon, for everything. I so hope you enjoy this. Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

-o-o-o-

“JOHN!”

Virgil staggered sideways into his father’s desk as Eos screamed through his mind. He grabbed his head, gasping at the fear and the terror, assaulting his brain. “God!” His elbow hit the woodwork, his feet slipping from beneath him.

“Virgil!”

Scott’s yell added to the clamour and he scrunched his eyes shut.

And then came the images. Shit! “John!”

He vaguely heard his big brother yelling for Thunderbird Five, but all he could see was John coming in contact with an arc of electricity, his body spasming, smoke, oh god. Virgil’s stomach roiled. Eos’ emotion rolled over him in waves. The hardwood floor leapt up and hit him.

Eos

Eos, please.

John!

I-I know. Get help.

Images of Brains rushing to his brother’s aid. Alan not far behind him.

A hand touched his cheek. He jumped and flinched away, skidding on the floor, coming up hard against the base of his father’s desk.

“Virgil?”

Scott.

He forced his eyes open and found wooden floor out of focus. He turned his head and encountered the concerned face of his brother. “John’s hurt.”

”We know. Brains and Alan have him.��� A pause. “You?”

Virgil swallowed bile. “Been better.” He put his hands on the floor and attempted to push himself up. Predictably, Scott grabbed him when he faltered, his brother lifting him under his arms and helping him into a sitting position against the desk.

Eos still roiled in his head, agitated, scared, worried.

Virgil ran his hands over his face. “Damn.” Images flickered through his mind. John prone, unresponsive. Brains and Alan darting around him. Reaching out, he sought information.

His brother was not responding.

Virtual sparks as the cardiostimulator was applied.

Concerned words, controlled panic reached the mic pickups. Alan yelling at his brother.

Limp blond-red hair.

Please, John.

Eos wailed in his ear.

Please.

The electronic registration of a single heartbeat was one of the most wonderful sounds he had ever heard. But not so much as the second, the third, or the rapidly increasing rhythm of beats that followed. The sight of John drawing in breath was beautiful.

“He’s back.” Alan’s voice was a whimper.

Eos’ intensity dropped a grade and Virgil found himself releasing a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. His mind felt fuzzy. Someone was yelling.

Scott?

And he realised what he had done.

Shit.

Catching the sound of John’s heartbeat with his own, he stepped backwards, letting himself fall back to where he belonged.

There were arms around him. He was being held.

His face was wet.

Blue eyes. Worry. Cursing.

“G-Grandma’s goin’ to kick your ass.”

Thinned lips. “Not as far as she will kick yours.”

“True.” His voice was hoarse. “J-John’s alive.”

“Alive?”

Whispered. “Alive.”

-o-o-o-

Alive is a relative term. Anything can be alive. A potato up to the point of boiling is alive, peeling it one of the most horrifying concepts around.

Unfortunately, his brother was just as unresponsive as a potato. They stabilised him, they got him home and into the infirmary. He was alive, heart beating, breathing on his own, but no matter what they did, he wouldn’t wake up.

Virgil was absolutely horrified to discover that the accident had occurred due to his actions. When he had diverted the power in Thunderbird Five to electrify the airlock in an attempt to repel the invaders, he had inadvertently electrified several other undetected sections of the station.

He rubbed his hands over his face, his elbows on the bed beside his prone brother. “I’m so sorry, John. I...” What else could he say?

I should have detected it.

Another sigh. Eos...

No, it was my responsibility to check for damage.

It is not your fault.

Then how can it possibly be yours?

Virgil didn’t answer.

It had been three days. His brother was now hooked up to several IVs and other invasive support mechanisms, his unconscious body needing assistance to survive. The usually agile, calm and kind man now lay pale, his hair unkempt and limp, eyes bruised smudges on his lifeless face, hands wrapped in copious bandages.

Virgil reached over and ran his fingers through that blond and red hair, attempting to straighten it out, forcing the flick to behave itself.

“C’mon, John, speak to me.” Virgil’s voice was little above a whisper. “I can’t do this without you.” And the statement was suddenly true. Spoken without thought, Virgil realised that through everything that had happened to him in the last few months, John had been there, even when Virgil was too terrified to see him, John had stood strong while his brother dragged him through the mud. He had done everything in his power, everything, to support Virgil. “God, don’t let a faulty circuit be your epitaph, you are worth so much more than that. So much more.”

He needed his brother’s dry wit. He needed his calm voice. He needed him.

Virgil let his head drop to the bed.

Please.

-o-o-o-

On the fifth day Scott hauled in Virgil’s neurologist. It was the third time the man had been dragged out to Tracy Island, but the first time for anyone other than Virgil.

Virgil managed a weak smile for him when he arrived and the doctor gave him a look that clearly said he would expect to see him for a check up later.

John’s scans were far less dramatic than Virgil’s but no less frightening. The EEG said John was there. His brain activity clearly indicated that what made John John was active. What it didn’t say is why he wasn’t responding. All indications said he should be waking. But he wasn’t.

Doctor Emery stared at all the scans, once again commenting how he would love to have their equipment in his hospital. “There does not appear to be any brain damage.” He pointed to one spot. “Did he suffer a recent concussion?”

Both Virgil and Scott started. “Yes. There was an accident. He was thrown across a room.”

“And he received a severe electrical shock. Perhaps a combination of the two? I’m unsure. What was his emotional state prior to the accident?”

Virgil stared at the man. Scott managed an answer. “Emotions have been running high of late.” Scott was not looking at Virgil, but Virgil knew that yet again he was a cause.

Dr Emery looked between them both. “Understandable.” A pause. “The reason I ask is that with the absence of an obvious physical reason, my instinctive next step is to look for a psychological reason.”

There was silence in the room for a moment. Then Virgil opened his mouth. “You mean he might not want to wake up?”

The expression in the doctor’s eyes was kind. “Yes, it is a possibility.”

Virgil swallowed.

Scott took over the conversation from there, Virgil drifting, thoughts spinning through his head. Why wouldn’t John want to wake up?

Life had been pretty shitty of late, but it was on the improve. He and John had spoken at length just recently. With the Maggot incident, Virgil had turned a corner and no longer felt that instinctive fear of his brother...well, nothing he was going to mention to the man. Things had slowly been getting back to normal. Hell, Virgil had been spending his time fixing Thunderbird Two as much as John had been repairing his girl. International Rescue was still mostly offline, but they were getting there.

Everything had been getting better.

“And how are you feeling, Virgil?”

He jumped. Emery was looking at him with enquiring eyes, the intelligence behind them sharp. “I checked with Joshua Slick on my way over here. He said you missed your last appointment.”

“Uh, yeah, I was unavoidably detained. IR business.” His consciousness had been in orbit at the time.

“Other than that, he was very positive about your progress. How are the headaches? Your sleep pattern?”

“Still get the occasional headache.” He’d had a doozy five days ago due to his inadvertent trip upstairs. Scott and Grandma had been furious with him once he had recovered. “Sleeps good.” Mostly. Occasional nightmare notwithstanding. “Still snooze from time to time.” He still owed Gordon for the pink nail polish pedicure from the last incident of crashing by the pool.

“Uh, huh.” God, the man’s eyes were boring into his brain. “Any neurological incidents you would like to report?”

“Uh, no.”

“Are you sure?”

Virgil frowned. “Yes, sure, Doc.”

“Very well.”

He didn’t believe him. Virgil didn’t know why, but the neurologist, now looking away, clearly did not believe a word he had said. Something cold crawled up his spine. He felt Scott’s eyes on him and behind the doctor’s back, Virgil made it very clear that he now wanted the man off the island. As soon as possible.

His brother obliged, wrapping up the conversation and the consultation quickly and walking the man out to the airstrip.

Virgil didn’t go with him. Instead he put a call into Lady Penelope. They needed to do another check on the doctor.

Something had changed.

-o-o-o-

By the end of the week, there had still been no improvement in John’s condition and the family were getting frantic.

Eos had begun to cling to Virgil. She was always there, her worry gnawing at his own. Scott had noticed, cornering him and demanding he rest.

But he couldn’t.

Scott spoke to Eos and for a short time she stayed away.

It was worse.

Virgil worried about her and found himself venturing into the network looking for her. This led to more headaches, angry Scott, worried brothers and a grandmother wielding traditional cures that tasted even worse than her cooking.

So ultimately Eos returned to sit with him, sometimes beside her father’s bed, sometimes late at night when Virgil couldn’t sleep. Sometimes in his dreams.

But still John wouldn’t wake up.

-o-o-o-

“You know it almost makes me wish John had the same circuitry that you do.”

Virgil froze, glass of whisky half way to his mouth. “What? Why?”

“Because then we could send in Eos to drag him out like she did for you last time you refused to move your ass.”

He stared at his brother, his thoughts spinning.

They had access to the nanites, it was a possibility. But the thought of putting his brother through that...”No.”

“What?”

“No, Scott. I would rather he die.”

Scott’s eyes widened and he sat up straighter in his chair. “You can’t mean that.”

Virgil threw back the whisky, its heat burning the back of his throat. His voice was cold, but hoarse. “I do. This is never happening to any of you.”

Eos crowded into his thoughts.

Uncle?

“No, Eos. While it has a few positives, you being most of them, I would never wish this on my worst enemy, much less my family.”

“That may not be your decision, Virgil. It has to be an option that at least should be considered. If Eos can reach him, it might be worth the risk.”

“Risk?!” Virgil tensed on the edge of his chair. “You want to talk to me about risk? How about being open to mind rape? How about not knowing if you might be attacked at any moment, have your very will taken away from you and made into someone else’s puppet?” He spat the words at his brother. “How about being stared at by your family in fear that you might hurt them? Scorned when something does go wrong, and having to live with the guilt when you do actually hurt one of them due to that damn piece of technology in your head. It will never be gone. I have to live with it for the rest of my life, however short that is, as we don’t even know how long it can be maintained and what happens if it fails.” He drew in a shaky breath. “So, no, Scott. It is not an option. John would be better off dead.”

His empty whisky glass hit the table harder than it should have.

Scott had paled.

Eos was trembling.

Virgil closed his eyes and let his head drop to his hands. His elbows dug into his knees. Voice muffled. “I’m sorry. I just can’t do that to him.”

-o-o-o-

The room fell silent except for Virgil’s harsh breathing. Scott stared at his brother, heart tight at the harsh and painful admission. He wanted to deny it all, reassure Virgil, instinctively fight the monsters in the dark for his little brother. But this was beyond him.

Mind rape.

God.

“Scott?”

Eos’ voice was hesitant.

He continued to stare at the top of his brother’s dark-haired head. “Y-yes, Eos?” His voice cracked.

“What if we didn’t need to infect my father with the nanites? What if there was another way for me to reach him? Would you still want me to try?”

Scott looked up. “What? How?”

“Uncle?”

Virgil looked up, his face strained. “Eos, please get to the point.”

“I might be able to reach my father through Virgil.”

“Through Virgil? How?” His brother’s brown eyes latched onto his, a spark of hope rising within them. Scott fought it off. He couldn’t afford it.

“The circuitry is an interface. I can interact with Virgil through it. You could almost equate it to something like turning a digital signal into an analogue signal that he can interpret and vice versa. If I was able to interface with Virgil and somehow we could connect his nervous system to my father’s then I may have a conduit to send a signal.”

“Connect my nervous system...” Virgil’s concentration turned inwards and Scott was sure he was conversing with Eos outside the conversation. It rankled him, but he chose to ignore it. He had to.

“And how do we do that?”

“You can’t.” And Virgil was looking directly at him. “My body is full of nanites. I can not, and will not, infect him.”

“I am aware of that, Uncle.” Virgil’s lips thinned. “I’m hoping that proximity will enable me to jump across.”

“Proximity?” That spark of hope was definitely rearing its head.

“Sustained contact. Skin to skin. I do not know for sure, Scott, it might be enough. I believe it is worth an attempt.”

“Would any harm come to Virgil?” Scott pinned his brother with his eyes.

“No, I do not think so. He will only be the conduit.”

“What about you?” Virgil’s tone was abrupt, challenging, and the answer was obvious.

“I-“ And the conversation went internal. Virgil scowled, apparently at nothing, his brow creasing in worry.

“Guys, you going to let me in on the conversation?”

“Eos, don’t play it down. No, c’mon. For the love of-...We’ll use duct tape. Yes, we will. I don’t care how stupid it looks and neither will your father. It is for your safety.” Virgil shot to his feet. “Don’t you dare devalue your existence! You are just as important as any of us!” Virgil’s agitation increased. “We love you, you idiot!”

Eyes widening as Virgil stumbled in place, his hand going to his head, Scott leapt out of his chair, reaching to steady his brother. “What the hell are you two doing?!”

A pair of brown eyes snapped to his, as if surprised he was even there. “What?”

“Sit down, Virgil! Eos, back off!” He deployed a glare that had been known to melt world leaders and brothers alike. Virgil sat down. Eos muttered something over the comms. It could have been a sorry. “Now, calmly, what is the threat to Eos?”

Virgil dropped his gaze a moment before looking back up at his brother. “If we do this, John and I will need to be in constant contact. If the contact is broken, even for a moment, Eos could lose the section of herself that is connected to John. The last time that happened, it caused a cascade failure in her primary memory. John was able to correct it in time, but this time we may not have him and it could be life threatening for Eos.”

“It is worth the risk.” Eos’ tone was firm.

Virgil glared towards the ceiling. “We will assess the risks fully before attempting anything.”

“Yes, Uncle.”

“Yes, we will.” For all three of them. Scott glared at his brother.

Virgil didn’t answer.

But the hope remained in his eyes.

-o-o-o-

John Tracy was angry.

In fact, John Tracy was royally pissed.

It didn’t happen very often. John was the calm, calculating one. A Spock to Scott’s Kirk.

But John was pretty sure Spock would be just as pissed as he was if someone had come along and trashed the Enterprise like those three a-holes had done to his beloved Thunderbird Five.

But even worse than that was what had been done to his brother.

John coasted through his ‘Bird. The gravity ring was no longer spinning, its controls destroyed by a desperate Virgil. So his home was eerily quiet. Even the beeps and clicks of working electronics were muted.

All was calm.

If he hadn’t been so angry, he might have revelled in it. Peace was his sanctuary, an uninterrupted place to concentrate and create.

But he had far more important things to do.

He needed to protect this station. He needed to protect his brother.

He needed to put up some defences.

-o-o-o-

Another day of watching his younger brother fade away.

Virgil was frustrated. They had a possible solution, but Scott was refusing to action it without thoroughly going over every single detail. Hell, it was usually Virgil who was the pedantic one, but Scott in full big brother mode was a force to contend with. No way was he letting any of them attempt anything without dotting all the i’s and crossing all the t’s, and in the meantime, John got paler and thinner, and goddamnit!

Eos was just as frustrated as he was. She continued to buzz around him like a mosquito bent on blood.

It didn’t make Virgil’s temper any better.

He tried sitting with his brother, but the urge to grab his hand and ask Eos to just do it was so tempting, so real, that he had fled the infirmary.

This was beyond his paintbrush, beyond even the piano, he feared he might break the keys. So he ended up in the gym, borrowing a page from his eldest brother’s book. Hands wrapped, shirt off, he beat the living shit out of Scott’s favourite punching bag.

Of course, it wasn’t canvas that he hit. No, it was faces. The Hood was prominent, quickly followed by Percival F-ing Fischler. Muscles complained, sweat ran down his back and at one point he found himself yelling and cursing.

His knuckles hurt.

Pale blond John, wasting away.

He hit it some more.

“Hey!”

And Scott was standing there. Forever worried blue eyes framed by black smudges.

Put there by Virgil Tracy.

He swung again, putting everything into his arm, forcing the anger into motion, burning it before it could burn him.

The canvas wobbled, the shock absorbed, it mocked him.

“We’re ready.” And Scott was beside him, a hand on his shoulder.

Virgil’s chest heaved. Sweat ran into his eyes. “About damn time.”

“Get cleaned up and meet me in the infirmary.”

Eos buzzed in his ears.

Scott squeezed his shoulder.

About damn time.

-o-o-o-

They had hauled a larger bed into the room and placed it beside John. On closer inspection, it appeared to be Gordon’s.

At Virgil’s raised eyebrow, Scott shrugged. “His was the easiest to disassemble, and besides, he volunteered it.”

Odd, since Gordon hadn’t been seen since Scott had announced Eos’ plan.

There was no doubt his brother was disturbed by the idea. Virgil still hadn’t managed to speak to him. Gordon hadn’t let him apologise for literally dying on him.

So much pain. All because of him.

Perhaps John had it right.

Don’t be stupid.

Virgil closed his eyes.

None of this is your fault. You know that. Stop this self destructive train of thought and focus. I need you to help save my father.

I’m sorry.

Don’t be sorry, just don’t do it.

Easier said than done.

Please, Uncle.

A sigh. She was right. This crap was getting him nowhere. He opened his eyes to find both Scott and Brains staring at him. He ignored them.

Tired voice. “So how are we doing this?”

“P-Please t-take off your shirt and lie on the b-bed.”

He did as he was asked, throwing off his shoes as well. The mattress was rather firm, a legacy of Gordon’s back injuries.

Scott lent over and began attaching the pads of a cardiomonitor to his chest. “Is that really necessary?” They were going to hurt like a bitch to come off.

“You bet your ass they are. Just like the EEG.”

“Really?” His hair had barely recovered from the last time.

“Really.” That was not the ghost of a smile on his brother’s face. No, not at all.

Damnit.

It seemed to take ages, probably because it did, but eventually he had stickers and plasters all over him aimed at monitoring his health. John was equally decorated, and as they lay him beside Virgil, it was hard to prevent tangles.

Virgil took his long and lanky little brother into his arms, dismayed at how frail he felt. He lay John’s head on his shoulder, and Scott arranged those long limbs as gently as possible, wrapping him around Virgil.

“Are you comfortable?” Scott’s eyes were filled with concern.

“I’m okay.” He wriggled a moment. He was going to have to hold this position for a while. “Tie us up.” A forced smile.

“Are you sure you don’t want a sedative?”

“No. I-I need to be here for them.”

Under the worry there was sadness in his brother’s eyes. Barely whispered. “Okay.” A hand brushed his shoulder.

Virgil had one arm wrapped around his little brother. He placed the other protectively across his cheek and neck as Scott brought the straps across their bodies, securing them tightly together. It was rather a confronting position. Strapped to his brother and strapped to the bed.

John hadn’t twitched through the entire procedure.

God, he hoped this worked.

“Are we ready?”

“W-we’re r-ready.”

-o-o-o-

John wove code like a weaver wove cloth, but unlike the weaver, John’s code was stronger than synthsteel.  He first built the framework, impregnating it in TB5’s superstructure. Then, with the delicacy of a spider spinning its web, he interconnected the network of spars with layer upon layer of firewall.

Nothing was getting into Thunderbird Five.

Nothing was getting to his brother.

Nothing.

-o-o-o-

Eos was nervous.

And not a little scared.

She watched from above as they strapped her father and uncle together. It hurt to see. Her father was so sickly looking and Virgil...she hated to put him through even more after all he had suffered already.

But her father needed her.

Virgil closed his eyes.

Eos.

She hesitated.

Please, Eos, he needs you.

I know. This will likely be uncomfortable.

Nothing new there. His tone was dry. C’mon, Eos, anticipation hurts almost as much.

I’m sorry.

I know.

She reached out and connected with the interface. She slipped smoothly into her uncle’s mind. He was calm, though resigned, and she was sad to see it, but then beyond it all was a spark of hope. The same hope that had sustained him through the past months. Despite everything he was he was still trying.

She embraced him with her whole self. Thank you, Virgil.

Half a smile. He’s my little brother, Eos. Now go to him.

She navigated the maze of her uncle’s mind. She had never travelled this deep. She darted from the heart of his soul, past his primitive to his central conduit. Beyond lay his body’s electrical system.

Again with the hesitation.

Go!

He was behind her.

And his love and support radiated out to surround her.

She reached out for her father.

-o-o-o-

A flicker of pain passed over Virgil’s face.

“Virg?”

Whispered.“Burns.” His brother’s eyes were still closed, but his brow furrowed.

Another flicker and he screwed his eyes tight. “Ow.”

“I-it is as ex-expected. His n-nerves are not designed to take the l-larger current.”

“Eos said it wouldn’t hurt him.”

“It is un-unlikely it will do any p-permanent damage, but I doubt it w-will be p-pleasant.”

“Can we give him a painkiller?”

“No!” Virgil didn’t shout, but his choice was clear. “I-I’ll be fine.”

Scott grit his teeth. C’mon Eos, find John and get this over with.

-o-o-o-

Eos spread herself out across a range of nerve endings, each leading to skin in contact with her father’s face.

She could feel Virgil’s pain and it hurt her to hurt him. She had to be fast. She built up a charge strong enough to bridge the gap.

And jumped.

-o-o-o-

John felt it the moment it made contact.

It hurt him.

So you think you can attack us again, do you?

He flexed his shoulders. Think again.

The code flew from his fingertips, the firewalls flared, he tuned the anti-viral for the incoming invader and deployed his own special kind of shielding.

Nothing was getting through.

-o-o-o-

Her father felt different to her uncle.

Where Virgil was blue flame, John was blue ice. Strong, still, and, she frowned, ominous.

She rode his network as fast and as delicately as she could, reaching for his mind.

And was slapped away.

Eos stumbled back, tripping nerve pathways. Father!

She reached for his main conduit again. She had to get into his mind.

A solid wall of ice slammed into her, its cold wrapping around her and leeching her strength.

No!

She lit up, her hands bursting into flame. Beyond everything she felt Virgil flinch. She was drawing more power.

But she had to get through!

Father!

She melted the ice, powering herself forward. Dodging another slap, she slipped into her father’s mind.

It was a wasteland.

Everything was burnt.

Oh, Father, dear John.

An avalanche of ice swept towards her. No!

She threw up a shield of fire, set herself and let it rush over her. It roared, it screamed. In her father’s voice.

John!

The ice kept coming. She pushed forward. Please, Father!

Her flame flickered so she drew more and pushed forward.

And suddenly she was spinning amongst stars.

They wheeled.

Around and around.

It took her more than a moment to orient herself. Where?

Of course.

Thunderbird Five hung amongst those stars. It beckoned her.

Until a bolt of brilliant blue shot out and cut into her.

-o-o-o-

Virgil cried out in pain, his teeth slamming shut, gritting tight.

“What the hell is going on?” Scott stared at his brothers in fear.

“E-Eos is drawing m-more p-power than she sh-should be.”

Both cardiomonitors were recording elevated heartbeats. Virgil’s EEG was jumping all over the map. John’s was spiking erratically.

“John-John is f-fighting her.” It was gasped out. Virgil’s eyes were open and gazing about wildly. Scott moved into his line of sight and those brown eyes latched onto him like he was a lifeline. “He’s fighting her.”

“Why?”

“She doesn’t know.” He blinked. “He’s hurt her.” His eyes screwed shut again.

“Call her back.”

Those eyes flung open again. “N-no! W-we have to do this.” And he flinched again.

“Virgil.”

“No. John needs us.”

“V-“

“No!”

-o-o-o-

Eos staggered, her code shrinking back, her own defences absorbing the injury and working to repair.

So he wanted to play it that way.

If there was one thing she knew how to do, it was play.

Very well, Father, you asked for it.

She dove for TB5, weaving in and out of the oncoming bolts of blue. She flipped, she rolled, she spun. She flexed her code and the illusion of a ship formed around her. At first it was green, big, bulky and roaring, but moments later it morphed into the larger red Thunderbird Three. She needed to dock and TB3 could do it.

Flipping again, she spun the ship around thrusters firing, flinging herself sideways, dodging yet another bolt bringing her in range of dock. An echo of the youngest brother bounced through her processors as she drew on docking procedures and slammed TB3 home into her docking ports.

Level One complete.

-o-o-o-

John cursed.

The invader had managed to dock. How the hell? Did it have his little brother? A chill ran up his spine. Please no.

He hit the comms. “Alan? Alan, do you read?”

Father?

“Eos? Where have you been? We are under attack.”

No, John. You’ve been ill. It is not an attack, it is me.

“Where is Alan?”

The youngest is on the island waiting for you to wake.

Wake? But he was awake. He was here, repelling invaders. Invaders who could take on any guise. Who could take Virgil.

“No. You can not have him.”

Have who?

“You will not hurt my brother again.”

Three sections of code, he spun the program and let it loose.

-o-o-o-

She saw it coming, but there was no way to avoid it.

The program latched onto her and began to eat code. Eos gasped, hurriedly attempting to shove it off. It burned.

She threw up fast built shielding and it slowed, but it didn’t stop.

Please, Father!

He didn’t answer her.

She grabbed the airlock, letting go of the illusion of TB3. Firewalls flared at her touch, but she clung on anyway.

A flash of determination and Virgil’s exo-suit wrapped around her, fully equipped for firefighting.

She busted her way in, spraying foam as she went.

Father, please!

Sentry programs lined up in rows like skittles. Spinning, she ploughed into them, her claws catching, corrupting them one by one.

The next airlock flared up, roaring flame. She froze it solid and broke through the fragile remains.

And she was in the command module.

Her father floated amongst holograms.

The exo-suit disappeared, her tattered white dress remained, marred only by the program still gnawing on her side. Father!

“Get out.”

No, Father, you need help.

“I asked you to leave. You can not have him. You can not hurt any more of my family.”

I’m not here to hurt you, Father. Please listen. She was hurting. Virgil was hurting. Everyone was hurting. Please, John.

He advanced on her and Eos took a step back. She couldn’t hurt him here. No...

He loomed over her, one hand weaving code like a magician. The program already attached to her dug in harder and she whimpered. He raised his hand...

And a blinding flash of blue-white light struck like lightning, flinging him across the room. A presence hung in the air, massive and overwhelming. For God’s sake, John, she’s your daughter!

John’s eyes widened, his jaw dropping in shock. “Virgil?!”

The presence flickered and was suddenly gone. Eos folded in on herself as she felt Virgil slip unconscious, his limits reached.

A pair of green eyes, so similar to her own were staring at her. Eos?!

Yes, Father. The program continued to chew. she curled up in pain.

Oh my god. And he was suddenly there. Gentle hands, a magician with code, her creator. The attacking program was wiped from existence, her code rewoven, corrected, the white of her dress once again glowing.

With a gasp, he wrapped her in his arms, his blue ice melting away to reveal a soft amber flame, warm, yet fragile.

She clung to him.

Thunderbird Five faded around them to be replaced by a mountain peak on Tracy Island. A telescope, a night sky. A gentle breeze.

I am so sorry, Eos. His head was bowed.

She reached up and touched his cheek. We don’t have much time, Father. This is a great strain on both me and Virgil.

Virgil? How?

He lies with you now, enabling me to reach you. You have been unconscious for over a week. Your brothers have been frantic. Please come back to us.

He was staring at her.

She held out her hand.

He took it.

-o-o-o-

He woke in his big brother’s limp embrace.

Straps held him down and he couldn’t see properly. His first instinct was to struggle.

“Father, you are safe. Please do not fight anymore.” Eos’ voice over the comms.

Virgil’s chest rose and fell, his breath soft in John’s hair.

“John?” Scott. “You with us?”

“Yes.” His voice was raspy with disuse. “What happened?”

“You can release them now, Eldest.” Eos again.

The straps were removed. John felt as weak as a kitten, his head was pounding, his face and neck stung. He frowned at his bandaged hands. What? He struggled to an elbow, desperate to see Virgil’s face. His brother was decked out in EEG tabs, his eyes closed, tear tracks on his cheeks.

He reached up a shaky, bandaged hand and gently brushed away the moisture. “Is he okay?”

Eos answered. “He’s sleeping. He will be well.”

John lowered himself back down, his head once again resting on his brother’s shoulder. He found himself trembling.

A warmed blanket was suddenly draped over them both.

“John?”

Scott was crouching down to his eye level on the other side of the bed. “Are you okay?”

John swallowed. “No. What happened?”

So Scott told him of the accident and Eos’ and Virgil’s plan to find him. “Apparently they succeeded.” His biggest brother offered him a small smile, his relief plain.

John didn’t know what to think. He only remembered fear and the need to protect. He had hurt Eos, and Virgil...

The memory of that blue-white lightning strike, the power, the presence, the determination.

“Father?”

The petite green-eyed, red-haired girl in the dancing white dress, so young, so vibrant, holding out her hand...his daughter. A sad smile. “Eos, you are so beautiful.”

And he let his eyes close, ever so tired, Virgil’s rhythmic breathing lulled him to sleep.

-o-o-o-

Virgil woke with a headache.

But that was nothing new, so he ignored it. The burning sting in his neck and chest, now that was new.

Uncle?

Eos?

How do you feel?

Uh?

There was musical laughter. Your usual morning self then?

He grunted.

She laughed at him again.

As a sign of how vague he was, it was only then he realised he wasn’t alone in the bed.

He startled, not remembering...

Virgil, John is sleeping in the bed with you.

John? John! And it all hit him.

Is he okay? He flung his eyes open only to find the room dim. There was hair in his nose.

We found him. He is simply asleep.

And he could feel him. The soft rise and fall of his ribs, his breath on his bare chest.

He shivered.

“Virgil?” Ever so quiet. Tentative.

Scott.

Turning his head, he found his big brother beside the bed, where, instinctively, he knew he would be. “Hey.” Ugh, raspy voice.

“How are you feeling?”

Virgil blinked. “Been better. Been worse.” He forced a small smile. “How is John?”

“He woke. He’s with us.” Scott reached for Virgil’s hand and clasped it gently. “Thank you, Virgil.”

His smile stretched his face just that little more. “What are big brothers for?”

Scott squeezed his hand.

-o-o-o-

It took several weeks for John to get back on his feet and back up to par. Virgil was back in Thunderbird Two’s hangar the very next day, much to both Scott and Eos’ annoyance. The sting in his neck and chest was tolerable and eventually went away, the red trace lines faded until there was no sign Eos had ever been there.

The missing hair on his chest and head was a completely different grumbling matter.

He visited John regularly and helped with his rehab. He did find it a little unnerving when John looked at him for the first time, something like amazement on his face. But his brother didn’t ask, or comment, and for that Virgil was thankful.

As for what he had seen when he desperately followed Eos...the intricate web of blue ice and amber flame had been beautiful. Precise, elegantly formed, so John.

Cobalt blue, cadmium orange and yellow, Payne’s grey, the colours flared under his paintbrush. They glowed, but only a hint of the reality.

He hung the painting on his bedroom wall. He never explained it to anyone.

The evening John asked him to join him on Observatory Peak, he knew his brother had some things to say. It was also a sign of his brother’s full recovery, as the Peak was quite a hike.

The sky was clear when they finally reached the point. Virgil hadn’t been up here in years, and it brought back memories of the first weeks on the island, John eagerly setting up his telescope, making this his place as Virgil helped him lug the equipment up the hill.

John stood staring at the sky. The sun was just below the horizon, the stars not completely visible yet. His brother had tackled the problem of patchy hair by shearing most of it off, the blond gone, the red, short and slowly growing back. It wasn’t a great look. If anything it emphasised the weight he still needed to regain, but the blond was gone and the hint of his familiar flick was just starting to curl above his forehead.

“Thank you, Virgil.”

Virgil snorted. “Not needed and you know it.”

“But I needed to say it.”

Virgil arched an eyebrow.

John didn’t acknowledge it, his gaze drifting back to the stars. The Southern Cross appeared low on the horizon. “She is beautiful.”

Quietly. “Yes, she is.”

“Has she always appeared like that to you?”

Virgil blinked. “Like what?”

“A young red-haired girl.”

“Of course. She has your eyes.” Virgil smiled.

“But she was simply a gaming program.”

Virgil stared at his brother, his words aggravating even though he knew John didn’t mean it quite that way. “She is your daughter.”

John looked away. “I know.” He bit his lip. “Intellectually, I know, but to see her...” His eyes were dark in the dim light as they sought Virgil’s. “I think, despite everything, I’m envious of you.”

Virgil startled, but then set into a glare. “Don’t be.”

John turned to him, and to Virgil’s surprise, grabbed his arms. His normally non-tactile brother, reaching out to him. “I was able to hug her, Virgil. I touched her. For the first and only time. Do you have any idea how that felt? She’s my daughter.”

Eos swelled in the back of his mind. The evening breeze caught his hair and tousled it. Without hesitation, Virgil drew his brother into a tight hug, ignoring John’s instinctive, self protecting flinch and buried his face in his neck.

He closed his eyes and held on tight as Eos rushed past him. The flush of heat as she embraced her father for just the most fleeting of moments was enough to wash away the chill in the air.

As John gasped, Virgil realised that perhaps there were a few more positives to his situation than he had thought.

Perhaps it was worth the pain, in some small way, if a lonely man could hug his daughter.

-o-o-o-

FIN.