#thunderbirds are go fanfic

[lisas-song]

FabFiveFeb - Scott

Author's note: Been a while since I've uploaded anything, so I hope the format is okay. Also, this may be the shortest fic I've ever written!

*******

Wake-Up Call

Scott Tracy woke slowly, letting his consciousness take its time coming back online. He vaguely remembered tumbling into his bed the night before, and a brief review of sore muscles and assorted bruises told him that staying there might be a good idea.

International Rescue had had a rough week. Back-to-back rescues had kept them running all over the globe, until Scott and Virgil had both maxxed out their flight hours, and Gordon was right behind them. No one argued when Grandma shut them down for 48 hours. Scott even allowed himself to be forced into postponing his usual early morning run.

Now, he lay on his side, watching the sunlight filter through the curtains from the balcony and wondered what had awakened him from his first lazy morning in far too long. The waves down on the beach and the various tropical birds that shared Tracy Island were too familiar to have roused him. He did have a vague sense that something was going on today that he should be remembering, but his brain wasn't fully in gear yet. A TI meeting? He didn't think so. There were reports to be complete for both the family businesses; but again, that was too commonplace to stand out.

He was just debating whether a shower might wake him up a bit when he heard it: soft footsteps, a rustling sound … someone was in his room, behind him, blocking the door. Instincts - learned at a time and place far behind and yet ever with him - had him freezing in place even as his brain protested that he was safe at home.

And then came the whispering.

"Shh!"

"You shh!"

"I'm not the one tripping over those flippers you call feet!"

Instantly, Scott knew exactly who was there, and exactly what was about to happen. He felt someone bump his mattress, and then they were right behind him. He readied himself as a voice hissed:

"On my count - five, four, thr-"

Taking full advantage of the element of surprise, Scott flung himself over with a roar, wrapping one arm around each of his startled, shrieking youngest brothers and dragging them onto the bed with him. There followed a minute or two of wrestling - and laughing - and then three Tracys lay breathless across Scott's mattress.

"See," Gordon huffed after a moment, "I knew you couldn't keep quiet."

"Me?!" Alan squawked indignantly.

"Guys," Scott interrupted before things could get out-of-hand again, "Maybe we should leave the stealthy stuff to Kayo, huh?"

"Fair," Gordon conceded as he sat up. "Now come on. John's down, and he's making pancakes."

"Yeah," Alan added. He scrambled to his feet and grabbed Scott by one arm, pulling him along. "Happy birthday, Scotty."

[melmac78]

Here is chapter 7 of the USS Lexington story.

Next few chapters will have some heavy rewrites, and again, take some time due to real life changes.

Part 6 - which will lead to previous chapters.

Photo at top is a view on the Lexington today facing the Gulf of Mexico. Others are the crew quarters I have Jacob in and the entrance and a hallway on the fo’c’sle (forecastle) tour.

•••••••

It was quiet aboard the Lexington, except for the few campers who decided to chat and tell stories.

A few gentle shushes from their leaders and fellow campers eventually had the impact needed and everyone fell asleep.

That is except one person who was on fire watch at that time - a person who observed the Tracy family’s health scare from a distance.

After thinking of events of the entire day, especially seeing others show similar symptoms, they made a call to a colleague.

The other person was horrified to hear the results of the test the night before, but for several reasons.

So, time to cover it up… and soon before the truth was out.

••••••

It was about 3 a.m. when a large mechanical arm silently slipped up the side of the Lexington, between the hull and the dock and severed the heavy iron that secured the aft section to the dock.

The sound was covered by the ocean waves, and with and no vibration, no one sleeping on board realized something was happening.

Stabilizers were put in place to prevent the ship from having issues while moving.

The mechanical arm then slipped back underwater when the old aircraft carrier was free. If someone would have been standing on the beach or looking out the bungalows or hotels nearby, they would have thought the blue ghost would have slipped its hackles and drifted away from the dock under its own power.

But everyone that night was inside, sleeping or partying or too drunk to care to look at the new moon sky.

Under the water's surface was what was really going on - and it wasn't anything supernatural.

••••••

Virgil who was one of the few below deck still awake and keeping a close eye on John, but was more concerned what was going on below decks in their sleeping berth.

The astronaut was sleeping fitfully, moaning and mumbling in his sleep. John had been sleeping most of the evening after his collapse, and in waking periods Virgil had been able to get him to drink some fluids to rehydrate.

The cooler air had helped lower his temperature further earlier in the evening, but even then Virgil was as unsure if the incident was simply a combination of the past few days.

Hearing an odd mumble, the medic chuckled. "Easy there bro - we helped the Doctor melt the Autons remember?" he said gently when John mumbled something about the animatronic figures in the captain's quarters attacking him. "You're going to be OK."

If John could hear him he'd corrected Virgil on the inaccuracy of the "Doctor Who" comment. But he instead turned onto his side.

Checking his watch to confirm it was time to do a check, the medic quietly took the thermometer from the kit and ran it across John's forehead.

Seeing the results, Virgil was surprised to see the sleeping man’s temperature had actually gone up a small tick in spite of the cold air in the berth.

"That can't be right..." He said, and changed the cover and ran it against his own forehead. "98.6 - normal, so it's not the thermometer," he said, frowning as he looked at John and took his pulse. The man sat back and closed his eyes to rest.

He was thankful that John had been drinking fluids, but if it didn’t help and John's temperature kept hovering in that range, Virgil would have to take him to the doctor.

Meanwhile, with the huge, dark sub towed the Lexington silently and at speed, almost all night. Just before daylight, the machine very gradually slowed to a stop.

There were three more soft pinging sounds underwater as the sub released the aircraft carrier and sailed away.

••••••

Morning arrived at the USS Lexington.

Jacob was in his personal crew quarters getting ready to call reveille and start his and the campers’ day.

He heard the strange noises, cocking his head sideways. Not hearing another sound, he ran a comb through his hair.

Virgil also heard them below deck and, concerned, quietly turned on the radio they were provided to update on John’s condition. "Jacob, this is Virgil. What was that sound?"

The older man frowned, not thinking at first the sound was anything that would wake those aboard.

“I'm not sure. Never heard anything like it, but the Lady Lex does like to keep me on my toes with new sounds.”

Sounds like my girl TB2,” said Virgil, chuckling,

Jacob chortled and looked at his watch. “I'm heading up to the flight deck so I’ll check," he said. "How's your brother?"

Virgil ran the thermometer across his brother’s forehead and frowned. “He slept fitfully, and his fever is still up - about 101.4. I think it's time to have John go to the doctor just to be sure it isn’t the flu or something," he said, then heard another loud knocking sound in the quarters.

“That would be rough… poor guy can’t get a break,” said Jacob.

“Tell me about it. He almost missed this because of a bad re-entry,” said Virgil as there was another, this time slightly haunting creak in the berth.

The artist sighed softly. “I hope that sound was not a symptom of a problem with the ship - but if you want them to, my other brothers will be glad to help with it,” he said, hearing Scott stir slightly.

“I think we can manage, but appreciate the offer, said Jacob. “Do you need me to call a car when you get your brother up?”

“No… I’ll contact Ka… Tanusha. She’s staying at the Omni and can give us a lift,” Virgil noted, as he watched John sleep a bit more. “I'm going to take John to the hospital’s clinic at daylight."

"10-4 Tracy, I'll let you know what I find,” said Jacob as he finished climbing to the flight deck from the Fo’c’sle tour, where the Scouts were resting in the crew quarters.

He started walking to the offices, passing by a viewing port - long ago a gun turret.

Jacob took a quick glance to welcome Corpus Christi a new day and continued.

A few steps later, he halted in his tracks, blinked twice, and backtracked.

Looking out again - there was no aquarium, no tourist trap beach store, no hotels, no bungalows, no Corpus Christi bridge and giant overpass.

No city.

Nothing that the permanent - as in the Lady Lex cannot run on her own power anymore - exhibit should be seeing.

“Wait a second," he said and quickly bolted toward the main entrance.

He had to quickly stop himself by holding on to the - thankfully sturdy - admission booth to keep his inertia from having him take a swim.

Jacob quickly recovered, and could only stand with his mouth open for a moment when he saw that the dock, and turning, any spot of land at all, in any direction was gone.

“What the?…”

He let the curse fall from his lips, and turned and ran to the women’s head entrance to get to the Tracy quarters

He used the sleeves of his shirt to protect him from rope burns as he slid down the ladders and burst into the Tracy family berth.

The noise started everyone in the room except John. The astronaut stirred, making a sarcastic comment about EOS throwing bagels into the wall, before returning to slumber.

The others turned to the shop leader. "What is it Jacob?" asked Scott, who had finished pulling his shirt over his head.

The man paled, concerning Scott. “What’s wrong?”

The older man ran his hand over his eyes. “You're not going to believe this - I can't believe it, and just saw it!"

The IR pilot grew concerned as the man's pallor got whiter and staggered.

Scott grasped the ill man’s upper arm for support. "Jacob - what - happened?" He ordered, hoping it would get the other’s attention.

It had the desired effect. "We're … we’re at sea“ Jacob stammered.

“Yes, we’re on…”

“No you don’t understand - *at* Scott. She’s adrift: The dock is nowhere in sight!"

"How?" said Scott as Virgil stood up.

"I don't know - it shouldn't have happened!" said Jacob. “The Lexington can’t move on her own power, hasn’t for decades. But there’s no land to be seen for miles.”

The medic however started thinking about his ill brother, and turned to his older brother.

Before they could speak, Jacob’s radio squawked. "Jacob," a male voice called urgently.

The group frowned at the tone… which had a faint note of panic in it.

Jacob lifted the mic to his mouth "Go for Jacob,” he said.

"A half dozen of the Boy Scouts have high fevers this morning and are too weak to get out of their bunks," he said.

"Any other symptoms David?" Jacob said.

"None we’ve seen, and no vomiting - yet anyway," was the response.

Scott looked at his brothers. "Suit up with helmets. We may need to go help them," he said quietly. The suits would provide at least some protection from the illness.

Unless they were all already infected… a concern that had not gone unnoticed.

Another call came through. "Jacob, this is Chrissy," another female voice called.

By then Gordon and Alan were up and dressed in their IR uniforms, listening quietly with worried looks on their faces.

"Go for Jacob, Chrissy."

"Two of the college students are sick with fevers. Another says she isn’t feeling well and went back to bed instead of going to mess. Tristan is checking the men’s group.”

Virgil's eyes narrowed. "We need to find out the cause - and get more medical help than we can provide."

The IR pilot nodded. "We'll go to the comms center and see what's going on." he finished pulling his IR uniform on and collected his helmet.

Alan and Gordon were soon following Scott at a fast jog through the corridors and climbing down ladders until arriving at the comms and control room.

"No…" Scott tapped his sash. "Thunderbird 5 - EOS, can you read us?" he said, frowning when the childlike voice didn't speak, even to tease them. “Damn.”

“Who’s EOS? How will it…”

“Nevermind,” Scott interrupted. “Jacob, do the communication systems still work on the Lexington?"

"Yes… it's been a while but we do upkeep on them so we can show the kiddos how they communicated in the 1900s," said Jacob.

They shoved aside the mannequin to get to the controls, testing them. After several toes using codes he knew from his WASP days, Gordon punched his fist into the table. "Radar is scrambled!"

“What about your nautical equipment,” asked Alan, knowing Gordon programmed the wristband with WASP permission, an emergency beacon in case he was hurt underwater,

The aquanaut looked at his wrist and tried to use it to use it, then scan the nautical coordinates. He frowned at what he saw - or didn't see.

"Nothing. My own scanner can't even tell us the Lexington's position," Gordon said, shaking his wrist to see if he could get it to work.

"And with the comms down, we can't contact Five to get a location." Scott added, and tapped the IR logo on his sash just on the chance it worked. "Kayo, come in - were in trouble!"

After a moment, hearing no answer, Gordon added, "Now I know how a message in a bottle feels," he quipped drolly.

Before Scott could chide Gordon, the three paused when they heard Virgil's voice. “Scott! I just took John's hourly temperature and it's up,” said Virgil. “101.6.”

“Even in those fridge quarters?” queried the eldest.

“FAB. I’ll do what I can to get it to lower, but he’s going to need more help than I can give if it doesn’t break,” added the younger man.

“Keep us apprised Virgil,” said Scott, who turned off the communicator to save power.

Alan sighed in some relief. “At least our comms work short range - Scott, should we go try to help with the others who are ill?"

"Probably, but we need Kayo. John became ill first - and everyone is getting sick fast."

"And we don't know how - or how we’re at sea" Gordon said.

"I know who, two words," said Alan. "The Hood!"

"While that's your normal answer, but I agree it’s possible," Scott agreed. "But the Lexington is a historical artifact - not worth the kind of money that usually attracts the Hood."

"We do have Thunderbird Four on board though,” Gordon pointed out.

"You’re right. somehow he may have found out that we would be here." Scott said, thoughtfully, as he tried the machines one more time.

Sighing in frustration, he turned to his brothers. “We can work on getting Kayo. We need to help the others who are ill," he said, shifting into his command voice.

The trio nodded, and getting an update from Virgil, headed to the wardroom, where the stricken had been moved.

No one missed he fact it was - again, a makeshift quarantine area.

John however remained in their berth under Virgil's care, partially in case he started talking about International Rescue secrets in his delirium.

Those who weren't sick worked to get the feverish passengers cooled down, placing cool washcloths on foreheads and other cooling methods.

A few used a fan, but the power was conserved where possible as a precaution. Scott had Gordon and Alan work on communications and see if they could get bearings to where they were.

Meanwhile Jacob talked with Virgil, Chrissy and David in their respective areas and made the decision the A/C would be focused on the wardroom and berthing quarters, hoping to bring temperatures down.

•••••••

About an hour later, once all quarantine and safety precautions were implemented, Scott called the youngest duo on his comm baldric. "Gordon, Alan - can you both hear me?"

"FAB, Scott," Gordon answered.

"Are you both still feeling well?"

Gordon nodded curtly, even though the eldest couldn’t see it. "Yes Scott, how about you and Virgil?"

"I’m FAB," said Virgil bluntly, saying it as an abbreviated version of fabulous.

"Do you need us back in the wardroom?" asked Alan.

"Not now - how are you doing with the location and comms?”

Alan glanced at Gordon.

The fish loving brother sighed, a faint growl tainting it. "Not good news. The interference is all around us - but inside the ship is partially protected - it is why we can communicate," said Gordon. "Alan went out on the flight deck to test it - I couldn't hear him. Not sure where we are either except sea all around.”

Scott frowned. "So no idea how to stop this?"

"Not to stop it - but I have an idea," began Gordon. "I'm launching in Thunderbird Four to get help.”

Alan stepped in front of his brother, "No Gordon! You can't launch there is no guarantee that Four will operate as expected,” he said, rubbing his eyes as though fatigued.

“Plus you could be going the wrong direction,” added Scott.

“I can try…”

“But, the Hood is probably waiting close by to try and catch any of us alone and trying to go for help,” said Alan.

Gordon sighed in frustration, but Alan was right.

Just not quite as he expected.

[hebuiltfive]

The Alaskan Train Crash: The Letter

Fresh off the mission, Scott joins Jeff in the family's private office. Apparently it would seem more mysterious are afoot.

Words: 2,450

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Additional Tags: Artist!Virgil, Post season three, slight AU, Mentions of hospitals, Mentions of Blood, description of train crash, Light Angst

Series: Part 1 of The Long Game

Notes: Disclaimers as usual: I own nothing but the words to this particular story.

We're finally at the end of part one! I finalised this chapter back in May, so posting it now just feels like it's been such a long time. Anyone who read the short I posted for Scott's birthday back in April (called Thirty) might remember a certain letter being mentioned. It's finally made it's appearance here! But what does it all mean? What new situation will International Rescue be thrust into next?

The next part and subsequent chapters are very exciting, even if I do so say myself, so I hope you stick around. I will be posting it very, very soon!

Read it below or on AO3 here.

Part 1:

Chapter 1 found here on Tumblr, or here on AO3.

Chapter 2 found here on Tumblr, or here on AO3.

Chapter 3 found here on Tumblr, or here on A03.

Dawn had only just broken over the island. Usually Scott would have been out at first light, getting in his daily exercises before the rest of his brothers woke. Gordon occasionally joined him and together they watched as tropic birds swooped around the trees, their cries echoed throughout the blues and pinks of the early morning sky. There was nothing more beautiful in the world than a sunrise, Scott often thought, but today he was still indoors, sitting in his father’s office whilst he waited for him to arrive. From the window ahead of him, the rising sun cast bright golden hues of daylight into the otherwise darkened space. 

Though he was naturally well kept and tidy, it was Jeff’s years in the United States Air Force that helped hone his trait. His office was spotless. Everything was organised. Bookshelves were lined with all sorts of books from aerospace dynamics to a few older treasures, such as Torchy, Virgil’s favourite childhood story, that he kept for memories sake. 

Scott sat in one of the plush leather armchairs that sat in front of his father’s grand wooden desk. Compared to the rest of the villa, Jeff’s private office was much more ornate. Whilst the villa had been built with the technological advances of the late 21st century, the private office felt more in keeping with the late 19th century. With the dark wood-panelled walls, and furniture made of wood rather than plastic or glass, Scott never understood why Jeff had designed the space in such an un-Jeff-like way.  His father had always been about advancements and up-to-date designs. It was a question Scott had always wanted to ask his father and now perhaps, with him home again, he might finally be able to ask why.

The thought was thrown from his mind when Jeff finally appeared in the doorway of the office. He entered in a hurry and, with both of his hands full, each holding a plate, he closed the door behind him with a soft kick of his foot. Jeff set one of the plates down in front of Scott. The smell had travelled to him long before he saw what was on the dish. Pastries. Fresh looking pastries, that smelt… unusually good. He cautiously took in the sight of the food in front of him as his father took the seat on the other side of the table.

Noticing Scott’s apprehensive look, Jeff quickly eased his worries. “Don’t worry, it’s edible. Do not tell your grandmother but I got Virgil to get these a few days ago. They’re the last in the batch. I figured you’d be wanting some breakfast too.”

His stomach grumbled as Jeff spoke and Scott managed to hide his smile. One bite of the sweet pastry wrap and he was in heaven. Bless Grandma Tracy, but her cooking skills were in dire need of improvement. 

Together Jeff and Scott sat in silence, munching away on their food. The seconds-hand on Jeff’s ornate mantle piece clock ticked away in the quiet. 

“What’s with the Lord of the Manor vibes? I’ve always wondered why it’s so… old in here, but never found the time to ask.” Scott queried in between mouthfuls.

Jeff quirked a brow in question, glancing around the decadent room when his son gestured. He placed his pastry back onto the plate in front of him and wiped his hands free of the flaky crumbs. “When I was a little boy, Pa and Ma used to take me to visit my old grandaddy. He had an office that was as grand as anything.” Jeff chuckled fondly as he remembered. “That space was where I first began to draft up the ideas that were to take Tracy Industries into the future. That space was where I took my call from the Space Agency to be the first man on Mars. That space held so many memories that I had it implemented into the designs when I built this place. In a way, it’s an homage to your great-granddaddy, but it also acts as a reminder, to myself, of some of my most monumental accomplishments.”

“That’s…” Scott trailed off and smiled as he took in his father’s words. He could tell there were emotions that the memories had brought forward. As Jeff took another bite of his pastry, there was a glint in his eye. Family had a way of bringing out the best in people, but occasionally it could also create the most haunting of feelings. Memories with loved ones of times long since passed always remained cherished, but those same memories could also sometimes sting. Bittersweet, that was what memories of family long gone were. Reminders of what someone had, long ago. Scott thought back to those years when Jeff was absent, of the many memories he had of his father that often crossed his mind. None of them had really acknowledged it in the months following the Zero XL mission, but they had been so close to losing their father forever, and they wouldn’t have been any the wiser. Had the Calypso not been on a crash course with the earth, had Brayman not been saved from the watery depths, had they not received Jeff’s SOS…

Scott was tired and his brain was wandering through thoughts he didn’t want to think about again. Quickly he finished up his own pastry and decided to change the subject. “You wanted to talk? What’s new to report, dad?”

Jeff hesitated, and that single act alone had Scott panicked. “I’m heading into the hospital later on today.”

Oh.

Scott tried to keep his face neutral. “Everything alright?”

“Fine, they just want to do some more tests. You know how doctors are, always concerned about something.” Jeff chuckled but the smile didn’t meet his eyes. “I’m leaving at noon with Grandma.”

“How long will they keep you this time?” 

He was trying to not sound irritated, but Jeff seemed to pick up on it anyway.

“Scott, I’m fine…”

“If you were fine, dad, you wouldn’t be needing half a dozen hospital trips every month!” He finally snapped. Not only was Scott physically exhausted from being awake for over twenty-four hours now, but he was tired of having to make the same argument over and over again. Why was no-one listening to him? Why would no-one take his side? Jeff needed to rest, to recover. Despite his father’s constant reassurances, Scott knew that he was nowhere near fine. He knew it wasn’t an easy fact to tackle, but he felt like he was the only one who even dared suggest it. It made him angry, yes, but also so worn out. 

“Son…” Jeff began, but was abruptly cut off by Scott, who had since risen from his chair.

“No, dad! You need to listen to me, okay? You need to start being more honest with how you’re feeling and you need to take a break. All these stresses and strains from work aren’t going to aid in your healing and—”

“Sit down.” Jeff didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to. Scott recognised the commander’s tone in his words.

He immediately stopped his rant and did as his father ordered. He didn’t care if he came across as rude or impolite. It wasn’t disrespectful to someone if it was the truth, and he’d stand by that if his father accused him of being such.

But to his surprise, Jeff didn’t say anything of the sort. Instead, a look of calm reflectiveness crossed his features and his father sighed. “Look, son, I know where you’re coming from, but the truth is I have to keep busy to stop myself from worrying over whatever the hell is happening to my body.”

Scott could understand that. When they had thought Jeff dead, Scott found himself often burying in International Rescue work. The distraction not only helped him from going insane, but it also had the added bonus of helping other people around them.

“Trust me when I tell you,” Jeff continued, “that I only do what I feel I’m capable of, Scott. You don’t need to worry about me overdoing things. I know my limits.”

An understanding passed between father and son, then. Eight years in the Oort Cloud hadn’t lessened Scott’s trust in his father. He wasn’t about to start letting something break that bond now.

Jeff cleared his throat. “There’s something else I need to talk to you about as well.” He bent down to reach the bottom drawer of his desk and, for a moment, Scott could only see the top of his father’s grey head. How much greyer had he grown in his desolation? Scott could swear his father had more colour to his hair before he’d been stranded…

“You can’t mention this to the others.” Jeff reappeared and in his hand was a crisp envelope. It was whiter than snow, suggesting to Scott that it wasn’t the kind of old, yellowing paper he was used to seeing from his father’s childhood. “I don’t want them to… panic.”

“I can keep a secret.” He was intrigued now. Scott took in the mysterious envelope. “Paper? Who uses paper these days?”

“Someone who doesn’t want to be easily traced, I’d imagine.” Jeff slid the envelope over the table toward his son and then leaned back into his chair. “Tell me what you think of the letter inside.”

Picking up the envelope, Scott peeled back the opening. He noted that it had already been opened, he assumed by his father, and pulled out the sheet of paper. It was equally as fresh as the envelope. The words were not printed on the paper but rather scrawled in black ink. Thankfully, it was still legible enough for Scott to read.

Mr. Tracy!

We hear the patriarch has finally returned home.

Some will be pleased. Some not so much.

We imagine some competitors will be glowing green with envy at the news.

July 8th. 

Fiftieth Floor. Vienna Plaza. New York.

Your old pal Shipman is having a party.

Dress for the Press, dear Tracy.

It will be a night that will go down in history.

Oh, and wondering who we are? Attend and all your questions will be answered.

Or don’t. We don’t control you yet.

Continue living in the dark if you so wish.

But things have changed oh-so-much since you left. It’s about time you joined the sport.

Trust us, you won't want to miss the fireworks.

Signed, deeply concerned citizens.

Scott turned the sheet over, but the message had indeed finished. He reread the note over twice more before slipping it back into the envelope and handing the whole thing back to Jeff. “A little dramatic, don’t you think? Who sent it?”

“I don’t know.” 

He could tell his father was just as curious as he was. Their previous heart-to-heart was a mere memory now as both their minds turned entirely to the puzzle the envelope presented. 

“It arrived on my desk back in Kansas. Marie found it this morning — I suppose it would be yesterday morning now — and she had it mailed over here for me. I sent a copy over to Penelope whilst you boys were out this evening. She’s usually good with this sort of thing but even she’s turning up blank at the moment.”

Scott’s fingers drummed rhythmically against the wood of his father’s desk. 

Jeff noticed and quirked a brow. “I’m assuming they mean Colin Shipman. What came of that guy whilst I was gone?” At his son’s quizzical look, he quickly clarified, “Well, last I heard of him he was struggling to sell his backwater business to even those who didn’t value safety and regulation.”

“He was shut down, a few years back now.” Scott confirmed with a nod. “His business was deemed unsafe by some new military outlet and was quickly forced to liquidate.”

“Well, Casey certainly had no time for unsafe—”

“No, it wasn’t the GDF who shut him down, dad. He’s actually just been granted a new contract with them. Exclusive.”

Jeff blinked. Scott knew exactly what he was thinking before he burst out, “Over Tracy Industries?”

“Apparently Casey’s concerns about Shipman weren’t heard, and the board were concerned about her ‘apparent favouritism’ with us. So far, according to Casey’s updates, he’s actually shown vast improvements in his business. He’s now going under Shipman Robotics last I heard.”

“What exactly is he doing for the GDF?” 

His father was suspicious, Scott could tell, but he could only shrug. “Supplying components for whatever projects the GDF are working on, I think. It’s all very hush-hush. Even Kayo can’t get a good look in. Details are only available to those in-the-know.”

There was a gentle knock on the door, and a head appeared in the crack. “Dad?”

Jeff quickly hid the envelope in the lapel of his jacket, his concerned features transforming into a warm smile. “Come in, son.”

Still bleary eyed from sleep, Alan padded into the office. His eyes crossed from Jeff to Scott. “Was I interrupting?”

“No.” It was Scott who answered. He stood from his seat as Alan made his way toward their father’s desk. “I was just leaving.” Scott ruffled his youngest brother’s hair. 

Alan made a whining sound and flapped his arms around in an attempt to shake Scott off. “Stop it!”

Scott chuckled, ceasing his actions, and turned back to his father with a knowing look. “I’ll try and speak to Penny later, see if she’s got anything. That date is fast approaching. I’ll see if I can clear my calendar for—”

“No-one is going to that event, Scott.” As though he’d forgotten Alan was present, Jeff went deadly serious once again. “Not until we know exactly what this is about.”

“What event?” Alan yawned, wanting in on whatever his father and brother were talking about.

“Nothing.” Scott tried to ruffle Alan’s hair again, but he was too slow. 

Alan dodged him and took a seat in the chair Scott had vacated. “Ha! Oh.” The change in position had highlighted the bags under Scott’s eyes and Alan frowned. “When did you last sleep, bro? You should go try and catch some zees before the day truly begins.”

Though he was far from finished talking to his father about it all, Scott knew Alan was right. Lack of sleep would render him a liability. Besides, no real conversations were going to be had whilst his younger brother was present. Scott made for the door. “We’ll speak later, dad. I’ll try and catch you before you leave for the mainland.” 

[thunderbirdthree]

Chapters: 2/? Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go (Cartoon 2015) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Alan Tracy & Scott Tracy, Alan Tracy & Tracy Family Characters: Alan Tracy, Scott Tracy, John Tracy, Virgil Tracy, Gordon Tracy, Grandma Tracy, Tanusha "Kayo" Kyrano Additional Tags: Time Loop, Minor Character Death, Alan Tracy Whump, Alan Tracy Needs a Hug, Mental Health Issues Summary:

This was Alan's first ever solo mission, a right of passage for a Tracy Brother trying to be a full-time member of International Rescue. When it all goes wrong however, all Alan wishes is that he can could have a second chance to put things right. Be careful what you wish for.

Chapter two! I only have a few chapter’s pre prepped, so updates will slow, but I’m trying to get to the stuff that I enjoyed writing more quickly haha

[alexthefly]

Hi! Thankyou so much for the ask @amistrio! I might divide these into two posts if that's okay?

Gamma Crisis

This came about from a challenging myself to whump the one person that nobody dares whump. But because I'm a chicken who lacks discipline, it turned into a silly little sickfic instead. Still, I'm planning to include a little bit of angst further in, if I ever get that far.

It's the protocol they all dreaded. Protocol Gamma. Grandma's sick.

As the elevator doors opened onto the main living area John was greeted by the most delicious smell. 

It was a bad sign.

“Alan!”

His youngest brother started and almost dropped the bowl of steaming hot water he’d been concentrating so hard on carrying.

“John! Glad you made it. We weren’t sure if-”

“Of course I was going to come down. This is important.” He motioned to the bowl. “Want me to take that?”

“Nah, best not. It’s hot and you’re clumsy.”

John shot him a look, but held his tongue. There would be time for brother-dragging later.

“So is it-?”

Alan’s brow furrowed.

“Yep. Full-on flu.”

Dammit.

He’d been afraid of this, ever since Gordon came home from London with a temperature last week. He’d shaken it off pretty quickly (good thing too; he was a terrible patient) and the rest of them had managed to avoid getting too close, but Grandma was never one to let an infection risk get in the way of her Hippocratic oath. 

“Is Scott on soup duty?” John asked, purposely turning his wayward thoughts towards the practical as another waft of deliciousness found his nose.

A shake of the head. “Virgil. Scott was flapping, so Virg took over and sent him to run inventory in the med bay instead.”

Med bay? 

“It’s not that serious, is it?”

“Nah, he’s just being thorough. He’s got Gordon checking for extra blankets too.”

It sounded like Virgil was in full field marshall mode.

Scott might not be the only one guilty of flapping…

“Okay, I’ll head down there first and give him a hand. Are you sure I can’t carry that for you?”

“Nah, I’m good,” he replied. “You could get the door for me though.”

John pressed the button to summon the elevator, which opened immediately, and reached through to make sure the door couldn’t close... 

…Which was unfortunately exactly when gravity decided to bite him in the ass. Hit with a sudden wave of vertigo, he found himself stumbling sideways just as Alan was stepping through. Elbow clashed with elbow, and steaming water sloshed out onto the floor and all down Alan’s shirt.

“Ow, hot!” 

“Oh god, Al, are you al-”

Alan shook his head quickly. “Don’t panic, it’s not hot enough to scald. I’d probably better go get cleaned up though.” He nodded his head towards one shoulder, on which he was carrying a small towel. “Could you grab that please? I’ll get another one upstairs.”

Understanding, John took the towel and laid it over the puddle of water.

“Thanks,” said Alan, “I’ll come back for that once I’ve delivered this.” He cocked his head as something occurred to him. “Uh, John? Exactly how quickly did you come down?”

Uh-oh. Busted. 

“What do you mean, exactly?”

Alan gave him a look that was so Scott it was scary. John pursed his lips and considered his words carefully.

“Fast enough to reflect the seriousness of the situation,” he hedged. “Not so fast as to be actually dangerous.”

Alan snorted and held the look, but John didn’t back down. After a few seconds of impromptu staring contest, Alan conceded.

“Fine, but if the others find out, I know nothing.”

John’s lip twitched. “Always.”

“Rude. Just take it easy and stay away from anything breakable, okay? We’ve got enough going on already.”

[chenria]

I wrote a small 870 words oneshot thingy of Virgil and Sam (and nothing is going awry here!!)

[scribbles97]

@thundergeek59 thank you so very much, maybe I should supply free tissues with fics like this?

I’m so glad that it all culminated in an ending that was satisfying despite it only really being an opening to a possibility of what happens next.

The Nightmare Come True - Part 5 and The End

Thanks @loopstagirl for the original idea of this whole fic that spiralled far further than I think either of us expected. Scott's POV 1 | Part 1 | Scott's POV 2 | Part 2 | Scott's POV 3 | Part 3 | Scott's POV 4 | Part 4

Christmas had come and gone as loudly as it always did in their house. 

The best gift for Gordon was the day his oldest brother had turned up at a training session alongside Jeff, the kid hadn’t stopped talking about it for a week. Jeff had been confident Scott would soon be making his way into the pool himself, especially if his request for an olympic sized pool on their newly purchased island was anything to go by. 

John and Virgil had both returned home for the holidays full of stories and with open invites for their big brother to visit them at their respective colleges come the following semester. Scott had been keen, immediately opening his calendar and circling dates between appointments and other plans. 

Even Jen had paid a brief visit, greeting the younger brothers as old friends proving just how much Scott had spoken of them all to his squad at one point or another. 

By spring Jeff had noticed just how Scott had begun to fill out again, his time in the gym paying off and rebuilding the muscle that had been lost. He was starting to relax, to enjoy life as he once had and found the confidence he had always worn like a comfortable jacket. Gradually, he was becoming a version of the son Jeff recognised. 

March was spent in the air, racking up supervised flight hours after passing the required psych exams. It had taken time for him to be comfortable in the pilot's seat again, but Scott had said himself that being in the air was as natural to him as being in the water was for Gordon. All he had needed was a supportive shoulder, one that Jeff was willing to offer. 

By his birthday, Scott’s full pilot’s license had been reinstated, giving cause for a celebration alone without the news of John’s new Space Rated status. They had called Virgil on hologram, celebrating from their separate corners of the country louder than they had done over the festive period.

It had been late in the night when Jeff had found Scott out on the porch, a letter discarded but evidently not forgotten in his lap.

“I was going to tell you earlier, but the surprise party kind of distracted me.” Scott had smiled as Jeff had joined him on the step and poured them each a measure of whiskey.

“Cambridge offered me a spot to study English Lit, it’s all online so I’d only need to go over twice a semester so I’d still be able to--” He paused to glance over his shoulder, making sure no younger brothers were lingering in the kitchen.

Jeff had chuckled, glad that Scott was doing something for himself, something that didn’t immediately lead to any plans that had seemingly always been in place.  

“You don’t have to, you know?” He had pointed out, “If you want to take some time for yourself before joining the Project…”

Scott had shook his head, grinning as he sipped his drink, “I want to get in the air again, Dad, and that rocket? I’m not letting you have all the fun.”

Both had laughed at the implication, wordlessly reaching their glasses towards one another in a silent salute to everything they had overcome in that year alone. 

Things still weren’t perfect, Alan and Gordon were far from happy about moving to a boarding school away from their family. Scott still had a way to go before he was back at his full strength and fitness, but with the encouragement from Val and Lee, he was well on his way to outperforming them all. 

“This is what I need.” Scott had nodded, “Despite everything, I’m glad we’ve ended up here Dad.” 

Jeff had slung an arm over his shoulders and pulled him close, “Me too kid, me too.” 

Of course, it hadn’t lasted. 

A short eighteen months later, Jeff had been shot into the farthest reaches of their solar system. He had been sure that he would never see his family, his boys, again. It hadn’t mattered what he had tried with the engines, there had been no way for him to get home. He had tried, time and again to find a way to get through to them but it had eventually become apparent that all he could do was try to stay alive.

He had taken to sketching and writing when he wasn’t trying to keep himself alive, focussing on thoughts of each of his boys. How Scott was at least back doing something he loved, that John had made it to space as he had always wanted to, that Virgil was close to graduating with Honors on his engineering degree, that Gordon would have made it to the Olympics, and Alan at least had four older brothers to look out for him. It had been the thought and memory of them that had kept him going, the irony not lost on him that it had been the same things that had kept Scott going through his imprisonment. 

There had been little else to occupy him over those long years. 

He had never given up hope, not even as the planetoid had begun to separate beneath his feet, he had known they would come. 

Right at the last possible second, he had spotted Scott. 

Just like that, their roles were reversed. 

Scott had stepped up in the time Jeff had been gone, and the more he had seen of the man his eldest had become, the more his heart had hurt. 

He had dropped out of his Literature degree almost immediately after Jeff had gone, had taken up the role of commander in International rescue, and the role of Father to younger brothers that weren’t ready to be orphans. Once again, thanks to Jeff, Scott had lost sight of the man he wanted to be for himself.

Once again, Jeff had vowed to set that right.

There had been months of recovery, hospital appointments and physiotherapy, most of it familiar from the year before he had taken the unexpected trip. Scott had resolutely been at his side through all of it. 

“Alan asked how you did it…” Scott had started one night, sat out by the pool waiting for Virgil and Gordon to return home from a rescue.

Jeff hadn’t needed further clarification as he had trailed off. He’d had therapy that morning, had spent the day pulling his boys closer after talking about what the isolation had done to him. Of course, they had all picked up on it.

“I imagine much the same way as you did during the war,” Jeff admitted softly, “Thinking of your family, remembering all the good times.”

Before he had left, talking about the war had been coming easier for Scott. It hadn’t taken long for Jeff to realize that Scott had clammed up once he had no longer had his father to talk to about such times.

Scott snorted, looking out to the horizon, “Admittedly, it’s a good method.”

Jeff smiled sadly across to him, “It got us both a long way.” 

It had gotten them both back home, back to their family, to somewhere where they could find their feet again and work towards the version of themselves they wanted to be.

The man sat next to him was physically recovered from his time as a prisoner, but had never found a solid enough footing to find himself amongst all the chaos life had thrown at them.

“You didn’t end up where you were aiming, I’m sorry for that.” Jeff sighed after a moment, reaching out to Scott’s shoulder, “Because of all of this, I think you lost yourself again Scott.”

“I--” For a moment it seemed like he was ready to argue, before his shoulders had fallen and he had nodded in admission, “I became who I needed to be.”

They had shared a look, one that spoke of burdens that had fallen back on tired shoulders that had barely gotten free before being weighed back down again.

“You deserved to live life for yourself Scott.” 

Scott ran a hand through his hair, “I know that now.”

“I know it wasn’t my fault,” Jeff continued, “but I’m sorry I wasn’t here to help you see that, Son, I’m sorry that life has been so cruel and unfair.”

Scott’s arm wrapped around his shoulders, “I’m glad you don’t blame yourself.” 

Jeff would never admit to him that it was a concept he still sometimes struggled with, but something he was working on regardless. His son didn’t need any more burdens. 

“So,” He started, looking across with raised eyebrows, “Alan’s headed to college in the Fall, how about you take another look at that Literature degree?”

Scott’s laugh was full bodied against Jeff, “Yeah, I suppose that doesn’t sound like a bad idea.”

Laughing with his son, Jeff nodded to himself. 

They were going to be just fine.

[idontknowreallywhy]

Expert

I left a little idea hanging in this fic which really needed some investigation. And the muse finally returned on my commute yesterday so, while this isn’t my most well thought through or deviously plotted fic, the idea entertained me so I hope you’ll enjoy it too :) Wee Tracy fluff!

💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍

“Scooooo-ooooott!!!!!”

“Scottyyyyyy?!!”

Don’t panic don’t panic don’t panic.

“You win, little man! You’re so clever! Can you come out now?”

A little bead of sweat tickled its way past Jeff’s eyebrow and he swiped at it impatiently. It was important to keep the panic out of his voice so he kept up the singsong tone:

“Where aaaare you, Bluejaaaay?”

He was missing something.

“Please come out now? Daddy needs a cuddle!”

He’d checked all the usual places. Twice.

“Do you want a snack, Scotty?”

Surely that would…?

“Snack time!!”

Nothing.

What was he missing?

Jeff Tracy was 3 months into being a stay at home Dad while Lucy was off being incredible at the university.

And while the first few days had been inevitably shaky, until this morning he’d been pretty confident he was nailing it.

Sure, he had to confess (and did so with a great deal of admiration most every evening) that he couldn’t work out how Lucy had been doing all this AND working remotely while he’d been up on Alfie. She’d just smile contentedly as he nuzzled her neck and reminded her she was a goddess walking on earth. Usually she would have denied this vehemently, but sharing a house with a child whose sleep-in-his-own-bed record was 30 mins 47 seconds meant neither was willing to waste a single moment on pointless humility…

Anyway, she clearly had Powers he did not.

For a standard issue human, however, he was doing ok. He’d read the toddler-wrangling manual cover to cover. His son, apparently, had not, but there were one or two tips that seemed to hold fairly true. Most of the time. But he was beginning to think he could write one of his himself, because while Dr Whatsherface might be an expert on the average toddler, Jeff Tracy was an expert on his own rather unique version.

Rule number one - never blink. The kid moves faster than sound.

Rule number two - Accessorise.

Jeff had taken to wearing combat pants with multiple pockets and thus perpetually had snacks, wet wipes and toy planes on standby. He had a tennis ball to hand at all times… turned out that what worked for a puppy sometimes worked for a two-year old too.

The squeaky chew toys were their little secret.

Yes, the key to his success was in the gadgets. The baby swing he’d fixed into the door frame had been a great way to enable the little whirlwind to let off steam while remaining in one place. The delighted squeals of “‘Cotty fwwwyyyy!!!” really brought a tear to the eye. The height and speed his child managed to achieve using the thing brought a slightly anxious twitch to the eye also, but it was all fine. He just needed to be close by enough to intervene…

He solved Going Out with a gadget too. Scott wasn’t really a pushchair kind of a guy but wasn’t yet able to appreciate that tugging his little hand out of his Dada’s and sprinting out into the traffic wasn’t ok. After a few days of hanging limp from it, 12 kilos of dead weight, in protest, Scott had eventually taken to the cunning harness-leash device which meant their little trips into town were less of an adrenaline rush. Marginally.

At some point Jeff was definitely going to get punched for barging his way through a crowd by some irate person who didn’t appreciate he was attached to a tiny rocket on a string.

But the main thing was he wasn’t getting lost. Or flattened.

Yep, Jeff was nailing this parenting thing.

Tying the kid down while he made a hasty trip to the bathroom had seemed a step too far, however. Scott had been enclosed in his supposedly escape-proof playpen, temporarily absorbed in nyoooming a plushie space ship from one duplo planet to another.

Jeff had been three minutes, tops. Barely 180 seconds.

Where could he go in 180 seconds??

He cursed himself for the rookie error of under-estimating his first-born and stood at the kitchen door, running through a mental checklist of all the places in which he had located his feral offspring to date.

Cupboards. Check.

Curtains. Check.

Top of bookcase, window sills, under the beds. Check check check.

On top of the big wardrobe in the master bedroom? One of spider-baby’s favourites that one. Check.

He’d looked there three times actually, nearly got himself wedged the third time as he clambered up and reached all the way to the back just in case his eyes were deceiving him and a cherubic blue-eyed menace was hiding in the shadows.

A face-full of cobwebs: No Scotty.

“Daddy’s getting pretty lonely out here, I wish you’d come and play with me!!”

The house wasn’t that big. Where on earth…?

The windows were still locked shut.

The front door was still shut. With the chain in place… even tiny Houdini couldn’t have put that back on behind him.

The back door was locked, key still on the hook.

So he couldn’t be outside.

So… no need to panic. Unless he was stuck or hurt somewhere and Jeff wasn’t with him!!

“SCOOOOOOOTTYYYYY?”

It had got to the stage where Jeff was doing ridiculous things like looking behind lamp stands and under cushions that were far too small to hide a human toddler, particularly one that moved so constantly he even vibrated in his sleep.

But there wasn’t anywhere left!!!

… or was there?

In desperation, Jeff pulled down the telescopic ladder and stuck his head into the attic-space, in case somehow his child had suddenly developed both the ability to fly and to pass through solid objects during those three unforgivable minutes of inattention.

Obviously Scott wasn’t there.

This was wasting time.

He retraced his steps to the kitchen, calling as he went.

“Scotty I really need you to come out now please? Daddy’s getting worried!”

The cupboard under the sink? It was big enough… The child-proof door closures should have made it impossible but this was Scott Tracy: Tiny master of impossible feats. Jeff really hoped he was wrong because if he’d got in there… where the cleaning things were kept…

“Scotty!”

He sped up and began to reach down as he covered the last few metres… then gasped as his foot slid from under him and he skated, flailing wildly, across the linoleum.

“Sco-aaaaaaaaaaaaggghhh!!!”

Jeff’s graceless ice dance was halted abruptly as he slammed head first into the fridge and crumpled to the floor.

Jars rattled.

Jeff’s teeth rattled.

The fridge said “Dada?”

Jeff’s ears said “riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing”.

The floor was sticky. Feeling a little hazy Jeff lifted a hand and sniffed it cautiously… cinnamon? What?

Wait.

Blinking the stars from his eyes Jeff, dragged himself to his feet and hauled the door open to find his son tucked neatly on to a high shelf, curled around a pie dish.

Jeff’s jaw dropped.

He snapped it closed it again and bit his lip lest any inappropriate words escape.

“Dada! ‘Cotty duck in fidge. Oh no!”

The tiny child lifted his apple sauce covered hands and looked at them as if suddenly realising they were attached to his arms. Bright blue eyes gazed down at him with an expression of extreme innocence:

“Oh no! ‘Cotty all messy! Ooopsiiiieee!”

A chunk of apple fell from his little eyebrow and Jeff nearly burst a blood vessel trying to keep a straight face. Don’t reward the unwelcome behaviour with a reaction, the book had said. If he laughed now, Scott would only do similar again. And he needed to impress upon him that it wasn’t ok to hide away like this.

Or consume the majority of a family sized dessert by himself.

His lip twitched.

Jeff would have put serious money on the supposed expert never having anticipated this scenario.

Clearly realising his father had no follow-up questions to his comprehensive situational update, Scott plunged his hand back into the dish and shoved a fistful of pie crust into his mouth.

Jeff covered his face and screamed silently into his palms. Then realised he had given himself a matching set of apple pie eyebrows.

Piebrows.

He snorted.

Scott snorted like a pig in response and burst into giggles, spraying pastry crumbs into Jeff’s hair.

Expert schmexpert.

Jeff laughed loud and Jeff laughed long. Scott giggled and clapped his sticky hands together then reached for Jeff with one of them, the other clutching the edge of the pie dish possessively.

“I think you’ve had enough pie, Bluejay, don’t you?” Jeff prised the little fingers free and realised his son’s skin was incredibly cold.

“Bloody hell, kiddo you’re freezing! Come ‘ere …” he plucked the small icicle from the shelf and hugged him close. “We’d best get you in a warm bath. What are you, Elsa?”

“Leddid gooooo!!! Leddid gooooooooo!!!” The little lad closed his eyes and waved a sticky fist in the air as he sang.

“Yes, son, let it go.”

Scott hid his last handful of pie behind his back and shook his head vigorously.

“No Dada!! ‘Cotty’s abble bie. Buddy ell, Dada! Oh no!”

Jeff swallowed hard. “Oh no” indeed.

Maybe he’d put a pin in the book idea, just for a little while.

🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙

[lisas-song]

Hey, have I missed the prompts for #FabFiveFeb? I started trying to put something together, and then I realized I was using last year’s prompts!

Edit: Yay!

[melmac78]

Here’s chapter 2 of the Lexington WIP.

This includes the scene that was beautifully drawn by @lenle-g which I encourage you to see on her page. I had to split this into two parts (I am working on where I want to do chapters anyway), so I think here it is has a good break.

For the first part, here’s chapter one:

••••••••

Gordon Tracy was staring out over the ocean, the wheel in front of him and a compass to direct him.

"Let's take her hard to port Ensign Tracy," he said, turning to his left.

Alan Tracy rolled his eyes and looked at the ship's controls before taking his brother's photo. "Very funny - the wheel doesn't even turn much bro," he said as they continued walking through the bridge area to a doorway leading outside.

The two had been enjoying studying the details of the bridge area, including the captain's second quarters there, before Gordon was to show off Thunderbird 4.

"You know, I *could* make you walk the plank for that," the elder brother said, pointing to the bow of the ship.

Alan snorted. "Gordon - that's the old anchor brake. It's completely fenced off to be a plank as a joke," he said, laughing.

The aquanaut conceded. "OK, maybe not this time," he laughed as he and Alan saw a set of nautical signal flags for a variety of situations.

"They're missing few letters of the alphabet," muttered Alan looking inside the box.

Gordon however looked up. "That's probably because they've posted some colors on the mast," he said, gesturing toward said item.

Alan looked up and saw the variety of colors and patterns on the mast. "What do they say bro?" he asked, remembering Gordon's WASP training.

The aquanaut studied them and shrugged. "Not sure. These are scrambled," he said, lying slightly. Gordon realized one set, by letters, spelled a curse word - he hoped by mistake.

Shaking his head imperceptibly at the notion, Gordon continued. "If they were flown individually however, they'd have a different meaning."

"Cool - give me an example," said Alan, interested in learning a bit more about flags.

"You see that one that's got a red square inside a white square and bordered with blue?" said Gordon, and his younger brother nodded. "That's 'W' - or Whiskey in the alphabet. If it were flying alone, it would tell other ships 'I need medical attention'."

"Hopefully we won't need it for John," said Alan, frowning slightly. He had noticed the occasional issues his brother still had from his space sickness.

Though Gordon's example was chosen simply because it was an easy to identify flag, he realized his error. "I should've chosen a different flag," he admitted, Alan's frown. "But yeah - I hear you Alan. John's passing out on us the other day still gives me the creeps. If I hadn't been there to catch him when he started falling toward the lounge stairs..."

Alan gave a slight smile and wrapped an arm around his brother's shoulder. "Yeah, I know. Your 'Squid Sense' instincts were really good," he said. Seeing his aquanaut brother smile at the compliment, Alan continued. "John's too good at hiding he’s unwell at times -"

"Let alone goes long periods of time without eating and rest..."

"So much so I'm about ready to ask EOS to lightly enhance the air with delicious food smells at certain times of the day to make him hungry so he eats more," said Alan.

"Bit underhanded you know," quipped Gordon as they descended the stairs to head to the flight deck.

Alan chuckled. "Nah, I figured that one out - Brains has created a space-safe stasis 'fridge where John can keep a variety of good food fresh for months at a time," he said. "All John would have to do is program the 'fridge to give him what he wanted to eat, and it comes out while the rest stays in stasis. Only thing he'd have to grumble about is having to heat and eat it in gravity."

"Why hasn't Brains sent it up to Five yet?"

The younger of the two shrugged as they landed on the deck. "Well... there's been an issue or two with flavors. Sometimes the flavors blend in to another food - which is OK if savory, but..."

"But what?"

"Let's just say I don't ever want to eat Virgil's homemade chocolate cherry chunk ice cream with essence of salmon again," said Alan, and Gordon roared in laughter heading to Four.

As the two youngest were chatting, Virgil was laughing as he peered inside a gun turret, watching as Scott tried to climb out gracefully. So far he was having about as much luck as Virgil with bunk beds... the door was better suited for a person Gordon's height, not 6'1" Scott.

"You know - it might be better if you try the turrets on the hangar deck," he said, as Scott finally gave up and took Virgil’s hand to keep his balance exiting.

Many people had tried their hand at those turrets, which had more room and used cranks to maneuver the machine around.

The pilot smiled as he followed his brother to the T-34 mentor he was going to present a lesson about. "Yeah - but I want to know what it was like for my predecessors to serve and fight," he said, growing a bit more somber. "It's an amazing piece of history we have here, but at the same time, it also reminds us about the ugly side of human nature."

Virgil looked a bit more somber himself. "Even now - though I'm thankful we live in a time where for every one bad thing there are countless good things that happen," he said. "Life's definitely improved for most of the world since the 2040s."

Scott nodded as they started looking at the airplanes on the deck. "I really wish I could fly one of these," he said, placing his hand on the Flying Tiger plane.

"Yeah I bet - but the inner gears have probably needed a tune up since the 1990s," Virgil chuckled.

The eldest smiled mischievously. "You think you could fix it," he teased.

"And let my speed loving brother destroy a priceless artifact - not to mention them having me walk the plank?" said Virgil in the same tone, making Scott chuckle. "How about after your presentation to the Scouts, we try that simulator downstairs later on?”

Scott smiled. “You're on," he chuckled as the elder headed to the plane. Virgil elected to continue the tour on the deck and just below where a lifeboat and first aid display were.

888888888

John was near the stern, looking out to sea. He had enjoyed looking at all the planes on board as well as the ships sailing by - business and pleasure, but this too was a sight to see.

He was amazed at how the light and clear blue sky would reflect off the Gulf of Mexico, turning the normally brownish waters the same beautiful color. Out in the distance, some offshore oil rigs still dotted the distance.

While biofuels and renewable sources were finally being produced with an even lower waste footprint, there still was the need for some oil products.

He was feeling a bit tired and warm from the sun, even though his uniform had some thermal controls, as he leaned over the side to look at what appeared to be a pod of dolphins swimming by... or were they those blue men-of-war that Gordon said don't touch?

There were others sounds, but they seemed distant and blurred.

John watched the pod seem to double and triple in size, confusing him.

Then his head started feeling light.

"Oh no," he thought vaguely as a few moments later as he hit the rail at his waist.

The pilot gave a faint yelp as he tilted over, the vertigo getting worse as he saw thick netting and a more angry water churning by the hull.

His vision started to swim as he kept moving forward. He tried to grab the rail, but caught air instead...

A pairs of rough hands grabbed his baldric and pulled back. John stumbled from the course correction and fell back, still feeling as though the world was going down a drain...

The same hands cradled him under the arms now, as he was then set on the ground. The person was propping him up against their legs and chest.

There were running sounds on the deck toward them.

The person holding him had a hand on his jaw, trying to get him to look at them. He could see someone, even though the image was slightly blurry as grey edges flickered in his blind spots. John just couldn't speak.l

There were more muddled sounds nearby, like a distant flock of seagulls. That was until louder bass timber - voice John reminded himself - shooed them away.

The same voice then tried again to get John to speak. He tried this time, but all that came out was a soft moan.

John then felt the other person's hand run through his hair, who also assured him he was all right.

Between the hand and then a light kiss on the top of his head, John realized he was indeed conscious and being held by a brother. Otherwise, he'd be stretched out on the deck - and admittedly the kiss would be a little odd.

Then the same gentle hand was at his throat, checking his pulse. "John - can you hear me now," said Virgil as he leaned into John's view, gently lifting his chin again to check the redhead's eye reaction.

A pair of aqua eyes lifted to met Virgil's, and to the medic's relief looked to be clearer.

John nodded after a beat, then heard a sigh of relief from Scott, realizing the eldest was now beside them.

Scott had heard Virgil’s “man down” yell and came over to assist.

John took a deep breath and let it out. "Yeah, I hear you Virgil. I just got overheated and had another dizzy spell," he said factually as he started trying to sit up more on his own.

Scott and Virgil gave a sideways look, frowning. "Another? How many have you had since you've arrived?" asked the oldest brother, placing the backside of his uncovered palm against John’s cheek

The middle brother swatted it away, but Scott wasn't happy with how John’s skin felt.

"One," said John, though his eyes betrayed him. He noticed the others not believe him so he continued. "OK, two - the other at the gallery tour, but it was brief."

Virgil's eyes lit up slightly. "Was that when you leaned on a railing to look at the mannequin in the combat information center and told it that it looked funny because ‘his face is crooked’?"

John gave a quick nod.

"I thought it was odd you of all people would start chatting about the animatronics," added Scott. “That said, it may explain why Gordon was encouraging you to tease it.”

"Knowing him, Gordo was also sneakily checking my alertness," the astronaut groaned as his two younger brothers came over. They had assisted on moving the gawkers away.

"Hey, you know you're not supposed to run on - " said Scott.

Gordon glared. "This is a medical emergency - I think decorum doesn't apply when you did it too," he said, and Scott - seeing common sense, also agreed.

The aquanaut then kneeled by John, frowning. "Hey, you OK John?"

"Yeah, just a case of vertigo," he said, rubbing a hand over his face.

"Saw that. If you wanted to swim with the fishes I'm sure the aquarium would be happy to work out a way we both can scuba dive," Gordon said, smirking.

Privately he was worried - he had indeed noticed John's slight dizziness in the quarters tour and was kicking himself for not making his brother rest then.

John snorted. "No - that's your game Squid Kid. I'd rather float in space," he said, then looked at Virgil open his mouth. "Look, I know what you're about to say Virg."

"And that is?" the older man humored.

The astronaut cleared his throat. "'John, you nearly passed out and are very lucky I kept you from falling overboard'," he said, mimicking Virgil's voice. Hearing most of his other brothers chuckle, he continued, normal voice. "So yes, I’ll go cool off and rest."

Virgil snorted. "Now I know you're needing to," he said. John rarely if ever admitted he was ill.

John ran a hand through his red hair and nodded. "Well this time I agree - I'd be better off taking a nap for the next hour or so, " he said, adjusting his baldric. “Plus, my part of the program is the CIC tour later this evening.”

"And given mess isn’t too long from now, we don’t need the wardroom turned back into a quarantine area if you fell," added Alan, who had a friend tell him the history of the dining quarters. He'd have to climb down and up a ladder just to eat.

The youngest then held a hand out to John. “I'll take you back to the berth."

"You sure Alan?" queried Scott. He wasn't sure if that was the best course of action.

Alan knew Scott was worried about his abilities to assist John to the ground if he collapsed, but continued. "Yeah - I'm sure. I presented my speech already on the importance of education and being a Thunderbird,” he said, chuckling at Scott’s rolling his eyes. “Besides, want to go look around the hangar deck anyway.”

John took his brothers hand and, with the guidance of his older two, stood up. He didn’t miss the soft sighs of relief he stayed upright.

Alan however had refrained in solidarity to John’s annoyance at being babied some and, him eating his fellow space brother’s stomach growl, continued.

“We'll stop by the snack bar for some water and - since I think you're hungry, candy or fries. Plus, we'll take the elevator."

John started to roll his eyes, but thought better of it as it could lead to him falling over. "FAB. Thanks Alan," he said as he put a steadying arm around his youngest brother's shoulders.

Alan chuckled and wrapped a support arm around his brother's waist. "You're welcome - I've been in your shoes too," he said, and seeing John's look of inquiry, smiled cheekily. "I just didn't try to swan dive off an aircraft carrier."

John snorted. "Well, since you're less prone to diving, lead the way Corpsman Alan," he said. The younger brother only chuckled there and they headed toward the elevator.

••••••••

Real life pics of places mentioned. Note the first two are the gun turret. For reference - I’m 5’8” (1.73m) and had to duck to get out.

[jbarkerstargazer]

Signal boost.

Fan Fiction?

Hello everyone! I love to write and would like to write a small fic to post if anyone would read it. Of course I’m new at posting Fan fiction so I might be a little nervous, but as you can see I am still trying to make a decision what fandom I should write about.😭

please, please, please vote if you want because I am truly at a loss. Thank you so much and have a wonderful day!❤️

[pareidoliaonthemove]

What Are Little Girls Made Of

“How far to the lifesigns, Thunderbird Five?”

Virgil stopped the rest behind the ‘mini-Mole’, as he waited for his older brother to respond.

“About twenty meters, Two. You need to veer five degrees right, and one degree down. That will have you breaking through their air pocket at the corner diagonally opposite from their position.”

“FAB, Thunderbird Five. Five degrees right one, one degree down. Moving out.”

Virgil keyed in the course change on his wrist controller, and activated the mini-Mole. With a high pitched squeal, the small ROV again started drilling into the concrete and rebar of the collapsed building. It captured all the detritus, mixed it with a quick setting binding agent, and extruded it against the ‘walls’ of its tunnel, ensuring that the resulting space wasn’t going to collapse immediately behind it.

Virgil eyed his wrist controller as he crawled after the machine. Time was still of the essence in this type of rescue. They hadn’t been able to ascertain exactly why the commercial complex had collapsed, and that made Virgil very unhappy.

In front of him, the mini-Mole chirruped, slowed its pace and drill, and pulled forward to show a hole in the ‘wall’ facing a void. Virgil activated his passive line to John, then crawled up to the entryway and cautiously poked his head through. “International Rescue. Is anybody here?”

Stupid question, he knew there were two human life-signs in this space, but the enquiry served multiple purposes. Firstly, it identified him, and stopped anyone from trying to brain him with a rock – it had happened. Trapped people panicked, and if they had fears about running out of oxygen, another person in ‘their’ space, breathing ‘their’ air was a threat that had to be ‘dealt’ with.

Secondly, it told him if the lifesigns were conscious. No conscious victim could resist responding to the magic words...

“International Rescue!”

And there it was. One of the two lifesigns was currently bouncing towards him, a little girl about seven years of age, rushing across the space, her pigtails streaming behind her, pink ribbons fluttering. Virgil watched carefully as he crawled into the space. She was moving freely, despite concrete dust liberally coating her body, and bloody red grazes on the sides of legs and palms of her hand. Her dress, once a pink frilly layered affair was now torn and lank.

She must have felt like a princess when she left her home this morning.

The little girl grabbed his hand and started trying to drag him back with her to the far corner. “You have to come, Mummy’s stuck! She can’t get out!”

“Judy! Calm.” The voice was laced with pain but firm and calming. Two conscious resucees. That was good.

Judy stopped her insistent dragging, but didn’t let go of Virgil’s hand. “Please, Mister International Rescue. My Mummy is stuck. Can you help her get out?”

Virgil smiled, it was a practised smile, confident and calm. “That’s why I’m here. Now, where is your mummy, and what is her name?”

A deep breath. “My Mummy’s name is Jennifer Robson. My name is Judy Robson. Mummy is over in that corner,” she pointed. “And her legs are caught under the roof. Mine were, too,” she added, “but I’m little so I managed to wiggle my way out. Mummy can’t.”

“Thank you, Judy. You’ve been very brave, and very helpful. Can you keep helping me by staying here, while I go and see what’s got your mummy stuck?”

A determined nod, but her fear was betrayed by small teeth gnawing at her lower lip and bright water gathering in her eyes.

Virgil smiled again, and lowered himself down beside her mother. “Mrs Robson?” he asked, it never hurt to check names with parents. Judy had spoken clearly, but a misunderstood name at a rescue site could have consequences later.

The woman smiled up at him from where she lay on her left side. “That’s right, please call me Jenny. It’ll save time.” A glance at her daughter. “It’s a bit more complicated than just being stuck. I think something’s gone through my left leg.” A frown. “My right leg is lying in front of the left, and I can move it freely, but…”

Virgil nodded. “Okay. I understand.” He pulled a device from the satchel he had been dragging under his chest, clipped to his harness. “This is a snake,” he showed Mrs Robson. “I’m going to slide it behind you, and it’ll let me see what’s holding you in place. Then I can come up with a plan to get you out.”

“That would be appreciated,” Jenny smiled.

Virgil eased his way behind her, and activated the snake, sending it slipping down next to her back, and relaying what it ‘saw’ to a little 2D screen on the control box.

He frowned at what he saw. A piece of rebar – entirely too thin for what it was presumably doing, he noted absently – had been freed from it encasing concrete, and had stabbed through Jenny’s left calf. He sent the snake bobbing down, to examine beneath.

They were in luck, the rebar had only just broken the skin, and hadn’t pinned her to the slab below. One cut, a slight jacking of the slab above her, and Jenny could be pulled out.

He informed Jenny as much, and then paused. Judy was sitting cross legged where he had left her, her apparent calm betrayed by the clean furrows tear tracks had carved down the concrete dust coating her face. He couldn’t send the little girl up the tunnel on her own, there were too many side branches that had been carved to reach other victims of the collapse. He couldn’t take her himself, and leave Jenny alone. And they really couldn’t afford the time to have one of his brothers come down and collect Judy, but she was still only young, and he didn’t really want her to see the state her mother was in.

Jenny saw where he was looking, and smiled. “If you’re worried about upsetting her with blood, you shouldn’t. Your biggest problem will be keeping her out of the way to wrap up a wound. Little girls come in two flavours, precious princesses who kick up and fuss at the mere mention of the word ‘blood’, or perfect little ghouls, who delight in it, and must be shown any wound the instant they learn of it.” She raised her voice so her daughter could hear. “Judy wants to be a doctor when she grows up, she is very interested in first aid and how to treat injuries. Judy the Ghoul, we call her.”

Judy perked up. “Oh, does Mummy need first aid? Can I help? I know how to apply bandages! Please, can I help? I’ll be super helpful!”

Virgil glanced at her mother, who was all but laughing at his confusion. “Judy, tell Mister International Rescue how you treat someone with a stab wound.”

“First, never ever ever take the object out of the wound. Take a bandage, and make doughnut, like this,” she held up both hands to make an ‘O’ shape, “slide it over the foreign object, and then wrap other bandages around it to keep in place.”

Virgil nodded approvingly. “Very good. That’s absolutely correct. First I’m going to have to get your mom out, and then we can do the first aid together, okay?”

A determined nod. “Yes, sir.”

“Okay, then, let’s get cracking.” He turned to his satchel, and pulled out a jack, setting it up, again behind Jenny, and then pulling out a version of Mini-MAX. This one programmed for exactly this kind of scenario, and kitted out with a miniature version of his shoulder mounted laser.

Virgil always had trepidations about ‘his’ Mini-MAX. It had taken Brains a lot of trial and error to tone down MAX’s natural enthusiasm. That coupled with a high powered laser had had … interesting results. International Rescue’s high energy equipment testing protocols and test chamber had both needed serious overhauling.

As was his habit, Virgil held his breath as Mini-MAX attached the heat absorbing shield, and activated his laser. But the little robot did his job perfectly, flying back out to his ‘travel’ case, leaving Jenny with a half-inch of rebar sticking out of her leg.

Virgil again held his breath as the jack slowly, so slowly, eased upwards just enough for him to slide Jenny out without jostling the rebar, and, once she was clear, slowly easing the slab back down to its original position.

As Virgil turned his attention to his charge’s injury, he found the little girl, kneeling beside her mother, her face mere inches from the ground, as she examined the injury with a bright-eyed intensity that made him just a little bit uneasy.

Gently pulling the girl, back he helped her sterilise her hands, and they both made a ‘doughnut’ out of bandages, and while Judy held them in place, Virgil started the binding bandage. He then turned to give Jenny painkillers, while keeping an eye on Judy as she completed the binding.

Quickly assembling the hover stretcher from its folded up state in his satchel, Virgil explained his evacuation plan to his patient and ‘assistant’. Jenny was soon installed on the stretcher, and strapped firmly in place, while Judy was more loosely strapped to her right side, so she could ‘monitor’ her mother on their trip to the surface.

Bringing the mini-Mole around to face back up its tunnel, Virgil tethered the hover stretcher to its back, and sent the Mole, the stretcher and its occupants trundling back towards freedom. Quickly packing up his remaining equipment, Virgil started crawling after the Mole, quietly confirming with John the condition of his rescuees and confirming that there was appropriate resources waiting for them top side, and that there was no-one else to pull from the wreckage of the building.

The trip back up passed quicker than had the one down, with Judy chatting happily to her mother, and then relaying regular ‘updates’ back to Virgil. The dying rays of sunlight bathing the scenery in reds and golds seemed unnaturally bright to Virgil as he crawled out of the hole, accepting Gordon and Scott’s help to stand upright again, and pull off his helmet. His back cracking as he straightened, but he bit back the groan as he twisted. That was just a bit too ‘old man’.

Ambulance crews, already briefed by John as to Jenny’s condition, and treatment already provided, had shifted her from the IR stretcher to their own gurney, and Judy was standing, watching intently as they took her vital signs, and unworriedly alternating between talking over, and talking to the little girl.

A woman, dressed in the ambulance’s uniform, drew Jenny away, and briefly examined the grazes on her legs and hands, and Virgil was briefly concerned that he had missed something in his haste to free the mother. But as the woman realised Virgil was watching, she offered a smile, and a thumbs up; and Virgil relaxed.

Beside him, Gordon nudged his arm, pressed an object into Virgil’s hand. It was one of the buttons Virgil had had made up, a test run of item he wanted to propose to Scott for distribution to kids at Danger Zone. A small button with a pin back. In the centre was the IR logo, an around it, in – naturally – Thunderbird Two Green was the words “I Was Brave For International Rescue”.

Virgil frowned at Gordon. These weren’t supposed to be here, but Gordon just nodded to Judy. “She’s earned it. Scott’s busy, go on, Virg.”

Virgil walked over, and knelt down beside Judy. “I wanted to thank you, Judy. You were very brave and very helpful back there.” He held up the button to her. “You’ve earned this. Can I pin it to your dress?”

Judy’s eyes went wide as she saw the button, and she nodded. Virgil reached forward, and very carefully pinned it to the dress, probably a bit high, it was near her collarbone. But Judy stared down at it a moment, before launching herself at Virgil and nearly strangling him with a hug. “Thank you, Mister International Rescue. Thank you for helping me and my Mummy.”

Virgil cautiously returned the hug, “Thank you, Judy.” A shout from the nearby ambulance had Judy’s caretaker gently pulling her away from Virgil and leading her away. Judy bounded as she went, pigtails streaming behind her. Back to her mother.

Twenty Years Later

Virgil lay back, watching the flickering pattern of light tiles rush past over his head. Whatever drugs they had given him on the way to the hospital were working a treat, what had been a fiery burning pain was now a dull throb, annoying but he could live with it.

A new body joined the lineup alongside his gurney, and Virgil turned his attention to the newcomer. A woman, about thirty, her long dark hair was caught in a plait, a pink ribbon incongruously woven into the braid, and formed the tie, candy pink scrubs that stuck out like a beacon amid the soft blues and teals.

A photo ID card at the end of the lanyard bounced about as she ran, and Virgil couldn’t make out then name, but recognised from the colour stripe along the right edge that the woman was an Emergency Department Trauma Surgeon. Attached to the lanyard, near her collarbone, was a pin, and Virgil strained to see it. He frowned, and reached up a hand to tug on the lanyard so he could get a closer look at the pin.

A IR blue clad arm reached about and caught his hand. “Hey, Virg, no grabbing. Hands to yourself, even when drugged, bro.”

There was a laugh, and the woman pulled off the lanyard one handed, and held the pin for his inspection. It was an old button, faded from exposure to light, but Virgil instantly recognised it. Scott had quickly forbidden them when he had found out, but the IR logo in the centre, and the words, “I Was Brave For International Rescue” ran around the edge in Thunderbird Two Green was unmistakable.

A name came to him, an image of a cement dust covered little girl in torn pink dress and pigtails, peering in fascination at the rebar piercing her mother’s leg. “Judy the Ghoul,” he said, voice slurring.

Above him, Judy – Doctor Judy – laughed. “That’s me. I’m honoured you remembered me.”

Virgil lay back and closed his eyes. “Never forgot. Little girls are ghouls. Important lesson t’ learn.” He opened his eyes. “My little girls are even worse. Had’ta keep infirmary locked. Was tryin’ to play ‘doctor’.”

She laughed again, turning her attention to his lower body. Virgil really didn’t want to know what she was seeing. Feeling what had happened was bad enough. A thought. “Did y’ Mum keep th’ leg?”

“No,” was the absent reply. “Sepsis infection at the hospital meant she lost her leg, at the knee. She has a prosthesis; reckons it’s the best thing that ever happened to her. Says it reduced her footache by fifty percent.”

She turned back to Virgil. “But I’m afraid we’ll not be reducing your footache, Mr Tracy. But if you can be very brave and helpful, we’ll have you back rescuing little girls from collapsed buildings in no time.”

Virgil smiled, as half of the people surrounding him, including his brother, fell away, and he was propelled through double doors into the gleaming sterility of a surgical theater. “I look forward to it.”

Notes:

I have five nieces, aged between ten and two. Any bandages or bandaids must be immediately removed for them to inspect the damage. Ghouls. The lot of them. Unless it’s their blood!

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.

[hebuiltfive]

The Alaskan Train Crash: Alaska.

It's just another average day at International Rescue.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Additional Tags: Artist!Virgil, Post season three, slight AU, Mentions of hospitals, Mentions of Blood, description of train crash, Light Angst Series: Part 1 of The Long Game Summary: It's just another average day at International Rescue.

Notes: We're getting into the thick of the action (for this part anyway)! Not a lot really happens,. Sorry it's a shorter chapter than the last, but I had to begrudgingly make it a separate chapter so the next one didn't seem so chunky. We'll call it a filler chapter.

Read it below or on AO3 here.

By the time Virgil and Jeff arrived, Scott and Brains had already taken seats in the sunken round area of the lounge. Alan and Gordon had long since put their game away and they too were now sitting. Worried faces filled the room. Hovering over the central table was a blue hologrammatic scheme of what looked to be a freight train. Beside it, hovered the image of John from Thunderbird Five. All eyes were fixed on them.

Jeff took his seat at his desk whilst Virgil joined Scott on one of the couches. “What’s going on, John?” Their father asked, voice full of authority. Some days it had felt like he’d never left.

“Derailment in the Northern Alaska region.” John replied. “A freight train crashed around an hour ago. Initial research showed it belonged to the GDF. I can’t get a reading of anything on board.”

“Crew?” Scott asked.

“Three, apparently. Initial scans I made after I received the call showed none, but the woman confirmed two unconscious alongside herself. She was…” John uncharacteristically trailed off.

“John?”

“Let’s just say that ‘distressed’ is a mild term for how she sounded. Whatever you guys do, I suggest you be as gentle as possible.”

“You can update us as we fly.” Scott said as stood from his seat. “Gordon, you go with Virgil. Alan, stay here with Brains. Try and see if you can find something in the schematics that could have warranted a crash. I’m sure the GDF will want to know where the fault lies.”

“I’ll try and get in contact with Casey. If she doesn’t already know about this, I have a feeling she’ll want to.” Jeff added.

“FAB.” Scott nodded toward his father as he pressed his back up against the wall, hands rising to hold the light fixtures. Jeff watched from behind his desk as the three boys launched into action.

Debris littered for miles. The devastation was worse in person than what the scans had shown. Scott had flown Thunderbird One at top speed to arrive as quickly as he could. Once he arrived, he performed a quick fly-by. Only then did the realisation of the extent of the crash sink in. With the whole thing buckled and broken, he was surprised that anyone had even survived the wreck. It looked a mess. Having plowed into solid mounds of snow that had been gathered on the sides of the tracks, he figured the train must have been going at some speed when it had derailed.

“Brains, what speed was this thing travelling at?” Scott asked when he’d opened up a comms link between himself, base and Thunderbird Two.

“It’s impossible to tell without d-data.” International Rescue’s engineer, one of the best in the world, replied hesitantly. Scott could practically hear the cogs of Brains’s brain working, trying to find a suitable answer with the data that had been presented. “This isn’t a vehicle I’m f-fam-familiar with.”

“The GDF rarely use freight trains to haul their stuff around.” Virgil added from his ship that was still flying to the danger zone. “Planes are much more convenient and efficient, not to mention safer.”

“So that begs the question as to what was so special about this stuff that warranted them going the old-fashioned route?” Scott mused, mostly to himself.

“That still doesn’t answer how the crash happened.” Gordon chimed in from the co-pilot’s seat of Two. “The GDF are sticklers when it comes to safety.”

“Maybe it was sabotage?” Alan suggested.

The word sabotage never sat well with Scott. Too often was that word linked with their arch-nemesis. One would have thought that after the stunt the Hood had pulled in their mission to retrieve their father from space, and his subsequent arrest, Scott shouldn’t have been so worried about him being a possible factor. However, the news Captain Wayne Rigby had broken to Kayo about The Hood’s breakout from prison a few months back meant that it was again possible for the The Hood to have been the cause. No-one knew how he’d managed to get out of such a high-security holding cell, and Rigby had taken the blow personally. It had taken Kayo weeks to convince him not to quit over it. Since then, the GDF had pulled out all the stops in trying to relocate the criminal, with no success. Despite Casey’s constant reassurance that they’d soon catch him again, the mere fact that The Hood was out there left Scott feeling weighed down. Thoughts over the possibility of him being involved were now swirling around his mind. It was instinct. He couldn’t help it.

No, that was no good. He had to adopt Brains’s logic; no evidence, no proof, no conclusion. Scott couldn’t allow himself to get distracted by possibilities. Right now, there was only one thing he knew for certain; there were people down there who needed his help. “I’m gonna to jetpack down, see if I can find our caller and take it from there when Virgil and Gordon arrive.”

“Be careful, Scott.” Jeff’s voice, Scott noticed, was laced with concern more than command. Perhaps Scott wasn’t the only one who was worrying over possible causes.

It took them almost an extra half an hour to reach the danger zone, but eventually the roar of Thunderbird Two’s engines echoed through the snowy gorge as it came into view over the wreckage. It hovered over the site, Virgil performing his own fly-by to assess the damage, before the ship came in to land next to her sister. The powerful VTOL engines were enough to make the ice on the mountains shake.

Scott’s voice came through the comms in a shaky laugh of his own. “Careful, Virgil. We don’t want to cause an avalanche too.”

“An avalanche?” The unfamiliar voice came from behind Scott on the comms. The woman, panicked and afraid, began to hyperventilate. “Please. Please! God, I don’t want to die here. Please, help me! Please!”

Gordon’s brows creased with worry as the woman’s pleas echoed through the cockpit of Two. “I take it you found our caller.”

The brothers in the green behemoth exchanged worried glances. John hadn’t been wrong about her being distressed.

“Remember what we said, Barbara.” Scott was clearly talking to the trapped woman now, his hologram that hovered over the instruments in Two showing him turned to his side. “Breathe in and breathe out. Try to stay calm.” Scott emulated the breathing with her for a few minutes, and only when he was convinced she was calm again, did he turn back to his brothers. “We need to get them out of her ASAP. Virgil, I need you and your heavy-lifting talents down here now.”

“I’m on my way.” Virgil unbuckled himself from the pilot’s seat. He turned to his co-pilot as he began his descent into the depths of his ship. “Gordon, stand by. We may need you if the snow does decide it wants to come down and join the party.”

“FAB.” Gordon replied, already assessing the virtual scans of the scene that John had sent down from Thunderbird Five. They were all in for a long night.

[niffler-gold]

Burning

Just a short injury fic focused on Scott with some comfort thrown in.

His muscles burned in agony as he tried to get up this morning. Apparently doing two mountain rescues back to back with a lot of climbing followed by rigorous water training led by Gordon did not agree with his muscles. Still nothing a hot shower and some stretching wouldn't fix.

He slowly pulled his legs over the side of the bed and stretched up towards the ceiling his joints loudly cracking to show their disdain at being moved from their current position. He quickly pulled on his running gear and was about to head out before his hot shower. Leaving his room he could already hear Gordon furiously swimming in the pool at this early hour.

Just as he was heading down the stairs to start his early morning routine John popped up on his com. He groaned internally before answering, knowing his hot shower was going to have to wait. "What's the situation John", he asked, ever the professional. "Another climber got into difficulties". Scott paused before answering, "That is the third one in less than 2 days, what are these people thinking, we should start charging for these at least that might be a deterrent", he rambled on. John cut him off before he could get any further, "even so this guy does need our help", he paused for a second before continuing, "it's an unusual one, he was climbing a large cliff face when he said the cliff seemed to move under him, next thing he knew all of his belay wall clips started pinging undone and he fell around 50 metres getting tangled in the line as he went... The unusual thing is I haven't detected any seismic activity around that area nor does it have any implications in the surrounding geology that any seismic activity has taken place in the last 100 years. "He's probably just imagining it and didn't secure his clips properly enough", grumbled Scott in response. "Could be" replied John, "but I did a quick background check on this guy and he's been climbing professionally for about 30 years and has never called us or any local rescue teams out to aid him before." "Hmmmm, that is odd" pondered Scott. "I'll take 1 alone, no need to wake up the bear this early for a pickup.. see you in the sky thunderbird 5", "fab scott, safe flight" and with that John had disappeared and Scott was running towards one's launch shoot to gear up.

Sitting in the pilot's chair of one he slowly tried to stretch his burning muscles out once more but to no avail. He really could have done with that hot shower he thought to himself. Nevermind it could wait. "Approaching the danger zone now thunderbird 5" he called through the coms. "Fab thunderbird 1" John called back through to him. He tried one last futile time to stretch his muscles out before coming into land at the bottom of the cliff face.

After exiting one and surveying the scene before him he knew the best option was going to be to climb up after the man rather than using the jet pack due to the unknown unstable condition of the rock face. Thankfully he could use the grapple gun in order to get up there with speed as the man looked to be hanging on his side completely covered in rope. With precision he fired the grapple into a secure spot of the wall and started his accent.

His limbs were once again burning with the strain of the climb by the time he had reached the man. But still he kept face and called out to the dangling climber. He quickly learned that the man's name was Ben and started trying to secure him to a new line before tackling the rope that was binding him. Luckily Ben seemed unharmed apart from a little bit of rope burn where it had dug in and caught him.

Ben kept chatting to him as he worked and he soon found out he was a seasoned mountain rescue operative on a holiday as he called it to get a little alone time. It was definitely something that Scott would have done if he ever had more than a few hours to himself and he kept wondering how the climber had managed to get himself in such a bind. Soon enough though Ben was free and was back secured against the wall. However before Scott could lower Ben down back to the ground again they had to get his gear cut down so they didn't tangle up with it on their way down.

As Ben was helping him sort it out he noticed something odd. One of the belay wall clips looked chard and burnt and the rope around said clip was in similar condition. He looked at Ben and asked if his equipment was this damaged when securing it to the wall. Ben confirmed it most definitely was not in that condition, then he noted that when assessing the rope to be cut down back to the ground, that would of been the clip that failed when the cliff started moving. This puzzled Scott even more.

Once the gear and ropes had been safely thrown back down to the ground Scott got ready to lower Ben down to safety. But before he could he asked Ben if he knew whereabouts on the wall that the burnt clip had been secured. His Tracy senses were tingling alarmingly but not in a good way at all. Ben said it looks like it was the clip about 10 meters above them, so Scott decided he needed to take a look before returning to the ground. Scott slowly lowered ben back down to solid ground before slowly climbing to the spot Ben had previously pointed out to him.

He quickly found the spot where the clip had been as a small black spot protruded out of the crack where the clip had been secured. Small cracks could also be seen in the burnt section of the wall. He slowly felt around inside the small fisher to see what could have caused the damage as nothing natural would do this type of carnage. His fingers slowly curled around something metallic small and sharp. He cautiously pulled it out and held it to the light to better examine it. He could just make out the chaos crew logo.

His hand flew up to his com button to alert John but in a split second a fireball had engulfed a section of cliff high above him to his right. An ear splitting explosion suddenly came from his left much nearer to him than the first. He started rappelling down the cliff as fast as his equipment would take him. Another explosion just above him and he could feel the heat lick the side of his face. It had detonated where he had just been a second before. Next thing he knew he was falling. The explosion had dislodged his grapple.

He fell as fire and debris surrounded him on all sides. He fumbled with a new grapple cartridge, discarding the old one out of the gun and fired. The line caught him less than 10 meters from the ground. Before he had a chance to get moving again a last fireball explosion detonated just below his right leg.

He was lying on the ground his ears ringing. He could see smoke floating all around him as his vision swam. His right leg was numb with scalding pain shooting all around it. His vision swam when he tensed it unknowingly. He could hear muffled movement round him someone shouting his name. The next time his eyes peeled open against the heat a figure loomed over him. He seemed to be yelling something but it sounded so far away. Green and blue swam in his vision as he lost consciousness once again.

He could hear low murmuring voices all around him. His head swam with confusion. He could feel soft cotton sheets wrapped around him and the tell tale sting of an IV line inserted into his left arm. His body felt numb and his right leg had an odd feeling of coolness about it. Gingerly he opened one eye to figure out what was going on.

He was greeted with the sight of all his brothers sitting around the bed he had been put in. He heard a low chorus of Scott being said around the room as his eyes adjusted to the light of the room. He felt a hand on his and saw Virgil gently holding it looking like he hadn't slept in over a week. "What happend" he gently asked looking at his little brother in the eyes. His voice came out quite horse and raspy much to his surprise. "The chaos crew" Virgil replied quietly and solemnly. Suddenly the images of the rescue and the carnage that had surrounded him came back into his mind. "How bad he asked" still looking at his brother. It was John who answered instead on the opposite side of his bed. "Unconscious for 3 days, bruised ribs and a definite concussion..." He seemed to trail off towards the end. Scott knew he was avoiding telling him something but before he had a chance to enquire further Gordon finished off for John. " Your right leg", he stated nervously. "When we found you it was blackened and chard, your uniform was missing and the parts that were still there were fused into your skin". "The doctors managed to save it though" he said cheerfully trying his hardest to lighten the mood. Alan chose this moment to interject, "you've had multiple skin grafts and surgeries to assist with its healing, for now it's got to stay in the specialty brace to keep it healing and healthy." So that's why, he thought to himself, it felt slightly cold.

He could already feel the sleep tugging at his eye lids as he looked at his brother's noticing how worried and anxious they all seemed to look. Virgil gently brushed the hair back of his forehead, "sleep Scotty" he gently whispered as everything started going black again.

A month later and Scott was sitting at his father's desk keeping an eye out on the rescue that the rest of his brothers were on. He still was on crutches as he wasn't allowed any weight on the leg just yet. The brace that surrounded it kept it nice and cool though.

He thought back to that morning where all he wanted was a nice hot shower but had decided to go running instead. He should have just had the shower he thought to himself. At the moment all he was allowed was a gentle cold shower due to his injuries. He sighed to himself knowing it was still gonna be a little while until he could have the hot water pouring down his skin.

"SCOTT WHAT ARE YOU DOING", yelled Virgil having just materialised on the holo projector in the middle of the room. "What" Scott replied with his cocky grin on his face. "I'm sitting down" he tried not to laugh at the expression on Virgil's face. "You are meant to be elevating that leg, not sitting at the desk". Well at least some things never changed.

[alexthefly]

WIP Ask Memre:

Parker Gets Sidelined

Hi! Thankyou so much for the ask! (And thankyou to @tikatu and @myladykayo , who also requested this one.)

This one-shot is a response to @tracybirds One Prompt Challenge , although I haven't actually gotten to the prompt bit yet. (I swear, I 100% intend to finish it... someday...) As it stands though, it's still very fragmented and piecemeal.

That said, here's a little snippet:

Lady Penelope is away on a very special solo mission, and so poor Parker is left alone with only his thoughts - and a concerned Alan - for company...

“She’ll be alright, Parker.”

Mister Alan's words broke through his thoughts like a cricket ball through glass, sending unwelcome splinters of worry shooting into his heart.

“Well of course she’ll be alright! Soft lad. Why on earth would you think she wouldn’t be alright?”

Methinks the chauffeur doth protest too much.

Because that was the fear, wasn’t it? Her Ladyship was as fierce and as strong as any woman - any person - he’d ever met, but you never knew, did you? These things happened, after all…

He brushed the thought off with a shake of his head. Of course she’d be alright! As if her Ladyship would tolerate anything less. Honestly, if she were here right now she'd give him what-for and no mistake. He could hear her in his head now: “Do stop worrying and try to get on with something useful, would you Parker?”

“She’ll be fine,” he said again, ignoring the slight croak in his voice. “Right as rain. You mark my words.” The wind whistled through the alleyway, calling him out.

…God, he wanted a cigarette. Of course, Her Ladyship had put a stop to all that almost as soon as she’d met him.

Or at least she thought she had. The Grey Ninja still had a few secrets.

The day she discovered all of FAB1’s secret hidey-holes was the day he’d finally retire.

He shuddered at the very thought. Not needed anymore. Perhaps he would take up golf instead. He shuddered again.

Of course, she didn’t really need his protection any more now; hadn’t for a long time. Plenty’s the time she’d been the one to save him from disaster, be that from violent gangsters or the wrong side of Lil’s sharp tongue, but even so…

Back in the beginning, when she was a young slip of a thing and he was only just removed from that old, dirty life of his, he’d felt deeply - viscerally - the enormous responsibility he’d been given by His Lordship; guardianship of his most precious treasure. Anything even slightly untoward happened, and he was to protect her no matter what; that was the deal.

He turned his collar up at the chill that chose that moment to creep up his back.

If he really couldn’t be beside her during this, perhaps her most perilous mission to date, then he would just have to make do with being as close as he could. Cold weather be damned.

Because he felt the weight of it even now, deep in his marrow.

The promise he'd made.

No. Matter. What.

[m-calculus]

A Cozy Evening

Scott ran his fingers through the silky fur of the puppy sleeping with its head on his lap. He leant back, letting his body sink into the plush sofa.

Puppy sitting wasn’t his usual gig, but when one of his old Air Force buddies had put out the SOS looking for a sitter at the last minute due to a family emergency, International rescue was always ready to help.

Scott used his free hand to lift a pumpkin-shaped mug with warm hot chocolate to his lips, taking a large sip. He pulled the crochet blanket over his lap, as the fire crackled in the grate.

Sure there were messes to clean up, the puppy was not yet toilet trained, but he smiled as the puppy twitched in its sleep; no doubt dreaming about their game of tug-of-war earlier in the evening.