#flyboytracy's fault

[alexthefly]

WIP: Mayday

This is the start of a new chapter fic, because I lack discipline. All @flyboytracy and @edutainer2022 's fault, of course. 😁 (Fingers crossed I can get this one out a bit quicker than previous efforts...)

Spoilers for SOS Part 1 and 2.

------

“What in the hell were you thinking, Gordon?!”

Scott’s face really was going the most interesting shade of red. Gordon wondered idly what shade Virgil would call it if he were here. Vermilion maybe? Lobster?

“Scratch that; not what. Were you even thinking? Did one single thought cross your mind before you decided that theft was a viable option?”

“That’s a bit much,” John interjected, flickering in from the hangar console beside him. “Gordon was called out on a rescue, and One was the best-”

“Retrieving his girlfriend’s dog is not a rescue!” Scott damn-near exploded at him, causing their space brother to pull back despite the lack of actual proximity. “I swear do not even try to frame this as a necessity because I will lose it.”

Too late, thought Gordon, trying hard not to fixate on the word girlfriend. Big Bro was already beyond nuclear.

“Nevertheless, he-”

“And don’t think I’ve forgotten about your involvement in this, John. Once I’m done here, you and I are going to have a little chat about when exactly you realised my ship was missing.”

“Don’t yell at him!" Gordon exclaimed. The fact that John was almost solely responsible for him even making it to Creighton-Ward Manor in one piece wasn’t one he was about to advertise, but he’d be damned if he was going to let his space brother take any flack for it. "He didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the idiot here; aim that hairdryer this way.”

John shot him a quick, appreciative look before meeting Scott’s glare once more. “Don’t worry about it, Gordon,” he said, arms folded, “Scott knows better than to imply I’d ever let anything bad happen to his ‘bird.” A sideways glance. “Or his brother.”

The chill radiating down from space was enough to freeze fire.

“I look forward to our discussion, Commander. Thunderbird Five out.”

And he was gone.

#wip wednesday #wip #thunderbirds are go

[gumnut-logic]

I've got a cold. It's taken me down rip flyboy but anyway, which brother do you think would say 'bless you' every single time someone sneezes? Which brother does that kind of AGHCHOO that makes them sound like they're being murdered?

I've been on an Indiana Jones binge 'cause that's what I watch when I want warmth and death to embrace me. What do you think the boys would watch? Apollo 13? Indy? Finding Nemo?

T Protocol

Okay, I wrote and this happened. I don't think I answered all of it, but most of it. I hope you feel better soon ::hugs you ever so tight::

Warnings for sick!fic and an off-screen injury, but mostly fluff and comfort, I promise.

I hope this helps at least a little.

-o-o-o-

It’s a special protocol. Reserved for only the blanket situations.

In both uses of the word.

There are times when a bug gets loose on Tracy Island and takes them all down, or when the ratio of injured family members to uninjured family members gets skewed in the wrong direction.

This is the protocol that Grandma calls.

This time it is after a flood in Bangladesh. It wasn’t the first time a protocol was called after a flood in the remains of that country, but this time it was complicated by a broken leg and a sprained wrist, both sported by Scott who had flown into a tree.

Virgil had had so many words on the matter, there was a current ice age in progress between the two eldest brothers.

Once the virus reared its ugly not quite alive head in three of the four other brothers, Grandma did not hesitate more than a diagnostic second to shut down IR.

Scott, being Scott could not keep away from any of the snotty brothers despite Grandma’s warnings and before long there were five brothers producing mucus at a disgusting rate.

It was at this point a sneezing Virgil kicked Grandma out of the picture and confined everyone else on the Island to any other place other than where the brothers were. Which was currently the main comms room because Virgil was a softy who couldn’t resist Gordon’s whining.

Okay, technically it wasn’t whining, more a valid plea for time with each other to get through this together. It was possibly a tactic to get Scott and Virgil talking again, but it was definitely designed to torture Virgil’s aching head with b-grade movies that had Alan and Gordon arguing about aliens and sea life for eternity.

‘Can you just…please!” Virgil curled up into a ball on the couch he had stuffed with pillows and begged the painkillers that he had thrown back not minutes earlier to please do their job.

“Sorry, Virg.” Alan’s voice was an octave higher than usual and the words were closer to ‘sowwy, Birg’ but close enough.

Virgil grunted.

John sneezed.

“Bless you.” Three of them said it at the same time. Virgil out of habit, Gordon out of mysticism, and Alan because Gordon said it.

Their youngest brother did have some kind of hero worship for Gordon after all. Gordon never took advantage of it. Well, not since Dad and Scott had ripped him a new one for terrifying Alan enough to induce insomnia in the entire household.

Alan had been too terrified to sleep and had kept everyone awake in the process.

Virgil suspected that the ten-year-old Gordon hadn’t meant to provoke such a reaction in his four-year-old brother, but it had. So telling your little brother about the dreams you might not wake up from, had not been a great idea.

Despite this, little Allie had been wide-eyed about Gordon for most of his life. Not as much as he adored his biggest brother, but enough to get himself into Gordon’s schemes.

They weren’t called the ‘terrible two’ for nothing.

A groan from near Virgil’s feet had him opening one eye.

He shot his big brother a glare. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Scott frowned at him over his leg brace. “Getting a drink.”

“Move another inch and I’m stapling your clothes to that chair.”

That activated his brother’s blue lasers enough to scorch the Earth and Virgil’s t-shirt. “I’m fully capable of looking after myself.” It was followed by a sneeze.

Virgil rolled off the lounge to his feet. “Bless you. Now shut up and stay put. I will get us some supplies.” He steadied himself as his abrupt change in orientation was protested at by his brain.

“I brought stuff!” Gordon protested.

Virgil didn’t bother to look at him. “Real food and drink, Gordon.”

“This is real and super healthy!”

Virgil grunted and climbed out of the sunken lounge. Technically Gordon was correct. Sports drinks and celery bars were good stuff, but Virgil’s stomach roiled at the thought. He needed comfort food.

Or whatever he could manage right now.

Behind him, Scott sneezed again and a chorus of ‘bless you’ sung out from the lounge.

Virgil made his way carefully down to the kitchen and dove into the refrigerator.

The wave of cool air was pure heaven.

He sighed. His fever must still be in play. Explained the headache at least.

“Need a hand?”

Virgil looked up to find John standing at the counter. His brother was a sight. His red hair and pale complexion always conspired to make Johnny look the worst of them when they were sick. His eyes were red and puffy. His nose was in the Rudolph stakes, and honestly, the man looked miserable.

Virgil fought the urge to hug him.

John had been the one to pull Scott out of the river. Virgil and the rest of his brothers had been rescuing a family from a barely floating house. Scott had been in-bound and John had been in Two, as Virgil was needed on the ground.

Bangladesh always took all five brothers. Hell, Kayo had been the lucky one this time having been tied up with hunting down a lost climber in the Pyrenees.

She had been successful. Bangladesh had been mostly successful.

Virgil sneezed.

“Bless you.”

He grunted and rolled back onto his heels. “Screw this.” He shoved the refrigerator closed. “This needs ice cream.”

“God, yes.”

The two of them wobbled their way to the walk-in freezer and loaded up on frozen desserts. A carton each of their favourites and some soda for extra sugar.

“T Playlist?”

Virgil looked up at his little brother. “Definitely. Top Gun it.”

John rolled his tired eyes before thumbing his collar. “Eos?”

“John, you should not be standing up. Your vitals are depressed and you could fall over due to-“

His space brother’s eyes widened. “Eos! I’m fine.”

Virgil frowned at him and if he hadn’t had his arms full of ice cream, he’d have his scanner out.

John must have sensed that. “Really, I’m fine!” He glared at Virgil. “Eos, could you please queue the T protocol playlist on the holoplayer in the lounge. Start point ‘Top Gun’, follow it up with ‘Finding Nemo’ and Dory, ‘Need for speed’, and throw in one of the ‘Fast and Furious’.” He smirked at Virgil. “Top it up with the 1990’s Mummy series.”

So, sue him, he loved a good Librarian adventure.

Virgil glared at John and cut him off. “Eos, chuck in ‘Apollo 13’ and ‘2001: a Space Odyssey’. There would be so much space debate sparked by that last one. “Actually, throw in all the Star Wars movies.”

“Just the twenty or did you want the branching series as well?” Was that glee in her voice?

“Just the movies. Oh, and ‘The Lord of the Rings’ trilogy, extended version.”

“Are you intending on sleeping at some point?” Eos had obviously been taking notes from John, her tone was pure parent.

John’s smirk proved everything.

Virgil gave him a flat stare in return. “I have no doubt there will be sleep.” Especially his own. ‘Top Gun’ was far from his favourite.

Together they stumbled back up the stairs, arms laden with all the goodies, to find the sunken lounge full of rugs, pillows, cushions and all the comfy stuff. Gordon’s doing, no doubt.

His fish brother already had Allie half asleep under one arm.

Virgil and John stepped carefully into the pile of comfort and handed out their goodies as the first strains of the movie bounced around the room.

If Scott’s eyes lit up at the sight of his favourite ice cream, Virgil wasn’t going to say anything because he was still supposed to be pissed with his brother for colliding with that tree and scaring all Virgil’s hair colour off his head.

But honestly, he loved to see his big brother happy.

Which was why ‘Top Gun’ was queued first, why he handed Scott his fudge-monstrosity of a flavour to him, with his favourite spoon, and why he sat down next to his big brother regardless.

There followed a couple of hours of old Air Force zooming and nooming about, and strutting their stuff for the girls.

Scott’s grin was massive. But ice cream is full of carbohydrate and fat, and enough was consumed that about halfway through the movie, Scott began to wilt.

Virgil was already half asleep, but alert enough to let his head drop against Scott’s shoulder in just the right position…and yes, Scott’s head dipped to lean against Virgil’s and his breathing evened out.

Yes, he was pissed with his brother for taking a risk that possibly could have been avoided and then falling in the drink and giving Virgil a heart attack when he couldn’t respond.

But he was still Scott, and Virgil had fallen asleep to ‘Top Gun’ playing in the background so many times in his life, it was almost automatic.

Across the lounge, John was murmuring something to Alan, and Gordon was already snoring on his side.

Really, they rarely got past ‘Top Gun’, it was a definite sleep inducer.

Someone gently took the carton of melting ice cream from his hands, but his headache was finally going down under the painkillers and he was comfortable, and his big brother was safe, and Tom Cruise really was a bore.

He was sleeping before he knew it.

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #virgil tracy #scott‌ ‌tracy #john tracy #gordon tracy #alan tracy #nuttyfic #flyboytracy's fault

[gumnut-logic]

The Big Chair

I woke up early this morning and ended up having some time to write. Wanted to write a little short but didn’t know what. Then @flyboytracy​ posted this, so I ran with it :D

So have a little short with a little bro and a big bro who loves him very much.

AKA Nutty got both fluffy and mushy.

-o-o-o-

“You’ll grow into it.”

“But I look stupid.”

He continued grumbling while Virgil took the required measurements for the robotics, aiming the laser measuring device across his brother’s torso and arms.

“You do not look stupid. You’re just built like Johnny. He had the same problem.”

Alan sparked up at that. “John was short like me?”

Virgil did not roll his eyes. Really, he didn’t. “You know. You’ve seen the videos and the photographs.”

“Hmph.” Alan sat back in the chair with his arms crossed and a sour look on his face.

“I thought you were looking forward to this. You’ve wanted to pilot Three since you were little.”

“I dooo!” His little brother sat up straighter. Well, as straight as he could in the layback pilot seat currently situated in their lounge.

Alan wiggled his feet, hanging off the seat midair, never to touch the ground. “Why are the seats so big?”

Virgil looked away, busying himself with taking more measurements. This was a proud moment. Alan had worked ever so hard and long for this. Hell, if age wasn’t an issue, their budding little astronaut might have landed in this seat a long time ago.

There were so many geniuses in this family.

But there were still some things his teenage little brother was clueless about.

“They were designed to fit Dad and Uncle Lee.”

For a moment, he had considered not saying it, but then he said it anyway.

And regretted it immediately.

“Oh. Of course.”

The immediate fall of Alan’s expression cut into Virgil like a knife and he stopped working, gazing down at his little brother, slumped in the huge seat.

“He would be so proud of you.”

That brought a sad blue gaze in Virgil’s direction. “You think?”

“I know.” He reached over and placed a hand on Alan’s shoulder. “We all are, but Dad would be over the moon.” A snort. “Possibly Mars.”

A smile overtook the grump on Alan’s face ever so slowly. It was like a sun on a cloudy morning creeping over the horizon.

“He may not be happy you are doing this so young, however.”

“Aw, Virgil. I’ll be safe, you know that.”

It was his turn to grunt. Scott, Grandma and Virgil had been the decision makers in this instance and Virgil was still not entirely convinced this was the right one.

Alan leant forward and reached out to place his hand on Virgil’s shoulder. Almost an exact mirror of what Virgil had done for the young astronaut moments earlier.

“I promise that I will look after myself. I promise I will follow all the safety protocols.” His blue eyes shone up at Virgil. “And I promise to come back.”

Virgil blinked, his heart suddenly in his throat. Then he was kneeling down in front of that huge chair and drawing his scrawny, half-grown little brother into a massive hug.

Alan had his father’s heart, his mother’s genius, and oh, so much of Scott’s fire in him. But he couldn’t promise to come back any more than any of them.

And Virgil would just have to live with that.

But in the meantime, he would just have to be proud, love the little dare devil with everything he had…

And let him grow into the big chair he was destined to fill.

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Virgil Tracy #Alan Tracy #nuttyfic #flyboytracy's fault #again #::hugs::

[gumnut-logic]

Dear Mr Tracy... (Part 7)

Sweetapple | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 - Bit 1, Bit 2, Bit 3 | Part 5 - Bit 1, Bit 2 | Part 6 | Part 7

@flyboytracy​​​​​​​​, @amistrio​​​​​​​​ and @onereyofstarlight​​​​​​​​​  you asked for it, so you get to suffer more :D

So sorry for the delay on this. Apart from the obstacle that was Christmas and all the work before and after it, this fic needed thought. At 2am this morning, the scene coalesced in my head, so here we have it :D

Many many thanks to @onereyofstarlight​, @gaviiadastra​ and @katblu42​ for putting up with my whining this morning. Unfortunately, brain threw a minor migraine first thing, that while it didn’t throw me to the ground, it messed with my head (is still messing with my head, damn thing). But fortunately before I was forced to go back to bed, this got written and my friends got whined at.

Anyway, soooo much emotion in this, probably why it was so hard to write. The first bit might sound a little familiar as I think I posted a bit for a WIP Wendesday at one point, can’t remember.

I hope you enjoy.

-o-o-o-

Scott hated arguing with Virgil.

Hated it with a passion. Not the disagreements about tactics in the field or how many kitchen sinks he should take with them on vacation. That was part and parcel of who they were.

This, however…if Gordon thought Scott was blind to the worry that was consuming Virgil, his fish brother was the blind one.

Ever since they rescued Dad, Virgil had been hovering. At first it seemed his brother couldn’t let Dad out of his sight, as if the man would disappear like a dream.

And yes, Scott had a bit of that himself. Dad had been so sick, for a while there it was possible they had only brought him home to die.

But Dad, being Dad, had survived and taken the first of many steps towards recovery.

It was a long journey and Scott was very aware that his father still had a way to go, but his medical brother was clinging to symptoms and placing restrictions on Dad’s movements that seemed far more for his own insecurities than any health issue.

Scott had consulted with his grandmother and her answer had been to give Virgil time.

So he gave Virgil time.

And Dad chewed on his bit wanting to be let loose.

Scott supported Virgil. Scott believed in Virgil.

Scott watched as the man wore himself down.

He had tried talking to him, but Virgil would list symptoms and arguments would break out. If it was Scott’s fault that he was far too much like his father, so be it, because somewhere amongst those arguments, Scott had stopped listening to his brother.

It wasn’t a realisation, it was an acknowledgement. He had made a decision and acted.

Leaving Virgil behind.

And it felt awful.

But Dad needed his freedom. After being stuck on that rock in space for so long…Scott couldn’t think of a worse imprisonment…and he couldn’t help but empathise with his father.

So it placed him in direct conflict with his medical brother.

It felt wrong.

It was wrong.

He wasn’t sure how it had gotten so bad. Why he had let it go so long.

But Gordon snarling at him wasn’t going to fix anything.

Virgil’s empty seat glared at him.

Scott should have gone after Virgil. But he hadn’t. Because he knew that if he had, it would all have just dissolved into another argument.

God, he hated arguing with Virgil.

“Scott? Are you listening?” Gordon’s glare was fit to scorch him.

“Is there anything worth listening to?” It was sharp and uncalled for, but it generated the response he needed it to.

Gordon shut up.

“Scott!” Dad was frowning at him.

Actually, everyone was staring at him.

Excellent.

Perfect.

He threw down his napkin and stood up. “I’m going for a walk.” He didn’t bother to acknowledge whatever it was that Gordon growled in his direction. Instead, he strode from the room and out through the restaurant, ignoring the questioning glances of both Tia and Kayo.

The sea air was refreshing as it hit his face and for just a second, he gave himself a moment to settle his emotions.

A seagull squawked off to his left.

A hand landed gently on his right shoulder.

He turned, ready to shake off whoever was messing with him, but the hand gripped a little tighter and Kayo held a finger up to her lips.

Scott frowned, but obeyed, a reflex from in the field he could not resist, and as she gestured across the road, his eyes found why she needed his silence.

On a bench, facing the ocean, Alexander Sweetapple had Scott’s brother in his arms.

Hugging him.

-o-o-o-

 “You need to step back and look after yourself.”

There. He had said it. For good or bad.

Virgil stared at him a moment before looking away again, first up at the ocean, but then down at the grass. His elbows returned to his knees and Alex was shut out from seeing his face as those strong hands combed through and gripped dark hair. The mere sight of him was anguish itself.

Alex had to turn away, yet again caught between his need to respond to the grief before him and the fact that it probably wasn’t his place.

But there was no one else doing anything!

“I can’t do this.” It was quiet and muffled. “I just can’t…” There was a tremor in the last syllable that had Alex turning to the man in alarm.

“Can’t do what?”

The face that looked up at him was red, strained, almost broken. “Lose them.”

Alex swallowed. “Your Dad is getting better.”

The sound Virgil made could only be a pained scoff. “I’ve nearly lost Scott so many times. I thought that finding Dad would help. But it has only made it worse.” A harshly drawn in breath as he once again stared out at the ocean. “If we lose Dad, we’ll lose Scott as well, and I can’t…”

The hopelessness in the man’s voice had Alex responding without thought. He wrapped a long arm around those big shoulders and drew the man close. He needed a hug.

God, he needed a hug.

He nudged that bowed head to his shoulder and just held the man. The tension in his body was fit to bust something, but he seemed to relax just a little as Alex stroked a thumb across a bicep.

“It’s going to be okay.” Alex had no clue at the truth of those words, but regardless, he felt Virgil needed to hear them.

Muscles flexed under his arm as if to resist the words, but Virgil did not pull away.

Nor did he say anything.

So Alex just sat and held him.

-o-o-o-

 Next

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Scott Tracy #Virgil Tracy #Gordon Tracy #alexander sweetapple #nuttyfic #flyboytracy's fault

[gumnut-logic]

Have you ever thought about how Virgil would've reacted to finding out his dad was gonna create an entire rescue organisation on a deserted island, and his big brother was gonna ride a rocket at mach speeds to get to rescues too difficult for regular services to deal with?

Quickly, before work :D

-o-o-o-

“You’re what?”

His voice was a little unsteady as he tried to formulate his thoughts into something he could manage to impart on a positive level.

Both his father and his eldest brother were staring at him, trying to determine his reaction and now was not the time for a meltdown.

Not with that much hope and purpose in his big brother’s eyes. Something he had feared he would never see again.

It was Scott who answered him. “Dad’s bought an island, engaged a genius mechanical engineer, and we’re going to start a rescue organisation. The rescue organisation that will take on the rescues no one else is capable of. Think of it, Virgil. We could do so much good!”

That passion was all that was keeping Virgil in the room. Scott was still gaunt and pale from his experience in that place that shall not be named. But the despair that had kept him prisoner these last months was now missing and Virgil could only cling to this first positive sign of recovery.

His eyes darted to his father, a man he had shared his own despair regarding his ill brother on multiple occasions. Dad was a busy man, but he was also a man who made things happen. Hell, he had been instrumental in the reason why Scott was standing beside him now and not dead in one of the worst places on Earth.

Virgil swallowed. Now was also not the time for his own mental health to bend under the strain.

He looked down at the holograms projecting from the table. Plans for some simply amazing craft. The first one appeared as if it could break every speed barrier available, the second one was ready to lift anything that needed lifting, the third… “There are five craft. There are five of us.” He said it with challenge in his voice. The thought of little Allie, Gords who only wanted to swim…

Scott shifted where he stood, but Dad stayed firm, with that familiar determination on his face. “There is a place for you and your brothers, if you want it. And only if you want it. I plan to speak to Lee and Val.” He paused. “We can make this work.”

“Why?”

That was the crux of the question. Why did they need to risk everything?Sure they had money now. Tracy Industries did nothing but shine under Dad’s leadership. But hadn’t they lost enough. Mom…

It clicked and his eyes darted between the two men in front of him. “You’re doing this for Mom.” It wasn’t a question.

“If International Rescue had existed at the time, we would never have lost your mother. This is for all the families like us.” Now Dad took a step forward. “We can save them.”

Dad, hell, all of them, had suffered at Mom’s loss. Virgil himself didn’t think he would ever heal, no matter the therapy Scott demanded he attend. But the thought of his big brother, any of his brothers, putting themselves on the line…the chance of losing another family member.

His hand touched the edge of the desk and he disguised the flash of terror with another stare at the diagrams.

“We would be doing good, Virgil.” Scott’s voice was stronger than it had been for so long. “It’s worth the risk.”

Virgil latched onto his eyes and stared at the hope, the rope his brother was now clinging to since the Air Force had taken everything away from him.

“I want you with me. I need you with me.”

That was the crux of it all. Virgil was always with his big brother. He followed the man everywhere and the one time he hadn’t…

The determination in the room said it was all going to happen regardless of whether he participated or not.

But Scott wanted him in.

And he would do anything for his brother.

It was then Virgil realised that he was already working out the logistics of what training he would need, what other skills were required…

He had already decided.

And if they were doing this, Virgil was going to make sure they did it right. That Scott had the tools, the back up, everything he needed to make this work.

Virgil had to do everything to make sure he wouldn’t lose anyone else.

Dad’s eyes were shining with pride.

Scott was actually smiling.

Thunderbird Two drifted past on the display.

Virgil took a breath. “Okay, I’m in.”

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #virgil tracy #scott tracy #jeff tracy #nuttyfic #flyboytracy's fault #hugs you ever so tight #this is only one way it could have gone

[gumnut-logic]

Dear Mr Tracy (Part 3)

Sweetapple | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

@flyboytracy​​, @amistrio​​ and @onereyofstarlight​​​  you asked for it, so you get to suffer more :D

Many thanks to @gaviiadastra​ for the read through and help with my Tunisian crochet as well :D

All I can say about this one is ‘poor Alex’ :D I hope you enjoy it.

-o-o-o-

Gordon had to admit it to himself, he was worried.

Sure, there was plenty to be worried about, what with Dad finally home, but so sick over the past few months, and then slowly getting back on his feet.

The whole family had been in a mess of worry for a long time now.

But as Dad’s condition improved, things should be getting better.

They weren’t.

They all had their moments, of course. A simple thing like encountering Dad in the hallway unexpectedly could really throw even Gordon. They had all cried at some time or another. Alan wasn’t alone in that department.

Not that Scott or John would admit it.

John had been down from Five for the longest time. It was as if he was almost scared that Dad might disappear while he was away.

Scott was relief embodied, walking around with stars in his eyes, except for those worrying moments where Dad came close to not being there. Gordon had been worried that if they lost Dad now, they would lose Scott, too.

Which led to Virgil.

Virgil who had been hovering around Scott as if the man was about to break for almost the last year. Now Dad was home and so fragile, Virgil had found another family member to obsess over.

Bar a rescue, Virgil barely let Dad out of his sight.

While Dad had been so sick, this time Gordon had an outside pov of his big brother’s train wreck, which had happened when Gordon had been the one in the bed.

Virgil was clinging.

At the time, Gordon had been grateful for his brother and all his help.

Until he wasn’t.

There was a thin line between which brother needed what. Gordon had needed space. Virgil had needed reassurance.

That his brother wasn’t going to die on him.

It had taken some kind but firm words and Scott to pull him away.

Gordon could see the same thing happening with Dad.

Virgil needed a distraction.

And Gordon intended to provide it.

-o-o-o-

Alex stumbled into the space outside of Tia’s office and dropped everything.

Well, not everything. His computer was still clutched to his side, but his neat folder of test results was on the floor in six different places.

“Shit.”

Why was it that he was always running late? He set alarms, for crying out loud, but for some reason, just one more minute until he was in minus minutes was a thing…and then this scenario happened.

Today was the day. Siliwrap had tested beautifully in standard atmospheric conditions. Today was its first underwater test and…okay, Alex was as nervous as all hell.

Erica was down with a lurgy and the lack of her sanity was enough to throw him out and let his crazy loose.

“Are you okay, son?”

Alex startled. He hadn’t even noticed the elderly gentleman in the room.

Grey eyes were peering at him from the couch outside Tia’s office. Silver hair, silver suit, he was obviously a business man. But an elaborately carved and fancy cane was propped up against the wall and a drawn look to the man spoke of illness.

Tia’s dad? Alex had heard he hadn’t been well.

“Um, yeah, stay there. I’m okay. Just one of those days.” He put the computer down gently and scampered about the space gathering flimsies off the floor, and shoving them back into the folder haphazardly enough to hurt his organised heart.

Those grey eyes were watching him.

“You missed one.” And it was being handed to him, a slight frown on the man’s face as he stared at the diagram on the flimsy. “You must be Alex Sweetapple.”

Alex stared up at him. He had risen from the couch and was now standing tall, cane in hand.

Alex was on his knees looking up…

And Scott Tracy exited the office, Tia in tow. Both froze staring at Alex.

Alex simply died.

But he had a mission he had to complete today, so he swallowed it down, and shoving the last flimsy into the folder, he grabbed his computer and staggered to his feet.

“Alex, are you okay?” Mr Tracy was peering at him in concern.

“Yes! Uh, yes, sir. I’m good.” He clung to his computer like it was a shield.

Tia arched an eyebrow and smiled just a little at him. He hoped it was reassuringly.

It was enough to remind Alex that he was a professional and that today was an important day, and goddamn it, he wasn’t going to make an ass of himself and ruin it!

He forced himself to straighten. “Mr Tracy, what brings you out to Māhia?”

Scott Tracy smiled just a little. “Today is the day, Alex. Isn’t it?”

Alex’s eyes widened. “You’re here for the tests?”

Mr Tracy shrugged in his very expensive suit. “Sure, why not. Dad was interested in what the facility has been up to and your project is in the lead.”

“Dad?” The word slipped from his lips involuntarily and he looked at the elderly man…who was only fifty-nine and had spent eight years lost in space and omigod, Jeff Tracy!

The flimsies all fell to the floor again.

Grey eyes sparkled.

“Alex, perhaps I should carry those.” Tia was gathering up his folder of results.

Oh god.

“Take a deep breath, son.” Jeff Tracy was smiling kindly at him.

Scott Tracy was picking up flimsies with Tia.

Alex was just dead. You know, in the ground, rotting.

Fortunately, Tia caught his computer before it could join him.

“Um…”

Jeff Tracy took a short breath. “Virgil tells me you have a unique solution that could help International Rescue.”

Virgil…Tracy. “Uh, yes, sir.”

Leaning heavily on his cane, Mr Jeff Tracy turned him around with a simple gesture and walked him towards the door. “He gave me a good outline; however, I am interested in how you are planning to fasten your Siliwrap to any material and provide an airtight seal.”

Alex blinked. He could answer that.

And he started talking, explaining the bond at a molecular level and the forces involved.

Those grey eyes were obviously interested and as they walked through the complex, Alex let his shoulders relax into the explanation. This he could do. This was what he was made for.

By the time they stepped out onto the dock, Alex was much more himself.

Except for the occasional fanboy realisation that was shoved down into the deep, dark hole of not-dealing-with-it-now.

The boat was a decent size and rigged with all the scientific equipment he could possibly ever want. She was officially called Determined II – Alex had no idea what happened to Determined I – but the Māhia team affectionately called her ‘Thunderbird Bucket’…because they could.

She lived up to both of her names, regardless. Tilly was her captain. A woman who looked like she could haul nets without breaking a sweat. Alex had found her kind and jovial to work with on this project.

Bucket was only to take them out into the bay. The first test was shallow water only. If it proved viable, deep water was the next step. There was no way Alex was going to let this project loose upon humanity without thorough testing.

“Good methodology. I couldn’t agree more.” Mr Jeff Tracy’s voice was rough but firm in its approval.

Alex swallowed. “All the computer modelling agrees that it will work, but real-world testing is liable to throw up unexpected variables.”

“Exactly.”

And they were on the boat, leaving the dock behind them. The sea was gentle today, the sun shining…

Alex had forgotten his sunscreen. Blond hair and pale skin were not a great combo out on the water.

He would worry about that later.

Mr Tracy asked Mr Jeff Tracy to take a seat on the deck. Something passed between them, but the older man did as his son asked.

Alex was asked to sit next to him.

The voyage out to the testing site was only a short one. They had lowered a dummy habitat sphere into the bay and decompressed it violently to simulate an accident, the day before.

Siliwrap was going to prove itself today.

It had to.

Tia was talking him up to both Mister Tracys, saying how great he was at his job.

Yes, today could just get itself over with so Alex could go back to his lab and die a quiet death.

He made an attempt to excuse himself and the Tracys let him disappear into the floating lab below, giving him a chance to breathe normally and relax as much as he could into the project.

The scanning equipment picked up the habitat and the massive hole in its side.

It also picked up something that wasn’t supposed to be there.

He stared at the screen. A shape ever so familiar from newscasts and the model he had on his mantlepiece back home.

Thunderbird Four was hovering just outside the test range.

What the hell?

He hit the intraship comms. “Tilly, Thunderbird Four is off our port bow.”

“Aye, Mr Sweetapple. International Rescue advised me they would be attending. Didn’t you know?”

The shape dazzled him on the screen.

And Alex let his head fall into his hands.

-o-o-o-

 Next

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Gordon Tracy #Scott Tracy #Jeff Tracy #alexander sweetapple #nuttyfic #flyboytracy's fault

[gumnut-logic]

Getting back on the horse

“C’mon, Dad, it’s fine.”

Jeff eyed his youngest. “It does not feel ‘fine’.”

“You said you wanted to go to space. I have a rocket. You said it yourself.”

Alan led him towards Thunderbird Three and her loading facility.

“Your brothers would not agree to this.”

Now why was he trying to talk Alan out of it?

“I do a lot of things my brothers don’t agree with, Dad. Live a little.”

He eyed his son. “You do realise I’m not Gordon.”

“Dad? You’re cool with it aren’t you? You’ve been wanting to go to space since you got back.”

If he was honest, Jeff’s relationship with space had more to do with ‘getting back on the horse’. He had been up to Five via the space elevator, but that was a far cry from Three’s huge rocket engines.

He needed to prove to himself that he was not scared. Not terrified to venture out into deep space. That he was still himself.

Despite everything.

His elder sons were terrified. Hell, Virgil was still hovering as if he was going to lose his father over a hangnail. Jeff understood, but it was stifling

And Scott…he couldn’t look Scott in the eye and defy him.

Maybe that was proof he was no longer the man he used to be. Perhaps he had left his spine in the Oort Cloud.

As his cane tapped on the concrete of the hangar, it only reminded him of all he had lost.

And what he had recovered.

“I don’t like want you getting in trouble with your brothers.”

Alan stopped and turned around to face him. “Dad, you need this.” He gripped Jeff’s arms. “John and I agree. You need to get back up there.”

“John’s in on this?”

Alan rolled his eyes. “You can’t avoid John. Not even gonna try. You don’t get into space without John being in on it.”

“But he agreed?”

“Dad, we’re all astronauts. Scott, Virg and Gords don’t get it.” Alan turned back to Three and started walking again.

Jeff stared after him a moment before hobbling in his wake.

-o-o-o-

TBC

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #jeff tracy #alan tracy #flyboytracy's fault #nuttyfic

[gumnut-logic]

Theory: Sherbet doesn't like Parker in the early days because he is Not Jeff, and Jeff's that one person that dogs get really attached to and Must Sit On the moment they sit down

This is soooo your fault :: mock glares at you and then tackle hugs you to the ground::

Thank you to @onereyofstarlight for the read through and reassurance :D

I kinda took it other places as well. I hope you enjoy it :D Likely more parts to follow, but gotta dash to work at the moment.

Warnings: non-graphic rescue scene.

-o-o-o-

“Thunderbird Five, I need more information.”

“I’m sorry, Commander, I don’t have any. Too much electrical interference.”

Jeff cursed under his breath. He knew John was doing his best, but there had been so many lives lost today.

Lee wasn’t happy. All the data they had pointed to a structural fault in the mall that caused the collapse. It left Jeff grateful that his engineering son wasn’t here for the incident. Virgil reminded him of Lucy when he went off the deep end – rare but a force of nature.

But today Virgil was with Gordon for a very important moment in his little brother’s swimming career.

Jeff was disappointed that he wasn’t there for Gordon, but responsibilities were responsibilities.

“Commander?” His eldest son was covered in dust. Jeff noted the dark smears on his arms but didn’t have the time to acknowledge what they meant.

The fire in Scott’s eyes was enough.

Jeff let out a sigh. “John can’t get more detail, so we are going in almost blind.” A breath and he stared at the remaining pile of crumpled masonry. “We’ll have Two lift off that piece of roof and go from there.”

“Two is not going to be happy.”

“Yeah, well, none of us are happy. “

“FAB.”

A glance as his son started issuing commands to the team. Jeff allowed himself the briefest flash of pride. Scott had become a mainstay of International Rescue and Jeff was ever so proud.

The roar of a Thunderbird shifting overhead and Two appeared, her VTOL reflecting Lee’s mood, no doubt. His partner-in-crime had been a great help the last couple of years, filling in to help with IR when he was available. Jeff envisioned that one day perhaps all his family could be involved, so it was great to have his brother-in-law on the job.

After all IR was to be his sister’s legacy.

Lucy was never far from Jeff’s thoughts, particularly today.

She would have been so angry.

Jeff had to settle for being her vengeance.

The clunk of all four of Two’s grapples as they clamped onto the broken roof. A roar of energised VTOL and the roof lifted ever so slowly.

Slowly not because Two wasn’t capable of lifting it easily, but slow and carefully in an attempt to protect the lives possibly below it.

And they were rewarded. As the weak and wintery southern Californian sun flickered onto the newly exposed rubble, there were voices, both terrified and relieved.

Jeff signalled to Kyrano and Scott and all three of them moved to evac the rescuees.

Thirteen in total. Five didn’t make it.

They dug deeper with Two pulling off smaller and smaller pieces of rubble. Jeff found himself wishing for some kind of mechanism to lift the rocks himself. A pod wasn’t practical in this space and it hampered their progress.

The weak sun headed towards the horizon.

Virgil checked it with the good news that Gordon had won and had another trophy for his collection.

Jeff gritted his teeth as he hauled out yet another poor soul who had been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Scott found someone to save and for some critical moments there was activity to keep that life going. Jeff’s heart clenched as he shifted more rubble.

The night crawled over the sky and powerful lamps were set up.

It was far too many hours later when they called it. Jeff was exhausted. They were all exhausted.

He gave the order to pack up and retreat. It was always a dreaded order, but they had scoured the site and there were no signs of life left. John had managed to penetrate the majority of the electrical disturbance, which had been a relief…

“Commander?”

Jeff blinked. John sounded worried. “Thunderbird Five?”

“I’m getting a fragmentary lifesign signal. Unconfirmed.” A pause and the sound of his son pushing buttons. “I can’t clear it up. I’m sending coordinates.”

Jeff’s wristcomm flickered into life, a map of the site with the location flashing. It was in the remains of what used to be an ice cream palour. His heart dropped. “FAB, Thunderbird Five.”

He jogged over, steeling himself for what he might find. The shadows were hard and sharp, sketching out the remains of what had been a cheerful, family place. Innocuous everyday objects discarded in a disaster zone always forced him to face the horror of their existence. A statement made of the tragedy by the tragedy and the sight of the remains of ice cream tubs, tables, chairs and even broken cones in the dark dust stabbed him where it hurt.

But there were no signs of life.

He shifted rubble and moved the tables. A counter and a gaily painted menu revealed nothing of their patrons or owners.

It was all eerily silent.

Until someone whimpered.

“Can you hear me? This is International Rescue. We are here to help. Please respond.”

A pause.

No answer.

So, he repeated himself in Spanish.

The silence was ominous.

But then there was another whimper. Followed by a whine.

Jeff moved, throwing broken fixtures out of his way, narrowing in on the sound.

It wasn’t until he picked up yet another upturned ice cream tub that he realised his rescuee wasn’t human.

Curled up fearfully in the dirt was a tiny little puppy, barely recognisable, drenched in melted ice confection.

A pair of wide dark eyes looked up at Jeff in fear.

Jeff didn’t hesitate. A life was a life and he was the son of farmers as well as adventurers.

“Hey, there, little one.” He held out a gloved hand for the puppy to sniff.  “I won’t hurt you.” Tone was everything.

The puppy stared at him a moment as if considering, whimpered, and tentatively sniffed at his finger.

A pitiful whine broke Jeff’s heart.

Ever so carefully, he gently picked up the puppy. When the dog didn’t protest, he stood slowly, bringing the little creature to his chest.

It shivered in the cold.

Its eyes never left Jeff’s.

He crooned nonsense words and he hurried over towards Thunderbird Two.

Lee met him halfway, all the questions on his face. Jeff shushed him with a look.

Up Two’s ramp and he found the supplies and the quiet he needed.

Gently placing the trembling puppy on a hastily gathered emergency blanket. It whined in fear.

Jeff yanked off his helmet and the smell of damp earth, broken rock and burning electronics made it up his nose, but a stronger, sweeter smell fought it all off.

The little puppy smelled of pink sherbet and childhood memories.

It whimpered again, and as Scott strode past with Lee in prep for lift off, Jeff picked up Sherbet and clutched the little dog to his chest again.

If Jeff rode home with Lee instead of with Scott on One, which was his usual choice, it was his right as Commander to not have to explain himself.

There would be questions and inquiries as to the puppy’s owner, but there was something in the little dog’s eyes that just entranced Jeff. As if it was some cosmic meant to be.

“Got yourself another kid there, Tracy?” The smirk on Lee’s face as they approached Tracy Island was fond and irritating.

Jeff glared at him. But if he was honest with himself, maybe Lee was right?

He brushed a finger over its tiny furry forehead.

It was still staring at him.

Quiet. “I’m here to help.”

He ignored Lee’s snort, as the puppy finally curled up and relaxed in his hands, promptly falling asleep.

-o-o-o-

TBC

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #jeff tracy #lee taylor #sherbet #nuttyfic #flyboytracy's fault

[gumnut-logic]

Dear Mr Tracy (Part 4, Bit 1)

Sweetapple | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 - Bit 1

@flyboytracy​​​, @amistrio​​​ and @onereyofstarlight​​​​  you asked for it, so you get to suffer more :D

Many thanks to @gaviiadastra​​ and @katblu42​ for the read throughs and their amazing support. And special thanks to all of you who have cheered Alex on. I did not expect such an amazing response to this OC and I cannot express how grateful I am for all your kind words ::hugs everyone::

This again is mostly set up, but it is what it sets up that is going to be...interesting.

I hope you enjoy it :D

-o-o-o-

The test went off without a hitch.

Alex stood staring at the sealed habitat as its pumps churned out the remainder of the water and reinstated oxygen, creating a liveable interior in what had been marine overnight.

“Now, isn’t that something.” The words were said with awe. A glance behind him, and Alex found astonishment on Mr Jeff Tracy’s face.

Mr Tracy beside him caught Alex’s eyes and smiled, dimples, and eyes sparkling.

Alex was confronted with all the power of the renowned Tracy charm. God, he could see how this man could inspire so much. In that moment, Alex would have given him his soul if he had asked.

He blushed and turned back to his readouts.

“Thunderbird Four to Determination II. Alex, that was perfect!”

He had to admit that the jubilance in Gordon’s tone was heart-warming. He hit the comms. “I am very happy with the results. Did Thunderbird Four catch any detail I might not have?”

“Transmitting all readings now, Alex. Man, this is worth celebrating. Scott, you there?”

“Gordon.” How did Mr Tracy manage to shove so much warning into a single name?

“I think this is an O’Malley’s moment.”

Alex eyed the readouts sent over by the Thunderbird. They corroborated his own sensors, though there was far more definition. He had to admit to some grabby hands towards whatever equipment had generated the data.

“I think that is a fantastic idea.” Jeff Tracy agreed with his son. “Call Virgil, John, Alan, Kayo, Brains and Mom, we are due a celebration.”

Alex registered the conversation, but wasn’t really paying attention. He prodded at the data, noting slight discrepancies in the organic end of the matrix. It still sealed across some organic life, its bioelectric sensitivities unable to distinguish inorganic from the milder bioelectric fields, but that was a good thing. He just needed to push the design a touch in the more sensitive direction. God forbid if the sensitivity failed and trapped a living creature more complex than seaweed in the sealing net.

How to distinguish between organic and inorganic had been the true challenge in this design and he had been fiddling with that sensitivity throughout the entire project. He almost had it. The numbers were good and-

“Alex?”

“Yeah?” It had indeed trapped a strand of seaweed, but no fish despite at least one species showing an interest in the habitat at the time of Siliwrap deployment.

There was always the issue of what to do with life that was too dense in the target area, hence the need to tweak the sensitivity-

“Yo, Alex!”

He jumped and discovered he had a room of people staring at him. It was Gordon’s voice over comms that had broken him out of his train of thought. “Oh, um, sorry. These results are important.”

Mr Jeff Tracy was smiling. “I have no doubt. However, my sons were asking you if you would like to join us for a celebratory dinner.”

Alex blinked. What?

“Alex, we’re talking O’Malley’s best steak and burgers in the southern hemisphere.” Gordon’s voice piped over the comms circuit. “Bonus points if we get to see Scott devour an entire apple pie.”

“Gordon!”

“Hey, it’s true. You ate my half last time as well as your own.”

“Gordon, this is not the time.” Mr Tracy was actually flushing a little red.

Alex had the sudden realisation that the aquanaut on the team may have warning in his name for a reason. Especially since he continued to egg Mr Tracy on, despite that warning.

Mr Jeff Tracy rolled his eyes and took a limping step towards Alex, as if to leave his quarrelling sons behind him. “There is no pressure, Mr Sweetapple, but as we are going to be celebrating your success, I think it is only fair that you attend.” A soft smile. “Tia will also be joining us.”

“Okay.” It was weak and stunned thoughtless, but how else could he answer such a question?

“Alex, bring your results. Virg will want to see them.” Gordon piped up from comms again. “I’m calling him in to pick me up. Perhaps he’ll be kind enough to give us a lift.”

It took Alex a moment to realise exactly what that meant. When it clicked, he froze solid. Thunderbird Four was carried by Thunderbird Two.

“Let me guess. He’s gobsmacked. Scott, my bro, you have to stop terrifying our employees.”

“Gordon, for goodness’ sake!”

But there was only a cackle over comms followed by, “See ya soon, Thunderbird Four out.”

On the scope, the submarine spun on the spot and darted out into deeper water, far more agile than any underwater craft Alex had ever seen…which was a short list, but Alex reserved the right to be awed by any vessel sporting the name ‘Thunderbird’.

Mr Tracy stepped away and started quietly speaking into his shirt collar.

Not weird in the slightest.

Alex took the moment to examine his test results again. Elation returned at all those wonderful numbers.

“You’ve done a great deal of good today, Alex.” Mr Jeff Tracy’s voice was deep beside him. “This invention will save many lives.”

“That’s all I can hope for, Mr Tracy.” He still needed to work on that sensitivity. Perhaps if he increased the conductivity…

He barely heard the soft chuckle beside him.

-o-o-o-

Next

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Gordon Tracy #Scott Tracy #Jeff Tracy #alexander sweetapple #nuttyfic #flyboytracy's fault

[gumnut-logic]

Dear Mr Tracy

@flyboytracy, @amistrio and @onereyofstarlight​  you asked for it ::tackle hugs the lot of you::

Many thanks to @thunderstorm-bay and @katblu42​ for the read throughs to make sure this thing worked okay. You guys are so kind to me ::hugs tight::

There is a language warning for one swear word.

Alexander Sweetapple AU. I hope you enjoy it :D

And yes, it is still @flyboytracy​ ‘s fault.

-o-o-o-

Dear Mr Tracy…

Alex stared at the screen. Maybe he should call him Virgil? After all, they had spent a few hours talking pure engineering and that does tend to break down barriers.

But what if he didn’t see it that way?

He had such kind eyes.

Alex shook himself. Focus. He was Alexander Sweetapple, a professional and accomplished designer of Siliwrap, which was in its last stages of development and almost ready for production.

He was going to save lives.

Erica said so.

Erica also said he was an idiot and he should just ask Mr Tracy for his coffee recipe.

He sighed and collapsed just a little against the table.

Was it really just about the coffee?

It had to be. There could be no other reason. And why would there be? Not only was Mr Tracy his employer, but so far out of his league on so many levels, the least of which included flying a bloody rocket ship and being a hero on a daily basis.

All the Tracys had given the world so much.

Alex would just like to borrow that blessed coffee recipe and be done with it. Perhaps then he could stop fantasising about it.

Every coffee shop, every corner store, every restaurant, even every drive through, he’d tried them all and none had managed to get anywhere near that coffee made on Thunderbird Two.

Erica said it was an obsession.

Erica said a lot of things.

So, he was going to contact Mr Tracy, politely ask for his coffee recipe, and be done with it.

But first he had to write the email.

 Dear Mr Tracy…

I can’t remember if I ever thanked you for your visit last July. I was very honoured to host you and your brother Gordon here at the Māhia Peninsula Testing Facility.

 He rolled his eyes. “And shall we have tea and biscuits?” He hit the delete key until he was left with a mostly empty page again.

 Dear Mr Tracy…

 It was all about level of familiarity. Sure, he would love to address Mr Tracy with the casualness of friendship. “Hey, would you like to drop down to the pub for a couple of beers?”

Two things were a problem there. One, not only was the man a bloody hero, he was Alex’s hero, and two, he didn’t want beer, he wanted coffee!

He blinked.

Great, now he was fantasising asking Mr Tracy out on a date.

Alex dropped his head onto his arms on the desk.

Erica was right. He was an idiot.

It was late in the day and the lab was empty. He had been finishing up some reports on the latest results when the craving had hit and he had finally broken and opened an email, determined to contact Mr Tracy.

That had been at least an hour ago. Now the sun was setting and mocking him as it dipped below the horizon.

Oh, stop being stupid. You’re not an idiot, you’re a bloody professional asking a professional query of a colleague…

Colleague?

The laughter in the back of his mind at that mere thought was absolutely ridiculous.

 Dear Mr Tracy,

I’m hoping this email finds you well…

 Delete, delete, delete…..

 Dear Mr Tracy,

Following our recent encounter…

 Aaaargh!

 Dear Mr Tracy,

I was struck quite strongly by your presence last time we met.

 Fuck!

 Dear Mr Tracy,

Please, I need your coffee, pleeeeease…

 His head fell into his hands again.

He was truly an idiot.

Just bloody do it.

 Dear Mr Tracy,

I was wondering if you would be kind enough to send me the technique of how you make your coffee. I have really enjoyed what you have so kindly shared with me in the past, and would be very happy to return the favour with the correct ingredients and method.

Any details you are willing to share, I will gratefully receive.

I hope you and your family are well.

Kind regards,

Alex Sweetapple

Project Engineer

Tracy Industries Māhia

 Why was his heart beating so hard?

He reread it.

It sounded sane, mostly.

He reread it six more times.

C’mon, just do it.

He had tackled exams with less sweat than this.

It would do the job.

Subject heading…he typed in Coffee.

Email address…now that was something he did have access to. All Tracy Industries employees had access to the Tracy family via email. Likely very vetted email. The thought of MR Tracy’s PA, Carly, came to mind. He had yet to meet Luc, Virgil’s PA, but he had no doubt the glare would be the same.

In other words, while everyone had access to the Tracy family via email, he doubted very many actually used that access. After all, how often did a ground-force employee like himself need to contact anyone at CEO level?

The things coffee drove him to…

He typed in ‘Tracy’ and pulled up the email directory.

There sat his name - Virgil Tracy, Research & Development. It sat at the bottom of the list directly below Scott Tracy and his trail of formal titles. Above that were the other three brothers in alphabetical order.

Alex moved to click his Tracy.

“Alex! What are you still doing here?” Erica burst through the door.

He jumped, clicked send, and slammed his laptop shut. “Uh, nothing.”

Like an embarrassment-seeking missile, she stalked into the room. “What are you up to?” Her gaze narrowed on the laptop. “I thought we had decided that you weren’t going to work until all hours and actually look after yourself.” She frowned at him. “At least for a couple of weeks.”

He held up his hands. “I just wanted to finish this while my head was in the right space.”

She grumbled at him. “Wanna have dinner? In a totally non-romantic way, of course.”

He looked up at her. Erica was good to him on so many fronts. “Sure. But I’m buying.”

“Deal.” Her face softened when she smiled.

So good to him.

He pushed away from the desk and stood up, gallantly offering her his arm.

The smile became a smirk as she took it, and they waltzed out of the room together.

-o-o-o-

A thousand or so kilometres away, via a top-secret satellite and a somewhat amused AI email sentry, Alan Tracy’s phone pinged him.

He had mail.

-o-o-o-

Next

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #alexander sweetapple #Virgil Tracy #nuttyfic #flyboytracy's fault

[gumnut-logic]

Sweetapple (Part Two)

Part 1 | Part 2

Still @flyboytracy ‘s fault. ::hugs you silly::

Many thanks to @onereyofstarlight for reading and Kiwi-fying and to @katblu42​ for also reading and joining in the crazy. ::hugs you to bits::

A bit of exposition in this one, please bear with me. I hope you enjoy.

-o-o-o-

“So what do you think?”

Scott strode across the room, back to his desk. “I think you need to go back to the Island and get some rack time.”

Virgil glowered at him. “You first.” A breath. “But seriously, what do you think?”

“I would have thought what you and Brains think would be more important than my opinion.”

“Scott, it should work. Alex has done all the hard work on theoretical testing. It’s my vote that we go to prototype and get this project off the ground.” Virgil shifted his feet. “You know Gordon would love this.”

Scott dropped his hands onto his desk and leant over the hardwood top. “Yeah, he would.”

The thought that it wouldn’t bring back the people who had died three weeks ago due to yet another underwater habitat collapse remained unspoken.

But it hovered in the room.

Gordon had been devastated after that rescue. If rescue was what you could call body recovery.

This might stop it from happening again. Not all rescues were response. The best were prevention in the first place.

“Has Kayo done background on Sweetapple yet?”

“Yes. She didn’t find anything. Born here in Aotearoa, Dutch descent, single, um…” Virgil poked at his watch and a hologram appeared above it. “Lives here in Auckland – One Tree Hill. Bachelor of Engineering at the University of Auckland.” His eyes scanned what appeared to be a mass of information. Typical Kayo. “Worst I can see is he played MacBeth one year in his high school drama class.”

Scott frowned at his brother. “What has that got to do with anything?”

“Shakespeare’s MacBeth is a total fabrication. False history.”

“So?”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Alex has a cleaner record than you.”

Scott grunted. “So, you recommend sending him to R&D at Māhia.”

“I do.”

He straightened. “Fine. Set it in motion. Usual travel stipend. Basic security clearance.”

“Basic?” Virgil was frowning at him.

“He’s only worked here two months. Actually working with him will uncover more than any background check. Spend a little time before we share the family arsenal.”

Virgil shrugged. “FAB.”

As if speaking the word called upon the fates, both their watches went off at the same time.

John’s voice as calm as always. “Thunderbirds, we have a situation.”

Scott sighed. One coffee wasn’t really enough.

-o-o-o-

“So, how’d it go?”

Erica’s chewing gum smile was enough for Alex to finally drop his computer to the floor. Apparently, it was a law of physics. It had been attracted to the floor all day.

At least now it was post-possibly-career-ending-calamity.

“Easy there, Tiger. Relax before you break something.”

As usual, Erica was far too laid back for his comfort. “You frightened me.”

“What? Little old me?” Her pink-streaked pig tails bounced as she dramatically clutched her chest. “How could I?”

Alex ignored her and picked his computer off the floor. It’s shock-proof case had paid for itself so many times. “Easily, unfortunately.” He put the computer down carefully, yanked out his chair and collapsed into it.

Every muscle melted.

“That good, huh?”

Alex stared at the space mobile spinning gently in the ducted air. “I think this project would gain more success if it didn’t have me leading it. You should do it.”

As if to prove to him how bad an idea that was, she blew a pink gum bubble, popped it with one finger before sucking it back in and chewing on it some more. “Oh, I don’t think so. Besides, it’s your baby. I’m only your assistant.”

“Bullshit, Erry, you are my partner on this. Without you, it would never have made it this far.”

“Eh, I think you need to rethink your self-esteem. Or maybe get an esteem transplant or something. You’ve got this.” She threw a stylus on her desk and lent forward. “And I need the goss.”

Alex sighed. He had expected this. “Yes, he truly is as gorgeous as you think he is. Yes, the dimples appear real, though I doubt we could prove that without a medical scanner.” A frown as his brain provided a scene where they had to grab Scott Tracy and scan him – hmm.

His thoughts were interrupted by a roar. A glance out the window and he caught the very edge of a rocket powered tail fin before it vanished off into the distance.

Wow.

“Does that happen often?”

Erica leant back in her seat not perturbed in the slightest. “Every now and then. Mr Tracy doesn’t usually make house calls.”

“What?” Alex turned to face her.

She stared at him. “You know he was here to specifically check you out? You said yourself that IR was deployed late last night to Japan, didn’t you?” She grabbed the remote and lit up the big screen in the corner. A flick of her wrist and last night’s tremor and almost-skyscaper-collapse came up on screen. “Three am, our time, they left. My bet is that man should have been in bed, not approving engineering projects.” She threw down the remote in disgust.

“Well, that explained the coffee.”

“Coffee?”

“Yeah, his PA had coffee for him and he looked like he needed it. Hell, I needed it.”

“Yeah, well, you live the life of the obsessed. Sleep is optional.”

“Hey, today was important to me.”

“I know. But you should be looking after yourself better.”

“We’ve only known each other for two months.” Seemed like years, though. Erica had latched onto him the moment he arrived and he was ever grateful.

“I knew you needed help the moment I saw you. We here at Tracy Industries save people.” She smiled.

He knew she meant it as a joke, but it was a scary reality. He had fled his previous job at Oxy-Baker due to their confining work environment. If he was going to admit it, even that decision had been based on International Rescue. The trainwreck that had been that atmospheric scrubber and the realisation that the whole scenario could have resulted in Scott Tracy’s death…

The media had been scathing.

So, he’d left that organisation, his conscience not able to support contributing to that mess any longer.

It was kind of ironic that three weeks later Tracy Industries itself had eaten the business alive and the upper echelons had been career obliterated by the Tracys.

Word had it that new atmospheric scrubbers were in development. All the engineering circles online were awash with the possibilities. Even V.T. Green was enthusiastic.

That hadn’t helped Alex at the time, but he was glad it had happened.

One bonus of working with that lot was that it had given him the inspiration for Siliwrap. Not that the business had listened.

His life was so different now. His application to Tracy Industries Product Design department had been out of desperation. Perhaps Erica was right. His self-esteem needed a boost of some kind. He had never thought he had the remotest of chances.

Yet here he was. Well paid, enough to get himself out of that awful flat up north, full of other people’s crap, and into his own apartment in the frankly amazing One Tree Hill. The list of blessings that had happened in the last few months were longer than his arm.

Perhaps he was in some kind of good luck shock.

“I need coffee.”

Erica rolled her eyes. “You know where to find it.” But then she peered at him, her eyes squinting. “You should take the rest of the day off.”

He paused climbing to his feet. “Bugger that. If you think I’m about to pull a sickie just because I’m tired, you’re out of your mind. I have work I can do. There is no way I’m taking advantage of the Tracys when they’ve given me an opportunity like this.”

She stared at him a moment before pulling the stylus out from behind her right ear. “You’re an idiot.” She turned back to the report she was working on. “We work flexi-time for a damn good reason.”

A grunt and Alex threw himself to his feet. “Getting coffee. Want some?”

She shook her head and waved him off, focussing on the document she was typing.

Okay, so he was having trouble adjusting to the new work environment.

Oxy-Baker had been so different. They had had to clock in and out and every second of their time was counted and accounted for. He hadn’t realised how oppressive it was. In fact, he had thought that was just how everything worked.

But not here. The entire design team had flexi-time in recognition of the fact design and engineering were as much arts as any art on the creative spectrum and needed time. They were trusted. So much trust came down from on high that they would do right by the company, the team felt they couldn’t do anything but do right.

Sure, there was the occasional lunch that went on for too long, but in general the team gave as much as was given to them. If a design was bugging an individual engineer, they could work the midnight run if they wanted and be compensated by moving hours to make up for the lack of sleep.

It created a relaxed atmosphere and Alex, fanboy as he knew he was, couldn’t help but want to give more.

The office spaces reflected the ease and the allowed personality of the team. Computer stations had toys sitting on them from Star Wars to the almost mandatory Thunderbird vehicle.

No one here hesitated to flash their colours.

At the end of the hall a huge painting was hung on the wall. When he had asked Erica about it, she claimed one of the Tracy brothers themselves had painted it. Sure enough, he had made out the signature in the darkness at the bottom of the work eventually. The word ‘Tracy’ was barely legible.

The painting itself was titled ‘Hope’ and was a hand reaching out of that darkness into a glowing light as another hand reached down from the top of the painting stretching to grab a hold. It was bloody inspirational and said everything the Tracys were about.

God, he was a hopeless fanboy.

He thought about his meeting earlier. How did Scott Tracy exist. The man had been in a pressed suit mere hours after digging a hundred or so people out from under a building.

Frickin’ heroes.

Like everything at Tracy Industries, the staffroom was a good one with all the appliances anyone could ever need. It had several couches, for goodness’ sake. A large mobile of Thunderbirds hung from the ceiling in the centre of the room like some slowly spinning chandelier.

He was living a bloody dream.

Like a zombie, he grabbed the coffee jug that was on almost permanent brew and poured himself a shot. Milk and sweetener and syrup…he really needed the syrup.

Moments and he had warmth pouring down his throat.

Bliss.

A frown. Tracy Industries coffee was good. That was another perk he adored about this job, but despite its wonderfulness, this coffee had been outshone by that takeaway coffee he’d nabbed off Mr Tracy’s PA this morning.

He took another blissful swallow. Yes, delicious, but…

Maybe he should tackle the challenge once he’d had more sleep.

He buried his face in his cup.

-o-o-o-

It took weeks.

In that time, International Rescue saved people from all over the planet. It was standard in this office to keep tabs on the family’s activities. Thunderbird Two was called out to a gas leak in the desert at one point. Thunderbird Four did a rescue on the Supreme Barrier Reef. At the beginning of the year, a new bunch of assholes calling themselves the Chaos Crew had been screwing with everything.

Some people said that they were direct opposition to International Rescue, and if International Rescue were removed from the equation, there would be less catastrophes for them to tackle.

Alex had words for those people and they weren’t for polite company.

The words he used for the Chaos Crew were downright black and nasty.

But all he could do in his position was do his job, watch and hope. The design team he was part of, including Erica, had erected a dartboard in one corner of the office. They lack faces for the people they wanted to throw darts at, so the board had been painted purple.

Purple as a colour took a major hit in the popularity stakes in Tracy Tower.

Despite all this, perhaps because of it, Alex pursued the Phantom Coffee.

Because it was a phantom coffee. It did not seem to exist.

He had methodically hunted through every staffroom in the building. Admittedly, he may have used a microdot of that flexi-time to wander the halls.

He hadn’t been game enough to head back to Scott Tracy’s office yet, but he was getting close.

Every shop. EVERY shop within walking distance of Tracy Tower was investigated.

Alex was an engineer and slightly on the obsessive side. Okay, perhaps more than slightly, but that coffee so kindly handed to him by Mr Tracy’s PA was worth it.

If he could find it.

But the hunt proved futile and eventually he had to admit that he was going to have to put his brave face on and go and ask the man.

He still hadn’t heard about Siliwrap and he was pretty sure it was going to be a fail and he should prepare to face facts that it just wasn’t good enough. But the Tracys were busy. That much was obvious. Why would they have time to make a decision?

Scott Tracy had visited in person for a reason.

His brain gnawed at his soul.

So the coffee was likely a distraction.

Whatever worked.

Except he couldn’t locate it.

So, here he was, riding the elevator to Mr Tracy’s office hoping to meet with his PA and discuss COFFEE.

God, he was an idiot.

The doors opened and he was struck with the last time he had been here. The door with the Tracy Industries logo on it was still there.

What? Did you expect it to explode and vanish or something?

The desk was still there. The air of minimalist luxury still hung in the air.

But there was no sign of Mr Tracy’s PA. Instead a young woman sat at the desk the man had leant on. Dressed primly in a spotless suit, she looked over at him. “Can I help you?”

“Uh.” God, he was stupid. “Have you seen Mr Tracy’s PA?”

She frowned at him. “I’m Mr Tracy’s PA. Can I help you?”

What?

Oh, shit. “Um, I was up here a few weeks back and, uh, Mr Tracy…” God, asking about coffee was so lame. “I have a project awaiting…” Judgement. “…approval.”

She smiled just a little. “Mr Tracy has been busy of late. Which project did you need information on?”

“Siliwrap.” The name was so stupid!

“Oh, Siliwrap.” She smiled even more as she prodded her computer. “That is currently with the Head of Research and Development.” She appeared a little awkward all of a sudden. “Yes, he has been busy, as well. I will send him a reminder.”

Head of R&D? He hadn’t met Virgil Tracy yet.

He held up his hands. “No, no, that’s fine. It can wait.” Bloody Thunderbird Two!

She smiled gently. “I promise, he won’t mind. In fact, I think he would prefer the reminder. I’ll speak to Luc, his PA, and we’ll see if we can get an answer.” She paused a moment. “You’re new here?”

A single aghast nod.

She stood up from the desk and walked around to greet him, offering him her hand. “Hi, I’m Carly, Scott Tracy’s PA. Welcome to Tracy Industries.”

He shook her hand and considered dying on the spot.

-o-o-o-

Next

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Scott Tracy #Virgil Tracy #alexander sweetapple #nuttyfic #flyboytracy's fault #so much fun

[gumnut-logic]

Mr Tracy caught Alex’s eyes and smiled, dimples, and eyes sparkling.

Alex was confronted with all the power of the renowned Tracy charm. God, he could see how this man could inspire so much. In that moment, Alex would have given him his soul if he had asked.

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #scott tracy #alexander sweetapple #flyboytracy's fault

[gumnut-logic]

Dear Mr Tracy... (Part 2)

Sweetapple | Part 1 | Part 2

@flyboytracy​, @amistrio​ and @onereyofstarlight​​  you asked for it, so you get to suffer more :D

Many thanks to @katblu42​ for the read through and patience with all my crazy questions.

Well, a weekend deprived of digital connections and a muse that fled due to circumstances being very unrelaxed has led me to writing this part all in one day today. Like wow, I hope it makes sense because my brain is fried at the moment.

Quite a bit of exposition in this one, please bear with me :D

And yep, still @flyboytracy​‘s fault :D

I hope you enjoy this.

-o-o-o-

Alex didn’t get a reply to his email, because the next day Jeff Tracy returned from the dead.

It was the oddest feeling. You know, one of those ‘where were you when that happened’ moments.

Alex was in the bath.

It had been a horribly long day with the final work prepping for the first of Siliwrap’s real world testing. No matter what Erica said about not working too hard, he couldn’t help but apply himself.

He was a bit of a perfectionist.

It took her yelling, this time. Called in their supervisor, Tia, of all people, and laid down her case.

Apparently, Alex was overdoing it and needed to rest.

His glare had zero effect and Tia sent him home. There was time, she said.

Yes, he had time, but what of those who could be saved by Siliwrap?

Perhaps he was idolising International Rescue a little too much. It wasn’t as if he was a hero like the Tracy brothers. But he did have his own skill set and he wanted this project live as soon as possible, though not without skipping the necessary testing protocols.

He was pedantic.

And not a little obsessed, if he could admit it to himself.

But then it was the slightly crazy people in the world who made changes for the better.

But in any case, he was sent home and he took the opportunity to try and relax.

A bubblebath and aromatics might just be enough to flush away the question of whether Mr Tracy was going to reply to his email or not.

He set up his tablet beside the bath and had it playing music as he settled into the hot water, exhaling to let all the pressures of needing to get stuff done wash away.

Only to have the feed be interrupted by Erica, of all people.

“Alex, you there?”

“Erry, I’m doing the relax thing you wanted me-“

“He’s alive, Alex. Jeff Tracy is alive!”

“What?” He sat up in the bath and hit the vid button with soapy hands.

Erica stared at him a moment, frowning at the suds in his hair no doubt, but rambled on regardless. “International Rescue saved him! Found him in the Oort cloud, of all places. Eight years in space, my god, do you think he will be okay? It’s just amazing. You have to see this!” She threw him the holosignal and suddenly Thunderbird Two was projected above his bath, VTOL flaring as she landed outside a hospital. The feed flickered to an announcer and a much-used photo of the patriarch of the Tracy family standing proud in his uniform. Blurred video of IR uniforms rushing a prone figure through hospital emergency doors. It wasn’t until then that Alex realised, it wasn’t a usual hospital, but one of those GDF installations. The news banner scrolling across the bottom claimed it was the GDF base west of Auckland.

Jeff Tracy was here? On the same Island of Aotearoa as he?

“Where did you get this?”

“Alex, wake up! It’s all over the nets. The GDF are about to make a statement.”

Alex stared dumbfounded as the feed flickered again, to be replaced by a stern looking, dark haired woman in full dress uniform. She radiated command and Alex found himself scooting backwards in the bath.

Her words were short and succinct. Yes, Jeff Tracy had been rescued from the depths of space. No, International Rescue was not ready to give a statement. Mr Tracy’s condition was serious, but stable.

And he was with his family.

The blurry scene of the cluster of IR operatives was shown again, this time in slower motion.

Alex stared as he counted the dark hair of Mr Scott Tracy on one side of the stretcher and opposite him, the even darker hair of a blue and green uniformed figure that just had to be Virgil Tracy.

There were more uniformed operatives, a red head and a couple of blonds and two women, one older and the other dark and alert.

But he could see little before they all disappeared inside again.

His heart lurched. He had met three of those men. Men who did so much. Their hunched concern over the prone body on the stretcher was obvious as he watched it replayed again.

They flashed up a picture of Mr Scott Tracy, dressed in his perfect suit, a soft smile on his face and babbled about his conduct and achievements in the last eight years.

Eight years!

Questions were asked of what happened now the billionaire had returned.

Quick interviews on the street, obviously made because no one else was talking, only threw more questions, even conspiracy theories to the wind.

 Alex found his mouth open and the half of his body up out of the water now shivering.

It was one of those moments.

A moment when the world changes.

Jeff Tracy was alive.

-o-o-o-

What followed that day was curiosity and a little fear. All the staff of Tracy Industries had different reactions.

You had the positives like Fireman Fred - who had actually burst into tears when he was told. Nothing like a giant sobbing red-haired Scotsman on the loose. Everyone heard about it, because everyone heard it.

The man was simply loud.

Erica was all excitement herself. For all her concern about Alex’s obsessions, she certainly had her own and gossip was one of them.

Not the nasty gossip, more the curious discovery talk, finding things out and marvelling. And boy, did she marvel at Jeff Tracy.

As more news reports rolled in and eventually the Tracy family themselves stepped up to the podium, she was the avid spectator digging every crumb of information out of every syllable spoken and analysing the situation to death.

She was also known to go feral on anyone who suggested anything nasty within earshot.

Tracy Industries employees verged on cult status when it came to the Tracy family, but a big thing like this did bring out the uncertainties and the possibility of change.

No one really likes change and everyone hates uncertainty. The unknown of whether things would continue as usual or if Mr Tracy Senior would be taking back the reins off Mr Tracy, now Junior. Factions grew. Some supported the Senior, some felt the Junior had done a lot of work. Queries were made to older staff members who had been there when Mr Tracy Senior was in charge. People like Fireman Fred extolled the virtues of Jeff Tracy. While others adored the apparently softer, more approachable Scott Tracy.

There were words, and although anyone by the name of Tracy was pretty much worth a sainthood in these parts, humanity is what it is and people worried.

But there was more. Outside of Tracy Industries, there were bigger questions.

The revelations of what saving Jeff Tracy from the Oort Cloud actually meant to humanity.

Can we now travel faster than the speed of light?

Who owns that technology? The Thunderbirds are amazing, yes, but this was a step for humanity itself. This is power that needs control.

The world was in an uproar.

It was change that enveloped everything.

But Alex found himself returning to the same thoughts. Behind the big things, behind the money and the accomplishments, and the debates, there was a family, some of whom he had had the privilege to meet, that had found a long-lost parent, who was now ill in hospital having endured what had to have been an unimaginably horrible experience.

How were they? Would their father survive?

The world, of course, sent flowers and sympathies and best wishes for a fast recovery. But Alex did none of that. He just kept the family in his thoughts and hopes.

If he was caught on one or two chilly nights staring up into the star-filled sky wishing on a couple of them, so be it.

In the meantime, there was work and Alex threw himself into it, his email to Virgil Tracy forgotten as the project progressed from atmospheric testing with success after success.

He let the world worry about things he had no control over and kept his focus on what the Tracys would want it to be - on the job at hand.

-o-o-o-

 Alan Tracy was tired when he finally made it home.

He had stayed in space with John to dismantle the Zero XL.

Five was the first to leave the conglomeration of Thunderbirds that made up the huge spaceship. Alan had then had to lower the XL into the atmosphere close enough to release One and Two, protecting them from re-entry heat and stress. Both ‘birds tore off to Tracy Island to complete the family reunion. Alan hated that he couldn’t be there, wanting to cling to the father he had missed for so long, but there were still necessary tasks to be done.

And he was a Tracy.

Once his brothers had left, Alan, with Brains still on board, had accelerated enough to breach Earth’s gravity well again. It was a push from this angle, but Alan had managed worse.

The XL’s great thrusters combined with Three’s strength pushed them back up out of the atmosphere to align and dock with Five.

Alan had to smile.

John had deployed her solar array and her familiar shape had been restored.

He manoeuvred the XL into a clean dock with the tail end of the station, then disengaged Three from the shell of the lightspeed engines and docked her more familiarly with her gravity ring.

Moments later, John climbed aboard and they were all rushing home in order to catch up with the rest of their family.

That had been days ago.

Alan had been in Auckland ever since, bouncing between the house in Parnell and the GDF base where his Dad lay slowly recovering.

The list of ailments was downright horrifying. Alan had been on the verge of dragging his father back up into space to save him from the pain.

It had only been quiet words from Scott that had calmed his beating heart.

God, it hurt to watch his Dad suffering.

Sure, Alan was an experienced emergency responder, he had seen the nasty reality of what space could do to a body on far too many occasions.

But this?

Eight long years.

They had saved Dad. But had they?

When Scott ran out of words, Virgil took over. He had more medical training than Alan, but Alan had enough to be terrified.

Virgil himself was obsessed and barely left Dad’s side. So it was Grandma who finally calmed Alan down enough to see sense.

Dad was sick, yes. Very sick. But there was a chance. They were Tracys, they played chance every day and won far more often than they lost.

Dad was home. First challenge met. They would meet all the coming challenges the same way.

Together.

Alone in his bedroom, Alan let out a shaky sigh.

Grandma had sent him home with Gordon, mostly for some downtime, a night at home, away from the hospital and the heartache.

When he asked why he had to leave, Grandma said carers had to look after themselves in order to look after those who needed their care.

When Alan protested that Scott and Virgil were looking as bad as Dad, Grandma’s lips had thinned and Alan had been shocked at how old and tired she had looked in that moment.

Gordon had intervened, his eyes on their grandmother, his voice quiet, and the two brothers hadn’t said much the entire flight home.

They were to gather some of Dad’s things and bring them back to the hospital after a good night’s sleep.

Alan stood staring at his room as if it was an alien environment.

The last time he had slept here, he had been an orphan.

Now…

The tears came from nowhere but they were ever so needed.

Everything that had happened in the last few days just welled up inside and threw him to his knees.

Perhaps it was a good thing that only he and Gordon were on the Island. He could crack up in peace.

He cried for a while and despite it being exhausting he did find it a bit of a release. So much before the launch, the crux of the mission on his shoulders as pilot, and then meeting Dad.

He swallowed down another sob. He had been so happy to see his father, he hadn’t thought-

“Allie? You okay?”

Suddenly, he was wrapped in a pair of strong arms that could only belong to his fish brother and for once in his life, Alan didn’t pull away.

Those arms tightened and tugged Alan’s head to a gold-covered shoulder.

He sat there and listened to his big brother’s swimmer’s lungs as they drew in and let out air.

They sat there for a while. Gordon didn’t seem to be in a hurry to leave and honestly, they had been kicked back to the Island to rest, so what the hell.

Alan was just tired.

Maybe Grandma was right.

“You want to talk about it?”

Alan blinked. Did he?

“Not really.”

“Okay.”

Those arms managed to get just a little tighter in the moment of silence after that.

“You know Dad is going to be okay, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” Maybe. Should be. Did they really know?

“Because he is.”

And Alan was suddenly reminded of another severely ill family member. He pulled away and looked up at his brother.

Gordon was a little pale in the room’s lighting and his expression was more worry than the generally positive, bouncing blob of energy it usually was. But his skin was still tanned and healthy. Alan knew there were scars under that shirt that had hurt so much.

But Gordon was here now. Still his adorable big brother. Strong despite the injuries and the long-term issues.

And so…Gordon.

A moment and he was suddenly hugging his brother, overwhelmed yet again.

“Hey, hey…” But Gordon hugged him back as Alan screwed up his face on his brother’s shoulder.

“It’s gonna be alright, Allie.”

“Yeah.” It was the only word he could get out.

So he clung.

-o-o-o-

After a while Allie relaxed a bit and the two of them separated. There was embarrassment on Alan’s part, but Gordon didn’t seem to care.

They sat on the floor with their backs leaning against Alan’s bed talking.

About Dad.

About Scott and Virgil and John.

About Grandma.

About their family.

What had been a moment of exhaustion morphed into one of catharsis and relief. Perhaps Grandma knew he had to get away from the family to properly crack up.

He shouldn’t be surprised. Grandma really did know everything.

Well, except how to cook.

“When was the last time you checked your phone?”

Alan blinked sticky eyes and realised Gordon was poking at a phone. Alan’s phone.

It had a rocket phone case, of course.

“What the hell? Whatcha doing?” He swiped at the phone and missed.

“You do realise you have two hundred odd unread emails in here?”

“Gordon, give me my phone.”

“Oooh, you have fan mail.”

“Give it to me!”

But his brother was suddenly frowning. “Since when do you drink coffee with Alex Sweetapple?”

“Who?” Alan was the one frowning now, but this time he did manage to swipe the phone out of his brother’s hand as the man was actually trying to read his email.

So much for all that brotherly love a moment ago.

“Do you even drink coffee? I thought Scott banned you from that after the last time you went super soldier on the stuff.”

“I am an adult, you know. I can drink coffee any time I like.”

“Sure. You dealing Thunderbird Two’s coffee machine to the employees?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Alex Sweetapple, number one fan of Virgil’s coffee.” He made an attempt to grab the phone back and failed as Alan skittered away a bit and held the phone at length.

“Don’t know him, but it sounds like he has good taste. Even you like Thunderbird Two Brew.”

“Then why is he emailing you?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t even seen it yet, thanks to certain annoyance.” He glared at Gordon.

Gordon smirked at him, lopsided.

Alan grunted and poked at his phone. Sure enough, there was an email from an Alex Sweetapple with the subject heading of Coffee.

He opened it to discover that whoever they were, they were begging to get a hold of how Virgil made his coffee. “He wants the recipe.”

“For coffee?”

“Uh-huh. Who is he anyway?”

“One of Virgil’s engineers at Māhia. He’s got this cool product in development. Virg took me down there a few months back to check it out. It has some great applications underwater.” A frown. “In fact, if I remember correctly, he should be ready for testing soon.”

Alan stared at his fish brother. It shouldn’t, but it always did surprise Alan when Gordon talked science. It was so easy to forget that his lampooning sibling was as qualified in his fields as the rest of them.

They were just different fields.

“So why would he email me?”

“Can I see the email?” Gordon held out his hand.

Alan held up the phone instead, not willing to give up possession as, yes, there was fan mail on there, authorised by Thunderbird Five that he hadn’t yet had a chance to read.

He did so love reading his fan mail.

Not so much Gordon reading it.

The fish rolled his eyes and play-acted squinting up at the text. For some reason his mouth had to be half open to see things clearly.

“He wants Virgil’s coffee recipe.”

“That’s what I said.”

Gordon paused and looked away thinking. “You know him and Virgil had a really long chat that day. I ended up wandering off because I couldn’t suffer the engineerese any longer. I reckon if we hadn’t been called out, that the chat would have gone on longer.” A smile crept over Gordon’s face. “You know, they’d make a lovely couple.”

Alan wrinkled his nose and pulled the phone away. “What?”

“Virg does need a distraction.”

“You steal him away from Dad for a stupid reason and you’re dead.”

Gordon held up a hand. “Hey, I know what I’m doing. Been playing with older brother brains for a lot longer than you.”

Alan grumbled. Been playing with a younger brother’s brain as well, obviously. Mentioning the six-year gap between them was dirty pool.

“I’m not a kid, Gordon.”

“Never said you were.” The expression on his brother’s face was all ‘The Thinker’, possibly ‘The Conspirator’. Alan had the sudden impression that he was going to be dragged into something he wasn’t sure he was going to like.

“What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking that our older brothers need a break as much as we do.”

“Gordon-“

He held up his hand again and a smile curved his lips. “Trust me.”

Alan sighed inside.

He did.

That was the problem.

-o-o-o-

TBC

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #alexander sweetapple #Alan Tracy #Gordon Tracy #nuttyfic #flyboytracy's fault

[gumnut-logic]

Sweetapple (Part 4 and The End)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 - Bit 1, Bit 2, Bit 3 | Part 4

Still @flyboytracy​​​ ‘s fault. ::hugs you silly again:: Thank you so much for your ask.

Many thanks to @onereyofstarlight​​​ for reading and all her onderful support.

And also thank you so much for all your comments and likes and reblogs on this fic. I always get so excited when I actually finish a fic. I hope you find it worth it and thank you for your patience.

I hope you enjoy it.

-o-o-o-

Gordon watched as the man’s eyes bugged out and couldn’t help but smile just a little.

This had to be Alexander Sweetapple. A shock of dishevelled pale blond hair, dark brown eyes and as much a beanpole of Johnny, the man looked like Brains on a bender.

But then considering he was an engineer, it was probably a thing they all had in common.

One hand held a disposable cup of coffee and the other some unidentified pastry.

“I am so sorry, Mr Tracy.” Was that terror in the man’s eyes?

Gordon snorted. “Not the first time I’ve touched things I’m not supposed to.”

That sent those dark eyes darting over Gordon’s current mode of transport.

He swallowed. “My present state of undress not included.”

The man actually jumped and flushed.

Gordon sighed and relented. “C’mon, Alex, sit down and tell me how this miracle stuff of yours can help save lives.”

It worked, mostly. Gordon had to admit that he had some extensive experience in corralling the nervous scientist type. Brains, early on, had a tendency to get flustered. Hell, even John and Virgil had their moments. The best way to settle their crazy brains was to get them talking about their stuff.

There was no way Gordon was going to admit he had his own babbling moments and various members of his family had been subject to sudden downloads on various marine topics.

Alex put down his coffee and, was that a bagel? And pulled up a seat beside Gordon.

“I didn’t know you were coming today.”

Gordon shrugged. “Neither did I. Got kicked off the Island.”

That prompted another stare.

There was no way he was going to discuss how stir crazy he was at the moment. Virgil had virtually kidnapped him and dragged him here simply because of some random mention of the possibilities of Siliwrap. Apparently, ANY kind of distraction was the way to go.

Alex was still staring at him.

“So, you reckon this can work underwater?”

That did it. Those dark eyes literally lit up, Alex’s mouth opened, and Gordon received a full-on run down on the possible applications of Siliwrap in a marine environment.

Okay, so maybe Virg was right. The applications were pretty awesome. Alex was currently looking at delivery systems that could work under the high pressures of the deep sea.

Alan and John would be happy with the space bits, but Gordon managed to third degree the poor man and actually found himself excited. This substance could be a game changer.

If he was understanding correctly, he could fire the Siliwrap capsule from Thunderbird Four, targeting, say, an underwater habitat. It would deploy a web of material strong enough to prevent further collapse and provide an air tight seal. Hell, those nano-polymer strands had enough strength to physically hold a structure upright long enough for a rescue.

“What about ecological effects?”

“Uh, it’s not perfect. We are looking at some microplastic contamination, but I’m looking to develop a recovery system that can gather the material and hopefully we’ll be able to recycle for reuse.” Alex sighed. “It is all still very much a work-in-progress.”

“Looks like you have some great stuff here. No wonder Virgil was impressed.”

That prompted another stare. “Virgil?”

“Uh, yeah, he and Scott met with you a few months back? Green lighted the project faster than Scott could sign the financials. Been babbling about it since.”

As if called by name, Virgil chose that moment to walk into the room with his mandatory morning coffee. His brother didn’t look much better than Alex if Gordon was honest. This was not Virgil’s time of the morning, hence the coffee…or more than one coffee apparently, as he had several in his gloved hands.

Gordon did feel guilty, but it was Virgil’s fault, really.

He’d look at that logic later.

A small whimper beside him and he turned to find Alex as pale as a ghost, eyes wide, and staring at Virgil.

-o-o-o-

Alex’s head was spinning. Not only was he talking to the Great Gordon Tracy, the man understood what he was saying. That was rare in Alex’s experience, beyond work colleagues.

He supposed that technically Mr Tracy was a work colleague, just somewhere at the top of the hierarchy. Omigod, he was talking to Gordon Tracy!

But Gordon seemed to be a pretty down to earth guy. Obviously injured by whatever had happened out there. Rumours had it that the Chaos Crew was responsible.

Watching Gordon move stiffly in his hoverchair was enough for Alex to want to throw out the purple dart board and start hunting down purple-dressed stains on humanity.

Why would anyone want to hurt the Tracys? They gave everything they had to help people.

Alex may have been feeling a little irrational. Likely due to the lack of his morning coffee which sat on the bench slowly going cold. That and the Tracy sitting next to him with such interest in his work.

It was a little dizzying.

But then Gordon mentioned Virgil and several facts clicked into place.

One, that kind man had not been Scott’s PA.

Two, he had stolen Virgil Tracy’s coffee.

And before he could recover from that realisation and its accompanying horror, Virgil Tracy himself walked through the door.

Alex’s eyes creaked in their sockets as they widened.

Mr Tracy was dressed in his International Rescue uniform, his Thunderbird Two patch prominent on his well-muscled arm. A green baldric, blue fabric, and awfully familiar dark eyes and hair.

Alex gripped the table behind him.

But most of all, his senses were suddenly assailed by the scent of THAT coffee. The fabled coffee, the holy grail of coffee, the coffee that couldn’t be named, mostly because he hadn’t been able to find it anywhere.

So instead of something intelligent, all that fell out of Alex’s mouth the moment he finally met Virgil Tracy was, “You brought coffee?”

The man grinned and handed over a precious cup. Alex couldn’t help but take it, couldn’t help but gulp most of it down, despite the burning of his mouth and oesophagus.

Did Indiana Jones drink from the Holy Grail? He couldn’t remember, but this must be what it felt like.

Warmth, flavour, and the much-vaunted caffeine filled his bloodstream.

Unfortunately, along with sanity came the realisation of exactly what he had done.

Again.

Oh, god.

He peered over the rim of his coffee cup.

Both Gordon and Virgil were grinning at him.

He couldn’t help but notice how much that grin was lighting up Virgil’s face. He looked tired, but for this moment, he was more amused than anything else.

Alex caved. “I am sooo sorry!”

That prompted a full and deep belly laugh from the man.

Alex couldn’t help but blush.

Gordon snorted. “I wouldn’t worry. There’s plenty more where that came from.”

He turned to the aquanaut and had to resist grabbing him and demanding information. “Where? Where does he get that coffee from? I’ve been hunting for it everywhere.”

Gordon rolled his eyes. “You two are going to get on just fine. Virg, has an industrial strength coffee machine on Thunderbird Two. It has saved my life on many an occasion. The man is a bear without his addiction juice.”

“Hey.”

“I say it as I see it, Virg, you know that.”

“That’s up for debate. Besides, you’ve availed yourself of my ‘addiction juice’ often enough.”

“In moderation, bro, not by the gallon.”

“Now you’re just exaggerating.”

Gordon held up a finger. “Hey, Brains monitors that thing. Scott demanded it after the incident with the polar bear. No exaggeration required.”

“That wasn’t my fault-“

“Alan disagrees.”

“Gordon-“

Alex just stared as the two brothers argued in front of him.

He watched Virgil mostly. There was a glint in the man’s eyes, as if this ‘argument’ was a good thing.

Alex took another sip of his blessed coffee and tried to think of something to say that wouldn’t make him look like the idiot he was.

“Virgil, drink your juice and become human, I’m begging you.”

Eyebrows glared at the injured man. “I’m fine, Gordon. These are for Alex. He obviously appreciates my coffee.”

Alex suddenly had three more genuine Thunderbird Two coffees shoved into his hand.

“Really?”

“Sure. You obviously appreciate a fine brew, unlike Fishhead here.” He thumbed in Gordon’s direction.

Alex couldn’t argue with that. Well, except maybe with the fishhead thing, but he had more of THAT coffee in his hands. The realisation that Thunderbird Two was the source was a little disheartening as it wasn’t as if he could put in an order. Because, you know, Thunderbird?

He wondered if Virgil made them himself. Maybe he could get tips.

“Virg, I think you broke him.” Gordon’s voice interrupted the mess in Alex’s head. “You do realise he hasn’t finished his work yet? He has some cool stuff happening with this Siliwrap of his, I want in.”

“Thought you might.”

Alex looked up from the coffee cups in his hands and finally managed to open his mouth and say something that didn’t threaten his career. “Thank you.”

Virgil smiled at him. “Not a problem. I can recognise a fellow connoisseur.” Another glare at his brother. “Unlike some.”

Gordon rolled his eyes. “Okay, enough about the addiction juice. Virgil, you were right. There, I admit it. Alex’s work is totally cool. When do I get a working prototype?”

“When you stop terrorising my engineers.” He turned to Alex. “Your progress has been exceptional. And my apologies for us dropping by unannounced.” Yet another glare at Gordon. “But Gordon was very interested in your results.”

“Um, it’s okay. I, um, am glad he’s interested.”

“Hey, Virg is a bit of an engineer-“ That prompted a glare from said engineer and a smirk from Gordon. “-maybe he can help with that temperature issue you were having with the projectile launcher.”

“Uh, sure?” Virgil appeared at least politely interested.

Alex grabbed his notebook with all his hand-scribbled notes, but then shoved it aside and activated the holoprojector instead. He explained the issue to a very interested pair of dark eyes.

There really was something to be admired regarding the man’s eyebrows. They were just-

Focus.

He ended his explanation and then - he really shouldn’t have been surprised because this was Virgil Tracy - Virgil started speaking the language of engineering. Questions, possible solutions to investigate, they had an amazing discussion, swapping ideas. Virgil seemed to relax into the topic, all weariness fleeing and being replaced by inspired energy. Alex couldn’t help but get excited himself. So rare was it to be able to discuss his ideas with anyone.

At some point, Gordon excused himself, smirking about who knew what, but Alex didn’t really pay him much attention. Virgil offered some great leads. A few experiments were needed, but the concepts looked promising.

At one point Erica bounded into the room, took one look at Alex and the still fully uniformed International Rescue operative, minus the  gloves he had discarded at some point earlier, both hunched over the scribbled diagrams in the back of Alex’s notebook.

She squeaked something about Thunderbird Two and backed out of the room hurriedly.

Their conversation eventually drifted off Siliwrap and into some of the mechanics of particular rescue situations. Virgil didn’t give Alex enough information to identify the actual incidents, but discussed an array of the problems he had encountered.

Alex was in his element. Virgil so clearly spoke his language, and Alex was quite excited when he was able to return the favour of a few possible leads for some of Virgil’s projects.

They weren’t much, but Virgil seemed to take them on board quite happily.

Until the IR insignia on Virgil’s baldric lit up.

The operative froze for a split second, and then straightened, his stance switching from relaxed to alert. A quick conversation with someone Alex couldn’t hear and Virgil signed off.

“Sorry, play time is up.” An apologetic smile.

Play time?

Virgil yanked his gloves on. “We should do this again. What do you say?”

Uh? “Sure.”

Another smile in Alex’s direction, this time a little lopsided. “I’m sorry. This happens a lot.” He reached out and touched Alex’s shoulder. “Keep up the great work.”

And then the man was moving…fast.

Alex hurried to follow as he ran out the door and down the corridor, outside, and Alex was confronted by the fact Thunderbird Two was winding up to a roar on the landing field beside the facility.

Virgil Tracy ran across the grass, Gordon and his hoverchair appearing from somewhere, trailing several staff members as his ‘chair moved faster than was probably legal.

People were standing around like stunned seagulls.

Virgil and Gordon reached the Thunderbird and clambered onto a platform under its nose.

Both turned and waved as it sucked them inside.

A moment later, the thunder part of Thunderbird made itself known as VTOL rockets unfolded beneath its undercarriage and lit up, filling the air with sound.

A graceful leap into the air, the Thunderbird banked over the complex, and tore off to the north.

Then it was gone.

The sudden silence was a vacuum.

“Wow.”

He turned to find Erica standing next to him, staring up at the sky.

“You can say that again.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

A moment of silence…and realisation.

“He brought me coffee.”

He felt Erica’s incredulous eyes on him, but didn’t respond.

Virgil Tracy had brought him amazing coffee and amazing conversation.

He might just survive on that fact for the rest of his life.

-o-o-o-

 FIN.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds #Gordon Tracy #Virgil Tracy #alexander sweetapple #nuttyfic #flyboytracy's fault

[gumnut-logic]

Dear Mr Tracy (Part 4, Bit 3)

Sweetapple | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 - Bit 1, Bit 2, Bit 3

@flyboytracy​​​​​, @amistrio​​​​​ and @onereyofstarlight​​​​​​  you asked for it, so you get to suffer more :D

Many thanks to @onereyofstarlight​ for all the plotwork and character building we did today, and to @gaviiadastra​ for the readthrough tonight ::hugs the both of you:: And, of course, to the wonderful Thunderfam who continue to cheer me on in this endeavour ::hugs you all tight::

This is the last bit of Part Four. This fic is now longer than the first fic in this series and still has a way to go...I just gotta find that way. Virgil is being difficult and stubborn. Scott is exasperated. Alex is a stunned mullet. I have a great group in my head at the moment. Gordon is determined to lighten everything up by being a smart ass :D

There is a reason why I go by the name ‘Nutty’ ::headdesk::

But anyway, I hope you enjoy this bit and I will continue to wrangle these brats for the next part.

-o-o-o-

Alex was transfixed.

Dressed in the neatest pair of slacks, shoes and shirt he could find in his closet, he stood on the runway watching as the massive Thunderbird Two landed gracefully in front of them.

He hadn’t even been working at Tracy Industries a year yet, and here he was being offered the ride of a lifetime.

Erica was going to be so pissed.

“Have you flown much, Mr Sweetapple?” Mr Jeff Tracy’s eyes were curious.

“Uh, no Mr Tracy. A little. Went to Australia once, there and back. And, of course, from Auckland to here. Been much more of where my car can reach kind of guy.”

Thunderbird Two’s VTOL folded up under her undercarriage and Alex marvelled at the design, listing off the mechanics that would be required to make that work. How to stop pinching fuel lines and heat dissipation at the top of the challenge list.

Mr Jeff Tracy was eyeing him, he could feel it.

And Alex realised that the Thunderbirds were likely top secret technology and here he was, attempting to disassemble them with his brain.

A hatch lowered from under the Thunderbird’s nose and Virgil Tracy stepped off.

Both Mr Tracys moved and Alex and Tia were startled into motion.

He wondered if Tia had ever flown in a Thunderbird.

They met Virgil halfway. The IR operative eyed his father, but a glare was thrown at Mr Scott Tracy and something was said without words. Alex had no idea what, but he had the strong impression that Virgil wasn’t happy with Mr Tracy at all.

He did, however approach his father. “You okay, Dad? How’s your leg?”

“Perfectly fine, Virgil.” It was said with tolerance. “We have guests.”

Virgil’s eyes darted to Alex and Tia, and Alex was struck with the exhaustion etched into the man’s face. The contrast with his appearance the last time Alex had seen him months before was stark.

“Are you okay?” It burst forth without thought and Alex bit his lip.

Dark eyes frowned at him and the shoulders under the famous uniform straightened a little. “Congratulations on the test, Alex.”

“Um, thank you.” It wasn’t his place, he knew that, but Virgil quite frankly looked like shit.

Beside Alex, Mr Tracy straightened and stepped towards his brother. “Virgil, a minute?”

That prompted the return of the glare and, while Mr Tracy held out an arm and led Virgil off a ways.

“I think it would be prudent if we boarded.” Mr Jeff Tracy was eyeing both of his sons as Virgil started gesticulating at his brother.

Mr Tracy’s expression was calm beneath that storm.

Alex tried to remember what International Rescue had been doing over the last week or so. Admittedly, he hadn’t been paying as much attention as he would have usually as he had been buried in the preparations for the test. He could think of at least three incidents involving Thunderbird Two which likely meant Virgil had been out during those times.

Fireman Fred had a habit of recording the news reports and breaking down the strategies used in the rescues. His favourite Thunderbird was definitely Thunderbird Two.

Which was looming up and over Alex this very moment.

She was so big!

And green. But the green wasn’t out of place, it was just the colour she was meant to be.

Mr Jeff Tracy led them onto the platform lift that Virgil had leapt off earlier and his cane tapped heavily on the metal decking. They all turned around waiting for the two brothers standing in the middle of the landing field.

Virgil was still gesticulating but Mr Tracy cut it all off with a sharp word. His body language screamed ‘enough’ and flicking one hand to the side he turned and strode purposefully towards them.

Virgil glared after him, but his shoulders suddenly slumped as if in defeat and he soon followed his brother.

Something was obviously up. But neither brother said a thing as they joined Alex, Tia and their father on the platform.

Virgil poked at a control on one arm and Alex stumbled just a little as the hatch began to retract into the giant plane.

The inside of the Thunderbird was also green. Alex’s heart was beating hard inside his ribcage, not believing this was actually happening.

“Hey, Alex!” Gordon Tracy was shaking his hand. “Great to see you again. This is my brother Alan.” He gestured to the blond young man dressed in a hoodie and jeans beside him.

Alan waved. “Kia ora, Alex.”

Alex found his manners. “Kia ora, Alan.”

Gordon was grinning. “And this is Kayo.”

Kayo, a petite woman with long dark hair pulled back rather tight, held out a hand and Alex found himself taking it and shaking it in greeting. Something in the woman’s eyes pierced his skull and read the how-to-operate instructions on his soul.

Gordon snorted. “Don’t worry, we don’t let her kill our engineers.”

Alex frowned at the aquanaut and Gordon shrugged.

“Kayo is our head of security. She probably knows the colour of your underwear today.”

“Gordon!” The name came from several exasperated directions.

But Kayo’s lips curled into a small and mysterious smile and didn’t deny a thing.

Alex quite calmly put her on his mental list of people he should never piss off.

“Alex, you can sit with me while Dad and Scott ‘decide’ who gets to ride shotgun.”

“I know who is going to be riding in the module if he doesn’t stop talking in the near future.” Mr Tracy strode past, all blue jeans, blue shirt and tense shoulders.

Alex found himself next to Gordon behind the co-pilot’s seat with an excellent view of the pilot seating himself and readying the Thunderbird for flight.

The two Mr Tracys did indeed have a short discussion on who rode in the co-pilot’s seat, but it was more of a you, no, you discussion. In the end, Mr Jeff Tracy directed his eldest son to sit and took a seat himself beside Kayo.

Who was still casually eyeing Alex.

He had lab lasers that were less intense.

Tia ended up beside Alan and once they were all strapped in, the roar of the Thunderbird around them grew in intensity before lifting them smoothly off the ground.

-o-o-o-

Next

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Virgil Tracy #Scott Tracy #Gordon Tracy #Jeff Tracy #alexander sweetapple #nuttyfic #flyboytracy's fault

[gumnut-logic]

Sweetapple (Part 3 - Bit 1)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 - Bit 1

Still @flyboytracy​ ‘s fault. ::hugs you silly again::

Many thanks to @onereyofstarlight​ for reading and playing crash dummy. Sorry! ::hugs lots::

Bit of a language warning on this and a touch of canon angst. I have to dash now, but hope to write more once I get back from having to do boring things like food shopping.

-o-o-o-

Tracy Industries Research and Development site, Māhia Peninsula.

He stared at the address written clearly in the document he had been staring at for a full five minutes in disbelief.

The email it had been attached to was simple:

Dear Alex Sweetapple,

Your Siliwrap project has been identified as viable for product development. As it will require extensive testing in multiple environments, it has been decided to offer you and your team accommodations at our experimental facility at Māhia for the duration of the project.

Please reply if you need further information outside what the attached information can provide.

I hope this invitation finds you well, and I look forward to hearing your reply, preferably before 8 June 2063.

Kind regards,

Tia Thompson Director, Research and development Tracy Industries Aotearoa

He had opened the attached document to find the equivalent of a dissertation on the Māhia Research Facility.

It was built out of the remains of an old government space agency testing ground, but according to this, the Tracys had filled it with top level staff and equipment.

Tracy Industries had a frickin’ Avengers Lab.

And he was going to be part of it.

His heart may have missed a beat or two.

“Hey, Sweetpie, you still with us? Or did you expire and forget to fall over?”

“The project has been approved.” His voice was hoarse and full of disbelief.

“What?” Erica was out of her seat and beside him in a flash, peering at his computer screen. “Māhia?” A stunned second. “Omigod, we’re going to Māhia!” And she was dragging him out of his chair and hugging and screaming and grinning in his face.

Somewhere between getting his hair completely mussed and her squeezing both his cheeks at once, it finally sunk in. “We really got it?” Why was it still a question?

“Yes, yes and yes, you lovable goofball. We are going to Māhia and you are going to be your brilliant self and save lives for the Thunderbirds.”

“Holy shit.”

“Exactly.”

“Wow.”

“You better believe it, Pieface. Oh, this is going to be so good.” She started muttering something about what to pack and talked to the air about preparations and experimental needs.

Alex sat down hard in his seat.

Just as another email landed in his inbox.

The subject line read ‘International Rescue advisory to Tracy Industries.’

He opened it with joy in his heart.

DL-Tracy Industries Aotearoa

Dear All,

It is with sadness that I need to report that Gordon Tracy, marine specialist and aquanaut with International Rescue has been seriously injured today.

Standard media blackout applies.

Further information will be provided by the Tracy family as soon as it is practical.

If you need support, Tracy Industries counselling services are available as always. We are in this together, we will support each other together.

Our thoughts and prayers are with the Tracy family today.

Sincerely,

Veronica Myers Public Relations Tracy Industries Aotearoa

Alex was glad he was sitting down.

Fuck.

He grabbed for the remote discarded on the desk and lit up the large TV screen in the corner of the room.

As usual, it was set to the news channel and a lone reporter reported mournfully across the room the moment the signal stabilised.

The screen cut to a shot of Thunderbird Two landing in the rain in London. The reporter’s voice over kept tumbling out of the screen as an obscured huddle of IR operatives rushed a prone figure into the dull edifice of a building.

Footage cut to cell phone video bits and pieces in an emergency room.

The blues of IR uniforms etched themselves into Alex’s retinas.

Oh god.

The scene cut back to the reporter and his lack of further information.

Erica had frozen in the middle of the room, all excitement drained from her body.

“Fuck.”

Exactly.

-o-o-o-

Next

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds #alexander sweetapple #erica stoltz #nuttyfic #flyboytracy's fault