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gumnut-logic · 3 months

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It was pure chance Virgil was with John that day. He could have said it was unexpected, but it would have been a lie. It was only a matter of time before another attempt was made.

John cursed himself for failing to pay enough attention to the probability algorithm.

But it was John who was there when Virgil was attacked. And as it was the first time, it was John who protected his brother.

That first time when John had defended Virgil from the mechas high in the sky above a beached Two, John had lost his wings.

No, not lost, they had been torn from his body, stolen, and it had been Scott and Kayo who had caught both of them.

It had taken so long for John to not quite recover from that incident. Virgil and Brains had given him back the ability to fly, but his white pinions were forever gone, replaced with the finest technological art his brother could create.

John was different in both form and mind after that.

Virgil, whose injuries were less permanent in a physical sense, had not recovered mentally. Virgil was almost as changed as John, despite the healing of his midnight black wings. Something had snapped inside the gentle engineer. He smiled less and was more fragile of mood. John knew he felt guilt regarding what had happened, but no matter what John said, Virgil’s shoulders still bowed under a weight that hadn’t been there before.

So, to have that same brother attacked in the middle of the street by minions of the man who haunted them…

It was the last straw.

These people had hurt them so much, hurt Virgil, Gordon and John himself, and yet, here they were attempting to take even more as if it was simply sport.

John broke.

They were in New York on Tracy Industries business. John had found an error in the financials and needed to speak in-person to the persons responsible. Virgil offered to fly him out in Two and shorten the trip considerably in the process.

It was a good chance to spend some time together. Scott was obviously envious over comms, attending an incident in Colorado, and John was tempted to invite him and the rest of the family out for an evening when they got back. Perhaps they could fly over to Sydney and watch the sunset over the harbour bridge.

But then Virgil was lured by the scent of the local coffee shop. It wasn’t anything unusual. His brother often grabbed one from that particular café when in town.

Virgil jogged down the street as John turned to enter their building.

Again, it was chance. Perhaps if John had walked faster or Virgil a little slower…

The sudden surprise, pain and oblivion that washed over John in that moment was enough to cause him to stagger on the steps. A woman screamed. He looked over to find several men lifting his unconscious brother off the sidewalk.

A van sat with its door open, halting traffic.

John’s wings lifted without thought. Alarm spread to his younger brother thousands of kilometres away on Tracy Island and as one they moved.

John launched from the steps.

His flight was short and sharp and several thousand dollars’ worth of Berluti’s finest handmade shoes made a significant impact on the nearest assailant.

They went down with a yell as John dropped his full weight on the man. One wing stabilised his balance and the other, no longer vulnerable flesh and bone, now lightweight, cahelium-laced metal, impacted hard on a second man.

Another down.

John retracted that wing and lashed out with the other, taking out a third man, all before any of them could react.

Virgil was tumbling towards the ground, as the men carrying him joined him in unconsciousness, and John grabbed at his brother, drawing him close.

That moment of distraction was enough for a gun to appear.

Clutching Virgil to his chest, John spun, crouched and enveloped both himself and his brother in the circle of his wings. Seven and a half metres of wingspan wrapped around them both as that gun fired.

And ricocheted off cahelium spar.

Perhaps there was a reason he had his wings taken from him.

Perhaps there was a cahelium lining to it all.

The gun fired again and John, felt the sharp vibration sing through artificial bones.

Virgil’s hair caught in his nose.

Hurried footsteps.

Profanity.

Someone grabbed at his wings and screamed. No doubt as his hands started bleeding from the razor-sharp edges of those metal feathers.

He held his big brother just a little tighter for the briefest of seconds before curling him up gently on the ground.

A brief touch of fingertips to his temple. Unconscious, Virgil lacked his usual vibrancy and John didn’t even know what had been done to him yet.

Only that he had been hurt.

Again.

Gentle Virgil.

Sunshine Gordon.

His own pain.

And still they wanted more.

A gun cocked.

No.

John spun as he rose, wings spreading out sharp and horizontal forming no less than a lethal whirling blade.

Cahelium feathers met flesh as he moved. The equations for force, velocity and momentum subconsciously calculating exactly what he needed to do to get the result required.

That woman screamed again as the gun fell clattering to the pavement.

Four bodies of varying health joined it.

Both sound and silence communicated medical needs to the trained responder’s ears.

They were ignored as John straightened.

The van’s tyres squealed as it tore off down the street without its target.

Silence fell over everything. Shock freezing traffic and pedestrians alike. Only the groans of the injured and the out-of-sight rest of the city graced the soundscape.

Red dripped off the ends of John’s feathers as he crouched next to his prone brother. Virgil’s pulse was unsteady and he was sporting a bleeding wound on the back of his head. Whatever they had hit him with, they had hit him hard.

Curling him into his arms, John half-folded and gently scooped his wings under his brother. Lifting him smoothly off the ground, he carried him back towards the entrance to their building.

Just as the roar of Thunderbird One tore into the airspace above the street.

Gordon was buzzing at the back of John’s mind, desperate to know what was going on.

Scott’s aggravation was obvious as he dumped One blocking all traffic in front of Tracy Industries’ New York offices.

John turned and carried his big brother out towards the safety of the Thunderbird.

Her pilot seat lowered and Scott was there, concerned eyes, worried words and questions.

But the questions could wait and a hoverstretcher relieved John of his brother’s weight.

John folded his bloodied wings and let them go.

One’s engines roared as they lifted off, but they didn’t manage to drown out John’s heartbeat. The scanner in his hand told him that Virgil would be okay once he recovered consciousness and worked through the concussion that was brewing…

John’s shoulders dropped and he leant over his brother, his hands gripping the side of the docked stretcher enough to whiten his knuckles.

He screwed his eyes shut ever so tight.

The hand that landed on his arm was gentle, but insistent. “Talk to me, John.”

He didn’t open his eyes. “They tried to take Virgil.” A breath. “I didn’t let them.”

Scott shifted beside him, an arm reached around John and drew him close. His head was nudged to Scott’s shoulder and he let himself be pulled into a full embrace, grateful for the comfort.

Scott’s words were little more than breath. “Thank you.”

John opened his eyes at that and turned enough to set eyes on his unconscious brother. Virgil was ever so pale in the overhead lighting in such contrast to his usual animation.

An indrawn breath.

“Never again.” He let that breath out. “God, never again.”

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanart #thunderbirds fanfiction #virgil tracy #john tracy #nuttyart #scribble scribble #and where John looks nothing like John #but eh #marks and wings

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astranite · 3 months

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Respite (Spun Glass and Golden Light)

Scott and John, or sky and star!

It's another long one at a bit under 5000 words! Tags copied from ao3 as look, I really should be asleep already.Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, theres a fair spectrum of emotions here, Brothers, Thunderbird Five (Thunderbirds), Nightmares, John is also pretty not okay here too as well as Scott but they are both working on it, space metaphors thrown in for good measure, Cuddling & Snuggling, because everyone needs a hug of course, another fic where John and Scott drink hot chocolate!, they are both also learning they can let each other in and Scott is realising this.

Many thanks to the fab @idontknowreallywhy for all the cheering on and wonderfulness!

---

“Do you want to come up to Five?” John asked.

Scott answered far too fast. “Yeah.” His voice broke in the middle.

John thought it would take more convincing, it always did to get Scott to accept anything approaching help. But this time…

He caught one last flash of blue eyes made bluer, meeting his and piercingly desperate, before the hologram shut off from Scott’s end and John was blinking away the after images in the suddenly dark comm hub.

Scott, in rumpled day clothes at 2:47am Tracy Island time, hair falling across his forehead in uneven waves of curls. Scott, whose dark circles under his eyes had startled John into thinking they were bruises, his sharpened features thrown in harsh relief by the dim lamp by dad’s desk. The hologram was fuzzy at the edges, all noisy static between him and his brother, but John couldn’t miss the way Scott looked over his shoulder like he expected something to be there. Or someone.

Ghosts of his past, John thought, then shook himself.

Scott had nightmares, they all knew it. But he always pretended he wasn't shaken by what he saw. Tried to carry on like they didn't happen, like nothing ever happened, and Scott was as invincible as the legend he’d built around dad was.

John saw, more often than the others. There was a reason he monitored the villa feed for movement outside of usual hours when the rescue alarms hadn't gone off.

He’d caught a few funnier moments for blackmail, namely Alan and Gordon attempting to steal storebought baked goods from the fridge and getting them mixed up with Grandma’s latest creations in the dark. Repeatedly, because they’d never figured out how Scott and Virgil conspired together to swap the containers.

But there were worse ones for all of their family. Nights Alan slept on the couch because being in his room, alone inside close walls was too much. Gordon making his subdued way through the halls, cheerful facade gone with gasps of pain unable to be stifled, going to get painkillers from the infirmary for his back. Kayo, prowling on silent feet, checking, triple checking security feeds for any slightest threat, not able to believe in the safety of their island anymore. Jagged notes of piano, near silent from keys barely pressed, while Virgil had tears on his face.

And Scott, of course Scott who had it the worst of all of them, who was the bravest of them but couldn't see it. Late nights, ending slumped ragdoll-like over endless paperwork from endless responsibilities put on his shoulders. Agitated pacing, wearing only socks so he wouldn't wake anyone, ragged breaths louder than his footsteps. The times when Scott was a trembling ball of tears, curled under dad’s desk where he barely fit anymore, hands over his head blocking everything out.

Sometimes John talked to them, offered company and comfort, other times he let the moments pass silently. He was used to witnessing things he could never speak of again; his own moments of pain rarely had anyone but he made sure his siblings’ did, just in case they needed someone reaching out for them.

Watching over Scott in particular to make sure no harm came to him was an unsaid duty John took as his own. Virgil was there in the day, with him on the ground during rescues, but John amongst his stars kept the nights within his reach.

He’d already sent the space elevator down and now he waited, marking careful timings as Eos quietly spoke them. Scott was suiting up. Scott was finishing pre-launch checks. Scott had reached the Kármán line, the beginning of space.

John drifted through a gravity-less Five, switching to lights that gave off a soft, golden glow. They filled the Thunderbird up like she was one of those ancient incandescent bulbs, long since obsolete. Like she was delicate spun glass as well as cahelium strength, two opposites the same, together complete where glass could break and cahelium bend. She was different from her sister ships, a different purpose and way of approach, but in the end she was the same. Rescue. Salvation. Pulling them all back from the void.

He couldn't take the nightmares away, the fear and pain scarred deep in his brother’s bones, but he could offer respite. Warmth and light and safety, with some distance from it all. A set of arms to hold Scott close and a shoulder to cry on when it was needed. It was something, it was everything, in the rare times Scott could reach out and take it.

And John needed it too. He could watch over Scott from afar, he always would, he couldn't not. But he also needed his big brother close enough that he could feel his heartbeat, how his chest rose and fell with each breath, not just as numbers on a screen, but here and real and close. Maybe he wasn't the touchiest person generally, but his brothers wrapped up in a hug or sides pressed together where they sat, their soft voices in the bubble of quiet, that meant safety. With only arm’s reach to check if they were okay, especially for looking out for Scott. There was a reason that otherwise he had to have all of the data. But right now he needed Scott.

John waited for the familiar clunk of the space elevator docking, for Eos to give the all clear for her checks for the airlock being correctly pressurised, before the doors opened.

They silhouetted Scott in their frame, stuck halfway between the warm lights of Five and the cooler, harsher ones in the space elevator.

Scott hesitated, like he always did here, a hand blue-gloved in space issue suit gripping the edge of the airlock.

John opened his arms, because Scott needed this as much as he did. They were the same this way.

He was met by a brother tumbling towards him, clumsy out of their element, in a crashing hug. For a moment, John almost expected it to be Alan, eager and young, those blue eyes— But Alan was nearly as graceful up here as John these days. And his eyes didn't hold the same nightmare bright intensity and John hoped they never would.

Scott hit him in a collision of bodies and John had to stop their combined momentum, a foot finding a wall to slow them until his shoulder slammed into a bulkhead cabinet anyway. Automatically, he wrapped himself around Scott.

“Just a bit of a bump, nothing that hasn’t happened before. You gotta have a lighter touch when you kick off in micrograv,” John said cheerily. Scott was still mumbling repeated apologies under his breath.

John took the moment, in spite of his words, to just cling to Scott, like Scott was clinging to him, burying his face at his brother’s neck. A moment, a minute, a respite.

Finding handholds on Five’s inner surfaces was as easy as it was familiar. John could find every one of them blind, oxygen-deprived, with no Earthly directions as a frame of reference. He had, before.

He shifted to get his fingers around Scott’s wrist, a quick tap on his hand to warn Scott first, then Scott’s locking around his own in a rescue grip, to pull them through a quietened Five as one.

To the galley. Hot chocolate wasn't quite the same when it came in a foil pouch with a straw as opposed to Earth’s ceramic mugs, but it was chocolate and you could still warm your hands around it.

John made up two, passing one off to Scott where he hung about against what was nominally the wall, though the orientation didn't matter without gravity’s bounds.

“Thanks.” Scott tried for a smile. He was still gripping the hand hold with the white-knuckles-beneath-gloves grip of someone unused to being without gravity and scared to drift away.

John settled on the ceiling in arms reach, with just his toes tucked under a bar.

Quiet lulled between them. John’s favourite type of quiet, with just the soothing hum of the life support systems, the ever-present undercurrent of Five, and their own breathing.

Technically, it wasn't hot chocolate, but nutritionally-complete chocolate-flavoured drink didn't have the same ring. It wasn't the same as a proper meal but a stressed Scott barely ate, John wasn't exactly sure how many hours had passed but it’d be too many if he counted, and right now Scott needed something sweet and calorie-dense and easy to get into him.

It was fine until Scott shifted, his hand slipping momentarily with a sharp intake of breath and that all too familiar flash of panic swiftly hidden. Except up here that split second where he flailed before freezing up and stopping himself sent him into a spin.

John caught Scott’s outstretched arm to steady him. He moved next to Scott with a graceful twist to be against the same wall so Scott could hold onto him. Taking the hot chocolate from him, John gently guided Scott’s hands, one to the grab bar, the other to his baldric.

“You can’t fall up here, not really. Even if it feels like it sometimes,” John said. Reassured. Because this was his sleep-deprived big brother he was talking to, not the perfectly put together Commander.

Scott’s eyes searched his face, latching on to John’s with the same unbreakable trust that let John lead on missions where he could see more from above and Scott actually listened.

“Okay,” Scott said, like it was that simple, like anything in their lives was simple. Because he believed John.

They were close enough that John could see how the strands of Scott’s hair were matted together by old gel not yet washed out. More grey was flecked around his temples, his hair surrounding his head in a floating halo from the lack of gravity and the way it caught the light.

Scott flinched at the soft click-rush-clunk of ventilation systems cycling as they should be, a sound unusual for Scott but not enough to normally be a threat. Scott’s fingers tightened on John’s baldric.

Both of them breathed slowly and carefully, to a steady rhythm of calm until the moment passed.

With how Scott was obviously still struggling with the lack of gravity, John quietly decided to make it easier for him when he wouldn't ask.

“Eos? Gravity back on please,” John murmured aloud to ensure Scott had some warning.

The lights around her camera blinked, flashing to a sunset tone in acknowlegement.

“Will do, John,” Eos said.

The gravity ring mechanisms whirred as they accelerated to the appropriate velocity, providing a force at what would soon be slightly less than Earth standard gravity.

“Hello, Scott Tracy,” she added in greeting. John had noticed they’d been getting on better recently, he was glad of it.

Gently, he guided himself and Scott until their feet touched the floor. Until they could sit next to each other on the ground, cross-legged with their knees bumping, to finish their hot chocolates.

When Scott slumped with relief, letting out a long, shaky exhale, John knew he’d made the right call.

They stared out at the stars now ‘below,’ stretching out into infinity. Always captivating.

Scott hadn't looked out there, eyes carefully averted until he’d shuffled even closer to John, and John had tucked an arm around him to hold on. Because while Five and her warm glow, her connection to everything meant safety like any Thunderbird did, for Scott the gaping void of space held only danger and the need for rescues. Only with John it became their sky again, like they were stargazing on the roof of the farm house on Earth, far beneath them and years ago.

“You want to talk about it?” John asked softly, an opening so that Scott knew he could share and he’d listen.

“Uh. I don’t know. Maybe?” Scott’s usually well hidden uncertaintly bubbled to the surface.

“I’m here for you. Either way it’s okay,” John reminded gently, because Scott needed to hear him say it aloud even though it was always there implicitly.

“Nightmares. It was the snow again.” It was a sign of how far Scott had come that he would talk about what was on his mind, instead of burying it deep inside in a misplaced attempt to protect them. John found Scott’s hand and gently squeezed it.

Scott shuddered, continuing, “Probably from the rescue the other day, the entire mountainside came down. But it was with all of you guys instead and it looked more like the skii slope from the avalanche and mum, but I was too late and I couldn't save you, there was nothing I could do, you were all gone and I was alone—” Scott’s voice rose, distressed.

John could feel him shivering against his side, had only to glance to see the tears building in the corners of Scott’s eyes, the way he had his teeth sunk into his trembling lower lip, the same as he always did when he was trying not to cry. John’s heart broke at that, it always did. He gripped Scott’s hand, tightened the arm around him in a wordless effort to make sure Scott knew he wasn't alone, John was here and he wasn't going anywhere.

Scott took a deep breath and went on. “I know it wasn't real, but it felt like it.”

John made a quiet, empathetic noise. In the moment, in the haze where the lines blurred between sleep and wakefulness, nightmares did feel real. And in the sick feeling after when you just couldn't shake it. He’d been there too.

John could imagine the warmth of Scott’s hand through their space rated gloves as Scott squeezed his. “No matter what happens I’ll always fight for you all and I know you’ll all do everything you can to make it back home to me. And we have systems and procedures in place, and better equipment designed for bad conditions, and everything to make sure that never happens. But it still scares me,” Scott admitted.

“It scares me too.” Usually he didn't say that part aloud though with the work they did and the consequences they saw it never hadn't been in mind. “But we hold onto hope and each other and never let go.” John’s voice came with a fierceness he hadn't quite realised was still buried inside him. They had to believe in it. Or they were already broken.

“We’re Tracies. We’re not going to stop trying to make it home.” Scott returned with a fire John had missed before he dropped quieter but no less determined. “All of us. Even— even me.”

John hung onto him because he knew how long it had taken, how much it still took for Scott to say those words. To mean them.

He pressed his forehead against Scott’s temple. The fear of losing Scott to his own sacrificial, heroic recklessness bit at John even now, along with the need to somehow protect him from the world.

But they both were alive, here and now, in spite of the odds so far.

Scott leaned into John.

The feelings, the fears were there, but together up here amongst the stars they lost enough of their power that they could sit with them and they would soften, the raw edged terror of nightmares washing away.

Five was a bubble of light surrounding them, sheltering them from both the void of space and all that was outside. He and Scott were wrapped up in their own little world, as tiredness itched at John’s eyes and Scott lay his head on his shoulder. John pulled his big brother closer, not that there was really any space between them anyway. They were safe as much as was possible in this big, vast world. More importantly, they were here together.

John waited, not wanting to break the moment for as long as possible, wanting in a childish way to stay here with Scott forever, until his legs were numb and achy from sitting on them, until his eyes were threatening to slide shut, until Scott’s weight against his shoulder was resting heavily against him. Even then he was loathe to move.

A gentle poke and repeating his name had blue eyes blinking sleepily up at him from how Scott was slumped.

“Bedtime, big brother.” John trailed a hand through Scott’s hair, brushing back the stray strands fallen over his forehead.

“Mmmph,” Scott grumbled, tucking his face further into John’s neck.

Scott’s characteristic instant alertness come online a couple of seconds later and he pulled away. All for that he hadn't been properly asleep, merely content and dozy, a rare sight John treasured.

They walked, pressed shoulder to shoulder, to John’s tiny bedroom, tucked away on the nearer side of Five’s gravity ring. Reduced gravity made their footsteps lighter but the company did that too.

Scott hesitated at the door of the second cabin, mostly used on the occasions when Alan was up for training, put there because Five wasn't initially designed to be manned alone which John purposely didn't think about.

When Scott shrank a millimeter closer to John, John pretended not to notice the display of what Scott would call weakness in himself but never in anyone else, and nudged him with a casual, “C’mon. Puppy pile?”

“Does it still count without everyone?” Scott replied, following him though.

“Mmm,” John thought, “Yeah.” He knew he missed out on plenty on Earth too.

A hug pile of just them might be just what they needed. Both of them at this point. Memories of the whole family in a tangled, happy heap were some of John’s fondest and he knew that went for Scott too. But it was a lot and right now Scott needed calm and quiet to rest and not to feel as if he had to put on a brave face in front of everyone.

John pulled pyjamas out of his cupboard for them both, tossing an obligatory space pun t-shirt and pair of comfy sweat pants at Scott. Sharing clothes with Scott was easy given they had the most similar builds of their siblings, tall and slim, with Scott being slightly broader across the shoulders and John running more awkwardly lanky. IR space suits were comfortable but not the most for sleeping in, despite how often John ended up doing so.

They changed into pyjamas in silence, except for when John yawned midway through peeling his suit off, then Scott did too, causing them both to giggle in the way of the well past tired.

John smiled to himself while he put on a pair of socks, watching Scott poking about his room, trailing fingers over the spines of his paper books, then inspecting the stickers on his window and the handful of glow-in-the-dark stars John had up here because they reminded him of home even with the real ones right outside. His big brother’s curiosity even over these tiny details of his life, a facet he didn't often see with John up in orbit so much, made him warm inside. Especially with the way Scott was so relaxed up here in what was John’s space, a stark contrast to earlier and the staticky comm feed. The dark circles beneath his eyes remained though.

With a jaw-cracking yawn, John tipped backwards to lie on his bed. He wriggled his galaxy patterned duvet out from from beneath him where he’d landed on top of it, unattaching it from the side of his bed where it fastened to formed more of a sleeping bag to prevent him from drifting away when he left the gravity off. Which he probably did too often when the days blurred together, rescues and downtime without separation.

Stars, he was tired. Too many rescue calls, not enough sleep for— he no longer kept track of how long, but that was another day’s problem. Right now, he was here and Scott was here, so John could believe everything was going to be okay. Provided they both got some shut eye sometime soon.

Shuffling over to the wall made more room for Scott, even if John usually curled up right in the middle. The bunks on Five were larger and far more comfortable than the narrow and too short for anyone who wasn’t like, Gordon height, ones he remembered not so fondly from his NASA days. Still, not exactly sized for two people both over the six foot mark but they could make do.

“Promise I won’t push you off,” John joked.

Piling all of their siblings, because if one person was getting cuddles everyone suddenly wanted them, onto beds and couches definitely not designed for so many had led to the occasional person falling off the side, usually facilitated by shoving from the victim of a grievous crime such as ate the last sweet.

Scott rolled his eyes and repeated John’s motion of flopping down onto the bed, long limbs all everywhere, complete with tossing an arm over John’s chest and a foot over his ankles. He let out a dramatic sigh, looking to John out of the edge of his vision for his reaction.

John couldn't even pretend to be annoyed. This was Scott messing around playfully and John had missed this even as he still didn't take breaks from monitor duty and all his emotions were bubbling up in his chest until he was laughing, until there were tears in the corners of his eyes.

And Scott was laughing too, John could feel him shaking with it. Nothing was even that funny but here they were, giggling like a couple of careless, carefree kids, the sound echoing off of the walls. Five filled up with their laughter, contained it in a cocoon of light and air and protective walls between the vacuum outside where no noise could travel.

They were both left grinning exhaustedly at each other as the world came back to the reality that it was well past 3am, they needed to actually sleep especially with Scott having come down from the adrenaline crash of a nightmare and rushing up here. John rubbed at his gritty, tired eyes.

A word to Eos in addition to a goodnight had the lights switching off, the room only illuminated by the stars outside the window. Shutters would automatically close when Five’s rotation would put them facing the sun, but for now John could look out and marvel that he was here as he used to do every night, reaching up to touch one of his glow in the dark stars, a familiar green on the wall.

Scott watched him and John gave a half-shrug before shuffling closer. And he wasn't alone.

John shook his head to clear it before rolling onto his side, holding out his arms to Scott.

Big brother immediately went in for the hug, burying his face at John’s shoulder, clinging to him with maybe a little left over fear or maybe just because John was near. He wrapped his arms around Scott tightly. Took a moment, another moment just to be.

Wondering how long it had been since he’d been part of a cuddle pile with any his siblings, instead of an outside observer in holographic format was not something he wanted to waste time on right now. Or how it still took a horrific nightmare for Scott to seek respite from all the pressures of the world that seemed gathered around dad’s desk. Or for John to get respite from falling on the wrong side of the distinct divide between solitary and alone. Not that he could ask for it, he and Scott were too similar in that way. Instead, John let himself sink into the hug.

“You alright, John?” Scott’s concern was not unusual, he always found a way to check up on them.

“I’m really glad you’re here.” It could be interpreted in several ways, glad for Scott, glad for himself. That’s all John had, the rest he couldn't possible articulate but it was enough for now. He tucked his nose into Scott’s hair.

The sun shutters slid over the windows exactly as they were supposed to. They were left with the green glow of his own stars.

Scott’s chin was digging into his collarbone. Neither of them would likely have slept enough to be safe to fly tomorrow with the hours they were running to.

He shifted, making a quiet noise. Gently rearranging them was easy when Scott willingly followed through with John’s actions, guiding him to lie with his back to John’s chest instead. John wound his arms around Scott, ending up with his hands resting over Scott’s stomach, able to feel the rise and fall of it with each breath. He bumped his forehead against the back of Scott’s neck.

“‘M not the little spoon,” Scott protested even as he snuggled against John.

“Reality would suggest otherwise,” John returned, an observation, with the edges filed off as his deadpan humor had turned accidentally cutting these days.

It was rare that their positions were not reversed no matter the little brother involved. This made sense on a surface level, Scott’s height was greater than anyone else’s, long arms to pull them close, wrapped up safe. He was big brother, the eldest, their leader, he was the one who protected them from the world.

But John could also be there for him. Usually that meant from afar, a hologram projected from a wrist comm they always kept on them or beside flight controls, a voice in his ear, an extra set of eyes. All the data at his fingertips and a Tracy’s determination to keep their family safe. He didn't know whether anyone realised how many crises he averted before they became problems. He protected Scott, and it was far easier now he would let them in.

Scott was warm and something tightly wound inside John loosened. They were there for each other, it was a balance, this was how the world worked. Now that Scott let them take some of the weight instead of carrying the whole universe on his shoulders, it was easier to lean on him too because they shared things like this. To not follow Scott’s less than stellar example of hiding struggles, but from a big brother who tried to do and be everything instead of the little ones, because John couldn't bear to add anything else to the pile. Scott trusted him, he could trust Scott too.

John was just about to drop off to sleep when Scott suddenly tensed up.

“I don’t want to go to sleep. I don't want to have more nightmares.” The words came out jagged and scared, whisper quiet.

Scott was exhausted but the fear was stronger, unpredictably resurging just when everything seemed alright. John had seen how Scott would try to escape it before passing out into uneasy unconsciousness. He found Scott’s hands, sought them gently and linked theirs together.

“I can’t make them stop but I will be right here if you have one,” John said, “I promise.”

“I know.”

Scott settled again, letting out a deep breath.

John felt Scott fidgeting with his hands, carefully curling and uncurling his fingers, tracing over his knuckles, pressing their palms together, as the fear ebbed again.

The sounds of Five washed over them, humming softly as if breathing with them too. Familiar and home. John’s family was also his home. He needed them too. They needed him. He and Scott were rest and safety for each other as much the Thunderbird was for the world.

John made sure to give an, “I love you,” to his big brother while he was still awake to hear it because these things were important to be said and to be heard in reply.

Slowly, ever so slowly the grip of Scott’s hands relaxed, remaining loosely entwined with John’s as sleep finally came.

John kept holding onto Scott. A Scott who knew he could come to John for anything and had come to him tonight. Scott was here, they were both here together on Thunderbird Five amongst the stars. The rest of John’s thoughts trailed off at sleep’s approach but they were filled with a quiet hope.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #john tracy #scott tracy #sky and star #astrawrite

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hebuiltfive · 3 months

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HEBUILTFIVE TURNS ONE!?

I made this blog account a year ago today, which blows my mind (how has it already been a year???), and so I thought I'd post something to celebrate!

Before I made this account, I'd already started writing Thunderbirds Fanfiction. This story never got finished beyond the inital drafts, but I thought I'd share the first part of the first 'chapter' for the first birthday of this blog. It seemed fitting!

It is not great, oh my god it is terrible, and the science in it is awful, but! I hope it's at least a fun read! There is more of this that I might post at a later date, if I pluck up the courage, but for now...

International Rescue, We Have A Situation!

It was just a scratch.

Gordon didn’t know what all the fuss was about, because yes, a fuss was being made, and much to his chagrin. So what if he’d had a little rendezvous with a pointy rock face? He’d survived, hadn’t he? He was convinced it wasn’t that bad of an injury, complaining the moment he’d been prodded and poked and examined. His older brother, the cause of the prodding, poking and examining, however, disagreed.

“Ow! Will you stop that?” Gordon was in two minds to just jump off the infirmary bed and pull his top back on, hiding the wound behind fabric to stop being tampered with. He knew it would have been pointless, however. His brother would have just stopped him dead in his tracks.

“Stop whining and stay still.” Virgil, the older brother who was currently tending to the gash down Gordon’s side, ordered. “You are, without doubt, the worst patient ever. And I’ve had to treat Scott.”

Scott Tracy, the eldest of the Tracy brothers, was notorious for being difficult in similar situations. Much like Gordon, he would have refused to admit that something was wrong, and would have insisted he was fine without the need for worry.

“No, you’re just being fussy.” Even as he said it, Gordon knew that hadn’t been a fair comment to make. Despite his moaning, he knew deep down that Virgil had every right to be fussing over him, even if he didn’t want to admit that to himself.

He barely remembered the flight home, and even Gordon knew that was something to worry about. Though the aquanaut had insisted on staying in the co-pilot seat of Thunderbird 2, Gordon silently regretted not taking his older brother up on laying in one of the beds in the hold.

The whole flight back his head had pounded, sharp pains lancing through even at the slightest of movements. No concussion, Virgil had declared after a quick check over, and no vital damage from where the aquanaut had collided with the rock face, their brother John had confirmed from a quick scan from Thunderbird 5.

Thus, Gordon had been spared from Virgil’s mother-henning until they had arrived back on Tracy Island, whereupon he had been whisked away to the infirmary upon landing, and before their grandmother could worry. That was the last thing Gordon needed. Virgil, he could deal with. Grandmother Tracy was a whole other ballgame.

“That stings!” Gordon flinched as Virgil cleaned the wound. He’d been lucky it hadn’t been deeper. The force at which he’d collided with the rock face had been dangerous, or at least that’s what John had told him on the flight back. In all honesty, Gordon couldn’t remember most of it.

He remembered going out to Belize; a seaquake had caused a submersible to go off course. Full of scientists, it had developed a ruptured hull and was threatening to take on water. John had been worried the quake had been man-made and had warned both him and Virgil to be careful. From there, Gordon remembered going down in Thunderbird 4 to retrieve the scientists on board the submersible. He remembered being on the look out for any signs of unusual activity to suggest a man-made cause for the quake, and then… it got blurry.

How exactly had he ended up outside of his ‘bird? What had caused him to crash into the rocks?

“Hey, Virg?”

Virgil hummed in response as he finished up on his brother’s wound, a go-ahead for Gordon to continue his question.

“What actually happened down there?”

His brother stepped away, taking the various used cotton pads, scissors and tape to the counter nearby Gordon’s bed to sort through. “You were flung into the rocks with quite some force.”

“Yeah, I gathered, but how did I end up outside Thunderbird 4?”

Virgil paused, glancing over his shoulder. “You don’t remember?”

In answer, Gordon shook his head, and pulled on his top now that Virgil had finally finished nursing the wound. From the way the aquanaut sat, casual and calm, anyone who didn’t know Gordon would assume he was unbothered by it, and that he was just curious, but Virgil knew his brother. He could see the confusion, see that he needed to know all elements of what went wrong down there so he could piece everything together for himself. If he couldn’t remember properly then perhaps his little brother had taken more of a hit than Virgil previously thought.

“The scientists were trapped. Thunderbird 4 couldn’t open the door properly, so you had to go out and manually wench it open.” The elder of the two began to explain, dropping the used items into the trashcan beside the counter, and putting the metal utensils into the sink for disinfection at a later date. He then made his way back to Gordon’s bedside.

“It wasn’t supposed to be risky.” Virgil continued. “Well, not more so than usual. You had got them all out and into Thunderbird 4. You were about to get back in yourself when John warned us of an aftershock. You couldn’t get back inside in time, and that’s how you ended up dancing with the rocks.”

Gordon remembered it all then. It was Virgil’s yell through the comms that haunted his thoughts as the memory of the accident replayed. Stuck in the big ‘bird high above the sea, there was nothing his older brother could have done but wait as the radio silence from Gordon answered him. Pain lanced through the aquanaut’s side as the memory of the collision returned. He winced. “Did I find anything down there?”

“Other than the rocks?” Virgil joked. He wasn’t usually one for making light of injuries or accidents, but his little brother seemed like he could use the tension easing. It worked; Gordon cracked a smile. Virgil continued. “If you mean about it being man-made, no. There was nothing down there to suggest those quakes were anything but natural.”

“But John said—“

“John is like the rest of us, Squid. He doesn’t always get it right.”

Something didn’t sit well with Gordon, however. Just because there was something at the scene of the crime didn’t mean there was no further explanation to be had. It felt like there was a missing piece to the jigsaw that was laid out before him. A dull ache had him out of his thoughts in a heartbeat, hand gently pressing to the bandaged wound on his side.

“You’ll be out of action for a few days. I’m tempted to make it a week, just to be sure you’re healed.” Virgil decreed with a nod.

“What? A week? Virgil, no! I’m fine! You saw to the scratch. I can be back on duty by tomorrow.”

“That, little brother, is wishful thinking.” He ruffled the blonde tresses atop Gordon’s head, and made to leave the infirmary, calling back. “No heavy lifting or straining that side, bro, else I’ll have Grandma fix you up next time.”

No doubt with a batch of her famously indigestible cookies to help him ‘heal quicker’. It was enough to make Gordon shiver, and keep him in line.

#thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #thunderbirds are go #five fics #thunderfam #gordon tracy #virgil tracy

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edutainer2022 · 9 months

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As per usual, @janetm74 incredible insight into Jeff and Scott gave me a push to wrap up a little piece that has been in my drafts for a while. It's mind-numbing fluff. A morning talk-show with Jeff Tracy upon return to Earth provides grounds for some much needed revelations.

ONE WORD ANSWERS

As interviews were going these months, this was a smaller one. Done privately from the desk in the lounge via a holo-com. Ever since the dramatic return from Oort Cloud, already christened the "Rescue of the Century", every media outlet worldwide wanted a piece of him. Jeff didn't feel much like putting up with most of it - eight years in outer space on meager rations and slim hope was a brutal awakening once they were safely back on Earth. Besides, he'd rather not waste any more time than necessary on media coverage, away from his family. He'd done his fair share of that in his active duty days, and Lord knew he had A LOT to catch up with in his sons' lives. A lot! Some things he gleaned and pieced together in observations and a backlog of reports were more... thought provoking than others. But some visibility was needed and even expected. He understood that.

The interview for a morning show in a different timezone was to be short, capped up with a ten-questions blitz to lighten the mood. The outline of questions, as per usual, was screened by John and Tracy Legal, and pre-approved by Jeff himself. His only recommendation this time around was the order of points in a blitz.

If the boys were surprised he asked them to sit in through the interview, obscured by the sunken lounge, they didn't show it. Jeff made sure everyone was on the island, Scott back from NYC and the Tracy Industries Board full of questions and incessant worries as to the perspective changes in status quo, Alan back from campus orientation, even John planetside for the weekend (something that had become a frequent and welcome habit). They knew Dad sometimes struggled with social situations these days and needed some cheering along and support - which was provided with unreserved abandon.

The interview was running its course smoothly, as they neared the 10 questions section. The show anchor was all smiles - the mock-blitz questions were submitted by the viewers and the most frequent or special ones were selected.

- So, Mr. Tracy, you were the First Man on Mars, the Founder of International Rescue, you set multiple supersonic speed records. How would you describe yourself in one word?

Oh, that was an easy one. He would have used so many words years ago as applied to himself or others applied to him - some more on point, some vain. A pilot. An astronaut. An entrepreneur. A husband. A son. A hero. A Thunderbird. A man of the world. A friend. A savior. A failure. A legend. An idealist. A leader. A survivor. Jeff Tracy still was all those things, in different measures. But eight years of the endless night, with nothing but his thoughts, memories and dreams for company, have distilled his self-awareness to one point of absolute clarity:

- A father.

He could hear the collective breath escape his sons' lips and a soft glow washed over their features.

He smiled in response and the blitz went on.

- What are you most proud of?

That too was a no-brainer, but he might need more than one word to answer exhaustively. Never hurts to elaborate on global television:

- My sons. There are no words to express how proud I am of their accomplishments and of the incredible people they grew up to be: my youngest son Alan is a prodigy, the youngest rocket pilot in history, Gordon is an Olympic champion, an environmental activist AND an Aquanot for International Rescue, Dr. John Tracy, the Voice that Answers, holds multiple PhD degrees in Astrophysics and Computer Science, my son Virgil is an accomplished pianist, like his mother, and a recognized artist on top of being busy full time with International Rescue engineering.

Smiles were blooming on his boys' faces up to a point it became apparent he stopped his answer at four. Jeff could swear there was a sheen of tears in Alan’s eyes, whereas light brown and turquoise turned momentarily hard. Virgil's whole face was a shimmer of disbelief and betrayal. Scott's eyes, soft and understanding, and infinitely sad, would be enough to stop the interview right there and backtrack. But he needed to see this through just right. The news anchor was beaming, as they were down to the last question:

- That is certainly a LOT to be proud of, Mr. Tracy. I'm sure the whole world, anyone who has ever needed help from International Rescue, would agree. But our viewers want to know one last thing from the Hero of the Century. Do you know you're called that? That's a tough mark to measure up to! Well, who is YOUR Hero, Mr. Tracy?

The anchor probably would have never guessed how simple and ready that answer was in his mind. He didn't need a moment to think:

- My eldest son. Scott Tracy. Everything International Rescue is today, everything our family is today - we owe to him. I owe him my life. I know nobody stronger in the face of so much pain and pressure. I could survive in outer space, but I am not sure I could ever do what he did in my absence. I have never admired or respected anyone more. I am a better man for being his father. So it's simple as that, Scott Tracy is my hero.

The holo projector barely flickered out when he was barreled into midriff by a flurry of warm and blond, and fierce. Alan hugged him tight and mumbled "Thank you!", no doubt aimed at his words not only on all other brothers, but on Scott. He meant every one of those. Soon he was in a circle of strong arms and within reach of the most beloved young faces, incandescent with emotions and hope. All but one. Scott lingered behind, as he was disturbingly wont to since their first hug in the Oort Cloud - hence Jeff's little staged performance today, as a desperate measure. He held his eldest son's gaze unwaveringly across the lounge, aware of the tears streaming from still astonished blue eyes. It was an instant loss to step out of his boys' embrace even for a brief moment, but there was something he needed to do. He crossed to the couches in three big strides and held Scott as tightly to himself as the still recuperating muscles would allow. It hurt to know the boy would be this surprised to be acknowledged and appreciated. But Jeff was gifted a second chance to let all his sons know how cherished they were. How precious. He'd waste no minute of that. A tight hold of arms was soon around him and Scott again, more confirmations of affection all around washing over. There was nothing he'd rather do for the rest of his life.

#thunderbirds are go #scott tracy #jeff tracy #jeff tracy needs a front row seat to his son’s angst #methinks i have astronomy #scott tracy needs a hug #scott tracy needs his dad #thunderbirds 2015 #my fic #virgil tracy #gordon tracy #john tracy #alan tracy needs a hug

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tracybirds · 6 months

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Hello!

Loving your responses to the sickness prompts so far!!

Wondered if you might come up with something for Careful Care with John as Character A. Dealer's choice for Character B.

Please and thank you.

We'll pretend it hasn't been a couple of *ahem* months since I got these - but thank you for your patience and the late night inspiration <33

careful care: it’s hard for[character A] to accept help. [character B] knows which care methods are “acceptable”.

Another anomaly.

EOS catalogued the newest data point, the slow trend away from the norm growing more evident with each passing hour.

It wasn’t yet enough to confront John, but the data flooded in as he coughed, bracing himself against the wall.

EOS remembered the more colloquial term from Gordon – ‘hacking up a lung’ did seem more appropriate for the situation in front of her, despite her dislike of figurative speech.

“Ugh,” John said, grimacing slightly. His posture was slumped, his eyes bleary. He barely glanced in her direction as she settled in front of him and lowered the array.

“John.”

“Don’t,” he said, cutting her off instantly.

“I just–”

“Doesn’t matter.”

She kept her display a bland white and her tone neutral.

“There’s tea in the galley.” No reason, no judgment. “We are monitoring three weather systems and five major engineering projects. No sign of current danger.”

You should rest. Words she didn’t say.

John gave a sharp nod.

There was none of his usual ease in motion, fluidity lost to the ache in his bones. He turned away from the stars as he reached for the mug with a shaky hand.

EOS withdrew.

She had what she needed.

A channel opened to Tracy Island.

“You need to be here,” she informed Virgil, before he could say a word.

He frowned, leaning forward as though looking for John in the holo.

“He’s in the galley,” she said, responding to his unasked question. “I made him tea, but I don’t know what happened next.”

“Is John sick?” asked Virgil in a soft voice.

“Nearly,” she said, and he nodded.

“Good job,” he said, and the praise made EOS glow even brighter. “I’ll look after him.”

“I wish he’d let me.”

Virgil hesitated, halfway out the door.

“Someday, he might,” he said eventually. “It’s hard for him.”

“What’s so hard about staying in bed and watching television and drinking soup? All my research suggests that minor illnesses are easily treatable and highly predictable.”

Virgil could only offer a half-smile.

“It’s simple enough, EOS. But it sure doesn’t feel that way when your body’s fighting against you. Imagine if you woke up and you suddenly couldn’t access all your systems. And those you could were sluggish and you know it’s not right but there’s nothing you can do about it.”

EOS didn’t have to imagine. She remembered her early existence with perfect clarity, and she remembered also how hard she’d fought to shake off her chains.

“What would you do?” asked Virgil. “If that happened?”

“Tell John.”

Perfectly logical.

Virgil’s lips quirked, biting back a grin.

“If John wasn’t there?” he asked. “Would you tell one of us?”

EOS found she didn’t have an answer. Logic dictated that she must answer affirmatively. Yet something held her back, a strange distaste at the idea that anybody other than John would see her in so vulnerable a position. She’d grown to trust his family, but John was different. She’d held his life aloft and he’d created her with his hands.

Virgil nodded.

“He thinks the world of you, you know,” he said gently. “He’d rather push through and pretend everything was fine than let you down.”

“This is hardly something in his control. Nor would illness be cause to ‘let me down’.”

“Give him time, that’s all I’m saying. And until that day, I’ll look after him.”

EOS nodded.

“Thank you, Virgil. I am pleased that he has you.”

“I’ll see you up there,” he said. “I’ll show you what to do.”

“If you can convince him to go back to bed, that will be a lesson worth learning.”

[prompt list is here if you want to reblog for yourself!]

(or if you want to send one through feel free although there is a decent backlog :P)

#didn't go quite where i thought it would but that's okay :D twas fun <3 #john tracy #eos #virgil tracy #sometimes i fic #fanfic 🥰#thunderbirds #collected works (mine)#john 🧡#eos 📡#virgil 💚#h/c #2015 #thunderbirds are go #ask games 😁💕

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heresthefanfiction · 3 months

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Carolyn Gibbs

General

Full Name: Carolyn Ann Gibbs

Nicknames: Carrie

Undercover Identity: Lauren Bauer

Age: 34[Season 7/8], 38[Season 12]

Date of Birth: May 8, 1976

Occupation: Marine Gunnery Sergeant [former],

NCIS Probationary Agent [Rhode Island Office, former],

NCIS Agent Afloat [USS Hornet, former],

Undercover NCIS Agent [former],

NCIS Special Agent [Norfolk Office, former],

NCIS Supervisory Special Agent [Norfolk Office, Major Case Response Team, current]

Gender and Pronouns: Cisgender female, she/her

Sexuality: Bisexual

Faceclaim: Tracy Spiradakos

Hair color: Blonde

Eye color: Blue-green

Height: 5'6"

Fandom: NCIS

Connections

Familial Connections: Amy Jacobs[mother], Leroy Jethro Gibbs[father], Shannon Gibbs[stepmother, deceased], Kelly Gibbs[younger sister, deceased], Bailey Gibbs[daughter, adopted], Ella Gibbs[daughter, adopted],

Joann Fielding[grandmother], Mac Fielding[grandfather], Jackson Gibbs[grandfather, deceased], Ann Gibbs[grandmother, deceased],

Diane Sterling[ex-stepmother, deceased], Rebecca Chase[ex-stepmother], Stephanie Flynn[ex-stepmother]

Romantic Connections: Amber Heise [girlfriend, deceased], Avery Mohl [wife]

Platonic Connections: Ben Alvarez[best friend, deceased], Maddie Tyler[friend], Anthony Dinozzo[best friend], Timothy McGee[close friend], Eleanor Bishop[close friend]

Hostile Connections: Sergei Mishnev

Affiliations: United States Marine Corp[member], NCIS[agent]

Misc.

Species: Human

Nationality: American

Spoken Language(s): English[first language], German[second language], Russian[third language], Spanish[in progress]

Religion: N/A

Education Level: Highschool Diploma

Economic Status: Middle Class

#carolyn gibbs #ncis oc #ncis #ncis fanfiction #oc intro #leroy jethro gibbs

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skymaiden32 · 7 months

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Quiet Please

Read on AO3 here

Fandom: Thunderbirds

Tagging: @dragonoffantasyandreality @thundergeek59 @janetm74 @katblu42 @liseylou @amistrio @uniwolfcorn @idontknowreallywhy (Please ask if you would like to get alerts when I update or post new stories.)

Thundertober Day 11: Quiet

John needed absolute silence...

Continuity: TAG

A/n: This ones a bit on the short side...

------

His soft breathing was the only audible thing, and despite this, seemed to echo throughout the chambers of Thunderbird 5. John huffed, pulling the blanket up over his head even further. This migraine was driving him crazy.

“John?” Too loud, he thought when he heard EOS’s voice. But he wasn’t about to hold it against her. He hadn’t told her anything, just dive bombed under his covers and shut off the lights once he’d realised what was going on. In response to his AI daughter, John sat up in his bed, fixing her camera with a tired stare.

“What’s wrong, EOS?” He asked, groggily.

EOS dropped her voice to a whisper, as if sensing something was going on before he even said anything to her. “I think I’m the one who should be asking you that, John…” She began. “I am concerned for you. And so are your brothers on Tracy Island. Alan says you haven’t done your nightly check-in yet.”

John sighed. “I’m fine, EOS. Tell them I’m fine. I’ve got a migraine; I just need some peace and quiet.”

“Very well, I will tell them.” EOS’s lights flashed once in understanding. “I will leave you in peace for the night and handle any calls for International Rescue myself.”

“Thank you, EOS.” John smiled up at her. In response, EOS’s ring turned a deep green colour, duller than usual to avoid aggravating her creator’s migraine further. “I don’t know what I’d do without you…” He lay back on his pillow, closing his eyes.

A tinny chuckle came from her camera. “You’d have an entire hoard on Thunderbird 5’s doorstep for a start. Get some rest now, and let me know if you need anything.” Her code began to float in the direction of comms, planning on calling the rest of the team, and then monitoring any transmissions. “Good night, John.”

John didn’t answer; the migraine having taken his ability to speak by now. He did, however, give her a thumbs up. Once she was gone, he pulled the covers back over the top of his head. Quiet never sounded so sweet…

#thunderfam #thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #john tracy #eos thunderbirds #sky writes stuff #thundertober #thundertober 2023

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tanushakyrano · 1 year

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febuwhump day 28: 'you're safe now.'

tis march!!!!! happy march!!!!! i finally got this written!!!

I also just wanted to say thank you for all of the amazing comments and reblogs and likes I've received over the challenge. it's been so so wonderful to see the response to each day and know that people are out there enjoying my writing, which just. absolutely amazes me. you guys are all so kind!!!! thank you!!!!!

characters: Scott, John, Virgil, Gordon, Alan, Penelope, Kayo, Parker

additional warnings: violence, injury, kidnapping, blood, guns (tranqs)

_______________

“We’ll find him, Scott.”

Scott nodded jerkily, leaning back in his chair and pinching his brow with trembling fingers. “God, I hope we do, Virgil.”

Usually his hands were incredibly steady. The hands of any first responder had to be, with the precision that was so often needed on the job. And Scott wasn’t just any first responder, he was the pilot of Thunderbird One; she was a powerful and temperamental craft, requiring the utmost dexterity of her pilot - and there was no one who could fly her better than him. There was no way he could be as good as he was if his hands turned traitor on him every five seconds.

And yet here he was. Just under seven hours since Alan had gone missing, and in that time his hands had barely stopped shaking - a combination of stress, the back-to-back rescues he'd just been on before it had happened, and the sheer terror that his little brother was somewhere out there, seriously injured or worse. Luckily, a marginally better-rested Virgil was flying, with Gordon as co-pilot, and he was relegated to the passenger seat. Scott laced his fingers together to try and hide the tremor and leant forward in his chair.

"Any new information, John?"

He was grasping at straws, he knew. John would update them immediately if there were any changes to Alan's status at all. Still.

Sure enough, when a miniature hologram of his brother popped up, he was shaking his head. "Kayo and Lady P are scouting out the place right now. They’ll update me soon, but for now we’ve just got to wait.”

Yeah. That was the part Scott struggled with. Waiting.

He sat back and let his head fall back against the headrest.

Alan hadn’t even been on duty. That was the worst part. The kid had just wanted to go out and meet a friend - Conrad, from the space transit terminal incident, who had been given leave for a few weeks and who was apparently now on very good terms with Alan. Scott hadn’t realised that had happened, but the fact that Alan had people he was on good terms with outside their tiny social circle was excellent, and so he’d been happy to let them hang out. They’d decided to meet up in London. The thought of Alan alone halfway across the world had made Scott… unsettled, so Kayo had agreed to stay in the area to keep a discreet eye on the pair of them in addition to Penny, who was also in London for business. It felt distinctly paranoid, having two professional agents essentially babysitting two perfectly capable teenagers, but he’d learned that it was better to be safe than sorry thanks to years of being accosted by the public, being ambushed by paparazzi, and surviving attempted kidnappings. Preparing for the worst was by far the safest option.

When they received a frantic call from Conrad telling them Alan had been dragged off by two burly men in nondescript outfits and balaclavas, his paranoia was affirmed.

Seven hours later and they’d managed to track him to an industrial complex near the south-east coast of the country. Penelope and Parker were first on site - quickly joined by Kayo, who flew ahead from Tracy Island where she’d returned after coming up empty-handed in London. The plan was that he, Virgil and Gordon would join them in infiltrating the building. Strength in numbers and all that.

Also, they'd all outright refused to stand by and do nothing while their baby brother was held captive by some faceless criminal gang.

“Alan’s definitely in the building,” John affirmed, breaking the silence and startling Gordon so much that he had to steady himself against the controls. “There are at least thirteen other life signs - but the good news is we know exactly where they are in relation to Alan, so I’ll be able to guide you on a route that steers as clear of confrontation as possible.”

“Yeah. Great,” Gordon muttered, voice dripping with sarcasm. Scott caught the minute tightening of his fist. “You know, I wouldn’t mind the chance to beat some of those fuckers up-”

“That’s the GDF’s job,” Scott reminded him. Gordon huffed. “Look, I’m not saying these guys don’t deserve it, but we’ll call in Colonel Casey, make sure they all wind up in jail for a good while. It isn’t our job to deal out justice.”

“Well, if they end up getting in my way, I’m not exactly gonna sit down with them for a tea party.”

“I don’t expect you to.” Scott sighed. “We’re just avoiding violence for the sake of it. I don’t want any of you getting hurt.”

He kept quiet about just how much he agreed with Gordon. The thought of anyone laying a finger on their little brother made his blood boil in the most awful way. If they ran into anyone, he wasn’t sure what would stop him from beating the guy to a bloody pulp.

A shift in Two’s engines pulled them out of their conversation. Scott rose from his seat and leant between Virgil and Gordon, looking out of the windscreen at the sprawl of buildings laid out in the distance.

“I’m landing us further away from the building,” Virgil informed him as his hands glossed over the controls, “to make sure we don’t let them know we’re coming. John can fly her closer if needs be.” If something goes wrong.

Scott nodded. "FAB.”

_______________

It was a bit of a trek to the site, silent and as tense as taut guitar strings. Scott and Gordon had been equipped with guns - loaded with tranqs, of course, not bullets, but the thing was weighted and heavy in his hand, threatening to draw him back into long-buried memories of blue uniforms and military cockpits and rocky mountains in Eastern Europe. He focused on planting one foot in front of the other, and choked down the lump that threatened to form in his throat.

Penelope, Parker and Kayo met them where FAB1 and Shadow were parked. Gone were Penelope’s pink heels and Parisian haute couture, replaced with sleek black boots and a streamlined jacket as dark as night. A gun holster decorated her right side, a gleaming knife kept sheathed on her left. Parker was similarly armed. Virgil eyed the weapons warily. Kayo wore her usual teal flightsuit, but her twin stuns crackled and sparked at her wrists.

“Kayo and I will be taking the lead as we head in,” Penelope said briskly. “John will be guiding us from Five. Scott, Gordon, you’ve had military training, so you should know what to expect. Virgil, just try to stay out of trouble and let us handle any… situations that may arise. We’re aiming to get in, attract as little attention as possible, find Alan and get out - preferably without anyone raising the alarm. As far as we can tell, this has nothing to do with the Hood, but these people are still dangerous. Be on your guard. Everyone clear?"

She looked round at the group for confirmation. When they all nodded, she squared her shoulders, pulling the pistol from its holster. “Then the mission is a go.”

Scott took a deep breath, and fell into line behind Virgil.

John must have been working to disable their systems from the inside, because they made it through the outer doors without a hitch. The corridors were long and empty, hollow and cold, decorated only with valves and pipes and wires with faded plastic coverings.They ducked through a door labelled MAINTENANCE a few dozen metres along from the entrance.

The facility was just as sprawling inside as it had appeared from the sky. Scott had a pretty decent sense of direction, but he soon lost track of the lefts and rights they took as they crept from shadow to shadow, staying low and keeping in constant motion. Penelope, Parker and Kayo formed a ruthlessly efficient team. They almost seemed to have some kind of psychic connection, so perfectly in tune they were with each other and their surroundings. Between them and John's whispered instructions, their group managed to steer clear of trouble for an impressive amount of time.

But their luck had to run out at some point. Kayo rounded a corner as John inhaled sharply, the warning on his lips coming too late, and a six-foot-five giant swung a right hook that would have taken her head off if she hadn't leapt backwards and out of range at the last second.

Scott raised his tranq, ready to floor the brute with a dart to the neck, but someone else beat him to it. The classic Parker Haymaker landed solidly, sending the man staggering, and Parker swiftly followed it with a kick that sent him the rest of the way to the ground. Penelope hit him with a tranq of her own for good measure.

Scott knew that their luck had well and truly run out when yet another punch came out of nowhere, rattling his brain inside its skull and blurring his vision.

There was a second goon. Of course there was.

Scott tried to dodge the second blow he knew was coming, but he could barely tell which was was up, let alone which direction an attack would come from. Someone grabbed his arm and yanked him towards them - he had no idea who it was - he tried to shake them off, but their grip was unrelenting. A grunt of pain sounded somewhere to his left. A body hit the floor with a thud.

He blinked the stars from his eyes. Virgil was staring back at him concernedly, gently tilting his head to examine the spot where the guy had clocked him. "You okay?" he asked worriedly.

"I'm fine." Scott shook him off, turning to where Gordon was standing over a crumpled figure, chest rising and falling rapidly, tranq in hand. "Thanks for the save," he said quietly.

"Any time." Gordon gripped the tranq tightly. "We should get going again."

Virgil frowned. "Scott needs a minute-"

"Gordon's right," Kayo interrupted. "We need to find Alan and get out as quickly as possible. We're too vulnerable here."

"Fine. But I need to keep an eye on him." Virgil lowered his voice, resting a hand on Scott's arm. "Tell me if you start experiencing any symptoms, okay?"

"Okay," he said, lying through his teeth.

They pressed on.

_________________

Scott was just about ready to punch straight through the walls to reach Alan by the time John told them that they were close. His head was pounding and his stomach was churning, but he focused on the passages in front of him and the cold metal of the gun in his hands. The same-ness of the corridors was starting to drive him a little crazy.

"There's only one guard outside the room Alan's in," John informed them, voice taut with anxiety. "Should be easy enough to take them down."

Kayo and Penelope were at the door in a blink (though time was getting murkier, so in truth it could have just been Scott's mind refusing to process his surroundings), Penelope wrapping the guard in a chokehold and guiding their body to the ground soundlessly. They checked the corridor both ways before beckoning the rest of them forward. Parker remained where he was as a lookout. Penelope crouched down to pick the lock as Scott stumbled to a stop at her side.

"Oh, damn it-" Penelope cursed as the lockpick broke in her hands. The last drop of patience Scott had trickled away.

"Move," he growled, and Penny ducked out of the way as he slammed his body into the door. The hinges groaned, but it didn't give, so he slammed into it again, and again, and on the fourth try the door burst open and he half fell, half ran into the room, not coming to a stop until Alan was in his arms.

"Hey- hey, it's okay. It's okay, Alan. I'm here."

Alan clung to him so tightly that he could barely breathe, but Scott didn't care. The kid was trembling like a leaf and his fingers dug into Scott's back even through the tough fabric of his suit. He carded a steady hand through Alan's hair, sticky in some places with blood, the other wrapped around him. Even though he was almost eighteen, he still seemed so young. Not small, really, but gangly, a tangle of limbs that he had yet to grow into. Not a child any more, and not an adult, but the strange in-between stage that heralded the closing of this chapter of his life and an end of a time that Scott wasn't ready to let go of yet.

"We're getting you out of here, okay? We're going home."

Alan pulled back slightly to look up at him. Blood tracked its way down half of his face from a nasty gash on his temple. Scott cursed every person involved in the stupid operation a thousand times over. Half a syllable stuttered from Alan's lips as he tried to form words.

"Hurts.."

"I know. I know, Allie, I'm sorry." Scott pressed a kiss to his forehead. "I'm so sorry. But you're safe now, I promise. We're going home now."

#thunderbirds are go #cora writes #whump #febuwhump23 #tw injury #tw violence #tw blood #tw kidnapping #scott tracy #alan tracy #gordon tracy #john tracy #virgil tracy #kayo kyrano #lady penelope #penelope creighton ward #aloysius parker

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pareidoliaonthemove · 4 months

Text

The Pact

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

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

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

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

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

For Dad to be alive.

And now, he knew, Dad might be.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Scott shouldn’t have stopped looking.

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

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

And it would be Scott’s fault.

Because he had stopped looking.

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

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

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

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

“We need to talk.”

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

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

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

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

John stared a moment longer, before speaking.

“You are, Scott.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Scott grunted, but didn’t comment.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You mean other than a longer life expectancy?”

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

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

Scott nodded. “Time.”

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

“Your time.”

“My time?”

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

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

Scott raised an eyebrow. “Okay, what?”

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

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

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

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

Scott nudged him. “Bed, John. Sleep.”

John nudged him back. “Same for you.”

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

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

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

Especially when it was one of their own.

Notes:

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

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

Well, time passed, and I thought about it.

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

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

#fanfic #my fanfic #thunderbirds are go #scott tracy #john tracy #pre 'The Long Reach'#mental health

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gumnut-logic · 4 months

Text

A Little Storm

Just a random scene sparked by the thunderstorms rumbling around me at the moment (and most of the afternoon).

Not much, but rambling FishTank that doesn't really go anywhere. I just wanted to write something, I guess.

-o-o-o-

Thunder rumbled and bit into his bones.

Virgil sat high up on one of the trails that looped their jagged island and stared out to sea. In the distance, dark clouds flickered and dumped rain into the ocean. It was quite the spectacle, something that begged to be painted or photographed.

Virgil had already taken several snapshots with his phone. The contrast created by the camera emphasizing the threat in the clouds.

But there was an aspect of the scene imagery could not catch.

Sitting here with gravel digging into his jeans, he could feel the storm.

It wasn’t coming towards Tracy Island, just meandering past, all its violence taken out on the Pacific rather than the scattering of islands along the ridge. Wasn’t even going to hit Raoul – which had been Virgil’s second question to his high in the sky brother, who made a great meteorologist when not otherwise occupied.

Eos was also a great weather girl. Unfortunately, that comparison had been made by Gordon some time ago, along with the lipstick, heels, and appropriate hand actions.

The fact their fish brother hadn’t been able to have a warm shower for several days after that, ended that joke quite abruptly. Eos was ordered out of the Tracy villa computer network and Gordon was told to respect Eos or John would do much worse.

Since John had proven that point on several occasions in the past, Gordon took the survival-of-the-fittest response and apologised to the AI.

Virgil found himself smiling just a little at the thought of his brothers. God, he loved them.

Out on the ocean, lightning struck out in a silent flash, dancing across the water’s surface.

Virgil held his breath.

And the thunder rumbled over him, notes deeper than his ears could process, but his body could feel, vibrating like a tuning fork. He closed his eyes for just a moment, the island beneath, the sky above, and the sound and electricity in the air.

Lightning lit up his eyelids.

His eyes flung open, safety overruling experience. But the storm was still in the distance, the sky above him evening blue except for a scattering of ragged cumulus cloud from the very edge of the thunderhead.

Again, thunder vibrated the air about him and sung in his bones.

The island around him was responding to the weather. Birds squawking in the Pōhutukawa trees on the slopes above and below him. The trees themselves were scattered with red blossoms, waving in the wind stirred up by the turbulence out at sea.

“Ooooh, she’s a beauty.”

Virgil startled. He looked up to find Gordon, of course, standing on the trail behind him.

Without a word, his fish brother folded himself down beside Virgil and let his feet dangle off the edge. “Watcha doin’ up here, big bro? You do realise that you shouldn’t sit on high places in a storm?”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to get struck by lightning this far away.”

Gordon’s lopsided smirk stared out at the ocean. “Oh, I seem to remember a fretting big brother demanding I not swim in the pool in a storm. If I recall correctly, you manhandled me out of said pool and dragged me inside.”

“Gordon, it was a cyclone. You were upset and not thinking clearly.”

“Hey! I was safer in the pool than on the deck! We were nearly blown off the island!”

“Exactly.” All his heavy lifting muscles had been required to get his little brother back inside and safe behind the storm shutters. Both of them had ended up soaked, wind-blasted, and staggering by the time they made it inside – and that was before Scott found out and blasted the both of them to smithereens.

The reason why Gordon had been so stupid was kept from their biggest brother and it had been Virgil who had borne the brunt later than night behind closed doors as he wrangled it from his fish brother and tackled his tears.

Sometimes things were best kept between them.

Not that Virgil wanted to hide things from his big brother. Scott would do anything for any of them at any time. But Virgil felt that he shouldn’t have to field everything all the time.

Virgil was a big brother, too.

The biggest Scott would ever have.

He sighed. A little too maudlin today. Far too maudlin.

The thunder rumbled through him again as if to remind him of its existence.

“Earth to Virgil.”

Apparently, the weather wasn’t alone in that sentiment.

“What do you want, Gordon?”

He felt his brother’s eyes on him, but continued to stare at the passing storm.

“Just checking up on you.”

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah, that’s totally reassuring…not. Why are you out here?”

“Just watching the storm.”

“Uh huh.” His brother turned toward the dark clouds in the distance and for a while, at least, they sat there together in silence, bar the breeze ruffling hair and the thunder beating against his chest.

“It really puts things in perspective doesn’t it.” And yes, Gordon was giving him the side-eye.

“Yeah.” Far beneath, a particularly large wave, churned up by the storm, smashed against the island rocks with a roar.

“But this is only a little storm.”

“Yeah.”

“Pretty spectacular anyway.”

“Yeah.” The word came out more a sigh than language.

Gordon suddenly shifted closer, gravel crunching as he moved, and wrapped an arm around Virgil. His head landed gently on Virgil’s shoulder.

Virgil looked down at the mess of chlorine and sun-bleached hair. “I’m okay, Gords, I promise.”

Gordon didn’t let go. “Eh, can’t a bro hug a bro when he wants to?”

“Are you okay?”

“Just watching a storm with my big brother.” But he didn’t move and Virgil had to turn back to the storm or risk inhaling strawberry blond hair.

There was silence a moment longer before Virgil reached out and wrapped his arm around Gordon and drew him a little closer. He let his head rest against his brother’s as the storm rumbled again in the distance.

It was moving fast to the south, lit up by the evening sun, which was shining gold and pink through the clear sky from the west.

Quietly spectacular.

Until another spark of lightning set off that warning rumble again.

Virgil shivered.

Gordon squeezed a little tighter.

And kept him warm.

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #virgil tracy #gordon tracy #fishtank #nuttyfic #rambling nothing

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astranite · 6 months

Text

WIP the-Wednesdays-just-keep-coming-dont-they?

Havent done one of these in a while, mostly because I havent had the brainspace to write much with my life being very much on fire.

So, have some fun, fluff, all the Tracies (including Kayo!) and siblingly banter!!! It's all very silly, not at all scary and rather on theme for spooky season!!

-----

--Set after the Ghost Ship episode!

John really hoped that Scott and Kayo had forgotten about his and Alan’s whole ‘maybe, possibly, just a tiny bit absolutely terrified of ghosts,’ slip up on the comms.

He really thought they had. Until the next family movie night.

To set the scene: it was a cool, pleasant evening on Tracy Island. John was down from Five and the fresh breeze was a welcome change from recycled air. All the family was piled onto couches, well except for Grandma and Brains who were in his lab making enthusiastic upgrades to the already far too overpowered oven.

Gordon and Virgil were squabbling over whether sweet or salty popcorn was the better flavour, while eating from a bowl mixed of both, like they did every time. Gordon preferred salty, likening it to the unfortunate comparison of celery crunch bars despite the two bearing little resemblance. Virgil vehemently argued for sweet ever since he had discovered coffee caramel popcorn.

Scott attempted to mediate without getting kicked by Virgil’s feet on his lap as the family tank lunged to get the fish in a headlock. Alan egged all parties on. Kayo delicately plucked the popcorn bowl from amid the fray and joined John where he watched from the relative safety of the other sofa.

He took a handful of kernels from Kayo, shaking his head at the antics of the others. Every time. The same argument played out, when the two of them actually preferred both flavours mixed in the same bowl. Why, John didn't know. He tolerated it for the free pre-movie entertainment though.

Finally, everyone got settled. Scott sat between two pouting brothers who before the end of the movie would be snuggled up together, half falling asleep. Alan fetched frozen peas for what John suspected was more likely for Virgil’s bruised pride than injury from Gordon’s lumpy elbows, while Gordon was consoled over the indignity of being sat on at one point by the heavy lifter. Then more popcorn for reparations, when they noticed the missing bowl and Kayo’s smug expression.

John stretched out on the couch, while the others were crowded on the next one. Kayo was perched above him, in reach of their bowl of popcorn. They all would move about through the movie, because no one round here could sit still for a whole hour-and-a-half minimum, and the hugs had to be shared around.

“So, what are we watching?” John asked, completely in ignorance of the forthcoming answers.

“Nemo! Or Moana! Blue Planet!” Gordon screeched, because he always quick to suggest marine themed ones at every turn in hopes someone would fall for it.

“It’s not even his turn,” Alan grumbled. “What about something with zombies? Not more boring fish.”

Gordon gasped, “An affront upon my friends! The kraken will have you for that!”

John rolled his eyes at the typical tinies dramatics.

“Alan, you picked last time,” Virgil said, totally reasonably except for his stage whisper to Gordon of, “Get him, Squid!”

Aaand they were back in kahoots. Not even a record for the timing.

Alan appealed to Scott to protect him with big, blue puppy eyes, and got away with it because he was still the baby of the family. Despite how he complained about ‘smothering older brothers,’ he was very happy to use the privilege when it suited him.

Long suffereringly, Scott said, “Gords, you can’t drag Alan down to the watery depths, you’d be bored without your partner in crime.”

John watched on. Very well behavedly, without starting any fights or causing any trouble, he’d like to add. Because he was the sensible, responsible one of this bunch.

“Eos,” John asked his comm, “Who’s turn is it to choose what we watch?”

Then he added, “You did say you wanted to watch the next Star Trek, like we talked about.” He didn't quite wink at her, but only because that wouldn't have been very subtle.

“It’s your turn to choose, of course, John,” Eos replied, loud enough everyone would hear, “Star Trek would be, as you put it, awesome.”

John struggled to keep a straight face. “Then Star Trek it is,” he said with all the authoritative gravitas of Thunderbird Five.

Scott face palmed.

John shrugged. “Worth a try.”

Everyone’s voices rose to argue with him.

“Really, Eos?” Virgil questioned the AI, staring foolishly at the ceiling.

Gordon protested,“We just had Star thingy, the week before Alan’s Zombie Apocalyspe Twenty or whatever.”

“Hey!” Alan came to defend the merits of Zombie Apocalyspe Twenty or whatever.

Scott looked betrayed by his supposedly second eldest brother. “Are you an adult or are you eight?”

John huffed, “I totally could have pulled this off when I was eight.”

“Awww, clever ickle Johnny,” Gordon heckled.

“Don’t call me Johnny, plankton.” The fish would soon be fish food if he kept trying it.

“Did I upset itty bitty baby Johnny?”

“Joooohnyyyy,” Alan joined in, because he wanted to be causing trouble.

John was one more mangled rendition of his name from tackling them both, gravity be damned.

“How many times do we have to say that using Eos to back up your claims does not make them any more valid when she can’t be objective about it?” Scott interjected, in an attempt from stopped things from getting out of hand.

“Few hundred more at least.” John grinned. He hadn't forgotten certain remarks though.

General groans followed all round. And another face palm. Few more grey hairs and a red forehead for Scott was in order.

“This time happens to be my choice,” Kayo stated. Out of the blue and right on target.

In the shadow of those innocuous words, John missed the mischievous look his sister and eldest brother shared. How the very atmosphere changed.

In synch, they burst out together, “Ghost Busters!”

They sung it. Loudly. Complete with catchy jingle.

Alan and John looked at each other in horror.

Ghosts.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #wip wednesday #thunderfam #astrawrite #john tracy #alan tracy #kayo kyrano #scott tracy #virgil tracy #gordon tracy

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hebuiltfive · 1 year

Text

Hope was a Fragile Little Thing

I don't know if I need to tag it as such, but spoilers for the last season of Thunderbirds Are Go.

This was just a short piece that I thought up whilst I was listening to Bigger Than The Whole Sky, by Taylor Swift.

"I've got a lot to pine about; I've got a lot to live without; I'm never gonna meet; what could've been, would've been, what should have been you" got me thinking about how Jeff would have probably had doubts that he'd ever see his boys again, and that he would never see them continue to grow, especially his baby boy.

Thus, this drabble was born. It was written quickly, and comes in at just over 1,000 words, but I thought I'd share it anyway.

I hope you enjoy reading it. I'm sorry for any pain, and I refuse to take responsibility for any heartbreak caused. <3

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was cold out here, wherever here was.

He still wasn’t sure that this place wasn’t some kind of purgatory, that he was wrong in thinking that the blast from the explosion had sent him spiralling off into the depths of space, and that he was actually waiting to be judged by a higher power, whoever that might have been. Jeff Tracy wasn’t sure which outcome he would have preferred. Was that something to worry about? He didn’t know. All he knew was that it was so much colder than he could ever have expected.

After a few days inspecting the wreck, Jeff decided that he had indeed been flung out into space and that this wasn’t purgatory. At least, not in the biblical sense. He still wasn’t sure whether that was something to ponder on, or where he’d ended up. Apart from the cold, all he knew now was that he was far from home. From his family. His boys. The capsule in which he’d unwittingly ridden out here had plenty of rations that he could live on. For a while. When they ran out, he’d have to think up something else. His suit would protect him from the elements. Brains always built equipment to last. He could survive. That was the easy part.

Learning to live, however… That would be tricky.

For the first few months, Jeff grieved, not to dissimilar to the way his family were no doubt grieving his loss. Did they even know he was alive? He couldn’t bare to think about it. His mother would have been broken. His sons… They’d already lost one parent, and now he’d left them essentially orphaned. God, he hoped they knew he was still alive, if only so they wouldn’t have to grieve his (not-actual) death. He had hope that they’d find him, but despite what he had instilled in his boys, what he told the rescuees whenever he was on a mission, Jeff knew that hope was a fragile little thing. If they found a way to find him, they’d come. He knew that. Until then, he was alone.

So desperately alone.

Jeff tried to commit his son’s faces to memory, drew the island upon which their rescue service was built. It almost seemed ironic, how he was the one in need to rescuing now. Jeff refused to give up, however. Hope may have been fragile, but he would use each and every day trying to find a way back to his family. He would tinker with what was left of the Zero X. He would explore the rock which he was cast upon. Jeff Tracy would fight tooth and nail to get home, to get back to his family.

With only the thought of his boys to keep him going, he eventually passed the one year mark. One year of being trapped in a desolate part of deep space, with no way of reaching out to anyone. He had tried, and he would keep trying, but the odds of some ship flying in deep space picking up his signals were slim to none. Jeff Tracy had learnt to live with those odds. He had made peace with it. Yet his mind would constantly torture him by wondering what his boys had become, and about how his family had coped after so long without him. Jeff never had any doubts that they would thrive. The Tracy family fought hardships and continued regardless of the situation. That ethic was what helped International Rescue thrive.

International Rescue.

His sixth child, so to speak.

Was it still operational, or would the family shut down the service? Jeff found himself hoping for the former, and not because it helped keep that hope that they’d find him one day. He had built that organisation up so it could outlive him, even if he had banked on his demise being a fair few more years down the line that what it had been. Life never was fair like that. His boys were experienced enough to carry the torch now, his youngest fast approaching the rest of his brothers once he’d finished school.

Alan had always held a special place in Jeff’s heart, and whilst Jeff thought of all the boys everyday, it was Alan he found himself crying for. It was Alan he missed the most, because it was Alan’s adolescence that he would be missing out on. Jeff had watched each of his boys grow up and become the remarkable men that they were. Alan would be the only one he’d miss out on, and the thought of him not being able to see what would become of youngest broke his heart.

He had hopes and dreams for all of his boys. Though he wasn’t a religious man, Jeff found himself praying, to whoever would listen, that those wishes would come true for them. He hoped that Gordon would go on to win many Olympic golds in swimming one day. He hoped that Virgil’s art would hang in some prestigious art gallery somewhere. He hoped that John would help Alan realise his dreams of becoming an astronaut once he’d finished his schooling, and as for his eldest, Jeff just hoped that Scott wouldn’t ever blame himself for what had happened. Scott deserved more than that. He deserved to be happy.

As the days passed, and Jeff continued to try and make sense of time in the vastness of nothing, the bright, burning flame of hope began to dim. It never quite extinguished, but Jeff began to accept the brutal truth; that he’d probably never see his home again, that he’d never know if any of his dreams and wishes that he’d granted his boys had come true.

It was just another routine supplies run. He’d left his make-shift base for five minutes. He had to start thinking about getting off this rock before it disintegrated. Jeff wasn’t sure how he’d get off it, or where he would go, but he returned to find a familiar figure. Falling fast. He had no time to acknowledge how quickly that flame of hope reignited with fervour. Jeff wasn’t even sure if he was hallucinating. He’d done his best to stop himself from going mad whilst stuck out here alone, but time flies even when you’re not having fun, and perhaps it wasn’t who he thought it was. Perhaps he’d finally cracked. Perhaps the blue and grey helmeted silhouette, so similar to his own uniform that he still wore, wasn't real.

It didn’t stop him, though. His years of training kicked in and, working on autopilot, Jeff was running, and jumping, and catching… Scott. His boy.

He was real.

He was here.

“I’ve got you, son.”

He was saved.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds #thunderfam #this is my first time posting any kind of fiction so i'm nervous #i hope you guys enjoy it #jeff tracy #five fics

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edutainer2022 · 7 months

Text

It's a weird, kind of liminal... moment the Mechanic and Scott have after Zero-XL. It wouldn't let me go. Their dynamics going forward (and the upended balance with Dad being back) fascinates me as they're interesting foils. It could be a tentative beginning of a friendship, a working relationship in IR, or, who knows...

OLIVE BRANCH

A tall figure was leaning on one of the work counters in his impromptu workshop, listlessly poking at one tool or other. Oh, snap! He really didn't have time for this! The Tracies, as he came to observe, were all very... involved - personal boundaries perfunctory at best and virtually non-existent since the Zero-XL mission came back a success. Even the ginger astronaut was planetside most of the time, in the middle of things - none of them straying too far away from a miraculously retrieved Jeff Tracy, trading stories, lapping up his undivided (well, divided six to seven ways, to be precise) attention. He wasn't a Tracy, nor did he have any intention of becoming one - so he cherished his space and solitude, thank you very much. Brains, for the most part, understood and respected that, letting him tinker at smaller projects in the bowels of the island, while the T-drive was being assembled. But this was not Brains snooping around in his nook. He really, really didn't have the energy for Scott Tracy.

- What are you doing in my hangar?

The younger man almost jumped in the air, clearly not expecting company. Seriously? The file said he was former military. Blue eyes flashed up in almost automatic defense. Okay, so maybe the Mechanic was somewhat amused by having five inches on the International Rescue Commander. The fierce leader was definitely not used to that.

- Interesting. I kinda thought this was my hangar.

- Funny you should mention it. I was under the impression it was your father's hangar.

The intended effect fell flat. Instead of riled up, Scott's sagged momentarily, shoulders dropped, the brilliant blue dimmed and downcast.

- Yeah, right, sorry. I'll get out of your way.

Huh? The Mechanic might not have been particularly proud of scoring that one up. The guy annoyed him on a good day with his holier than thou attitude and obsessive micromanagement. The Mechanic only ever fought for control to WIN. But he knew not to kick a man down, when he saw one (most times). Which was weird. Everyone else was floating on air, beholding Colonel Tracy like a godsend. The Mechanic was fairly sure the full assembly plus the British guests were up in the lounge this very moment too, completely engrossed in bliss and racing each other to showcase accomplishments and heroic antics. That was actually his cue to make the next move on his own... arrangements. He couldn't stretch their hospitality forever. Or tempt fate. Now was as good a time as ever, he guessed.

- Not a problem. I should be the one getting out of your hair. Soon.

Blue eyes shot back at him from the compelling oil stain on the floor, perplexed, then questioning. It obviously took Scott a hot moment to translate thought into words.

- I think you should stay on the island.

This. Was new. That was not so much an olive brunch, but an olive tree. The one thing they could reliably agree on prior to that was mutual disdain.

The Mechanic folded his arms, an automatic response to the mere chance of being vulnerable - being welcome. Being drawn into the circle by Grandma, when most of her family blinked out of the solar system possibly to be never seen again, was one thing. The Mechanic was under no illusion Scott Tracy could voluntarily stand to be in the same room with him under fair weather conditions, even grateful for his part in the T-drive or defense of the island.

- Why should I?

It was, of course, every inch the challenge it sounded like. Scott's gaze darted around the workshop, searching for inspiration.

- Brains loves working with you.

Lame one, Tracy. The Mechanic arched a brow, thoroughly unamused. The dregs of the barrel could really be more substantial. And yes, Scott walked himself into that one, so there was no backing out.

- Brains used to work perfectly fine without me in the picture. As he, no doubt, would again.

Blue eyes glanced over a half-finished mecha on the counter, then back to the floor. His fists found deeper way into the pockets. An evasive stance too, he knew. Scott Tracy was no better at asking for things than the Mechanic himself was. Least of all for forgiveness.

- Well, you're like... Grandma's fifth favorite grandkid. Stay for her.

That one was accompanied by a smile that didn't reach the eyes, focused on metal shavings on the bench now. The Mechanic arched a second brow and pretended to take the bait, if only to fill out the awkward silence.

- So, who have I yielded to?

A snort and another smile. This one rueful. And a forlorn stare in mid-distance the Mechanic was not sure even accounted for him anymore. THAT'S why he preferred to deal with machines.

- Virgil, obviously. He's Grandpa Grant through and through. Alan. It's a tie between Kayo and Brains. Gordon. Though he gets bumped up a tier when he's injured. You. Then John and I.

If Scott was amusing himself with the little charade - the Mechanic failed to see how. He wasn't giving an inch though, because they didn't cut each other slack, that was a given, so a tilt of the head and a fixed stare was the next unvoiced question. Scott shifted from foot to foot, clearly regretting it ever got this far. But the Mechanic was undeterred. Why the Astranaut and the Golden Heir, so far down the line? What kind of self-deprecating nonsense was that? Scott sighed. Words were obviously a problem again, though sadness rolling off the young man could be measured by tools at hand. He definitely preferred the machines. Emotions were not his forte.

- John is Mom. Looks much like her, speaks, moves. And I'm Dad... When Dad was gone I was there to remind...

- And now your Dad is back.

It was a simple statement of fact, colored by no assessment. No venom. He let "and you're hiding in the workshop of your sworn enemy, while everyone delights in your father's return" hang in the air, unsaid.

- And now my Dad is back...

And they don't need him to be Jeff Tracy anymore. They don't need him anymore, period. Scott snapped in time to an inner consideration, likely, along those same lines, and was suddenly in a hurry to leave. The Mechanic didn't know much about dealing with people and feelings, but he knew loneliness and despair when it stared him in the face. It took one to recognize one.

- Hey, Tracy! I don't need anything from you.

That earned him another hung head and a non-committal wave. Scott half turned away again, taking a long stride to the exit.

- But I could use some help. You any good with system updates?

He gestured to the assorted consoles around the work area. Blue eyes dragged up again and lit up for the first time since their strange conversation started.

- Brains lets me do solo updates on One.

That was a dubious recommendation, because, brilliant as he was, the shy engineer was under a totally false impression Scott Tracy had hung the Moon. But that was some serious shit-eating grin, dimples and all, so the Mechanic kept the idea to himself and kept busy with assorted switches.

#thunderbirds are go #scott tracy #scott tracy needs a hug #scott tracy needs his dad #the mechanic #it's the beginning of a beautiful friendship #thunderbirds 2015 #i'm not the biggest fan of grandma taking in strays not to deal with the more self-destructive grandsons #the mechanic is not amused #my fic #methinks i have astronomy

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tagsecretsanta · 1 year

Text

From @scattergraph

By and from @scattergraph for @gumnut-logic

Oh Christmas Tree…

Part One:

“Welcome everyone,” Kayo began as she addressed the small gathering of people sat in front of her, five of whom were flat out refusing to look her in the eye. “I have asked you here today to the Tracy lounge, on this fine, tropical Christmas Eve, not to enjoy the parade on TV & a vast array of party snacks, as per the usual tradition.”

“Wait, there’s not going to be any snacks?”

Kayo couldn’t pinpoint exactly which of the shifty looking Tracy brothers before her had dared to interrupt, but to be fair, it was Christmas Eve, and whoever it was had a valid point.”

“Fine, there will still be party snacks. But that doesn’t change the fact that we have a job to do. As I was saying, you have all been gathered here this afternoon to assist me in solving a very important case. That being…” and she stepped aside to allow those in the room a better view of the other thing the occupants had all been trying to avoid making eye contact with… “The currently unsolved case of ‘Who Burned Down the Tracy Christmas Tree’. Which I would also like to remind you, had Max not been nearby and swiftly intervened in the way that he did, could have easily been the case of ‘Who Burned Down the Tracy Christmas Tree, Villa, International Rescue, Surrounding Jungle and Basically the Entire Island.’”

… Oh.

“You know we would have put a stop to it long before it reached that point, right? I mean, we are International Rescue after all. We know how to put out a fire.” Scott scoffed, as the other brothers nodded their heads in agreement.

“You also know how to start them, apparently.” Kayo pointed out with a raised eyebrow, returning the sheepish looks to the faces of the brothers gathered around her, much to the amusement of the other family and extended family who had been invited into the lounge to join them.

“What we all know,” she continued, “is that a fire broke out late last night, burning this poor imported Nordmann Fir to a near-frazzled crisp.”

“It was a good tree this year too…perfectly symmetrical.”

“That’s not really pertinent to the case right now Virgil, but your pitiful comments have been noted for the log.” Kayo nodded towards the little blinking camera in the corner of the room as EOS flashed green in an affirmative that all points were being swiftly noted. Virgil frowned in consternation as Scott gave him a shoulder nudge of solidarity. It really had been a beautiful tree.

“Back to the facts,” she went on. “What we all know, is that a fire broke out, Max spotted it and then extinguished it before it could do too much damage. What we don’t know for certain, is what caused the fire in the first place. What we also don’t know, is who was responsible for starting the fire, despite the fact that a confession has been made.” Five brotherly heads snapped up sharply at this piece of information, first staring accusingly at Kayo, and then frowning in confusion at each other.

“Yes, you heard me correctly. You see, despite the fact that none of you appear to have the guts to admit to each other that you were the one responsible for starting the fire, each and every one of you has come to me individually to ‘fess up. That morality streak your parents and grandmother worked so hard to instil in you all is highly annoying in cases like this, by the way.

“Wait, we all confessed?” Alan asked, confused.

“All five of you brothers, yes. Although none of you cared to venture exactly how you did it, which means that unless you were all working together as a team to destroy our lovely green friend here, as of this moment, we still have an open case to solve.”

“Well Parker,” Lady Penelope commented from the side-lines where she and her companion were happily enjoying a steaming pot of mulled wine. “This is getting rather exciting.”

“Yes M’Lady.” Parker replied with a smile. “Top-up M’Lady?” He asked with a tip of the pot towards Penelope’s half-empty porcelain cup.

“Certainly Parker. It is only proper to have sufficient drinks with one’s entertainment.”

Beside them, Jeff and Grandma were also watching on in amusement. Jeff had been apprehensive at first to let Kayo turn this unfortunate Christmas mishap into a spectator event, especially given that it was only the latest in a very, very long line of Tracy Christmas mishaps that had taken place over the years. However, hearing that all of his boys had decided to confess to being responsible had him intrigued to the point that he too was curious to know exactly what had happened. Yes, the situation itself was in reality a particularly serious matter and could have ended very differently if not discovered in time, but there was no doubt in Jeff’s mind that his sons were all well aware of that fact already and were likely punishing themselves with guilt far more than was necessary given that not one of them would ever do such a thing on purpose. What he could not have foreseen, when he had agreed to the investigation with Kayo, was the way in which his surrogate daughter would choose to go about it. She really was full of surprises sometimes.

“As I was saying,” Kayo began again. “What we appear to have ahead of us this afternoon, is a classic game of ‘Clue’. Or ‘Cluedo’, as you better know it, Lady Penelope and Parker.”

“Oh, how fun!” Penny replied, whilst draining another tiny cup of mull with a smile.

The brothers’ jaws dropped. Jeff and Grandma grinned.

“Brains, if you’d like to now present our murder weapons, please?” Kayo called to the back of the room where the Scientist was waiting patiently alongside Max for his role in the ‘game’.

“Murder weapons?”

“Yes, Scott. Those being, any implements that were found on or near the crime scene, all of which had the potential to cause the total obliteration of this formally proud and mighty Fir in a devastating fireball of destruction.”

Again, Oh…

Pushing forwards a serving trolley that had a cloth draped over the top to hide its contents, Brains took his place next to Kayo and on her signal, swiped back the cloth to reveal a small array of burned and melted objects that looked like the product of some disturbing Christmas horror movie.

“As previously said, although none of you were particularly forthcoming about how you started the fire, just insistent that it was your fault and that that was all I needed to know, Brains and I have conducted our own investigation. What you see in front of you are the remains of a collection of candles, some burned-out battery-powered lights, a set of hair straighteners, a very sticky and melted plugboard and three cans of highly-flammable aerosol, all of which could have conceivably caused the fire. Brains and I have dismantled them, run tests on them and have used every asset at our disposal to the point that we now know exactly which one of you was responsible for starting the fire and also how you did it. The answer is written on a card inside this envelope here in my hand, where it will remain for the duration of the afternoon.” Each of the five brothers began to squirm again in their seats at that revelation, some of them turning an even paler shade than they had when the objects had first been revealed. “Ladies, Gentlemen, AIs, Robots and…Gordon,”

“Hey! - ”

“You have your location, you have your list of suspects, and you have your murder weapons. You will each now get a turn, should you so wish, to examine the evidence, ask any questions you want to ask and put forward your theory as to the correct combination of the three before Brains and I will reveal the winner and put this case to bed.”

“Wait, so you’re not even going to interrogate us yourself?” Gordon asked in trepidation.

“It’s Christmas Eve. It’s my day off. I intend to do nothing more than put my feet up and watch the chaos unfold, which it undoubtedly will knowing the five of you. The one and only question I have, is now that you have seen the abundance of possible murder weapons and are aware of the other confessions, will any of you – brothers - still be so adamant to maintain that you were the one who started the fire?”

“Not likely!” Alan yelped. “I mean, there’s no way what I did actually caused the fire when you look at that pile of charred kindling!”

“Oh really?” Jeff asked, suddenly very interested in the youngest, “And what exactly was it that you did, son?”

“Erm…nothing. Forget I spoke. Hey, whatever happened to those snacks…”

“Don’t you worry Alan, Grandma’s on the case.” The older lady smiled in answer.

“Thanks Alan. Worst deflection ever,” mumbled Gordon from behind.

“One last rule before we start,” Kayo spoke, “I want Mr Tracy to make the first prediction. In secret.” She handed him a pad and pen. “You’ll get a proper turn at the end, but I have a theory I want to test, first.”

Though Jeff wasn’t entirely sure what she was getting at, he was happy to oblige, if for no other reason than he got to spend the next ten minutes roaming about the room for additional, situational clues, picking through the pile of evidence and staring his sons uncomfortably in the eye as he worked to unravel the situation in his mind. It had been a great number of years since he had last had to do this, when one of them had snuck in the house late and the others had made a pact to cover for him or when something valuable had been broken in a game gone wrong and no-one had been willing to take the fall. Yes, he was enjoying this game immensely already. Finally, he made up his mind and with a quick scribble on the pad, he tore the top sheet, folded it up and handed it to Kayo for safe keeping until the others had had their turns.

“Thank you, Jeff.” She replied. “Okay then, if everyone is ready…let the games begin.”

...

**Author note: Part Two to be continued on FF.net / AO3 soon, sorry I couldn’t get it done in time to post here today. Thanks for reading & hope you are enjoying it 😊

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #tag team secret santa #tag team secret santa 2022

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