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#scott tracy
idontknowreallywhy · 2 days
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Resurface 10 - Recall
Maybe could be the next instalment of Resurface (a.k.a. the psychotic Virgil fic) or maybe could be a standalone - any thoughts? Inspired by a song which, it turns out, fits the situation rather well. Some sad Earth&Sky… given I’d managed zero words for days and have found that very irritating I’m gonna run with whatever! Edit to add: Yeah I’m calling it. So what if the fic has a random songfic chapter… it’s Virg…
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He floated in the darkness, weightless yet weighed down. There was nothing to see, nothing to feel. Nothing to smell. Yet he could SEE the dark in an overwhelming level of detail and his nerves rejected the empty tactile nothingness and told him cold instead.
There was sound in the void, but it was intermittent and muffled, as if he was underwater. Voices… familiar but unhappy bubbled past him. If only they’d speak more clearly perhaps he could fix whatever the problem was… but he found he couldn’t move his arms or… his head or… anything so fixing was probably out of the question. He wondered if there anything of him left to move?
He wondered if he was… gone… and found he couldn’t feel too strongly about the idea. Hello darkness, Virgil was ready to succumb.
Oh… Virgil. He had a name. Well there it is.
He knew he was supposed to fight the dark but he was so tired. He was also aware the reason he kept fighting was no more. Although he wasn’t entirely sure what that had been… it nagged at him. It had been important. He was pretty sure it had been everything - there was just a hollow space where he imagined his chest would be. Was odd he couldn’t remember. If he could move his face he’d frown at that.
Maybe it was just that Afterwards you didn’t remember Before?
He only hoped this nothing wouldn’t be everything - the lack of comprehensible sensory input was maddening. Not to mention he had an irritating earworm that was disproving his theory about not remembering. And that would be really annoying to think about for eternity. What even was it? Some kids’ film…
Can there be a day beyond this night? I don’t know anymore what is true.
Huh. Pretty dark for something aimed at children.
Mind you, children felt things pretty strongly. He’d always done so, as far as he could tell. It’s why art and music worked for him. He remembered that too. Alright, memory was a thing then. Given the lack of anything else to do he cast his mind back, trying to recall something, anything… about who he was.
Trees. He could picture trees and feel the drop in the wind as he stepped amongst them. One in particular which was taller than the rest… a pecan. The scaly bark scratched at his fingertips as he peered up into the rustling branches overhead. Wait! He tried to shout but no sound came out! Wait! He wasn’t tall enough! He couldn’t follow! He stood on his tiptoes and stretched towards the hand that reached down out of the leaves but his fingers only brushed the air. He gasped, a bigger hand landed on his shoulder and it all went black again.
He was on his knees on the dusty tarmac and his knees were stinging but not as much as his eyes. The back of the big yellow bus blurred as he cursed his little legs for not being able to catch up with it. He squeaked in horror as a truck thundered past, horn blaring and then large hands were pulling his shoulders, dragging him to the grass. Sharp words, scared words. They told him he couldn’t follow. He wasn’t big enough for big school yet. He couldn’t always follow. He lifted his hands from his knees and stared at the redness that highlighted the wrinkles in his palms. A sob choked him and the red spread out and covered everything.
That large hand was tugging at his elbow, but Virgil wasn’t easy to move against his will. He relented and took one pace backwards, moving his right foot down one of the stone steps leading away from the ornate doorway with a lone figure standing in it. The others had gone back inside to continue the celebration. But one remained, watching them leave, smiling. The stupidly massive doors made him look small and he’d never looked small before. The left foot wouldn’t move. The arm tugged at him but he couldn’t. He couldn’t not follow. The figure waved again, straightened the smart blue coat with the silver buttons and gave a cheeky salute before turning and walking away. Virgil had no breath to cry out to him to stop, he could only reach out silently towards the retreating blue.
I follow you around, I always have, but you’ve gone to a place I cannot find.
No. The song was wrong. NO! He thrashed against the nothing and gagged on the bile that rose up in a throat that could suddenly feel, could suddenly burn, could agonisingly scream out loud:
“SCOTT!”
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gumnut-logic · 1 day
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Driving Home
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Just a quick scene, prompted by something I saw on the way home from work/school.
Younger Tracys, a Scotty thoughts moment that doesn't really go anywhere.
-o-o-o-
The traffic lights lit up his brother’s face in the darkness. Scott couldn’t help but smile at Virgil, head smushed against the passenger-side door, asleep.
His brother was at the end of his degree. Graduating after years of toil while Scott had been away in the Air Force.
Scott had made a point to get leave to be there for Virgil on his big day. Dad couldn’t make it, but hell or highwater, Scott had skipped continents to see his brother get his piece of paper.
John had been there, gaining leave from NASA training, but the two youngest were home with Grandma, so it had been a reunion of the three eldest, two of them taking out the third to celebrate.
And celebrate they did.
Until John needed to leave.
There were hugs at the airport, even a soppy tear on Virgil’s part as they separated and said goodbye to their space-destined brother.
It was just the two of them from that point on. Scott could have flown them both home, but he had opted for a road trip back to Kansas. It wasn’t really that far, and honestly, he needed some time with Virgil.
Today had been great, driving across state lines. Really just talking, sharing experiences, taking the opportunity to wind down after a hectic…everything.
Scott had the wheel, determined to let his little brother rest. And eventually, after chatterboxing about anything and everything, Virgil had slipped into a snooze just as the sun dipped below the horizon.
Scott was oddly grateful for it.
Not that he wanted silence, if anything he missed his brother’s excited voice.
It was more that…
It was a return to the norm.
They hadn’t seen each other for so long. Scott missed his brothers, all of them, but he also missed this. Just the two of them, hanging out together, being themselves, the sense of trust Virgil had in him. That knowledge that Virgil believed in Scott.
Sure, snoozing while his brother drove was far from life threatening. But it was done without thought.
It was reassuring to know that despite all his time away, Virgil still had that familiar faith in him.
The lights changed to green and Scott eased the car into the intersection, smoothly bringing it up to speed without disturbing Virgil at all. It wasn’t really required because his brother was almost impossible to wake up most of the time, but he did it for love anyway.
He really was getting corny in his old age.
He could almost hear Virgil’s chuckle at the thought.
God, he missed this.
He had buddies in the Force, yes, but his brothers…
Amber street lights strobed over Virgil’s lax features.
His brother…
Virgil snorted and shifted where he sat, his mouth drooping open and beginning to drool.
…was laughably gross.
Scott snorted, half tempted to poke Virgil awake. Thank goodness this was a hire car.
But his smile returned.
It really was good to be together again.
-o-o-o-
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pareidoliaonthemove · 24 hours
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Left for Dead
Part One
Scott Tracy breathed a sigh of relief as he felt the wheels of the ‘conventional’ jet he was flying left the tarmac.
His never failed to feel lighter once he was no longer touching the earth, but this time the relief was more intense than usual.
As he guided the executive jet – once Jeff’s favourite plane, a sleek long-haul commercial jet that had been the Aviation arm of Tracy Industries flagship product, and dubbed ‘Tracy One’ – exactly through the ‘gateway’ at the end of the runway climb out, the radio crackled to live. The heavily accented English of the Departures Controller for Trondheim Lufthavn gave him his final instructions to clear the Lufthavn’s controlled airspace and join his filed flightpath out of Norway and back to Tracy Island.
He only let himself relax as he hit his cruising speed and altitude, and activated the pre-programmed autopilot.
Reaching back he caught the retractable tray table and dragged it towards him, before picking up his insulated mug, a custom-made gift from Brains that allowed him to ensure he had hot coffee available on a solo flight in the plane.
He couldn’t help glancing back at the safe built into the bulkhead at the back of the cockpit. He still had grave reservations about getting TI involved in the construction of the World Government’s new high-security computer system to be based in Norway; but the World Government had wanted Tracy Industries for their reputation for excellence and security, the TI Board wanted it, and most importantly John wanted it.
Scott tried not to think about the fact that his brother was likely to include a backdoor to the system.
But Scott had been convinced that it was in the best interests of all involved to take the project on, and he had gone to Norway to meet the key personnel and personally take receipt of the plans. TI facilities would produce the various key components and they would be shipped to Tracy Island for construction by one Hiram K. Hackenbacker
Scott sighed, even Brains had been excited by the prospect of getting to look at the designs, and the attendant programming that the hardware would be running. Something about the specifications for the “new ‘unbreakable’ encryption protocols”, and “the next major breakthrough in computing, practically quantum!”
Scott was worried that the two – three if Alan inserted himself into the mix – computer nerds would back-engineer the TOP SECRET computer and incorporate it into International Rescue’s equipment.
When – and Scott was not an optimist when it came to this sort of things, so it was when and not if – the rest of the world figured out that they had that technology, there would be some uncomfortable questions that Scott would be left to try to answer.
And he was resolutely NOT thinking about what Eos could do with all that processing power. Scott had reached a truce with the Space Monitor’s pet AI, but he hadn’t made peace with it … her. She had come dangerously close to killing John, ‘misunderstanding’ or not, ‘self-defence’ or not.
Harming his family was the one sin Scott Tracy could not forgive.
The next hour or so disappeared quietly as Scott brooded on his misgivings, carefully watched the plane’s gauges, and the sky.
Sometime after the onboard computer indicated that it had successfully completed its mandatory handshake with Chinese Air Control Scott stretched, arching his back and spreading his toes within the confines of his shoes. Flying alone was great for relaxation, flying alone long distances however … no matter how good the autopilot, a good pilot never left the controls unmanned.
Tracy One, while fast, was no Thunderbird One. I’m getting soft, Scott thought bemused. Too used to the multiple mach speed of his usual means of transportation.
Settling back into his seat, Scott once more scanned the gauges … only to see them all fade out as the engines whined their rollback to idle and shutdown.
Scott swore, unbelieving, hands once more on the controls, as he quickly hit two buttons, setting his transponder to squawk distress mode, and deploying the RAT, a small drop down wind turbine that dropped from the planes undercarriage and caught the airflow, generating enough power to get some gauges and controls working.
Fingers automatically worked at the controls, reconfigure for maximum glide, run through the midair engine restart procedure. And …
Nothing.
As Scott immediately recommenced the restart, he was on the radio: “Mayday, Mayday, Maday. This is November Tango India Zero One Charlie. Twin engine roll back, loss of power. Attempting restarts. Requesting assistance to squawk location.”
No response. Scott cycled through another engine restart attempt as he waited, nervously watching the altitude numbers seemingly freefall. There was no way he was descending that fast, surely?
Two more attempts at transmitting the mayday resulted in silence. The engines refused to restart.
Scott reached for his collar and swore. The meeting had been so high security even IR’s integrated collar coms were not allowed. And Scott had been in such a hurry to get back to the Island that he hadn’t changed his clothes, only ditching the ordinary – albeit obscenely expensive – coat, suit jacket, tie and cufflinks.
No direct link home. No mid-air rescue for Scott Tracy.
No matter. He could manage.
Abandoning his attempts to restart as the altitude numbers screamed down under the threshold.
His plane was going to kiss dirt. All he could do was make it as gentle as possible.
Scott switched his attention to scanning the ground below him, looking for a suitable space. Thank god he had elected to fly west towards home, meaning he was over the Gobi Desert.
Sand was preferable to water, no matter what Gordon said.
Sand would make for a nice soft runway, provided Scott managed a tail-first. Letting a leading edge dig in would be a disaster. Even with the International Rescue approved safety features retrofitted to the standard executive jet, there wouldn’t be much for his brothers to recover if she dug in and flipped, or windmilled around a wing.
“Mayday, Mayday, Mayday. November Tango India Zero One Charlie. Restart negative. Unpowered landing necessary. Requesting immediate assistance to squawk location.”
Scott breathed carefully, focusing on his search and not the possibilities.
There!
Off in the distance Scott spotted a level area, large enough for the plane to coast to a stop on her belly.
He breathed out, mentally calculated the distance and descent, and carefully reconfigured the plane, setting the ailerons and stomping on the rudder to bring her tail around into the head wind and shed speed: side-slipping. He gently slewed her back the other way, ensuring she maintained the correct heading, but shedding altitude and speed.
This was a dangerous aerial ballet. More so than any dogfight he had been in during his service. One wrong move …
Scott’s hands were sweating on the control yoke. His heartbeat deafened him.
Oh, there was going to be so many lost of control drills for his brothers in the future. It had been too long since they had run any.
His luck held all the way down.
He managed to line up to the long axis of the space, and his tail kissed sand at the edge of the smooth space.
Metal screamed as sand ripped at the undercarriage as Scott gently lowered the length of the plane onto the dirt, and deployed all flaps and slats, increasing the resistance to the air, even as the sand resisted the movement of the hull.
And Scott became a passenger.
He kept his feet at the rudder pedals, trying to keep the plane moving in a straight line. Yaw risked rolling. But it was largely a futile effort, the path was set, determined by physics, geology and … geography!
Scott’s heart leapt into his throat as the plane hurled itself over the top of a rising dune that had been hidden by his approach angle. It was a significant drop down the other side, and the plane had lost enough momentum that it had little aerodynamic power.
The nose fell, and Scott heard yelling.
It took the eternity the plane was falling to realise that it must be him.
Impact was hard.
Metal screamed as sections of the cockpit rushed towards him, dislodged and distorted.
Something above him broke loose, swinging down into his field of vision.
It was the last thing Scott saw.
Notes:
This is Part One of my last Febuwhump Prompt from MariaShades, Part Two will actually address the prompt, but work's been mental, and Scott's been a little shit and really didn't want to crash his plane ... Oh well, better late than never.
And if I post this half, I'll stop faffing around with it and actually write the second half. In theory.
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tinytracys · 1 day
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The dragons were of a benign majestic temperament until, in an effort to goad them into racing, Scott maybe slightly… a little bit… definitely as a joke… referred to them as “sluggish reptiles”…
*ear-splitting roar with added fire*
EEP.
John and MAX (with excitable advice / commentary from EOS) heroically wrestled the creature to save big brother.
Run Scott!
*further roaring of a distinctly threatening nature*
*dithers because big brother instinct*
Now who’s not fast enough? Get out of here!
Some heroic John saving Scott’s bacon for our FABulous friend @astranite. HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
Oh, and they made you waffles to celebrate your great age (and also John’s victory over scaly firebreathing death):
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atomic-chronoscaph · 4 months
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Thunderbirds (1965)
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edorazzi · 5 months
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Happy Halloween!!! 🎃
Little Tracys all dressed up and examining their haul. Featuring uniforms from Captain Scarlet, Fireball XL5, UFO, Stingray, and of course classic Thunderbirds! 💖
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knyee · 2 months
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Close your eyes. Have no fear. The monster's gone, he's on the run and your daddy's here.
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Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. Beautiful boy.
I have Beautiful Boy by John Lennon on repeat and it's like jeff n scott core sooo like, you're welcome 😁😁😁
The gc will b in shambles I just know it ☝️☝️
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femmehysteria · 3 months
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I'm doing a series of "Best Character Named X" polls where all the characters have the same first name but are from completely different media, feel free to send in name/charcacter suggestions, I'm posting one poll a day, check my pinned post for active polls
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balladofsallyrose · 3 months
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Philip Winchester as Scott Tracy THUNDERBIRDS (2004) dir. Johnathan Frakes
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teapotteringabout · 9 months
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Idea isnt mine, this is the comic version of a snippet by @willow-salix / @selene-tempest a couple years ago (told you I'd draw this...one day!)
(Also I'm really sorry, I cant find the link to it!)
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flyboytracy · 22 days
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Heeeeey flyboy,
Did you ever make a gif of that moment at the end of ROF2 where everyone GASP IN HORROR reacts to Grandma’s nice family dinner suggestion (just before they all make excuses to leave)? If not… pleeeease would you have a look and see if the urge-to-gif arises?
(I tried it once ages back when I got mildly obsessed with the scene but it was appalling quality because I had no idea what I was doing… would be amazing to have a PROPER one living on tumblr to use in Situations where GASP is the appropriate reaction 😁)
💙
Hola :D The world always needs more GIFs from Ring of Fire
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<333
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lenfantdeverone · 4 months
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I think this one picture on Jeff's desk in the movie isn't talked about enough, it's so cute and silly and Jeff has the classic dad™️ pose
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gumnut-logic · 2 days
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Scott was ever so tired, but when John requested he not return Thunderbird One to her hangar, but instead nest her up with Two, he had to do as his brother asked.
John’s reasoning didn’t involve words, just a photo that had Scott hitting the brakes over Tonga and gliding in as quietly as he could.
The fact Virgil was behind him only had him waiting longer as the cargo ship needed to touch down before One could park securely. After all, the whole reason they hid the Thunderbirds like they did on their deserted Island was to protect them from accidentally being seen. There were holographic shields and security networks galore protecting the Island, but ultimately, if a fishing boat either wandered in or needed safety, it was a good idea to keep the Thunderbirds much less than obvious.
In summary, they didn’t tend to leave the sports car on the lawn for the neighbourhood to gawk at.
So instead, Scott set One to hover a respectful distance away while he waited for Two to catch up.
And try not to fall asleep in his pilot’s chair.
Fortunately, Virgil wasn’t as far behind as he could have been and the green behemoth soon appeared on One’s sensors. Scott stared as his younger brother glided in under minimal power and set down with a short spurt of VTOL in a rather impressive manoeuvre. It was the closest to landing silently that Two could probably get.
Scott let One follow almost immediately. She wasn’t as quiet as Two, the fact she had had to hover removing any chance at a glide out of the equation.
In any case, he slipped One in behind her sister and stashed her in the massive hangar so Two could still deploy if necessary and One could as well, albeit a touch slower than usual.
But considering her pilot was a zombie, it wouldn’t matter for another eight hours at least.
Climbing out, he met an equally tired Virgil and they plodded to the elevator together, drowning their exhaustion in the showers, and throwing on pyjamas that Grandma had obviously left out for them.
Scott’s t-shirt had the slogan on the front ‘Born to fly’, which he found appropriate, but the shirt having come from Gordon, the back followed up with ‘Farts in the sky’.
But he was too tired to care right now. Shoving it on and pulling the pants up over aching hips - he really shouldn’t have jumped from that cliff – he stretched to finally get any of the remaining kinks out of his system.
Only to find Virgil wearing a slightly too small t-shirt also obviously of the Gordon purchase pile that pectorally declared, ‘Warning: Do not decaffeinate, may decapitate’.
Well, perhaps, Gordon did have a point there.
Scott sighed. “Want to check on them?”
Virgil’s answer was only an eyebrow, but it clearly declared Scott an idiot for asking such a stupid question.
That ended all energy for future verbalisation and, finishing up, Virgil fell into step beside Scott as he headed off towards the lounge.
Because Allie was in the lounge.
And Allie was injured.
That fact, that entire concept, cut into Scott’s gut like a blunted knife.
John’s frantic yell the week before had aged the commander several years in a matter of seconds. Allie had been up helping a space freighter that had lost power and was in the process of losing orbit along with it. It should have been simple, but some high-speed space trash had collided with the vessel while Alan was out repairing broken electronics.
His suit had been compromised by what was basically a small meteor of human origin and for a bit there it had been damned scary.
But Brains made above average spacesuits and a certain self-healing polymer invented by a smart brother automatically resealed the suit.
Not before the damage to Alan’s leg had been done, however. A gash the length of his calf with both hot and cold burns leaving his leg a mess and their little brother grounded for weeks.
Scott was just happy to have him safe, and those weeks gave Scott the time to process the fact that, ultimately, he would have to let Alan out into space again.
But for now, he was safe at home.
Virgil was on his right when they entered the comms room. There was only one lamp providing illumination beside the moon shining through the rafters, but there was enough light to see Alan and Gordon curled up in what appeared to be the remains of a blanket fort.
Scott stepped quietly, Virgil on his heels.
Both little brothers were asleep, Gordon curled protectively around Allie, snuggled in a pile of pillows and bedclothes. Alan’s bandaged leg stuck out at an angle, but rested on a cushion, his foot sporting a pink fluffy slipper.
But it wasn’t the rather heart-warming sight of his two sleeping brothers that raised his eyebrows.
It was the swarm, a literal school of plushies that surrounded them that had Scott’s eyes bugging out...at least a little.
His brothers were curled up on the floor, but sitting on the couches where International Rescues were decided on and deployed was a literal cornucopia of sea life cuddly toys.
There was a giant prawn as big as Alan perched as if waiting for the holoprojector to activate. Eight octopuses of varying size, lined up in a row, sat beside it, three squid keeping them company.
A whale took up the entirety of one couch all by itself, a plethora of rays and fluffy sharks were piled up in mounds.
A furry red crab was sitting on the steps alongside something else that was white and vaguely bug like. The rest of the floor was covered by starfish, multiple clownfish and a whole variety of other plushie marine organisms including a six-metre-long oarfish that Scott only knew the name of because Gordon had pounded it into his head the day he bought it.
Literally, Gordon had whacked him across the head with it.
Virgil tiptoed into the mess silently on bare feet and there was a flicker of yellow light as he scanned his little brother.
The engineer retreated back to Scott’s side just as quietly, so there was obviously nothing to be concerned about.
John flickered in above the table, obviously on dim projection. He didn’t say anything, just smiling a little down at his brothers before looking up at Scott and Virgil.
Scott absently saluted him and that smile widened just a little before he blinked out again.
There was definitely a good reason why Thunderbird One needed to be parked out back.
Virgil tugged on his arm.
A glance at his brother and Virgil nodded him in the direction of the elevator.
Scott looked back at his two sleeping little brothers once more, a breath releasing through his teeth. Gordon obviously had a sea creature plushie addiction that might require a few questions at a later time, but there was something about the scene that swelled Scott’s heart and part of him wanted to curl up in the pile with them.
Virgil tugged on his arm again and Scott relented, following the engineer from the room.
Nothing much was said between them in the elevator, both caught up in their thoughts. Now they were out of sight of their little brothers, exhaustion once again crept in.
Virgil squeezed Scott’s shoulder as they exited onto the residential level and both of them disappeared into their rooms.
Five minutes later there was a knock at Scott’s door.
Bleary eyed and heart sinking he opened it, only to find Virgil standing there with his arms full of a giant black teddy bear. His brother shoved it at Scott, forcing him to either grab a hold or drop it.
Nothing was said, but Virgil did squeeze his hand before disappearing as abruptly as he had appeared.
Scott was left holding a giant black teddy bear.
It took him a moment, but he shut the door and retreated back into his bedroom.
The bear stared at him.
This was foolish.
But exhaustion continued to gnaw at him and it was with a certain lack of care that found Scott grabbing the bear and curling up in bed around it as the lights finally shut off.
Its fur was ever so soft.
And warm.
As he relaxed into sleep.
-o-o-o-
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bearskvlls · 3 months
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say cheese!! 📸
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janetm74fics · 17 days
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Finding Daddy
For @edutainer2022
This fic contained this line: Based on this sentence: six year old Scotty making it all the way to Austin in the back of Lucy's father's truck to "go find Daddy in space".
~
Mamma was sick.
So was Johnny and Virgy. Everyone was sick except himself, and Scott was trying his best to look after everyone…but he was only six and while tall for his age (according to his teachers) he still had to stand on a chair to reach the sink to fill the kettle (that he absolutely should not be doing.)
The arrival of Grandpa and Grandma had been such a relief for Scott that he’d almost burst into tears when Grandma had hugged him and told him how well he’d done.
But they’d been here all weekend now and Mamma was getting worse and Grandma was talking in hushed tones about the hospital and ‘d-hi-dray-shun’ and the baby in Mamma’s tummy…and Johnny too being really sick.
Daddy would know what to do.
But Daddy was in space. Scott couldn’t tell him how sick Mamma was, how his brothers were, and he was scared.
Last thing Daddy had said before leaving was to look after his Mamma and his brothers. And Scott had failed.
That night an ambulance came and took Mamma and Johnny and Grandma away. Grandma came back while Scott was in bed but he’d been awake and waiting and seeing her arrive back home alone didn’t quell the rising panic.
He stood at the top of the stairs and listened as his grandparents discussed what they were going to do tomorrow. Grandma would go back to the hospital with Virgil to get him checked over while Grandpa was going to leave early and go to town.
“Going to town” meant the big city. The only time Scott had gone to the big city was when Daddy had left for the moon.
Daddy. He needed his Daddy. Daddy went to the big city. Grandpa was going to the big city.
Scott was forming a plan.
Monday morning Scott was supposed to be picked up by Hazel, the girl Daddy paid to help Mamma out. She took Scott to school with her and her little brother, but Mamma had told her to stay away since they were sick.
Mamma hadn’t been well enough to ask Hazel to come pick him up for school today, but Scott wasn’t about to miss the opportunity to going to find Daddy. He piled some clothes in his bed like he’d seen in cartoons, dressed quickly and quietly slipped out the house and hid in Grandpa’s truck, pulling the tarp over himself, and settled down to wait. Somehow he knew that if Grandma found out what he had planned she wouldn’t let him go…
It was still dark when Grant set off.
He had an important meeting the other side of Austin. From their Kansas home it would have been an all-day journey. Thank goodness this time Jeff had moved their family to the ranch at Gran Roca temporarily with a view to seeing if it worked. It had only just come to Lucy six months ago, just before Jeff had gone to the moon. Now his trip to Austin would take a little less than five hours, and Grant had left early enough that he should be able to grab a late breakfast at that Diner Jeff had taken them to last time they’d visited.
He switched on the radio, cranked up the volume and trundled along completely unaware of the small child asleep in the cargo bed.
Ruth frowned. Virgil was still asleep – the poor boy was so stuffed up but without his brother’s noises he’d slept a little easier – but Scott was usually up at the first light and it was almost time to get him off to school and still he hadn’t appeared. Maybe he was coming down with this cold as well, it wasn’t like Scott to ignore being called down for food…
She left it to the last minute, but eventually Ruth knew that she couldn’t wait any longer, not if they were to get Scott to school and Virgil to the hospital for his check-up. He wasn’t as bad as John and Lucy, but he was still quite ill.
Sighing, Ruth finished packing everything she needed for a potential all-day stay at the hospital and made her way upstairs to Scott’s room, frowning once more at the shape on the bed.
She pulled back the covers and gasped.
Scott wasn’t in bed.
Sally ran around the ranch, looking in every room and under everything she could think of, but the six-year-old could not be found.
By now she’d missed the leaving time to get Scott to school by over an hour and she pursed her lips. Where could that boy be? But Ruth couldn’t think of where else to look. She didn’t want to worry Lucy – yet – and so she did the only think she could think to do.
She called her husband.
Getting a call while he was on the road was unusual – Grant was a stickler for no calls while he was driving – so to see his wife was calling him could mean only one thing. Something was wrong.
He pulled over at the first opportunity, 15 minutes after that first call, and returned the call.
‘Ruth? What’s the matter?’ ‘Grant – it’s Scott. I can’t find him!’ ‘He’s got to be around somewhere!’ ‘I’ve looked everywhere. He’s nowhere!’
There was a sound from the back of the pickup. Something moved.
‘Hang on, Ruthie, I may have found him.’
Grant got out of the cab and walked around to the back of the truck, gently pulling the tarp back to find Scott curled up around John’s star plushie and Virgil’s blanket.
Big bright blue eyes gazed up at him with the most impish grin on his face.
‘Hi, Grandpa!’ ‘Ruthie, Scott’s here with me.’ ‘He’s what?’ ‘Say hello to your Grandma, Scotty.’ ‘Hi, Grandma!’ ‘Scott – wha…how…why are you with Grandpa?’ ‘Grandpa is going to the big city. That’s where Daddy is in space.’
Grant and Ruth looked at each other. They couldn’t really fault Scott’s reasoning. With a smile for Scott Ruth carried on speaking gently.
‘Oh, hun. Scotty, promise you’ll do as Grandpa says and we’ll talk when you get home.’ ‘Ok, Grandma.’ ‘Love you, Scotty.’ ‘Love you too!’
Grant swiped the call away and looked at his eldest grandson. He was thankful that Scott had at least got dressed – his blue pyjamas with the red planes on would not have kept him warm in the back of the truck – and he didn’t even want to think about how early in the morning Scott had crept into Bessie…
Picking the boy up, Grant settled him into his special front seat and they set off again, this time with the radio off because Scott didn’t know the meaning of silence and he filled the cab with chatter about everything and anything, causing Grant to smile. He did wonder how he was going to break the news that they weren’t going to see Jeff though, and what he was going to do with the child while he was in his meeting.
Shrugging his shoulders and telling himself “one problem at a time, Grant”, they carried on to Austin.
The diner was delighted to have a small child, and Scott was treated to pancakes and waffles – something he’d never had together before – and his proclamation that this was the bestest breakfast he had ever had, thank you very much, was met with beaming smiles and a small pile of suckers and hard candy was pressed into his hands as they left.
Now all Grant had to do was get his meeting over and done with. He was formulating a plan, and before they carried on driving through Austin to their destination of Cedar Creek he’d set the wheels in motion via several messages.
The confirmation of his plan came as they pulled into the office block where his meeting was being held, and it was all Grant could do to not give it away immediately. But this meeting was important for the Tracy farm, so he put his rarely-seen business head on, took Scott firmly by the hand and entered.
It was a surprising success.
To say that the four businessmen were surprised when Grant showed up with a small child would have been an understatement, but Scott was a model farmer’s child. He sat and listened for all of two minutes before he started chatting to the man beside him.
As soon as he understood they were talking about the farm and the wheat there was no holding Scott back. The meeting should have been about investing so that Grant could buy a neighbouring farm as well as new, bigger and more modern silos. He’d had a price in mind. With Scott’s chatting about the horses and the chickens and the minutiae of farm life Grant came away with almost double what he’d hoped for plus a solid plan for going forward. Tracy Farms was going to own the largest area of wheat in their county, which Grant and his father and his grandfather had planned for decades.
He was doubly glad to have arranged this treat for Scott – that boy was a natural at everything, even if he didn’t know it. Grant glanced over at his grandson. Scott, turning at the same time, flashed him a grin. God help women when that boy was older – that dimpled smile coupled with those blues was going to be killer.
They drove along Route 290, arriving at Houston in the late afternoon. Scott was excited to be outside, but when they drew into the massive area that was the Space Centre he began bouncing up and down. The child had never been able to sit still for long – even while driving he was constantly kicking his heels or tapping his seat – and Grant was more than thankful that the seatbelt meant Scott couldn’t just jump up and out of Bessie then and there.
There was a man waiting for them at the guard post. He gave both Grant and Scott special badges and directed Grant where to park and, once that was done, he led them through the building until they came to a special seating area. There was a huge screen on one wall and the seats faced it, and the man left them to settle.
No sooner had he gone then the screen fuzzed a little, an indistinct picture slowly forming. But it soon cleared up to be Jeff on Alfie, with Lee in the background.
Scott’s shout of ‘DADDY!’ had Grant wincing and his ears ringing, and judging from Jeff’s reaction it had been as loud there too, but he couldn’t help the fond smile as Scott began talking like an express train.
Jeff shared a bemused glance with his father as his eldest proceeded to try and tell him five months’ worth of news in three minutes. He knew to let Scott get the majority of what he wanted to say out before gently steering the conversation or the boy would get upset.
Gradually the volume decreased as the flow of words slowed, and Jeff saw his chance.
‘What are you up to, buddy? Everything alright?’
Scott immediately stopped talking and cast an almost fearful glance at his Grandpa. Grant smiled encouragingly at him.
‘Mamma sick, Daddy. And Johnny and Virgy and the baby. When you coming home to fix it?’ ‘Scotty, you know where Daddy is?’ ‘The moon.’ ‘So you understand I’m very far away?’ ‘Ye-es.’ ‘Grandma and Grandpa will look after you all and I will be back in two weeks, ok?’ ‘Ok.’
The ‘Ok’ was glumly said, and Grand pulled Scott onto his lap.
‘You’ll be surprised at how fast it will go, Scott, I promise.’ ‘Ok Daddy.’ ‘Now, I want you to listen to your Grandparents and do as they tell you. Be a good boy for them and Mamma, Ok?’ ‘Yes, Daddy.’ ‘That’s my little Bluejay. Love you.’ ‘Love you too, Daddy.’
Grant held Scott as the image faded. All Scott’s energy seemed to have burned away, and the journey home was uneventful as he slept almost the entire way. When they eventually arrived home Lucy was waiting to greet them, plucking Scott from the cab into a fierce hug.
‘Young man, you scared your Grandma and me. What do you have to say?’ ‘I found Daddy, Mamma.’
The adults looked at each other and burst out laughing.
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katblu42 · 22 days
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Symphony
Been thinking about this one a bit over the last few days, so I thought I'd give it a bit of a re-run.
It's just a bit of fluffy, music-related Earth and Sky.
Scott tore his eyes away from the unread emails, stretched his arms above his head, let out a long breath and turned the chair away from the desk to face Virgil at the piano.
“I like this one.  What’s it called?”
“It doesn’t really have a name.”
“I’ve heard you play it before, though.  Did you write it?”
There was the slightest hint of hesitation in Virgil’s response, although the music never wavered.
“I guess you could say that.  I haven’t ever really thought about notating it.”
“Aren’t you concerned you might forget it?”
A wry smile crept across the musician’s features, but he said nothing. 
“You should write it down.  And come up with a name for it.”
Virgil tilted his head a little by way of considering the notion, then asked “Why do you like it?  What does it make you think of?”
Scott stood, stretching more muscles, letting the music carry his thoughts away from TI paperwork as his gaze drifted upwards.
“Well, I like the way the melody climbs and swirls.  It kind of reminds me of flying.  And there’s a feeling of constant motion, fast, easy – sort of free.”  He closed his eyes for a moment before returning his gaze to his brother.  “In some ways it kinda reminds me of Dad.”
Virgil’s response began with the quirk of an eyebrow and the hint of a smile.
“Funny you should say that . . .”
“Why?  Is it about Dad?”
Virgil finished the last phrase, letting the final chord hang in the air before taking a slow breath and looking up at his big brother.
“No.  It’s you.”
“Me?”  Sapphire eyes widened with surprise bordering on shock, and his forehead creased in puzzlement.  “You wrote a song about me?”
Virgil looked back at the piano. 
“Not exactly.  It’s more like . . .” His gaze drifted upward.  “It’s hard to explain.  It’s sort of how I hear your presence, or your essence or something . . . I don’t know.”  His voice trailed off into mumbles and a shrug.
Scott was left speechless, staring at his brother’s awkward uncertainty, as the significance of his own interpretation of the music and what it represented really hit home.  It took him a moment, and he had to work to bring moisture back into his mouth before he finally found his voice again.
“Do . . .  do you have something like this for all of us?”
Virgil felt the heat of a blush rising in his cheeks, and he didn’t look up from the piano.
“Uh, yeah.  I sort of do.”  His hands drifted back to the keys and a new piece of music began, one with a complimentary theme to Scott’s.  It was in the same key, had the same tempo, and still embodied that sense of soaring movement, but this one felt somehow bigger, more far-reaching – almost heroic.
Scott let out a gasp.  “Is that . . .?  This one is . . . It’s Dad, isn’t it?”
Virgil gave a single nod.
“It fits with yours.  Like the second theme in a sonata-allegro.”  Virgil glanced over at his brother, taking in the blank look at the musical term.  “That’s the usual form for the opening movement of a symphony.”  His eyes drifted closed as he played, and he sighed.  “I can hear them both in counterpoint, but I can’t play both at the same time and do them justice.  I’d need an orchestra for that.”
Dumbfounded at this revelation, Scott could only marvel at his brother’s musicality.  Here he was listening to these amazing musical creations that rendered larger than life, full-colour images in his mind, and Virgil was complaining that what he could do with the piano alone was not enough.  He didn’t think he could even imagine what this music must sound like inside Virgil’s head.
The music came to a stop and Virgil turned again to look up at Scott.
“The variations on these two themes would encompass something like what I hear for Grandma and Kayo, a little of Brains, some of Grandpa . . .” he turned away again, “then everything would come back to you and Dad.”
For a moment silence hung between them.  Virgil’s fingers flexed, as though the music within him was searching for a way out as they reached once again for the piano keys.  A new piece of music began.  This one slower, gentler, quieter in terms of movement if not exactly in terms of volume.  Scott felt this one was more thoughtful and emotional.  It brought to mind light and colour and had a sense of space, but it also somehow felt warm.
“Mom?” The smallest possible upward inflection made it a question, which was answered with another nod and the soft smile that made his little brother look so much like her.
The melody moved and changed, built, swelled, adding a complexity in the musical patterns reminiscent of a conversation, an exchanging of information.  The lightness now sparked imagery of stars. The feeling of space changed from that of a breeze in an open field to the vastness beyond Earth’s atmosphere. The gentleness was now reinforced with a sense of almost hidden strength – Scott thought that might’ve come from a stronger bass line, but he wasn’t sure.
“Is this . . . John?”
Virgil’s smile brightened.  “You’re good at this.”
“No, the music speaks for itself.  You’re the one painting these images of our family with notes and chords.”
The smile faltered as Virgil held the last chord, then he let his shoulders sink a little.  Scott silently cursed himself for bringing back that awkward self-consciousness in his brilliant brother, but before he could say anything Virgil spoke again.
“I guess they would be the second movement if this were a symphony.”  There was a brief pause, then he straightened back into his playing posture.  “No prizes for guessing who the third movement is.”
This piece of music was a jaunty, up-beat number that seemed designed to make people move – to dance, to tap their feet or clap along.  It definitely felt like a dance of some sort, and it contained hints of sea shanties, or maybe a sailor’s hornpipe.  It was the musical equivalent of laughter, sunshine, pure happiness, and it had a lilt that moved like the sea.
“Gordon!” Scott exclaimed with a laugh.
The comparatively brief third movement came to its conclusion, but Virgil barely paused before beginning what Scott guessed to be the fourth.
“And that leaves . . .” Virgil spoke softly as he began the final theme.
This one was in march tempo, strong, bright, driving forward with a sense of heroic purpose, and bringing back some of that swirling, soaring movement from earlier.  Scott could pick out hints of his own theme, and a faster version of parts of John’s, but the piece definitely had its own identity. There was a sense of urgency to it, as though the melody was trying to push the tempo into moving faster.
“Wow.  Alan would love this,” Scott found himself thinking aloud.
Virgil stopped playing after the end of the next phrase.
“There would be more.  If this was a symphony, I mean.  The fourth movement would bring in some more of the other main themes, tie everything together, finish with a bit of fanfare.”  Virgil was once again looking up at Scott, a mixture of curiosity and self-consciousness etched into his features.  “You really think Alan would like it?”
“Virgil,” Scott answered with a sigh and a shake of his head as he took the few strides over towards the piano stool, “it’s amazing.  All of it.  The whole symphony.”
Virgil gave a shrug and his brow creased a little.
“There’s a lot more to it in my mind.  Only so much can be translated through the piano.”
“Then orchestrate it.”
A sigh, a shake of the head and a hint of a smile was the only response.  Scott firmly planted a hand on his brother’s shoulder and piercing blue eyes locked gaze with warm brown ones.
“I mean it, Virgil.  Write your symphony.  Give it the life it deserves.”
Scott could see the struggle to find the right words as Virgil’s eyes struggled to hold with his.
“I . . . It’s not mine, Scott, it’s . . .” Virgil lost the battle to keep looking at the determined pride in his big brother’s blue eyes.  His gaze lowered and he focused on his hands.  “I mean . . . it’s all of you.  It’s not music I’ve created, it’s the music that you are.”  Then, almost too quiet to hear, “At least to me.”
“So, you don’t want to share it?”
“I don’t know.”
“You said this symphony isn’t yours.  I think you’re wrong.  It’s very much yours.  Something that you maybe want to hang onto, keeping it all for yourself.  And that’s okay.”  Scott shifted his grip, pulling his brother close.  “After all, this is family – The Tracy Family Symphony.  And if I’m the only one who ever gets to hear even this glimpse of what you carry in your heart, then I consider myself privileged.”
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