a little bit of worldbuilding never hurt anyone, right?

a secondary platform for my various thunderbirds headcanons, find me on ao3 @ Garden_of_Nineveh

[my-atlantic-inferno]

TAG: The Uninvited, 33/33 (!!!)

Epilogue 5/5: "One"

Links:

Main Story

Epilogues

After finishing my re-write of the original TOS episode 'The Uninvited', I felt the need to write a short epilogue to round up some of the issues that came up between the characters. I'd highly recommend reading that fic first, since this is intended as, you know, an epilogue. But technically? You're free to do what you like! Scott needs to find his feet again after the last week of chaos in the Egyptian Sahara. His family only want to help him, but will he let them? Each chapter focuses on Scott and another character. Sometimes they don't resolve the tension between them, sometimes they don't necessarily figure it out, but they don't need to. They just need to both agree to work on it for the benefit of each other.

“Go! Go! Go!” Scott shouted, leaning forward on the metal railing. His hands were gripped so tightly that his knuckles cracked. With wide eyes locked on the people below, every stride they took hammered into his mind. All those feet pounding into the ground like their very lives depended on this sprint.

Scott knew this was it; they just had to make it! They were so close!

The stadium erupted as Fa’amausili threw herself over the try line, rugby ball tucked securely under her arm. The echoing shrieks and cheers easily drowned out the commentators. Scott joined his brothers in their celebrations, jumping up and down, shaking each other silly with excitement. Even their stern bodyguard, Rangi, subtly fist-pumped at the side of his leg. Apparently even personal security officers couldn’t control their reactions when witnessing the Black Ferns obliterate Les Bleues on home soil.

“Wooo-hooo!” Gordon roared, clattering his inflatable batons together.

Enclosed within their private suite, John was jotting something down on a napkin, purposefully hiding it from Brains. They were probably making predictions on the game using their own calculated statistics. Personally, Scott thought it was pretty obvious that with only twenty minutes left and the huge lead the Black Ferns had, it wasn’t a matter of who would win, but how badly Les Bleues would lose. But his brother and their engineer were nothing if not meticulous. Next to him, Alan was beaming as he watched the teams set up for the conversion, literally vibrating with energy. Virgil had slumped back into his seat, satisfied to watch the ball sail over the posts while taking a long draw of his pina colada. Kayo had disappeared at half-time. Technically she was off-duty today, so perhaps she had sneaked closer to the pitch to get a better glimpse at her favourite sports team. And Grandma…

Scott paused and looked around their seating area. “Where’d Grandma go?”

“To get another round of drinks, I think.” Gordon answered, upper lip slightly foamy with beer.

“And none of you went to give her a hand?” Scott rolled his eyes and made his way to the door leading to the VIP bar.

“I’ll… Go…” Virgil tried, but wobbled a bit too much for Scott to trust him with a tray of drinks.

“I’ll go.” He decreed and passed Rangi with a nod, who was already radioing the rest of the on-site security team.

As he walked down the corridor, he felt the silent presence of Kiran – his personal bodyguard for all non-iR-related matters – fall in behind him. He recognised a couple of other VIPs, dressed in slick suits and custom dresses, but from their whispers and shocked expressions, everyone recognised him. Though, Scott considered, it wasn’t every day you saw the fourth richest man on the planet walk past in board shorts, a frayed t-shirt and flip-flops. EOS will be able to eat her heart out monitoring all the social media posts from the day.

Finally reaching the bar, he spotted Grandma easily in her bright purple jumpsuit, sitting on a stool and chatting with the bartender as they shined glasses. She had a half-empty glass of wine in front of her and smiled as Scott took a seat next to her.

“Ty, this is my eldest grandson, Scott! Scott, this is Ty; they’re studying economics at the university!” He shook their hand politely, though it was abundantly clear he needed no introduction.

“Erm… Nice to meet you, Mr. Tracy.” And then they rushed off to wipe down the spotless counter round the corner.

Scott leaned against the bar nonchalantly as Grandma took another sip from her glass. “Sooo, when you said you were getting more drinks, did you mean for everyone, or just yourself?”

“I’ll have you know that the staff needed to get more tomato juice for those drinks John likes.”

“John used to use water as a mixer, Grandma. Bloody Marys are an improvement!”

They settled companionably as Ty prepared the rest of the drinks. Pina colada for Virge, cider for the squid, a shot of tequila rose for Brains, and two bottles of L&P for Alan and himself. Technically his youngest brother was ‘designated pilot’, but since everyone would be pretty tipsy, he was staying sober in solidarity.

“I won’t lose you, Scott. You do know that, don’t you?” Grandma’s voice was low and quiet, barely above a whisper.

Scott looked uneasily towards her drink. “Grandma, maybe—”

“I’m not drunk, young man. I’ve been thinking about this for the last three weeks.” She looked round at him, curls bobbing gently and eyes sparkling clearly. “I’ve lost my husband, my daughter-in-law, and my son. I will not lose you too.”

“You’re not gonna lose me.” He agreed quickly, squeezing her hand. “You’re not gonna lose any of us.”

Scott knew he’d stressed his family (again) with everything that happened in the Sahara. He thought he’d talked everything through and all would be well when he returned to active duty in 36 hours. He hadn’t really discussed anything with Grandma, though. He hadn’t considered that she might need reassurance too, since she was always so confident and unflappable. But obviously she did! Anyone would in her situation.

“I promise.” He reaffirmed, giving her a small smile.

Scott knew she worried each and every time they responded to a rescue, but she never tried to stop them or dissuade them. She just accepted their choice and did her best to support them and keep them safe. At the thought, treacherous tears filled his eyes, and he involuntarily sniffed.

“I’m sorry, Grandma.” He forced out, sounding pathetic even to his own ears.

Grandma just put her glass down and pulled him over into a tight, back-breaking hug. “C’mere, Scooter. You’ve done nothing wrong. You’ve got a family who love and care about you more than you could ever know. Just remember that, and we’ll be okay, eh?”

But Scott couldn’t stop crying as he tightened his grip around her back. All the fear and panic and memories and guilt he’d felt these last three weeks poured out of him in the middle of a stadium bar. EOS will definitely be over the moon with this blackmail material. He wasn’t bawling his eyes out or sobbing dramatically, just letting his tears get soaked up in his grandma’s jumpsuit while a bartender expertly pulled a pint behind them.

“Aw, kiddo.” Grandma soothed softly into his ear. “You’re alright.”

“I’m twenty-eight.” He choked light-heartedly. “Hardly a kid anymore!”

She scoffed and leaned away to wave a finger in front of his damp face. “You’ll always be a baby to me, Scott Carpenter Tracy! I remember when your mother brought you home from the hospital. One look at you and I knew you’d be trouble.”

He laughed as he felt the rest of his tears recede as she continued. “Did you know that you learnt to jump before you could walk?! And then when you were running?! Me and your mother were being outpaced by a two-year-old!”

He hadn’t known that, but admittedly, it did sound like him. Scott shrugged helplessly. “Guess I’m still trouble, then?”

“Oh, you’re still trouble alright.” Grandma nodded absolutely before softening. “But the very best kind of trouble, kiddo.”

Hearing that, Scott thought he was at risk of another round of crying. But luckily, before either of them could say anything else, Alan burst through the doors of the bar with Kayo stumbling in after. Everyone but Kiran the bodyguard was startled.

“Scott!” His brother yelled across the space. “Kayo just got a High Five from the Black Ferns captain!”

His sister looked twitchy and stunned, staring at her own right hand like she didn’t recognise it as her own. It was the worst-kept secret on the Island that Kayo had a crush on the entire squad.

“Kayo, dear?” Grandma tried hesitantly.

Wide amber eyes looked towards them. “I’m never washing this hand again.” She hissed before throwing her arms up in celebration. “Yes!!”

And then as quick as she’d arrived, she was gone – tearing down the hall towards their private box. Alan watched her go and then shrugged. “Ooh, are these our drinks?”

He grabbed the tray Ty had left and headed off after Kayo without another word. Scott looked to Grandma, who seemed equally as shellshocked as he felt. Resigning himself to his fate, he held out a hand for her. “Shall we?”

She took it and grinned back up at him, wine glass in the other hand. “I guess so!”

As they got closer to their seats, Scott could hear the loud voices of his family. Alan was scolding Virgil for making him spill his L&P while Kayo was describing her interaction in excruciating detail to no-one in particular. John and Brains were arguing over the accuracy of their respective calculations. Virgil was… Singing? Poor Rangi must have been going insane!

But before Scott reached for the door handle, intent on wrangling his sibling, Grandma leaned up and placed a light kiss on his cheek. “Happy birthday, Scott.”

[my-atlantic-inferno]

TAG: The Uninvited, 32/33

Epilogue 4/5: "Two"

Links:

Main Story

Epilogues

After finishing my re-write of the original TOS episode 'The Uninvited', I felt the need to write a short epilogue to round up some of the issues that came up between the characters. I'd highly recommend reading that fic first, since this is intended as, you know, an epilogue. But technically? You're free to do what you like! Scott needs to find his feet again after the last week of chaos in the Egyptian Sahara. His family only want to help him, but will he let them? Each chapter focuses on Scott and another character. Sometimes they don't resolve the tension between them, sometimes they don't necessarily figure it out, but they don't need to. They just need to both agree to work on it for the benefit of each other.

“How’s that feel?” Virgil asked as he gently flexed Scott’s ankle backwards. His brother was lying on his back on a gym mat, trying and failing to hide his pain.

“Tense.” He gritted out before a sharp inhale.

Scott, being one of the luckiest people Virgil knew, had gotten through the whole flying-one-hundred-metres-on-a-damaged-jetpack-in-an-explosion-after-a-plane-crash thing almost unscathed. Three cracked ribs, bruised, exhausted, shaken, and mentally drained. But Virgil would take that over camping out at Auckland City Hospital, which is what he thought he’d be doing after seeing that pyramid go up like one of Grandma’s pies. After one and a half weeks of downtime, even the injuries he did have weren’t bothering him as much. But that ankle just wouldn’t get with the programme.

“I can feel a lot of resistance.” Virgil agreed, beginning a deep tissue massage around the joint. Scott draped a forearm over his eyes and all but moaned in relief.

Truthfully, Virgil knew there was nothing physically wrong with the ankle. Well, apart from the metal pins going through it, but even they were in perfect condition. The extensive set of scans he’d done showed no fractures, no ligament or tendon tears, no bruising, and no general inflammation. He suspected the pain might be psychological, brought on by recent trauma. But that didn’t mean Scott wasn’t experiencing pain which deserved to be treated. Occasionally, he’d even noticed his brother use the handrails to get up the stairs – if that wasn’t a sign of real pain, he didn’t know what was. Maybe the massage might help relax all the muscles and stringy bits which had subconsciously tightened.

As Virgil pressed a knuckle into his Achilles, Scott inhaled sharply again. “You surviving down there?” He asked.

But Scott didn’t reply, and as he took another breath, Virgil saw his chest jump and heard a hitching rasp from his throat. Suddenly his medic senses were tingling. “Scott…?”

His brother’s inhalations were becoming fiercer, while his exhalations were getting shorter until Virgil wasn’t sure any air was actually leaving his lungs. Hyperventilation. Once he let go of Scott’s leg, they both bent up and pushed against the gym mat, every muscle taut.

“Sh…Shit…” Came a gasp, watery and trembling.

Virgil cursed himself and dropped down next to Scott. “This is a panic attack.” He said, not entirely sure who he was telling. “Try to breathe as deeply as you can, Scooter. Can I help you get into a better position?”

He barely caught the strangled “...Kay-”. But once he was sure Scott had agreed, he wrangled him onto his knees, forearms braced against the mat, forehead leaning on his arms. Throughout, Virgil kept a hand on his back and could feel his brother’s heart pounding like a racehorse, ribcage expanded to maximum but still not letting enough oxygen in. Scott’s face was wet with tears, but now wasn’t really the time to comment on that.

“You’re alright.” He tried to soothe. “You’re safe.”

Clearly his efforts didn’t impress Scott, as he managed to shoot Virgil a scathing look before blue eyes clenched shut as his chest shuddered erratically. On his wrist, Virgil’s watch vibrated, probably alerting him that Scott’s biometrics were tanking. Fine.

“Scott, if you don’t get your breathing under control, you’re gonna pass out.” He told his brother firmly, listening to the gasps filling the gym. Another shudder rattled through his body. “That adrenaline is hitting you no matter what. For once in your life, don’t fight it. Ride it out.”

Virgil was desperately trying not to freak out himself. He hated seeing Scott shake into a million pieces because his brain decided his body was under attack. Virgil had sat through countless panic attacks with John, Alan, Kayo and Brains. He and Gordon didn’t really experience them, more the I’m-so-stressed-I-can’t-open-my-mouth-let-alone-eat-anything anxiety. This wasn’t even the first panic attack he’d seen Scott have! But he still hated it. It never got easier. But in a tiny, tiny part of his heart, Virgil was glad he got to be here in this moment. Of course he wished his big brother wasn’t struggling to breathe, but Scott allowing him to be there was a gift itself. So while Virgil really wished that it didn’t have to be him, he will always bear it. Because if he was here, listening to Scott cry and try to regain control, it meant he didn’t have to worry about him going through it alone.

The fourth time he tried, Scott managed a deeper breath and maintained it long enough to follow up with an equally long exhale. Then again. And again. Virgil’s watch stopped buzzing, and he ran his hand up and down Scott’s bony spine.

“Good job. Just keep that going for me.”

Gradually, the shuddering exhales evened out, and within three minutes, Scott’s breathing returned to his normal range. Definitely at the top of his range, like when he gets back after running negative splits, but still in range. The whole attack lasted just over ten minutes, but it was clear Scott was sweaty, shaky, and utterly exhausted.

“Ugh…” He groaned, slumping back down onto the mats.

“Well, that was fun and interesting.” Virgil sighed unhappily, also tired from the experience. Beside him, Scott cocked him an incredulous eyebrow. Despite his breathing recovering his body was shivering with excess adrenaline.

“Would you prefer I said it was terrifying and awful?” He asked, to which his brother frowned. “Thought not.”

He was kind and gave Scott a few more minutes lying on the floor before he moved. “C’mon, we’ve earned a nap.”

Virgil grabbed one of Scott’s clammy hands and acted as a counterweight to get him onto his feet. He noticed his brother wasn’t favouring his ‘bad’ ankle and added it to his list of things to consider after a nap. That, along with what could have triggered Scott, and ‘holy-mole-in-a-mudslide-that-was-horrific-to-watch’. Thankfully, Scott didn’t argue as Virgil led him into the lift and down the corridor to the bedrooms. He pulled Scott into his own room, deposited him on the bed with a firm ‘stay’ before heading to Scott’s suite. Having located his earplugs and some clean clothes, he returned. Unsurprisingly, Scott had not stayed where he was and had gone to the bathroom, locking the door. Virgil could hear the tap running.

“You alright?” He called with a knock, stamping down his panic.

“Yeah.” A slightly breathless reply. “Just…taking a second.”

“I’ve got some fresh clothes for you, come out when you’re ready. Oh, and please use some of my deodorant. You stink!” He didn’t hear whatever reply Scott muttered back as he turned to get the bed ready.

Eventually, a less sweaty, nicer-smelling brother emerged. “I don’t need a nap, Virge.”

“Ha.” He responded sarcastically. “You sound like a toddler.”

Scott opened his mouth to complain, but his body betrayed him and fell into a jaw-popping yawn. Virgil knew if he made a demand, Scott wouldn’t be able to comply, so he chose his next best strategy: The Stare.

“Fine, I’ll lie down, but I won’t fall asleep.” A whole-body shudder raced through him.

“You don’t need to.” He agreed easily, handing over the earplugs. “Do you want the weighted blanket?”

“No, I’ll be fine witho—”

“But would you be better with it?” C’mon Scooter, allow yourself some comfort! Virgil didn’t like weighted blankets, but he kept the one Brains gifted them all. He knew Scott loved his and used it even in sweltering heat, giving him all the proprioceptive input he needed. He’d described it once as being able to relax knowing that his body was being held together and that his limbs wouldn’t float off like clouds the moment he stopped concentrating. ‘Helping him stay grounded’ – that was Virgil’s self-appointed job after all.

Very reluctantly, Scott agreed, and once Virgil had it set up on Scott’s half of the bed, he slipped in the other. Now closer, he heard Scott sigh quietly as he wriggled to let the heavy cover settle over him, pushing him into the mattress. The position looked pretty uncomfortable in his opinion, but Virgil tended to sleep on his back – like a corpse, according to Gordon. He smiled to himself when he registered soft breath tickling his ear. Scott was asleep before he even remembered he was supposed to be resisting Virgil’s plan. In other words, a highly successful plan. He’d congratulate himself later, first he had his own nap to be getting on with.

[greggorysshocktheater]

[katblu42]

You know what’s awesome about this picture?

Gordon looks like a little kid who gets up on Christmas morning the moment the sun rises and races downstairs to open his presents - pyjamas and bed-hair and all.

But everyone else looks like they’ve been up for hours, taken time to dress up, probably already eaten a big Christmas lunch and are now gathering together to exchange gifts

Gordon is Christmas morning with little kids in the house. Everyone else is Christmas for grown-ups, gathering together at grandma’s house or something.

[idontknowreallywhy]

John is delighted to be pulling a cracker with his Father even if said father refuses to look at him or the cracker

[my-atlantic-inferno]

Lady Penelope is distracted from her own cracker by the awful sounds Scott is making with the guitar he just unwrapped. Clearly Jeff has forgotten which of his sons is the musical one. If she times it right, she can rip it out of his hands and smash it on the floor. Parker already knows he'll be cleaning up the mess.

[my-atlantic-inferno]

TAG: The Uninvited, 31/33

Epilogue 3/5: "Three"

Links:

Main Story

Epilogues

After finishing my re-write of the original TOS episode 'The Uninvited', I felt the need to write a short epilogue to round up some of the issues that came up between the characters. I'd highly recommend reading that fic first, since this is intended as, you know, an epilogue. But technically? You're free to do what you like! Scott needs to find his feet again after the last week of chaos in the Egyptian Sahara. His family only want to help him, but will he let them? Each chapter focuses on Scott and another character. Sometimes they don't resolve the tension between them, sometimes they don't necessarily figure it out, but they don't need to. They just need to both agree to work on it for the benefit of each other.

“You have control.” Alan announced.

“I have control.” Scott responded confidently as he gracefully took control of the yoke on his side of the cockpit. The hair on the back of Alan’s neck was still tingling with Kayo sitting behind them both - even though it was actually Scott she was assessing.

Their sister had demanded that Scott do a formal flight assessment before being allowed back in ‘One. He had argued, because he was Scott. But because Kayo was Kayo, she’d called him out. ‘If he was so sure it was unnecessary, then a little flight in the Cessna would be easy.’ With no way to back out, Scott had submitted. For Alan, watching the exchange had been like a tennis match until Kayo had roped him into her plot.

They had completed take-off without a hitch and rose to Kayo’s set altitude, following the flight path she’d laid out to a tee.

“Soo…” He began. “Anyone wanna play ‘I Spy’?”

“If the assessor allows it.” Scott replied a little snarkily.

“Denied.”

“Aw, what?!” Alan moaned, turning in his seat intending to pout. But Kayo looked stern, a lot more serious than the situation really demanded.

“This is a formal assessment. Not a joke.”

Even Scott tried his luck. “C’mon Kayo, lighten up!”

“No!” She snapped at them both. “I’m Head of Security, and we just had two security incidents in two weeks. If I just sit back and do nothing, whose to say this won’t happen again!”

Alan got the feeling Kayo had said more than she’d intended.

“You know you couldn’t have anticipated those fighter jets.” Scott tried more softly, probably feeling as bad as Alan did for teasing her when she was stressed out.

“I should have been keeping tabs on groups hostile to the GDF!”

“But didn’t your contact say that their existence hadn’t even been confirmed?” Alan countered.

“I still should have done something! Anything!”

“Like what, Kayo?” Scott pushed, and Alan sensed another sibling tennis match building. “Like arrive first on scene after the crash? Like call in a very big favour to find out who we were dealing with? Like continuing to help those people negotiate with the World Council?”

“I just—!” She took a breath and Alan imagined her counting to ten. “I just want you to be safe, Scott. It’s my job.”

“So this assessment is…?”

“Using every strategy I know to verify your security. I need to cover all my bases. I need to know that I’ve done everything I can.”

“You’re not responsible for what happened.” Scott told her, keeping his eyes rigorously trained on the sky around the Cessna.

“Sometimes knowing that doesn’t make you feel better.” Alan was shocked when he realised that he’d spoken. He wanted to defend his big sister because what Scott didn’t know was that he and Kayo had talked about this only a few days ago. He’d admitted to her that he’d felt useless for the last fortnight, and she had shockingly said the same.

“Allie?”

“Kayo’s right, Scott. When you crashed and we didn’t even know where you were, or who’d done it, or when you left again? It was like we failed you.” His brother looked absolutely heartbroken but Alan chanelled his inner Kyrano and held his ground. “But when I flew you home in ‘One, I felt like I was doing something helpful.”

“You were—”

“I know. But the important this was that I felt useful, you know? Like I’d finally found an area where I could help. And then I felt better about myself. That’s what Kayo is doing now!”

“So no ‘I Spy’, then?” Scott joked quietly and Alan noticed even Kayo smirked behind her assessment tablet.

They flew in a silence that Alan was surprised he didn’t find awkward. Scott completed all of Kayo’s tasks and deviations perfectly. After all, Alan thought, his brother was, like, the best pilot ever. The little Cessna’s engine kept puttering along, and he found it a bit silly that they’d had to do such a long assessment when ‘One could have been halfway across the world and back by now. Still, the extra time gave Alan an opportunity to build up the courage to admit something else to Scott.

“It was really scary.” He forced out. “All that stuff in Egypt.”

If Kayo hadn't dictated Scott keep both hands on the yoke, Alan was sure he would have reached over. “Sometimes scary stuff happens, Sprout. We’ve dealt with it, and I’m really proud of how well you coped.”

Alan frowned. “I cried like seven times.”

“So? When you were needed, you reacted. It doesn’t matter if you cried, does it Kayo?”

“Not at all.”

“And I’ll tell you the truth?” Scott continued. “I was really scared, too. I didn’t know what was happening, and then I was making decisions without really knowing why. I had to rely on you all, and that was hard for me to accept. But you didn’t let me down, none of you did.”

Behind him, Kayo inhaled sharply, voice sounding suspiciously wet. “Alright, let’s go home.”

Were it any other day, Alan would have asked her if her hay fever was acting up. But since he also might need an antihistamine, he elected to stay quiet. The landing was equally flawless as they coasted to a smooth stop on Thunderbird Two’s runway and taxied into the hangar.

“Hey, g-guys!” Brains greeted the three of them as they climbed out of Ladybird the Cessna. “Everything went well I-I ta-ke it?”

“He passed.” Kayo agreed, before squinting at Scott playfully. “This time.”

The engineer beamed and took a firm hold of Scott’s arm. “In t-tha-that case I have some new ideas for your h-helmet!” And then MAX was corralling the two of them away, giving Scott only enough time for a bemused wave.

“Hey, Al?” Kayo called as she finished storing the plane up. “Thanks for having my back up there.”

“It was nothing.”

“It wasn’t.” His sister insisted. “And saying what you said to Scott? Pretty brave.”

Before he could really process it, her arms were around his body and Alan rested his head on her shoulder as his own arms gripped around her back tightly.

“Are you hugging…voluntarily?” He couldn’t help but ask, just in case this was a new sneak-attack-ninja move she was testing.

“One word to anyone else and you’re dead, got it?”

But Alan just relaxed into her embrace, the end of her ponytail tickling his nose.

“Thanks, Kayo.” He whispered back.

[my-atlantic-inferno]

TAG: The Uninvited, 30/33

Epilogue 2/5: "Four"

Links:

Main Story

Epilogues

After finishing my re-write of the original TOS episode 'The Uninvited', I felt the need to write a short epilogue to round up some of the issues that came up between the characters. I'd highly recommend reading that fic first, since this is intended as, you know, an epilogue. But technically? You're free to do what you like! Scott needs to find his feet again after the last week of chaos in the Egyptian Sahara. His family only want to help him, but will he let them? Each chapter focuses on Scott and another character. Sometimes they don't resolve the tension between them, sometimes they don't necessarily figure it out, but they don't need to. They just need to both agree to work on it for the benefit of each other.

When Gordon had convinced Scott to go surfing with him that morning – rather than more running – he’d been praying to Poseidon, Neptune, Njӧrðr, and Tangaroa that they wouldn’t get into another argument. Then he had to open his big mouth.

“Hey! You’ve finally got some sea to go along with all that sun and sand!” He called as they paddled out to reach some bigger waves.

Thankfully, Scott had laughed and agreed, splashing him with water. But Gordon hadn’t reciprocated the water fight, riddled with regret that he’d brought up the last two weeks at all.

“Sorry.” He sighed. He was useless at this.

His brother frowned. “Sorry for what?”

“I thought you didn’t want to mention anything about… what happened? You’re just trying to have normalcy, and all I do is throw it back in your face!”

Scott was looking worriedly over at him, but Gordon couldn’t bring himself to return his gaze, knowing he’d see that astonished anger Scott had had last time. But then he felt him grab the side of his board and tug them both closer together as they bobbed on the waves.

“When I said I wanted normalcy, I meant I didn’t want my family to walk on eggshells around me. I knew that my PTSD was acting up, but I needed stability and routine to get it back under control, not to be wrapped in cotton wool.”

Gordon pursed his lips, eyes fixed on the deep blue below and the sensation of his ankle leash being pulled around by the odd currents. “I didn’t understand. We just made it worse, didn’t we?”

“Not worse.” Scott reassured, because of course he’s comforting Gordon right now. “I felt guilty that you all thought you had to treat me that way. Delicately. Dad was the same after Bereznik.”

He coughed in shock and whipped round to face his brother, mouth open in suspense. His wet hair slapped soggily against his forehead. But Scott was just smiling ruefully.

“You can say it, you know? Bereznik. I’m not gonna freak out just because I hear the name of a country I fly over almost every week.”

“But—”

“I don’t like to think about my time there and definitely wouldn’t appreciate it being brought up in general conversation. But you don’t need to avoid it.”

Gordon shook his head in disbelief. No way. That unwritten rule was ingrained too deeply.

“I promise nothing bad will happen, Squid.”

“...Bereznik?” He felt soooo stupid just saying it in isolation, staring at Scott as if he might have uttered a spell to make his brother disappear. Unfortunately, he must have had an equally stupid expression on his face because Scott gasped dramatically and patted his head and torso in mocking relief.

“I’m still here?!”

Gordon tipped him off his board without hesitation. “Shut up.” He mumbled, embarrassed but secretly basking in their brotherly antics. He’d kinda forgotten that Scott could be a menace when he was in the mood.

Once Scott had climbed back up, he sighed beneath his soaking hair. Gordon watched him scan the horizon line, where sea became sky. “You know it was never my idea to turn Bereznik into a taboo? It was dad’s… After I came home, he didn’t really know what to do with me?”

His brother sounded like he wasn’t sure of his own words. Like he was guessing their dad’s motivations. And from what Gordon remembered of dad, he was never particularly forthcoming in that regard.

“I was seeing my therapist. Maybe he figured since I was talking about it there, I didn’t want to talk about it at home. And I don’t. Not really. But I understand when I need to.”

“And none of us would.” Gordon concluded softly.

“You were scared. Bereznik traumatised you lot, too. I didn’t want to bring that up with you, so I waited for you to come to me. When even you and Allie never mentioned anything, I figured dad must’ve spoken to you all?”

He remembered that night before Scott came home from Stuttgart Medical. Dad had summoned everyone and given them a lecture of dos and don’ts. At the time Gordon had assumed that dad knew best and that this was what Scott had wanted. Now he was beginning to realise his big brother hadn’t gotten much say in the matter.

“He was very clear.” Gordon nodded. “No-one is to mention…Bereznik… Ever.”

Scott’s smile went sad. “Sounds like him. He was just trying to protect me. But that’s not what I needed. Do you understand?”

Dad had banned… Bereznik…to ensure Scott’s PTSD hadn’t been accidentally triggered. But in doing so, Scott felt like he had no-one to talk to and was pressured to hide any sign of an oncoming episode to spare his family more pain. Seeing them rush to hold his hand and wipe his nose at the smallest whiff of a wobble had only made Scott feel isolated.

“So when you say you want things to be ‘normal’?”

Scott swept his wet hair back like a shampoo model. “I guess I don’t want you to treat me differently compared to when there’s not been a trigger? Not unless I specifically ask. But I also want you all to feel like you’re able to talk to me about it too. About Bereznik, or the Sahara, or anything else. Is that okay?”

“Yeah!” Gordon was quick to answer. “Yeah, that’s fine! Well, not – you know – ‘great’ fine. But I understand and of course we can—”

“Come up for air, Squid.”

He took a gulp. “Thanks for explaining.”

“Honestly, I’m just glad we got through that relatively painlessly. I’m sorry for shouting the other day. And then eavesdropping on your comms.”

Gordon raised an eyebrow. “And then running away and nearly getting blown up in an ancient pyramid?”

“Yeah, that too… I guess.”

“You guess?! You have nooo idea how many dirty looks Virgil has given me!”

Scott laughed, and Gordon played up his exasperation just to keep his brother grinning.

“Think you have it bad? How many dirty looks do you think Virge has given me!? And John! And Alan!”

“Pfft. Alan isn’t old enough to give dirty looks!”

Scott was near pleading his case. “That’s what I thought too! But no! It was killer, dude!”

By that point Gordon was in hysterics thinking about their little brother trying to give Scott a death glare. He was almost tempted to provoke him just to witness it for himself. Vaguely he realised they had completely forgotten about getting in any actual surfing but found he didn’t actually mind that much.

[my-atlantic-inferno]

TAG: The Uninvited, 29/33

Epilogue 1/5: "Five"

Links:

Main Story

Epilogues

After finishing my re-write of the original TOS episode 'The Uninvited', I felt the need to write a short epilogue to round up some of the issues that came up between the characters. I'd highly recommend reading that fic first, since this is intended as, you know, an epilogue. But technically? You're free to do what you like! Scott needs to find his feet again after the last week of chaos in the Egyptian Sahara. His family only want to help him, but will he let them? Each chapter focuses on Scott and another character. Sometimes they don't resolve the tension between them, sometimes they don't necessarily figure it out, but they don't need to. They just need to both agree to work on it for the benefit of each other.

John had decided that today was the day he’d return to Thunderbird Five. He’d been dirtside for two whole weeks, the longest consecutive period on Earth since the Zero-X. But if he didn’t go soon, he knew his procrastination would keep pushing the deadline further and further away.

Besides, he was concerned that by hanging around on the Island, Scott might think John doesn’t trust him. That he needs to be watched or minded by the second brother just in case he… absconds again. But John does trust Scott. He trusts him with almost everything, just not his own wellbeing. His big brother certainly wasn’t suicidal by any means, but it was no secret that he valued his own life below his family. It was a fact John didn't particularly like to think about and normally placed it far away in his brain with other thoughts that made him want to hum nervously.

So, he’d informed the rest of the inhabitants of his plan a few nights ago, and while they seemed to take the news well, John has been feeling more and more anxious as the hours ticked down.

Deciding that a comfort bagel might be in order, as he often struggled to differentiate between stress and hunger, he made his way through the villa towards the kitchen. When he noticed Scott alone on the balcony watching the sunset, though, he felt the need to stop. His brother had been doing a lot better in the past few days, shaking off the groggy exhaustion of being caught in an exploding pyramid and had seemed more resigned to completing his new two-week leave. Perhaps it was because everyone had made an effort to let Scott choose the pace of his recovery, rather than try to slow him down. The result had been interesting, to say the least. Scott had periods where he behaved typically, making updates to ‘One, mediating between the Terrible Two’s latest prank war, and abseiling cliffs on the other side of the island at dawn. But there were other times when he would sink into himself, wander quietly on the beach, and massage his bad ankle as though the joint hadn’t been near-perfectly healed for seven years. So when John caught Scott leaning quietly on the balcony railing surveying the night sky, John had abandoned his Bagel Quest and headed over.

“Can I ask what you’re thinking about?” He questioned as he got closer.

Scott didn’t flinch but frowned as though he wasn’t sure how to answer. “Walruses.”

The eventual answer made John pause. It certainly wasn’t what he was expecting to hear. “The scientific name for walrus is Odobenus rosmarus which means ‘tooth-walking sea-horse.’”

“That’s not very accurate for a scientific name.” Scott commented with a small smile in his direction. But John was determined not to let Scott change his original line of inquiry by offering an info-dumping opportunity on binomial nomenclature.

“What made you think about walruses?”

“I think I was thinking about the crash? The one two weeks ago.” He specified quickly. “And I remembered having to drag myself out of ‘One through this hole in the cockpit before the fire reached me.”

John’s rigorously logical mind was whirring to find any kind of connection. “And the walruses were involved how…?”

“Well, I wasn’t very graceful about it!” Scott laughed at himself, cheeks turned pink with faint embarrassment. “And I remembered thinking that I probably looked like a walrus trying to get onto the beach, like in those documentaries? But, obviously there are no walruses in Egypt and…” He trailed off and shrugged helplessly.

John mirrored the action. “Walruses.” He concluded.

He sat with the information for a moment, knowing his brother wouldn’t judge him for his silent processing. Scott’s ADHD manifested in many different ways, with the impulsivity and demand avoidance being two of the biggest indicators. But he was usually pretty successful at tracing his associative thinking back to the root stimulus. In John’s opinion, it’s what made him such a good first responder – that his mind explored dozens of tangential ideas simultaneously to consider an appropriate strategy. Scott wasn’t thinking about walruses; he was thinking about escaping a burning aircraft injured and disorientated. But maybe this lack of masked thinking was a remnant of the last couple of weeks? Or maybe this was Scott testing the waters, seeing how John reacted to him when he wasn’t straightforward? Either way, he needed to ensure his response was accepting and reassuring.

“Walruses are incredibly resilient animals. They’ve developed many different behaviours to increase their chances of survival.” Was what he settled on.

Scott face-palmed with a groan. “Sorry, I’ve just realised how random that was.”

“You don’t need to apologise. You’re just being yourself.” Something you hardly ever allow yourself.

“O-oh.” He huffed a patronising laugh. “Just unbearable, then?”

John hated when Scott did this, but he knew he wasn’t to blame for his own internalised ableism. It was mum who helped Scott manage his ADHD, and when she was gone, dad hadn’t known what to do. Scott’s teachers said he was disruptive and unfocused. Dad shouted and grounded him. Scott shouted back, obviously. Finally, dad told him he’d never get into the Air Force with his attitude, and that’s when John began to notice the masking becoming more and more frequent. At school. At Resuce Scouts. At home. Until the other brothers barely remembered how Scott used to be. So yes, John hated it when Scott masked around him, but he hated whoever put that word in his mouth more – whoever told his brother he was ‘unbearable’ being himself.

“You’re not 'unbearable', Scott.” He had to reply. “Don’t force yourself to be someone you’re not. Not around me and the others.”

Because Alan was so accepting of who he was with ADHD, although he leaned more towards the hyperactivity and mind-wandering flavours than Scott did. And John knew that Alan’s confidence came from the way Scott raised him. Scott ensured that their baby brother never felt ashamed for being himself and strongly discouraged him from masking behaviour. John remembered when he and Virgil last talked with Scott about trialling some medication. Alan had had a prescription since he was quite young, but Scott had been vehemently against it himself. True, when Scott was Alan’s age, the World Council excluded anyone taking ADHD medication from pilot training. He’d had to jump through a lot of hoops to prove that his unmedicated diagnosis wasn’t ‘bad’ enough to prevent responsible flight behaviour. But that had all changed by the time Alan registered. Taking a World Council-approved medication, their little brother had faced almost no challenges. When John and Virgil had brought it up with Scott, he’d fallen into an anxiety attack at the thought of it, and neither of them had been brave enough to return to the topic.

“Sometimes it’s a habit. A bad habit, I know. But right now I just want my brain to do as I tell it.” Deep within his shinkansen-of-thought, John hadn’t noticed Scott turning around and resting his back against the balcony railing.

“Still feeling a little unravelled?”

“Mmm.”

“Do you want me to stay?” John offered, willing to postpone his return to ‘Five a few more days for Scott to balance himself out.

“I always want you to stay, Johnny. But I don’t need you to.” His big brother smiled in understanding. He would never keep him from space.

And John trusted Scott, so he smiled back, nudged his shoulder, and returned to finding that bagel. He'd even forgive the nickname on the grounds of recent trauma. “Don’t let the walruses keep you up all night.”

[my-atlantic-inferno]

TAG: The Uninvited, 28/33

(ao3 link)

Rating: Teen and Up

Characters: Scott Tracy, John Tracy, Virgil Tracy, Gordon Tracy, Alan Tracy, Kayo Kyrano, Brains, Grandma Tracy, Wilson, Lindsey, Lucille Tracy (mentioned), Jeff Tracy (mentioned)

Summary: I love TOS/TAG with all my heart, but I really wished they'd done a TAG version of The Uninvited. Get rid of the guns and the (kinda accidental?) ethnic genocide, and it's a great ep, and the new dynamics of TAS would have only improved it. Like what do you mean your big brother has been shot down, and everyone is kinda like 'gee! wonder if he's dead or not? golly how darn frustrating'. So I decided to take matters into my own hands. And sprinkled some of my favourite fanon/headcanons in there for good measure.

Despite the overall seriousness of the whole situation, Brains found it absolutely fascinating from an anthropological perspective. To think that these people had retrofitted an ancient pyramid with 21st Century technology and proceeded to keep their existence a secret for two decades! A truly marvellous example of human ingenuity and perseverance!

“Brains?” Kayo was looking at him over the dinner table.

It was only 48 hours since the explosion of the Khamandides Pyramid, but the entire Tracy family had gathered around the table to force down Grandma’s latest concoction. Luckily, Virgil had stopped by a supermarket to pick up some edible desserts. During that time, Brains had hastily reinstalled EOS’ software package into ‘One, and then closely followed developments in the Sahara.

“Oh, p-pardon me. Where w-w-was I?”

“The Followers of Kharga?” John prompted, looking positively enthralled next to him. Brains doubted he hadn’t also been following the reports but would most likely be wanting another scientific perspective.

“Fffff- Conflict in the area b-between 2039 and 2042 led to the oasssssis death that this particular tribe relied on.” He recapped. “Th-they discovered the underground aquifer under the pyram-mid and began usssing the water.”

“The Eternal Fountain.” Scott offered in understanding, a piece of apple pie on his fork.

“Exactly. They t-turned the pyramid into an ind-d-dustrial compound to support the development of their community living a-about thirty miles south.”

“And the defence of their community.” Gordon stressed. Having learnt the circumstances surrounding the ‘oval-marked’ fighters, he had relented in his vendetta. That wasn’t to say this Tracy had completely dropped his grudge.

“But what’s happening to them now?” Asked Alan as he shovelled the last remaining ice cream into his mouth.

“No talking while chewing, young man.” Grandma scolded. “Go ahead, Brains.”

“W-well, Alan, the Bishari representative of the Gl-llobal Nomadic Network is consulting with the World Council. Preliminary scans have ssshhown that the aquifer remains viable. Once the area has been d-declared free of hazardous material, the Followers of Kharga ca-can return iffff they w-want.”

Virgil frowned. “Wasn’t it the World Council who caused the death of the first oasis and didn’t help the community in the first place?”

“Q-quite. Since the formation of the GNN and N-nomadic Rights Act, there are much sssstricter guidelines for these situations. The Followers of Kharga w-w-will have stewardship of the environment.”

“But their ballistic firearms are being confiscated.” Kayo confirmed. “And they forfeit their stewardship if they manufacture any more hazardous substances.”

Everyone sat quietly for a few moments, and Brains wondered if he had accidentally overloaded them with information. Secretly, he was just happy everyone had returned from Egypt safe and sound, more or less. In the back of his mind he still had at least five different design changes for the iR helmets to narrow down, but despite his usual introversion, he was enjoying sitting around the table with his family. The weather on Tracy Island was bright and vibrant, sunshine gleaming in from the glass ceiling of the villa. The sound of wildlife that usually made him cringe provided a peaceful white noise to their meal and meant that even when no-one spoke there was never true silence.

Eventually Scott nodded. “As good an ending as we were going to get.”

[my-atlantic-inferno]

TAG: The Uninvited, 27/33

(ao3 link)

Rating: Teen and Up

Characters: Scott Tracy, John Tracy, Virgil Tracy, Gordon Tracy, Alan Tracy, Kayo Kyrano, Brains, Grandma Tracy, Wilson, Lindsey, Lucille Tracy (mentioned), Jeff Tracy (mentioned)

Summary: I love TOS/TAG with all my heart, but I really wished they'd done a TAG version of The Uninvited. Get rid of the guns and the (kinda accidental?) ethnic genocide, and it's a great ep, and the new dynamics of TAS would have only improved it. Like what do you mean your big brother has been shot down, and everyone is kinda like 'gee! wonder if he's dead or not? golly how darn frustrating'. So I decided to take matters into my own hands. And sprinkled some of my favourite fanon/headcanons in there for good measure.

Alan thought he’d never not get excited about flying Thunderbird One. Sure, when ‘Three was in space, she went nearly 3,000,000mph, but that was in zero gravity – without any of the fun stuff you get in atmospheric flight. It definitely didn’t feel that fast in the comparative emptiness of space. ‘One was faster than ‘Three in atmosphere anyway. And Alan could feel that! Through the glass-bottomed cockpit, the planet appeared and disappeared faster than he could comprehend. Also, this was Scotty’s rocket. How could Alan not love her!? He'd been watching his big brother save people with her since he was 8 years old! Every time he sat in the red pilot seat and gripped those controls, he felt Scott guiding his hands like the first time he’d ever let Alan fly his Cessna.

“Hey,” he called back to where Scott sat in the passenger seat behind him. “Wanna play ‘I Spy’?”

But Scott didn’t reply, and Alan was just a little too nervous to look away from the horizon line.

“Scooooott?” He called louder but still didn’t hear a response. Virgil and Gordon had assured him that Scott had miraculously escaped that huge explosion with nothing more than cracked ribs and bruises. That was not helping quell Alan’s building panic, though.

“Scott?!”

He definitely didn’t jump when John’s holo-image appeared in front of him. “Alan,” he greeted calmly. “It’s alright, he’s just asleep.”

“Asleep?” Should Scott be allowed to sleep? Should Alan wake him up?

“Yes, asleep. That’s fine. In fact, it means he feels safe enough to relax. Which is really good, okay?”

He swallowed. “Okay.”

“You’re doing a great job, Allie. You’ve only got ten minutes to go. Do you want me to stay with you?”

“Erm,” he checked his status screens again. “That’s okay, John. I’ve got this.”

“You do.” His brother agreed seriously. “See you soon, Thunderbird One.”

And then he was gone. Alan took a deep breath to keep himself centred and refocused on the Pacific Ocean rushing past him. John had called him ‘Thunderbird One’ and Alan couldn’t help but smile shyly. He desperately wanted to lead a mission like Scott did. True, he wished he hadn’t been put in this position because his brother wasn’t able to fly himself home, but Alan also saw it as an opportunity to prove himself. He was the youngest, but here he was taking care of Scott, taking responsibility, making sure his big brother was safe in the sky.

He knew he’d have to apologise to Grandma for shouting before he’d left with Virgil and Gordon. Last week, he’d been left behind, and he never wanted to experience that helplessness ever again. He knew he was young, still a kid, but that doesn’t mean he needed to be shielded from every ugly situation. Last week, he hadn’t done anything to help. He’d felt so useless waiting for everyone to get back. But this time, he had helped, had contributed. He had reassured himself of his abilities and felt something he very rarely felt when he was working directly with his brothers. Confidence.

Scott needed someone to get him home.

And so that’s what Alan did.

Tracy Island appeared on his flight radar like a beacon as he began gradual deceleration. “Thunderbird One to Tracy Island.” He announced. “Coming in for final approach.”

He could even hear the smile in John’s voice. “F.A.B. Thunderbird One. Welcome home.”

[my-atlantic-inferno]

TAG: The Uninvited, 26/33

(ao3 link)

Rating: Teen and Up

Characters: Scott Tracy, John Tracy, Virgil Tracy, Gordon Tracy, Alan Tracy, Kayo Kyrano, Brains, Grandma Tracy, Wilson, Lindsey, Lucille Tracy (mentioned), Jeff Tracy (mentioned)

Summary: I love TOS/TAG with all my heart, but I really wished they'd done a TAG version of The Uninvited. Get rid of the guns and the (kinda accidental?) ethnic genocide, and it's a great ep, and the new dynamics of TAS would have only improved it. Like what do you mean your big brother has been shot down, and everyone is kinda like 'gee! wonder if he's dead or not? golly how darn frustrating'. So I decided to take matters into my own hands. And sprinkled some of my favourite fanon/headcanons in there for good measure.

Lindsey woke to see their discovery floating down from the sky around them. The dust that clogged the air and obscured the light blue sky was all that was left of the Lost Pyramid of Khamandides.

“No…” They moaned softly, though they were far too dehydrated for any tears to form.

Beside them, there were voices talking. “Definitely heat stroke… Hydration shot should start working soon… Hospital…”

Then Wilson was leaning over them, peering into their face with concern. “I’m sorry, Lindsey, but the pyramid was never really ours to discover in the end.”

Wilson and that iR operative from last week – the one who flew Thunderbird Two – helped them sit up in the sand. Lindsey saw dozens of other people who were in similar positions, stumbling around, sitting, or lying amongst the debris. Wilson looked free from injury, just sweaty and in shock about what he’d been through. To be truthful, Lindsey barely remembered anything past their arrival at the dry oasis earlier in the day. It was like waking from a nightmare. They were pretty sure they had a gun at some point, an astonishingly stupid move since they’ve never fired a gun in their life, but had no idea how they’d gotten it. Then, Captain Tracy was telling them to run with such authority that Lindsey felt like they were still sprinting.

“I’m sorry, Frederick.” They apologised sincerely.

“Me too, Ashton.” He replied with a shrug. “I don’t even have the excuse of heat stroke and hydrogen sulphide poisoning, I’m just a terrible driver!”

“You are.” They couldn’t help but agree.

“About that—” Called a voice from behind them both. It was the pilot of Thunderbird Shadow – K.O.? “I’m afraid your jeep was caught in the explosion.”

Wilson nearly cheered. “Good riddance!”

The amber-eyed woman raised her eyebrows but decided now was not the time to question them further, which was lucky, since Lindsey’s temples began to throb again. Or perhaps they have been throbbing the entire time and they’d become numb to it?

“The GDF are on their way.” She informed them both. “They’ll want to interview you about this situation, but Thunderbird Two is heading off to Aswan to drop people off at hospital. What a lift?”

“Oh…” Lindsey felt dumbstruck at the prospect of actually getting to ride in their favourite Thunderbird aircraft. “Cairo National Museum?”

“I’d strongly recommend going to hospital, Dr Lindsey.” The other pilot, Virgil, commented.

“How about Cairo General Hospital?” Wilson tried to compromise.

“That works.” The dark-haired man agreed and stood, collecting his first aid bag from the sand. Lindsey wondered what he’d given them. Wilson will know. “Find a seat in the pod. We’re leaving in ten minutes.”

“You won’t have to tell us twice! Thanks, International Rescue.” They began to be pulled to their feet by Wilson and was glad of his assistance in getting to the ship over the rolling sand dunes.

On their way, they passed Tracy being pulled along by a young iR…Boy? With a red baldric. Just next to Thunderbird Two was Thunderbird One, and the fact that Lindsey hadn’t noticed it land on site was another clue to their less-than-stellar condition.

“Hey, Tracy!” Lindsey called out, but when four heads turned around, they tried again. “Erm, Captain Tracy.”

“I’m glad the two of you are doing okay.” He smiled tiredly. The blonde boy could barely take his eyes off his (presumably) brother.

“Thanks to you.” Wilson shook his hand firmly.

“It’s what we do. And besides, I owed you.”

They also took his dusty hand and realised they were just as grimy. “Thank you, really. But… Don’t take this the wrong way, but I really hope we never see you again.”

Before Lindsey could panic over the possibility of being rude, Tracy laughed. “Likewise, Doctors.”

“Scott, we need to go.” The boy pulled at his arm.

“Alright, alright. Bye!”

“You’re not flying back to your base, are you?” Wilson hollered back with a frown.

The child spun round and smiled excitedly. “He’s not. I am!” And then the pair disappeared into the rocket.

Knowing by now not to question iR, they made their way into the green pod where others were preparing for the flight to hospital. There didn’t seem to be many major injuries, which was relieving, almost to an overwhelming extent. Yet another blonde operative sat them down and strapped them in. Once everyone was secured, he thumped on the outer metal wall.

“Let’s go, Virge!”

Lindsey, for the first time in their life, chose to stop thinking and let the powerful engines and padded harness straps carry them away from this nightmare.

[my-atlantic-inferno]

TAG: The Uninvited, 25/33

(ao3 link)

Rating: Teen and Up

Characters: Scott Tracy, John Tracy, Virgil Tracy, Gordon Tracy, Alan Tracy, Kayo Kyrano, Brains, Grandma Tracy, Wilson, Lindsey, Lucille Tracy (mentioned), Jeff Tracy (mentioned)

Summary: I love TOS/TAG with all my heart, but I really wished they'd done a TAG version of The Uninvited. Get rid of the guns and the (kinda accidental?) ethnic genocide, and it's a great ep, and the new dynamics of TAS would have only improved it. Like what do you mean your big brother has been shot down, and everyone is kinda like 'gee! wonder if he's dead or not? golly how darn frustrating'. So I decided to take matters into my own hands. And sprinkled some of my favourite fanon/headcanons in there for good measure.

Gordon ran.

He ran as fast as he could. Breath hard. Arms pumping. The extra weight of the First Responder bag across his back barely registered. All his stupid morning runs with dirty trainers up steep jungle paths. Now he was skidding over sand, jumping out of ‘Two’s module before the door had fully opened. Gordon just had to get to Scott.

Because the others hadn’t seen what he'd seen before the explosion left a gaping hole in the landscape. He had spotted the bright blue of an iR uniform appearing from that doorway, corralling people, long legs pounding away from the steep walls. And then the blast hit and Gordon watched, petrified, as Scott’s body was thrown like a ragdoll into the debris and dust of the explosion.

Gordon wasn’t even ashamed that he wasn’t stopping to assess any of the other people – the Followers of Kharga – who were stumbling around or lying in the sand. Virgil, Alan, and Kayo could handle everyone else. Gordon just needed to get to Scott.

Finally, he skidded to a halt over that same blue uniform curled up on his side, mind conjuring up compound fractures and traumatic bleeding. Worse and worse scenarios as he dropped to his knees beside his big brother.

“Scott!” He cried – the only word important enough to make it into his brain – as he tore open the medkit but was at a loss for what to grab. “Scott!”

Hesitantly, he placed a gentle hand on Scott’s arm, aiming to roll him onto his back. But as soon as he added pressure, Scott heaved a gasp, bolting to sitting, blue eyes wide with a flood of adrenaline. Gordon might have even squealed slightly as he scrambled backwards.

“Hey! Scott, Scott, you’re okay! It’s Gordon! It’s Gordon, Scott. Just—”

He moved back into his brother’s space, kneeling by his side. Rope-tied hands came up and pulled at the collar of his flight suit as Scott devolved into hacking coughs.

Thankfully, that was an issue Gordon could do something about. He fished the compact oxygen mask from the medkit and toggled the miniature tank to let the gas flow freely. He pushed it against Scott’s face, but his brother quickly slapped it away.

“N-...” More coughing and ragged breaths.

“Scott, it’s Gordon!” He tried again, keeping his free hand hovering around his brother’s back in case he collapsed. “Scott, it’s just oxygen.”

He brought the mask back up to Scott’s face. Though his hands still attempted to obstruct it, once Scott registered the clean air, they clamped down to keep it in place. Gordon huffed in relief. “That’s it, Scotty. Deeeeeeep breaths.”

Once Scott got over the coughing fit, his eyes lost their thousand-yard stare and he noticed Gordon’s presence.

“Gords?” He croaked behind the mask.

“Heyyy, Scooter.” His smile was definitely not wobbly as he took the exchange as a sign he could shift closer to his side.

“‘mid explode?”

“Erm, yeah dude. Pretty spectacularly.” Scott just nodded in agreement and sucked in more oxygen. Tentatively, Gordon let go of the mask and was pleased when Scott continued to hold it there independently. With both hands free, he began a more thorough visual inspection. No compound fractures. No traumatic bleeding. His suit wasn’t even torn, and while his brown hair was nearly blonde with sand, there was no visible head injury. Well, no new head injury.

“You’re okay?” Gordon asked disbelievingly, connecting the dreaded medical puck to Scott.

“Mmm.” Scott confirmed, controlling his breathing slowly.

“How!?”

“Jetpack.” And Gordon realised a burnt-out husk of a jetpack was lying a few metres away. “Rough landing. Winded.”

“Figured that much. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve got some cracked ribs.”

“Mmm.” Scott agreed, dropping the mask and taking a tired, hitching breath of real air.

“Here.” Gordon jumped to fetch the scissors from the kit and began cutting through the thick rope on Scott’s wrists. “Why’re your hands bound, Scooter?”

“Long story.” He answered, rolling his hands and stretching out his arms.

“I’ll look forward to hearing it. Wanna try standing?”

“Ugh, no.” Scott flopped unceremoniously back onto the sand with only the slightest wince.

“But you’re okay?” Gordon couldn’t help checking as he sat next to him and watched his family tend to the other people in the area. Scott seemed to have done a good job at getting the majority of them out of the blast zone, and most injuries seemed to be superficial.

“I’m okay, Squid. Promise.” Gordon nodded shallowly. “Tell you what though?”

“What?” He looked down at his brother’s sandy face and messy hair.

“Fuck this desert.” It was so unexpected that Gordon couldn’t help the burst of laughter that sent him bent double until he nearly hit Scott’s forehead. It was the first time he’d laughed since this whole thing began. He shared a breath with his brother before giving his earnest reply.

“Fuck this desert!”

[thunderbirds-tracy-island]

[my-atlantic-inferno]

TAG: The Uninvited, 24/33

(ao3 link)

Rating: Teen and Up

Characters: Scott Tracy, John Tracy, Virgil Tracy, Gordon Tracy, Alan Tracy, Kayo Kyrano, Brains, Grandma Tracy, Wilson, Lindsey, Lucille Tracy (mentioned), Jeff Tracy (mentioned)

Summary: I love TOS/TAG with all my heart, but I really wished they'd done a TAG version of The Uninvited. Get rid of the guns and the (kinda accidental?) ethnic genocide, and it's a great ep, and the new dynamics of TAS would have only improved it. Like what do you mean your big brother has been shot down, and everyone is kinda like 'gee! wonder if he's dead or not? golly how darn frustrating'. So I decided to take matters into my own hands. And sprinkled some of my favourite fanon/headcanons in there for good measure.

“Kayo!” Virgil shouted down his communicator when the signal from Thunderbird Shadow was fritzing with static and interference. “John, what’s going on!?”

“Kayo!” John tried. “Come in!”

“This is Kayo.” Her holo finally flickered back to life. His sister looked as breathless as she sounded. “We have a situation.”

That had been nearly ten minutes ago, and despite circling the pyramid – which was unbelievable in itself – Kayo hadn’t found any evidence of habitation, let alone anything which could cause an explosion.

“What’s going on inside this pyramid?!” She exclaimed in frustration, having landed ‘Shadow to go up on foot. A highly dangerous plan, but nothing stopped Kayo when she made up her mind – much like their dear eldest brother. “First explosions. Now nothing!”

“We’re coming in for landing in less than a minute.” Virgil tried to reassure.

Over his shoulder, Alan eagerly made his guess. “Do you think it was Scott?” But neither he nor Gordon had the heart to tell him that it was extremely unlikely that Scott had detonated explosives so close to ‘Shadow.

“Starting landing sequence.” He announced instead as they caught sight of the pyramid.

“Whoa…” Gordon had all but pressed himself against the portal to view the ancient monument.

“Hold on!” Came Kayo again. “Virgil, there are people coming out of the pyramid! Lots of people! And-”

“Scott to Thunderbird Two!” Interrupted the authoritative voice of their missing brother. “Virgil, come in!”

“It’s Scott!” Alan cheered.

“Go ahead, Scott!” Virgil had sooo many questions for him.

“Keep away!” He yelled frantically. Virgil could see the people pouring out of a gap in the stone wall. They were all running like their lives depended on it. “Regain height and keep away!”

“But—”

“Don’t ask questions, just do as I say!” Scott reprimanded in the way only the oldest can.

As Virgil pulled hard at the controls, Gordon pointed at someone below them. “There he is!”

Both he and Alan turned to look, but the world outside them suddenly turned into orange-grey mist. And a nanosecond later, a shockwave of deafening energy shook Thunderbird Two, rattling Gordon and Alan onto the floor of the cockpit. Larger chunks of debris began to fall past the portal, raining down onto the sand below.

“Scott!” Gordon screamed as Virgil felt his throat close up.

The pyramid was… gone.

[my-atlantic-inferno]

TAG: The Uninvited, 23/33

(ao3 link)

Rating: Teen and Up

Characters: Scott Tracy, John Tracy, Virgil Tracy, Gordon Tracy, Alan Tracy, Kayo Kyrano, Brains, Grandma Tracy, Wilson, Lindsey, Lucille Tracy (mentioned), Jeff Tracy (mentioned)

Summary: I love TOS/TAG with all my heart, but I really wished they'd done a TAG version of The Uninvited. Get rid of the guns and the (kinda accidental?) ethnic genocide, and it's a great ep, and the new dynamics of TAS would have only improved it. Like what do you mean your big brother has been shot down, and everyone is kinda like 'gee! wonder if he's dead or not? golly how darn frustrating'. So I decided to take matters into my own hands. And sprinkled some of my favourite fanon/headcanons in there for good measure.

Without hesitation, Scott forced his elbow into the nose of the guard who had been standing a little too close to his side. He used his bound hands to tear the automatic weapon from her and lifted his knee firmly into her bulletproof vest, pushing her towards the railing until her head made fierce contact with the metal.

“I didn’t know International Rescue could fight!” Wilson exclaimed, staring at the moaning guard below them.

“We don’t advertise it.” Scott muttered as he discarded the weapon and brought out his flare gun as nimbly as he could. This was his last flare; he had to make it count.

“What—what are you doing?” Lindsey shrieked, finally becoming cognisant but no less frazzled. “We need to get out of here! Right now!”

“I can’t let those fighters launch after Kayo.” He rested his arms on the railing and trained his eyes on what was hopefully the master control switch for the launch platform. When in doubt, hit the big red button. If it didn’t permanently stop the launch, the disruption at least would buy him time to get down there.

“Tracy, wait!” Wilson clasped his hands over his shoulder. “Look at those gears!”

Sure enough, the ageing and abused mechanical gears used to angle the platform were clogged and locked. The entire frame was straining with tension. Then, an almighty squeal of tearing metal echoed through the pyramid chamber as the platform plummeted down with a boom. Scott watched, unable to look away, as the inevitable happened. The metal-on-metal collapse had created a spark, which ignited the toxic gas in the air.

Beside him, the archaeologists screamed in terror as a wall of heat rose up to the catwalk they were clinging to. Scott swore and rapidly aimed his flare towards the button next to the door at the far end of the walkway. Red, but this time with a flame symbol – the universal fire alarm. Another explosion shook the whole room and must have damaged the hatch support, which slammed closed viciously. The damaged jets were obviously leaking hydrazine, which only added to the flammable materials in the hangar. Orange warning lights began to turn overhead, accompanied by a high-pitched siren. Thankfully, down below, the workers began to recover from their shock and race towards the exit.

“C’mon!” He bellowed at the fear-frozen archaeologists. “Let’s go! Follow them out! This whole place is about to blow!”

“Wha…?” Lindsey cried, but Scott didn’t have time to explain as he hoisted their unconscious guard onto his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.

“Lindsey, you need to run! Wilson, take them and go. I’m right behind you!”

As they got closer and closer to the exit, Scott stayed behind the crowds, making sure everyone got swept up in the evacuation. At some point, another guard grabbed the person he was carrying and raced forward. Scott scanned every room he passed, picking up people who tripped, urging the tired and injured to stay with the group. He hoped beyond hope that the pyramid only served as a defensive outpost, that the other members of the community were not somewhere else in this maze. Preferably, far from the blast radius when this thing blew.

“Go! Go! Go!” He kept yelling and didn’t stop even when he spotted an open stone hatch. Yellow sands and blue skies, and the verdant green of Thunderbird Two coming in for landing.

Behind him, he felt the air collapse, sucked back into the pyramid towards the chamber. This was it!

[my-atlantic-inferno]

TAG: The Uninvited, 22/33

(ao3 link)

Rating: Teen and Up

Characters: Scott Tracy, John Tracy, Virgil Tracy, Gordon Tracy, Alan Tracy, Kayo Kyrano, Brains, Grandma Tracy, Wilson, Lindsey, Lucille Tracy (mentioned), Jeff Tracy (mentioned)

Summary: I love TOS/TAG with all my heart, but I really wished they'd done a TAG version of The Uninvited. Get rid of the guns and the (kinda accidental?) ethnic genocide, and it's a great ep, and the new dynamics of TAS would have only improved it. Like what do you mean your big brother has been shot down, and everyone is kinda like 'gee! wonder if he's dead or not? golly how darn frustrating'. So I decided to take matters into my own hands. And sprinkled some of my favourite fanon/headcanons in there for good measure.

Kayo was kicking herself for ever leaving Tracy Island before Scott had finished his mandatory leave. She knew he had a habit of rushing off, and she also knew that as much as he had been acting like he was fine, he wasn’t. Her brother had been attacked, and Kayo couldn’t even track down the perpetrators. Some Head of Security, she was. Dad would be so disappointed in her. So in an effort to get any kind of intel on the fighters, she had left that morning to visit one of her old school friends who worked for the GDF and owed her a favour. If you wanted something tracked down, Serena was the best person for the job!

“Thanks, Serena.” She smiled over the holocall. “You’re a lifesaver, literally.”

“Not at all, Tanusha! I imagine those Tracy boys keep you on your toes, but if you ever fancy a change of scenery, we’d love to have you on the team.”

“Having seen your view, I’ll keep that in mind!”

“Good luck,” Serena told her before ending the call. “Lieutenant Lewis, out.”

Despite the brevity of seeing an old friend, Kayo quickly fell back into her professional attitude as she pushed Thunderbird Shadow over continental Africa. Lieutenant Lewis has been able to crack the case for her, John and Gordon in only a few hours. She now knew the identity of the people who attacked Scott: the Followers of Kharga, a splinter group of the Qamhat Bisharin people who lived nomadically in Egypt and Sudan. Apparently Serena knew someone, who knew someone, who had a contact at the Global Nomadics Network and contacted the Bishari representative. She had told Serena that the Followers of Kharga lost their historic oasis during the 2040 Conflict and had all but disappeared. Rumour had it that the community continued to live in their traditional lands and were extremely reactive to any and all interference.

“Thunderbird Shadow to Thunderbird Two, that favour just paid off.”

Kayo proceeded to relay the information to her brothers as she made her final preparations for landing. She was hesitant to land alone, but luckily ‘Two was only 15 minutes behind her. Virgil must have been burning his engines.

But as she came upon Point E794, she could only spot Thunderbird One next to the dried-up oasis of the Beja people.

“There’s no-one down there.” She informed over the open comms channel. “Wait! There are tyre tracks leading up to the watering hole and then away at a different angle.”

“Could Scott have followed them?” Virgil asked.

“He could have used his jetpack, I guess. The tracks are very faint. I’m not sure ‘One would have been able to fly low enough to see them. ‘Shadow won’t have a problem, though!”

Kayo lowered her altitude until her aircraft’s belly was nearly touching the deep orange dunes. She only had to follow the tracks for a minute until she saw it.

“No way.” She breathed. Before her was a pyramid. Just there! Slap-bang in the middle of the Sahara Desert. Its sloping sides rose into the sky, and at its base was the archaeologists’ jeep. So they’d found it after all. And Scott must be with them!

“I’ve found the archaeologists’ vehicle.” She announced. “It’s abandoned outside a pyramid!”

“What?!” Alan exclaimed enthusiastically.

“I’m going to land and look around.”

But any response that might have followed was drowned out by a sudden explosion on her starboard. Bright fire and black smoke billowed around her, and for a second, Kayo thought she’d been hit. But ‘Shadow pulled up correctly and gave her a view of a large opening in the side of the pyramid. As she watched, another explosion burst out before the hatch closed, vanishing as if it was never there.

“Kayo?” John demanded. “Come in! What’s going on?”

She let her head rest back against her seat momentarily as she breathed heavily. “This is Kayo. We have a situation.”

[my-atlantic-inferno]

TAG: The Uninvited, 21/33

(ao3 link)

Rating: Teen and Up

Characters: Scott Tracy, John Tracy, Virgil Tracy, Gordon Tracy, Alan Tracy, Kayo Kyrano, Brains, Grandma Tracy, Wilson, Lindsey, Lucille Tracy (mentioned), Jeff Tracy (mentioned)

Summary: I love TOS/TAG with all my heart, but I really wished they'd done a TAG version of The Uninvited. Get rid of the guns and the (kinda accidental?) ethnic genocide, and it's a great ep, and the new dynamics of TAS would have only improved it. Like what do you mean your big brother has been shot down, and everyone is kinda like 'gee! wonder if he's dead or not? golly how darn frustrating'. So I decided to take matters into my own hands. And sprinkled some of my favourite fanon/headcanons in there for good measure.

Scott, being the slightly paranoid person he was, never fully ruled out the possibility of being held at gunpoint on any given day. (Yes, even after the 2045 ban – that’s how paranoia works!) What he didn’t expect was being held at gunpoint twice. On the same day. By two different people. Inside a previously unknown pyramid!

Once he had arrived at Point E794 and confirmed that the oasis was abandoned, he’d quickly used his jetpack to follow the jeep tracks and found the pyramid. Should he have contacted his family then? Probably. But he wanted to figure this out before updating them, lest they think him incapable of solving the Mystery of the Disappearing Archaeologists. From there, he’d gone through the opening that had been created at the base of the stones. Should he have contacted his family then?! Probably! But he had no idea how long the doorway would stay open, and he didn’t want to waste any time looking for the doctors. It turned out that the door closed immediately behind him, and he lost all signal with the outside world, whether he wanted to call his brothers or not. Seeing as he didn’t have any other option, he’d continued into the luxurious chambers and finally found Lindsey and Wilson. As well as heavily armed personnel who had bound his hands and dragged all three of them deeper into the pyramid complex.

“I don’t know who you are,” he began as he, Wilson and a severely dazed Lindsey were escorted into an industrial lift that began to rise shudderingly. “But we don’t want any trouble.”

“M… My pyrami…” Lindsey mumbled behind him but was shushed by Wilson before they said something that got them killed.

The one guard who had remained in the lift with them turned and told Scott something in a language which might have been Arabic. A language he didn’t know, and without John the hyperpolyglot, one he had no chance of understanding.

“She says that we’re trespassing.” Wilson hissed behind him. “We’re to be questioned.”

‘Questioned.’ The last time Scott was ‘questioned’ he’d ended up with a shattered ankle. But at least Wilson seemed to be able to translate.

“Can you ask who they are? We need to try and build rapport.” Scott watched the exchange warily as the lift juddered to a halt and the guard pushed them onto a high walkway.

“They call themselves the Followers of Kharga.” Wilson reported. “They claimed the pyramid and the aquifer below after the oasis died twenty years ago.”

Scott eyed the guard critically, taking in the loose white clothing that was clearly designed for desert conditions. She had covered her long knee-length shirt in a carbon-fibre bulletproof vest, and the dark military boots contrasted with the plumed trousers. She also had a very illegal automatic weapon in her hands and a clear gas mask clipped to her vest. Clearly these people were ready for anything but not accustomed to hostage-holding, they hadn't even been searched before they were bound and pulled away.

“They’re certainly prepared for a fight.” He commented as they walked over industrial machinery that was vibrating with pressure. “They must have reused most of this from 2040. Surviving on the aquifer and-”

Then they were led into a hangar that seemed to take up most of the volume of the pyramid, right up to the bare slanted outer walls. On a central platform rested three fighter jets with familiar oval markings.

“They shot me down last week!” He told Wilson.

“The gas they’re pumping out looks like what Lindsey breathed in, too.” The archaeologist responded, tipping his head towards the wavering air near the machines. All the workers below them were wearing their gas masks and other safety equipment, but the machinery itself was in poor condition.

“I think they’re making hydrazine?” Scott tentatively concluded, following the network of pipes into the refuelling points of the jets. “It’s rocket fuel or a general power source. But producing it is dangerous, lots of hazardous byproducts. That’s why the World Council controls it.”

The guard seemed to recognise ‘World Council’ and whirled around to reprimand him fiercely. “She said they were forgotten by the World Council. The war destroyed their traditional way of life. They’re prepared to defend the new one they’ve built.”

“By attacking people?!” He countered.

Wilson and the guard exchanged stern words. “They use the aquifer for water but also fuel production. They manage the toxic gas by… mixing it with limestone?” He seemed confused by his own translation. “Where are they finding limestone in the middle of the desert?”

“Pyramid…” Lindsay mumbled quietly. “Outer… Lime…”

“However they’re getting it, they clearly don’t have enough for their level of production.” Scott decided. “These gases are flammable, too. This isn’t safe!”

Wilson tried to tell the guard they were in danger, but she wasn’t in a listening mood. She rounded on them angrily. “She said that it is not our place to condemn their practices. We get lost in the desert and pass judgement on something we know nothing about.”

“I know enough about rocket fuel to know this is incredibly dangerous!” Scott was just getting exasperated now.

Would no one listen to him for once!?

Then a siren rang through the facility, and a large hatch opened up above the fighter jets, exposing them to the blue sky. Below there was a flurry of activity, and people began pulling on flight suits as the launch platform shifted angle on rusting gears.

“What’s going on?” He demanded.

“She says we will get to witness them defend their territory. An aircraft is approaching from the West.” An ageing, flickering holo-image appeared on the guard’s wrist communicator. Thunderbird Shadow was locked between the digital crosshairs.

“Kayo!” Scott exclaimed helplessly.

“The woman from last week?!”

Scott watched as the workers adjusted the angle of the launch platform to get the most effective start to track her down. These people were about to attack his sister!

[my-atlantic-inferno]

TAG: The Uninvited, 20/33

(ao3 link)

Rating: Teen and Up

Characters: Scott Tracy, John Tracy, Virgil Tracy, Gordon Tracy, Alan Tracy, Kayo Kyrano, Brains, Grandma Tracy, Wilson, Lindsey, Lucille Tracy (mentioned), Jeff Tracy (mentioned)

Summary: I love TOS/TAG with all my heart, but I really wished they'd done a TAG version of The Uninvited. Get rid of the guns and the (kinda accidental?) ethnic genocide, and it's a great ep, and the new dynamics of TAS would have only improved it. Like what do you mean your big brother has been shot down, and everyone is kinda like 'gee! wonder if he's dead or not? golly how darn frustrating'. So I decided to take matters into my own hands. And sprinkled some of my favourite fanon/headcanons in there for good measure.

“You can’t fool me!” Wilson watched Lindsey tighten their grip on the gun. “You’ve come to steal my discovery!

That’s it, they’ve cracked!

Wilson backed himself up against the wall behind the fountain. That hissing gas sound had not stopped, but it definitely sounded quieter under the sound of his pulse beating in his head. Maybe the gas had something to do with it? Or maybe this was the heat and stress of the day finally rearing its ugly head?

“Now, hold on!” Tracy exclaimed, sounding more annoyed than, you know, fearing for his life. “You called International Rescue for help! That’s why I’m here.”

But Lindsey was clearly too lost in their delusions to be reasoned with. They squeezed their eyes shut and pulled the trigger. Wilson dived behind the stone basin of the fountain, hands over his head as the unbelievably loud bang echoed through the room. From his position he managed to see that Tracy was also taking cover behind a statue.

“What are you doing!? He’s here to rescue us!”

A bullet pounded into the wall above him, cracking the ancient artwork and sending dust showering down into his hair. From the small bullet hole a minute hissing sound could be heard. More gas leaking in.

“No!” Lindsey screamed. “He just wants to take credit for my discovery!”

“Dr Lindsey, I’m not trying to take anything away from you. But you do need help!” Tracy beseeched from the other end of the room. Wilson could see him fiddling with something in his hands.

“You’re the one who needs help! You’re gonna die!” Yet another bullet blasted through the room, ringing in Wilson’s ears and obliterating the head of the statue Tracy was crouched behind. Lindsey didn’t seem to realise they were destroying the very artefacts they were trying to defend.

“You’ve been through a tough time.” The iR operative tried again. “I can get you to a hospital!”

“Then you’ll be able to take the glory, won’t you!?” Thankfully, Lindsey kept closing their eyes before firing, though Wilson was sincerely hoping they’d run out of ammunition soon.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Lindsey. Put the weapon down!”

“Listen to him!” Wilson added and was rewarded with another wild shot in his vague direction.

“You’ll have to kill me before I let you have this pyramid!” And there went another bullet. At this point Wilson could barely hear himself think with the deafening echo of ballistic fire.

“You can’t hide behind that Anubis forever, Captain Tracy!”

“I know. I just needed to buy a little time!”

Wilson watched as the man quickly leaned out of his hiding place, gripping his own… something. Suddenly a bright flash exploded and flew across the room and over Lindsey’s head, forcing them to duck and rub their eyes. For a terrible second, Wilson wondered if the GDF knew iR carried firearms, but then he noticed the lack of impact. The light source clattered to the floor, still emitting a brilliant beam but seemingly harmless. And then Tracy was across the room, batting the real gun from Lindsey’s hands while they were still disorientated.

“Dr. Wilson, are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. What was that?!” He stood from under the fountain and moved to meet up with Tracy, who was busy checking his colleague for injuries. But Wilson was halted in his tracks when a firm hand grabbed his shoulder, an ominous metal pipe pressed firmly into his back.

“LED flare.” Tracy answered, not looking around. “Non-flammable. Don’t worry, we’ll be getting out of here soon.”

“...About that.” He answered awkwardly, finally prompting the iR operative to look around.

He sighed and once more held up his hands in surrender as two guards appeared from behind Wilson. “This day keeps getting better and better.”

The guards’ guns were much bigger than Lindsey’s, and they didn’t look too happy with them all.

[my-atlantic-inferno]

TAG: The Uninvited, 19/33

(ao3 link)

Rating: Teen and Up

Characters: Scott Tracy, John Tracy, Virgil Tracy, Gordon Tracy, Alan Tracy, Kayo Kyrano, Brains, Grandma Tracy, Wilson, Lindsey, Lucille Tracy (mentioned), Jeff Tracy (mentioned)

Summary: I love TOS/TAG with all my heart, but I really wished they'd done a TAG version of The Uninvited. Get rid of the guns and the (kinda accidental?) ethnic genocide, and it's a great ep, and the new dynamics of TAS would have only improved it. Like what do you mean your big brother has been shot down, and everyone is kinda like 'gee! wonder if he's dead or not? golly how darn frustrating'. So I decided to take matters into my own hands. And sprinkled some of my favourite fanon/headcanons in there for good measure.

Alan did his best to not bounce his legs up and down behind Virgil. Sitting still was sooo hard! Next to him, Gordon was as serious and professional as he ever got on missions, but this wasn’t any normal iR mission, was it? They were flying after Scott, who’d taken off unauthorised and, according to John, was not in a mood to be reasoned with.

Alan might be the youngest in his family, but that didn’t mean he was oblivious. He knew that his big brother was diagnosed with PTSD, and he knew everything going on at the moment could potentially cause an episode. But Alan was only six years old when ‘It’ happened. He vaguely remembered Grandma picking him up from school with red eyes, explaining that Scott had ‘gotten lost’ and might not be back for a while. When Scott eventually did come home, Alan was just excited to show him all his drawings while everyone else was being really strange. He’d only found out about the diagnosis when he’d officially joined iR, since disclosure of medical conditions was pretty important in their line of work. (He’d also found out that John was allergic to red food colouring of all things!) But Alan had always behaved just like he always did around Scott when everyone was worried about him.

That’s what he tried to do this time, too. Clearly it hadn’t worked.

“Alan, quit tapping!” Gordon scolded, giving him an angry glare, and his restless fingers stilled.

“Thunderbird Shadow to Thunderbird Two?” Kayo’s holo-image appeared, saving Gordon from the epic comeback that he definitely would have delivered.

“Go ahead, Kayo.” Virgil responded, his voice noticeably tight. This was the second time in as many weeks he’d flown after their brother.

“I’m 20 minutes out from Thunderbird One’s location. I haven’t been able to raise Scott, though. John said he was pretty angry when they last spoke.” She raised her eyebrow questioningly.

Virgil looked scathingly round at Gordon. “I thought you were going to talk to him!”

“We…” Gordon gesticulated with his arms helplessly. “Exchanged words.”

John decided to add himself to the channel, popping up as a holo-image next to Kayo. He had his arms crossed. “And how exactly did you do this?”

Gordon looked sheepish. “I dunno, loudly?”

“So you shouted at him.” Virgil huffed. “Great!”

“Hey, Scott shouted back!”

“Sooo not the point, bro.” Alan winced.

“I voiced my concerns, mentioned we were worried about how similar this whole thing was to… You know… And-”

“You mentioned that!?” Virgil nearly yelled.

“Not directly! I’m not that insane. I just made an implication!”

Kayo sighed impatiently. “And then what happened?”

“And then he told me to… Have intercourse with his posttraumatic stress disorder. Scott may have phrased it slightly diff-”

“We get it, Gordon.” John scratched his forehead.

“Then he told me to stop treating him like a time-bomb and ran off!... The end.”

Kayo tilted her head in thought. “I can’t actually imagine that going any worse.”

Gordon slumped back into his seat, and Alan had to resist going over and giving him a hug. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll apologise to him when we find him.”

“Okay.” Their sister exhaled deeply. “My friend at the GDF wasn’t able to find anything out while I was there, but she said she’d call if something came up. Once I get to the Danger Zone, I’ll radio in about what I find. Remember, those fighters are still out there, so fly safely. Shadow, out.”

Alan let his leg start bouncing, and this time Gordon didn’t bother saying anything about it. He just shared a nervous glance with his brother as they readied themselves for what they might find.