This one is for @jbarkerstargazer , inspired by these wonderful drawings of John on a rooftop. They're all gorgeous, so I really hope you like this bit of nonsense they inspired. 😊
Part of @tagminibang2022 .
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Or read it on AO3
The air was warm and full of the sound of rustling wheat.
John blinked a few times and rubbed his eyes as he returned to the world. He’d only meant to read a chapter or two, but the book was a good one - an old favourite - and so the late afternoon light had faded to dusk without him noticing. Now the sun hung low in the sky, and the telephone poles dotted along the landscape cast long shadows across the fields. Over behind the barn, an occasional caw from the big oak tree was now the only sign of the crows he remembered flocking above him about forty pages ago.
He pinched his nose with his fingers, trying to relieve the tension in his eye muscles. He must have been squinting for quite some time without realising it, straining his eyes against the dying of the light.
The sun had not quite dipped entirely below the horizon yet though, and so glancing westwards he was treated to a glorious display of colour across the heavens. Reds, oranges, golds… Letting the hand holding his book drop across him, he reclined back against the pitched farmhouse roof, arm behind his head, and took a moment to let his mind wander as he watched the warm, changing hues gradually creep across the evening sky.
His hair, his baldric, the solar panels on Five…
It seemed strange to him how he could simultaneously think of all these different colours as separate associations, moods, entities, and yet at the same time his physicist brain told him that it was all exactly the same light, filtered through a varying volume of atmospheric particles as the sun’s relative position moved from vertical to horizontal. The rays of light currently spilling fire across the sky were precisely the same rays that glowed blue over the Earth’s horizon several times a day when he was back on Five. Nothing different about it. And yet…
And yet.
For not much reason at all he felt the sudden urge to call Virgil. Stupid - Virgil was at home on the other side of the world, probably elbow-deep in something oily and cahelium-based - but he somehow had an instinct that his artist-come-engineer brother would understand this feeling in a way that the others probably wouldn’t.
The beauty in the science.
He sighed. He should probably go downstairs and have something to eat, and perhaps a nap before the meteor shower started in earnest. (Another thing his physicist brain took issue with; the shower was already in progress - had been for several days - it’s just that the Earth hadn’t spun around quite enough for him to see it yet.)
Napping now would be the most sensible thing to do, but he already knew that he wouldn’t. Deep inside him, his ten-year-old self was hopping up and down like a cricket in a jar: It was Perseids Night; who could sleep?!
A blond head poked out from the upstairs window.
“Hey Johnny, are you still up there, or did you fall off already?”
A quiet chuckle. Right on cue, Allie.
If anybody could sleep through the Perseids, Alan Tracy could. Hell, a chunk of meteorite could literally fall through the house and onto his pillow and he would probably be none the wiser. In fact Alan had already conked out once today, on the sofa right after lunch, although John was generous enough to blame the change in timezones for that one.
His baby brother was just lucky it was only the two of them at the farm for the shower, or else he might have woken up to find Gordon had dyed his hair blue …again.
“I’m still here Allie," John replied, "no safety net required. And don’t call me Johnny,” he added, although he knew it was pointless. Alan and Gordon loved to tease him with that name, and truth be told he didn’t even really mind it any more, it had been so long; the whole thing was more ritual now than anything.
“So are you actually planning on coming up to watch, or did you travel a whole hemisphere just to stay down there all night?”
Alan rolled his eyes. "I'll be there in a minute,” he said. “D'you want me to bring anything up with me? Are you cold? I could bring blankets?”
“That depends. Are you asking for me, or so you can make a nest and fall asleep up here too?”
A baby-faced pout. "Ha ha, hilarious(!) Y'know, one day I’m gonna…" But whatever the rest of that sentence was was rendered unintelligible by an absolutely massive yawn.
John’s lips twitched. “...An excellent point(!)”
Alan looked so much like Scott when he scowled.
John’s face split into a grin. “Come on, Rip Van Winkle, get up here before you miss the show.” Then as an afterthought, “Bring some snacks too.”
There were some scuffling noises (and perhaps the odd word that Grandma wouldn’t approve of) and then his little brother was beside him, holding two large sheet pans.
“I’ll do you one better; I made pizza!” He deflated slightly. “I mean, it’s only frozen, but I figured-”
John smiled warmly. “It’s perfect, Allie.”
The next few minutes were a flurry of slice-grabbing, butt-shuffling and general getting comfortable. By the time they both finally lay back side by side, eyes raised once again to the skies, the sun had ducked down below the treeline, and all the hot colours from before had mellowed into a more delicate, pastel rainbow of purple and rose pink.
“Wow. Pretty," breathed Alan.
John smiled. “Yeah," he said, "Earth’s still pretty amazing sometimes, despite the gravity.”
“Oh yeah? So we haven’t quite lost you to Five yet then?”
John raised an eyebrow and Alan flailed.
“I mean, not ‘lost you’ lost you, but what I mean is-”
“I know what you meant, Allie.” John put a reassuring hand on his brother’s shoulder. “And you don’t have to worry. I love being on Five, wouldn’t change it for the world, but down here with you guys will always be home to me.”
In the dimming light, Alan’s eyes glistened.
John cleared his throat.
“And anyway, there’s things I can see here that I can’t see anywhere else. Like tonight for example. Dirtside is the best seat in the house for a meteor shower. And then there’s this.” He motioned towards the glowing pastel sky.
It really was beautiful.
"Actually,” he added slowly, “this is one of my favourite times to be on Earth, when the sky’s like this."
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. The colours are…” He struggled for the right word.
“Right. 'Cos lavender’s your favourite, right?”
John frowned.
“What makes you say that?”
He’d always told people it was gold.
“Your favourite bedspread,” shrugged Alan. “And the mug you like your tea in when you're sick. You always choose lavender when you want to be cosy."
Oh.
Oh.
Damn, the kid was observant.
Silence blossomed as a wash of thoughts and feelings flooded John’s brain, threatening to overwhelm him. Nostalgia, happiness, comfort, sorrow… Ever the scientist, he took his time to analyse each one, turning them over and over in his mind, distilling them down into one word:
Mom.
He breathed.
“You alright?” asked Alan quietly, worried.
“Just…thinking.”
He could feel his brother watching him. “About...?”
John ran his hand through his hair, finding words. “Not thinking, really. Remembering. Before you were born; back when it was just Scott, Virgil and me. Dad was away a lot of the time. Space, Mars… y’know?”
Alan nodded.
“Mom did her best, but I was so little, I didn’t understand where Dad had gone. Scott says I wouldn’t sleep back then, that I used to cry a lot, but I don’t really remember any of that. I just remember things feeling…wrong,” he finished lamely.
“Then one evening, a lot like this one, Mom took me outside to look at the sky. She said that Dad was up there, playing with the stars, and that if we looked really carefully, we might see him waving.”
He chuckled softly.
“It was a silly thing, but I believed it. So we went outside in the yard to wait for the stars to come out.”
He sighed.
“It wasn’t cold, but Mom brought a blanket anyway to wrap me up close to her. I remember her warmth, and the smell coming from Mom’s roses by the porch - she loved roses, pink ones especially - and the rustling from the fields, and the colour of that sky. I remember looking up at it and thinking that, just maybe, if Dad really was there amongst the stars, then perhaps he had painted those colours just for us; pink for Mom, and purple for me.
“We probably weren’t actually out there all that long, but it felt like we waited forever to see that first star. But eventually there it was, twinkling away at us. In hindsight it probably wasn’t a star at all - it was probably Venus - but we waved at it anyway, and sent our love to Dad by it.”
He looked over at Alan, who was watching him intently, taking in every word.
“That was the first time I ever went stargazing. After that, Mom and I would often go outside before bedtime so I could say goodnight to Dad. Once in a while I even caught her out there by herself, talking to him, telling him about her day.”
For a moment he couldn’t speak, lost in the image. It felt private to think about, like he was… intruding somehow. He rubbed his eyes, clearing the image, returning to the present. A breath.
“And then Dad came home and things went back to normal. He stayed down here and started Tracy Industries, and I didn’t have to wave to him anymore. But I kept looking up; looking for stars. I never stopped.”
John smiled at his baby brother.
“And then of course you came along, and I had someone else to look at them with.”
Alan returned the smile with a grin of his own, bright in the semi-darkness.
“Nowhere else I’d rather be,” he said, his voice just a little bit raw.
Seconds passed. The wheat fields breathed in the breeze.
“But then,” said Alan, a small frown developing on his brow, “why do you tell everyone that your favourite colour is gold? Where did that come from?”
John laughed. That bit was easy.
“When I first moved up to Five, I wanted to keep something that would remind me of home. Something to keep me grounded, here, on Earth. So I chose gold.”
Alan’s head tilted, quizzical; puppy-like.
“Gold is warm,” explained John. “It’s wheat fields and tropical sands. It’s summer sunshine.”
He smiled gently.
“It’s you guys.”
There was a beat, and then all the air suddenly left John’s lungs as a not-so-tiny brother launched himself into his chest.
“Woah! Allie…” he wheezed as Alan threatened to squeeze the life out of him.
Alan just held on tight.
John smiled.
“...I love you too.”
Far up above them, in the light of the dying sunset, the first shooting star of the night streaked its way across a pink and purple sky.
My prompts were 1.Virgil and Scott 2.Bros having down time 3.Sneaky special treats.
- - -
Sneaky special treats
Season 1. Episode 8 EOS:
Scott: "Hey John, Grandma Tracy's made some fresh cookies, too bad you're cooped up in Thunderbird 5 or you could be enjoying them with us.”
EOS: (posing as John) "Of all the things I miss up here, I miss Grandma Tracy's cookies the most."
Alan "He actually wants Grandma Tracy's cookies?"
Scott: "That's not John.”
It started as curiosity. How could it not, It had been the main reason she had been discovered and also allowing for John to be saved. She was grateful for that now. EOS observed the Tracy brother’s reactions to them. There were many different types and each Tracy had a different favoured but they all equally disliked Mrs Tracy’s cookies. (The Tracy bothers call her Grandma, EOS did not). The Tracy brothers also spoke of cookies. Well at least they spoke of their late mother’s cookies. (Her name had been Lucille Tracy. The Tracy brothers refer to her as Mom, Mrs Tracy refers to her as Lucy or the boys’ mother. EOS didn’t know what to refer to her as. Maybe she should ask John?”) Cookies were definitely an important part of the Tracy’s life’s’. EOS became interested in the differences between Mrs Tracy’s cookies and those of Lucille Tracy. EOS observed Mrs Tracy baking many times and her flaw became clear. Mrs Tracy would not follow a recipe. There was always one in front of her but she never followed it to the letter, the cookies would turn out bad, she blamed the recipe and therefore chose a different one the next time she baked. When MAX started to assist in the kitchen EOS expected the cookies to improve as did the other consumable items. They did not. Mrs Tracy would not let MAX assist in making cookies. It puzzled EOS.
TBTBTBTBTB
It happened to Gordon was first on his birthday February 14th. As he was leaving his room to visit Lady Penelope he found a plate of chocolate chip cookies on the landing floor just outside his door. He picked up the plate cautiously; he was not the only member of this house to pull pranks. Nothing happened and they smelt really good. Wait? They smelt good. Gordon picked one up. Yes they were warm and so familiar. He’d taken a bite before he’d even realised. They taste of the chewy treat caused his eyes to close. He swallowed his mouth full and the tear threating to fall. Opening his eyes he bounced down to the kitchen with a look of glee. He needed a tube for his cookie treasure to reside safely in until he reached London. He also left a note:
‘Who ever made them. You. Are. The. Best. Love Gordon.’
TBTBTBTBTBTB
Alan’s birthday almost went by unnoticed that year. Everyone had wished him happy birthday and got gifts, it was just that rescues hadn’t let up for the week prior to his birthday and they didn’t let up for at least 10 days afterwards either. So on March 12th as Alan belly flopped onto his rug, he had expected nothing, especially not the plate of cookies that his right hand grazed as he landed. He propped himself up on his side and looked at them. The smell meant something to him, something he couldn’t place. The more he thought about it the less his brain made sense of it.
*How could the smell of warm cookies mean hugs?*
He shrugged, finished the plate and fell asleep.
TBTBTBTBTBTB
Scott’s cookies where waiting for him after his run. Yes he ran first thing on the morning even on his birthday, why shouldn’t he? He liked running, it cleared his head, got him ready for the day. They where on a plate on the kitchen worktop. He took a bite of one and smiled.
“Morning birthday brother, you got a plate too I see.” Scott raised an eyebrow at his fresh from the pool brother. His mouth was full after all.
“The cookies bro,” Gordon explained, “I got a plate on my birthday, Alan got a plate on his birthday and now you.”
Scott swallowed, “You think this whole plate is for me?” Gordon nodded with a smile, “Who made them?”
“No idea, but I am not complaining.”
“Gordon they taste like –“
“I know Scott. So did mine.” With that Gordon headed for the showers leaving Scott reaching for another cookie.
TBTBTBTBTBTBTB
August saw another crappy birthday for Virgil. Okay the last one hadn’t been too bad his brothers had planned a surprise, but he’d been held up with a rescue. Yes the rescue had had a very positive outcome, but everyone was in bed by the time he got home. He had got a slice of cake and it hadn’t been Grandma’s so that was good. But he wasn’t in a rational mood, he had the flu, on his birthday. Why did things like this happen to him? It wasn’t fair on any day, it was even more unfair on his birthday. The world hated him and he hated it back. Virgil rolled over to face the wall and pulled the duvet over his head. His ear buds firmly in place.
The smell was what drew him from his moody, fluey, doze. The smell of coffee and ...no way? Virgil spun himself around only to regret it when the room kept spinning. Did the door just shut? Virgil got his bearings and slowly rose to a sitting position. There they were on his bedside table come art desk, a hot steaming mug of coffee and a plate of chocolate chip cookies! They didn’t last long, it was just the T.L.C he needed.
*Best birthday ever* he thought as he drifted back off to sleep. He hadn’t noticed the coffee had been decaf.
TBTBTBTBTBTBTB
October saw a stubborn John square off against equally stubborn brothers
“Come home John.”
“I need to do my job Scott.”
“EOS can easy do it for you. Maybe even better then you.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence on my abilities Gordon.”
“Johnny you have to come down!”
“Don’t call me Johnny. And no I don’t!”
“John it’s your birthday.”
“I’m aware of that Virgil. It’s on the same day every year.”
“We need you to come down John we need to know where they are coming from!” Alan blurted out.
Everyone looked at him, then at Gordon, (as he clearly had something to do with this out burst). Gordon glared at Alan before turning his attention to John.
“The birthday cookies John. All year each of us has gotten a plate of cookies on our birthday but no-one seems to know where they are coming from or who is making them. Now its your birthday so we need you to come down and celebrate with your family-“
“And be your bait for your little cookie hunt?” John folded him arms and raised an eyebrow.
Gordon sighted but it was Scott that answered, “Yes, so get in the space elevator and come have some fun.”
“How do the cookies taste?” His brothers answers were no more then a serious of noises that the uninformed listener would have taken the wrong way, “Okay I’m on my way.” John closed the com line. *Weirdo brothers* “EOS contact me if you need me for anything okay?”
“Yes John.” He headed for the elevator, “John.” He paused and looked up at the camera, “Happy birthday.”
“Thank you EOS.”
On exiting the elevator on the island John found a tube of warm cookies on the stairs down from the elevator. *Incompetent weirdo brothers.* John sat down on the stairs and opened the tube, *Might as well see what all the fuss is about.*
His brothers found him in that same position 20 minutes later. Scott sprinted up the stairs only slowing when he was sure his brother wasn’t injured. John looked up at him, his second cookie still in his hand.
“Scott these cookies taste just like-“
“I know. We all know.” Scott smiled, “We just don’t know who made them.”
The Tracys didn’t answer the question as to who was making the cookies, in truth they didn’t try to answer it. They could have looked at video feeds but that had felt like looking behind the curtain.
So on Christmas morning when the family, (all together for a change) awoke to find the dinning room table containing 5 different types of cookies and a gingerbread house no-one questioned it. That was until Brains commented that MAX had icing on him.
-“MAX it was you?”
-“You made the cookies?”
-“The birthday ones too?”
-“Did you do it alone?”
-“Where did you get the recipe?”
-“Where did you get the idea?”
“On-one moment.” Brains interrupted the endless, gapless questions coming from the brothers, “L-l-let MAX speak.”
“He does not need to answer Dr Hackenbacker I am responsible.” EOS replied over the com unit in the kitchen that she had listening through.
“EOS what is going on?” John asked her softly.
“You may not recall John but we had an in-depth conversation regarding Mrs Tracy’s cookies.” She played a recording of the conversation.
-“John can I ask you something to do with Mrs Tracy?”
“Sure EOS.”
“Why does she not allow MAX to assist in the making of cookies? He has helped improve all the other food production in the villa so why not the cookies as well?”
John was quiet for a short time.
“It has to do with our mother EOS.”
“Lucille Tracy? How?”
“When Mom died Grandma came to help where she could. I think it also helped with her own grieve at losing Grandpa as well.”
“Grandpa Tracy, her husband?”
“Yes EOS. Anyway, Alan’s birthday wasn’t long after Mom death, he was turning 3. We decided on a small at home party because really it was all we could handle emotionally. Grandma asked Alan what food he wanted for the party and all he said was Mommy’s cookies.” You could tell John was now smiling as he spoke, “Grandma tried but, well you can guess?”
“They tasted like a foot?”
John laughed, “Exactly. And that’s pretty much what 3 year old Alan said. In fact he said ‘These not Mommy’s, they like foot.’ It would have been funny if he hadn’t burst into tears screaming that there was nothing of Mommy left.”
“Grandma promised she would not stop until she had made Mom’s cookies. She’s still trying. Alan’s not the only one who misses them, we all do. Every birthday we would get a plate of her chocolate chip cookies all to ourselves.” Now John sounded excited, “But Christmas Day was something else! Mom would make at least 5 different types of cookies as well as a gingerbread house.”-
“An emergency call ended our conversation. After some investigations I found your late mother’s cookie recipe and programmed MAX to make them for you all on your birthdays, just as your Mother would have. The cookies you see before you have been made from recipes I found on the internet that I believe each of you will like.”
The room was quiet. “Was this not a good thing to do?”
Grandma broke the silence, “EOS where did you find the recipe?”
“It was hanging on the fridge door in the background of one of your old family movies.”
“Well first things first young lady I want a copy of that recipe.”
“Yes Mrs Tracy.”
“What you have done here today and over this past year was indeed a good and kind thing to do.”
“Thank you Mrs Tracy.”
“And it’s Grandma EOS.”
“Yes Grandma Tracy.”
“Next she’ll be calling you Dad John.” Scott sniggered next to his brother,
“Don’t start.” But John smirked anyway, he was so proud of EOS.
“How about I put on some more coffee.” Virgil said as he rose to start the pot.
“Good idea Virgil, because I don’t know about the rest of you but I am going to have coffee and gingerbread house for breakfast!”
“FAB Grandma and EOS merry Christmas.” Virgil’s salutation was repeated by all in the room.
I would like to ask about your WIP 'B'Elanna'. Because I love her. I really do. I wanted to be her when Voyager first aired and totally ship her and Tom. So what it's about? What it's about? WHAT'S IT'S ABOUT?! 🤪
Thank you for asking, @jbarkerstargazer 🎨! 🥰
That WIP actually is a look at the Tom and B’Elanna relationship after Voyager. How do these very different people stay together (spoiler: they do) when the experience that leveled them is over? B’Elanna grew up mostly with just her mom (with influences from her grandmother or other extended family, depending on the episode), feeling like an outsider. Tom has two siblings and two parents and is the ultimate Starfleet insider with an admiral dad and the extended Paris lineage behind him. I wanted to explore how Tom and B’Elanna would cope with being smacked in the face with just how vast the differences between them are — on top of having a newborn and needing to readjust to the Alpha Quadrant.
I hope that sounds interesting, @jbarkerstargazer 🎨, because I do want to finish that one (someday). Thank you again for asking. 🥰
I have to ask U. Is there a pairing you want to do but haven't yet. I've said it before I love that you're not tied down to a ship.
Thank you for asking, @jbarkerstargazer, and thank you for your kind words about my multishipping. 💕
I would like to write true J/7 (an actual story, not a drabble). That’s a deep ship, though, and I don’t have my head around it the way I think I should to be able to do it justice.
I would like to write a Beverly Crusher rare pair full of kindness and beauty. I love Beverly Crusher and want to give her happiness.
I also would like to write Elizabeth Shelby/Seven of Nine, because I think they could be electric and sweet and generally good together.
Oh, and Thomas Riker/Sito Jaxa fall in love as they escape the Cardassians together and go on to live their best lives.
My answers could (likely) be different tomorrow, but those are the pairings that popped into my head when you asked. Thank you again, @jbarkerstargazer. 💕
Just a hi and to say I finally got a second to read 'Finding you where you're never been'.
Loved it! Loved the way you showed Star Fleet. Loved the way you showed Owens influence over Tom. Loved how you showed how uncomfortable B'Elanna was. The reactions felt real and not over done. Not every disagreement has to end in a screaming row.
You are so sweet, @jbarkerstargazer! 💕 Thank you.
Yes, I really wanted to explore the impact of class and family. Even if the economics of the future are more egalitarian, I think privilege will always be with us (hopefully in less insidious ways than today), mostly in the form of the privilege of proximity and comfort (e.g., family experiences enabling someone to know Starfleet norms before ever stepping foot onto the academy).
And I think many people have to resist the urge to “revert” to old behaviors around family.
I’m so happy (and relieved!) that you loved this story, @jbarkerstargazer, as your wonderful encouragement pushed me to finally finish it. Thank you so much. 💕
