TAG TEAM SECRET SANTA

Everything you need for Thunderbirds Secret Santa

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And that’s everything :)

Thank you to all the gift creators and those who comment and like and encourage and support. Thunderfam is what we make it, and we make it great!

We hope you enjoyed TAG Team Secret Santa 2025. Enjoy, reblog and share the many creations, …and until next year - see you in the sky!

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From @thalassastra

From @thalassastra to @thedryswan

1. Christmas with Scott/ Havoc.

2 New Years with Virgil/Conrad.

3. How about a Kayo off duty, relaxing and being less serious?

It’s the Fashion

26th December

Kayo sat, feet up, on the sofa in the lounge. Her sketch pad was balanced on her legs, and a set of Virgil’s best coloured pencils were wedged between her and the cushions so as not to fall and spill. There was an open box of chocolates just within reach on the floor beside her. Soft music played and the Christmas tree lights gave a warm glow to the room.

Contented that all was well in the world and she had time to rest, she reached down, fished for a chocolate, and snagging one between her fingers lifted it to inspect her prize. Caramel. Not the best one (that was strawberry cream, in her opinion) but certainly acceptable. She unwrapped it, dropped the empty wrapper back into the box, then reached across to find the next colour she needed.

A smile of satisfaction crossed her lips as she started to colour the main part of the picture a familiar shade of green. A touch of a darker shade on the lapels, a strong pink to contrast on the embellishment… finished. 

A movement caught her eye, and she looked up to see John walking into the room, his nose in a book (how many times had she told him to look where he was going?) and she grinned, the next part of her plan forming in her mind.

“John!” she said brightly.

Recognising the tone of her voice as “you’re about to be roped into something”, he froze and looked up, glanced down at the book, and back at her, before his eyes did a quick scan around the room. Whether he was looking for allies or escape routes, Kayo wasn’t sure, but she wasn’t going to let him get away without getting involved in her scheme.

“Would you like a chocolate?” She lifted the box from the floor and gave it a tempting rattle. She could almost see the cogs working as he calculated whether whatever it was she wanted was worth the treat. Honestly though, she could have made a trap with a Wile E. Coyote style sign saying “free chocolate” pointing at a noose and she would have been fairly confident she’d catch a Tracy. 

“Thanks,” he crossed the room, picked out one of the purple ones, flopped onto the sofa and lifted his book back up in the vague hope that the only thing she’d wanted was for him to stop walking around while reading.

“While you’re here…”

A turquoise eye peered at her from over the book.

“...I have a favour to ask.” She passed her sketchbook over to him. “For the New Year party at Penelope’s.” 

Obligated by the chocolate he was chewing, he put his book down and took a look at her drawing. It was a man’s suit, tailored in the British style, but with a Malaysian twist. The jacket was a mid-green silk with a flourish of pink hibiscus flowers embroidered down one side. The lapels were dark green, as were the trousers. The shirt was black and high collared, though open at the front with a subtle pattern embroidered down the sides of the throat. 

“Well, what do you think?”

“It’s very nice,” he replied cautiously. “I’m sure you’ll look great in it.”

“It’s not for me.”

“For Scott?” he said without much hope. This hadn’t been the first time Kayo had attempted to use him as a model for her creations “because you’re tall” though he’d thus far managed to escape.

She laughed but decided to put him out of his misery, partly just to save the time of him attempting to throw all of his brothers under the bus before he’d get to himself.

“No, but not for you either. And that’s why I need your help. Listen…”

27th December

“Scott!” 

Scott guiltily shoved the plate of leftover dessert behind the cereal box, and picked up a piece of fruit from the fruit bowl.

“What are you doing?” Kayo asked as she pulled out a stool and sat next to him.

“Breakfast. Needed something healthy after all the party food,” he lifted the… (what had he picked up? Ah…) pear and bit into it. It wasn’t at all ripe and crunched loudly and he tried not to grimace at the sour taste.

“Excellent, you can bring it with you.  We’re going shopping.”

“Shopping?” he frowned. “What for? We did all the Christmas shopping already.”

“The sales are on,” Kayo smiled.

“Ah… well…” he searched for an excuse. Alan came strolling into the kitchen yawning. “Alan loves shopping!”

“I do?” 

“Alan’s not tall enough.”

“Alan’s not tall enough to go shopping?”

“There’s a height limit?” Alan frowned. “I mean, I know it’s a high street, but since when was it a height street?” He grinned at his joke and put his hand up to high-five Scott, who was so puzzled he actually did it without looking or really acknowledging what he was high-fiving about.

“Well, you can come too, if you like. But you’re still coming.” She gave Scott a friendly poke in the shoulder. “Just, don’t tell Virgil where we’re going.” She hopped down off the stool. “I’ll see you in the hangar in thirty minutes. Make sure to clean that chocolate cake off your face before we go, though.” She gave a casual wave over her shoulder and strolled off.

Alan climbed onto the vacated stool. 

“I wonder why you’re not allowed to tell Virgil that you’re going shopping.”

Scott shrugged and pulled the plate of dessert out from behind the cereal, dropped the half-eaten pear on the edge of the plate, and picked up the rest of the slice of chocolate cake.

“Dude, cake for breakfast!” Alan’s mouth dropped open. “I thought you said we had to eat healthily in the mornings to set us up for the day!”

Scott shrugged.

“It’s the Christmas-New Year cheat week. I won’t tell if you don’t.” 

Alan grinned and grabbed a cake off his plate.

“Deal.”

28th December

Gordon surfaced at the end of his lap and about had a heart attack. Kayo was lying on the poolside, her arms under her chin and her face about six inches from his, looking down at him.

“Good morning, Gordon,” she smiled.

“‘Morning. You’re up early on your day off.”

“I’m always up early. I just normally spend it reading, if I have nothing to do.”

“...and this morning you have something to do.”

“You’re very astute.”

“Early morning swim?” he asked hopefully, even though he was pretty certain if that had been the case she’d have already been in the water.

“Nope. I need your help.”

“That depends. Who wronged you? I’m kinda on a final warning with John at the moment after the spider thing, and I don’t think Scott was overly pleased with the celebratory exploding confetti - though that wasn’t aimed at him, it was for everyone to enjoy. Not my fault he was standing closest to the cannon.”

“It’s actually Virgil that we’re going to be surprising.”

“What did Virgil do?”

“It’s more what he hasn’t done,” Kayo grinned. “Do you remember how to embroider flowers?”

“It’s been a while…” Gordon unconsciously flexed his fingers. It was a skill he’d picked up as part of his rehabilitation, and not one to let a skill go unused, had variously stitched things into his brother’s clothes and towels ever since. Every few months they would get complacent and a new picture or word would appear. The prank embellishments were normally basic, quickly executed and somewhat wobbly, but Kayo knew if Gordon took his time he was actually very good at it.

“What kind of flower? Corpse flower because he’s stinky? Bastard toadflax because he’s-”

“No Gordon. Pink Hibiscus.” She explained what she wanted help with. 

Gordon grinned and gave a nod.

“Okay, let me dry off and I’ll get my sewing kit.” 

29th December

“Alan!”

Alan jumped and his character, so skilfully having traversed three of the four platforms above the lava, jumped clear to the side of the last one and fell.

“Kayo!” he sighed as the game reloaded from the last checkpoint which was further back than he’d realised. 

Kayo chuckled.

“Sorry. It’s just we need to do a supply run to the Spacehub transit terminal. They’re running short on a few things and their regular shuttle is in for maintenance.”

“Uhhh, I thought we weren’t doing anything but the most urgent of emergencies this week. There’re shuttles going up all the time, couldn’t someone else take what they need?”

“Three is faster. And besides, once we’re enroute I have this to play.” She waved a copy of Zombie Apocalypse 3 in front of him.

“What? The collector’s edition with the extra levels, art book and limited-edition resistance patch?”

“That’s the one!”

“I thought it had sold out!”

“I’ve got contacts everywhere,” Kayo winked. “So, shall we go?”

“Wait… this isn’t some test is it? Like I’m supposed to be concentrating on flying Three so I’m supposed to say “no Kayo, you should never game and fly”!”

Kayo laughed.

“No. I trust you’ve docked with enough airlocks not to have to research the information about how to do it on the way. Come on, it’s still our week off, just… pretend like we’re Santa bringing a late delivery while saving the world from Zombies on the way.”

“Ho ho ho! Let’s go!” Alan leapt up and Kayo followed, happy her plan was coming together nicely.  

30th December

“Hi Virgil.” Kayo climbed the steps to the mezzanine, carrying a brightly coloured bag. 

“Hi Kayo.” Virgil was cleaning his brushes, having finished the next part of the landscape he was working on. 

“I just wanted to return these…” she took his coloured pencils out of her bag and handed them over.

“When did you…? Never mind.” Virgil was fairly used to his siblings borrowing his things. It was a novelty to have them returned rather than just coming across wherever they had been left, so he wasn’t going to complain about her taking them.

“And this is a present for letting me borrow them.”

“I didn’t-”

He had the bag shoved at him and took it.

“Well, see you later!”

She strolled off back down the stairs with a wave.

“Bye,” he shrugged, and peered inside the bag…

31st December

Craighton Ward Manor always looked spectacular, but this evening it was beyond beautiful.  Silver and gold lights twinkled over the trees that lined the driveway. The doorway was framed in deep green fir branches adorned with golden and silver bells, pinecones and ribbons. Inside, the main hall had cascades of silver and gold curtains, more lights, and arrangements of winter flowers.

Kayo had arrived unfashionably early; in fact, Penelope had expressed her surprise at her friend turning up precisely at 8pm, rather than stealthily making her entrance later in the evening. Kayo had shrugged it off as having had a rare relaxing week of being off duty and wanting to make the most of the party.

Thirty minutes of awkward hanging around and guests had started to trickle in. She waved as she saw Scott and John enter.

“Been here long?” Scott asked, nodding at her near-empty wineglass.

“The party started at eight, Scott,” she retorted, peering around him and frowning.

“Virgil is enroute, with Gordon and Alan” Scott replied, even though she hadn’t asked. “They’ll be here in about twenty minutes.” 

“Uh, why is he so late?!”

“It’s a New Year party, Kayo. There’s plenty of time yet. The buffet doesn’t even open until nine.”

“Yeah, well… I suppose not everyone has arrived yet anyway…”

It was almost 9pm before Virgil entered, tailed by his two younger brothers.

“There they are!” she exclaimed.

Scott looked over his shoulder; Gordon was easy to spot in his black suit with sunshine yellow shirt, Alan had opted for his typical “I have to go formal” white shirt, blue tie and pale blue suit, and Virgil… 

“Oh, Kayo. I’m sorry,” Scott felt his stomach drop. Virgil was just wearing his usual charcoal grey suit.

“For what?” Kayo replied, frowning. 

“The suit you made for Virgil? He didn’t wear it.”

“Maybe it didn’t fit right…” John ventured. “Or he bought it to change into later…”

“Yeah, that’s probably it,” Scott agreed, mentally thinking of the dressing down he was going to have to give Virgil for hurting Kayo’s feelings.

To their surprise, Kayo laughed.

“Oh no, it wasn’t for him to wear. It was-” she cut herself off as Virgil, spotting them from across the room, waved and made his way over. Gordon and Alan followed, only pausing for Alan to grab a glass of wine off a tray, which Gordon immediately took from him.

“Sorry we’re a bit late. Gordon spent forever doing his hair.” Virgil rolled his eyes.

“But it was worth it, don’t you think?” Gordon turned his head and posed as if he were in a shampoo commercial to show off his style.

“Looks exactly the same as any other day,” Virgil grumbled.

Gordon frowned at him.

“You spent nearly as long tying your tie.”

“I wanted to get the design hanging just right.” He turned so they could all get a good look at the green silk embroidered with pink hibiscus flowers. “Thanks Kayo, it’s really lovely.”

John and Scott shared a glance of confusion, but didn’t say anything. Maybe after all the rushing Kayo had downgraded her ambitions of making a full suit to just a tie?

Conversation turned to new year plans, ambitions, resolutions. But Kayo seemed uncharacteristically distracted, repeatedly glancing at the door and consulting her watch. 

Finally, she gave a huge grin. 

“What are you looking-” Virgil turned and caught his breath. 

On the far side of the dance floor, illuminated by a thousand twinkling lights stood a tall figure in the most gorgeous suit. The cut emphasised his slim figure and the green silk set off his bright blue eyes, which scanned the room uncertainly; until they met Virgil’s. Then he smiled and Virgil felt himself smiling in return, though he was frozen to the spot.

That was until a sharp poke in his back had him crashing back down to reality.

“What are you waiting for?” Kayo urged. “Go talk to him!” 

“Oh, uh, right.”

He crossed the room, wondering what to say.

“Hi.” 

“Hi.”  

“You look, um, really… stylish.” Virgil inwardly cringed.

“Thanks, do you like it?” Conrad held his arms out and gave a slow spin. “I have to admit; I really wasn’t sure about it to begin with. It seemed a bit… fancier than I’d normally wear. But then I thought I’m going to a Lady’s house…” he waved his hand to take in the lavish surroundings. “So, I wouldn’t be too out of place.”

“It’s perfect.” 

“I like your tie.” 

“My-” Virgil looked down. He’d forgotten about the gift Kayo had given him, and now saw that it was a perfect match to Conrad’s suit. “Thanks. Kayo made it.”

“I guessed,” Conrad gave him an almost-shy smile. 

The penny dropped. Virgil looked back and saw Kayo grinning and giving him a thumbs up, while his four brothers tried not very successfully to pretend they weren’t watching. 

“She certainly has a talent,” Virgil smiled.

Across the dancefloor Kayo turned back to the others.

“Stop staring!”

“It was for Conrad?” Scott exclaimed, ignoring the instruction. “I didn’t even know he was coming.”

“Why did you think I wanted you to try on jackets when you came shopping with me Scott?” 

“I just thought you thought I needed a new jacket. I figured that you’d noticed the burn hole from when I was welding-” Scott realised what he was saying, "surreptitiously" adjusted the silk square in his breast pocket and smiled. 

Kayo rolled her eyes.

“You’re the closest in build to Conrad. I needed a rough guide for sizing.”

“So, when we went to the Spacehub to drop supplies…?” Alan ventured

“I did a final fitting on the actual subject,” Kayo nodded. “John helped me find the materials on short notice. And Gordon helped me with the embroidery. I wouldn’t have gotten it all done in time on my own. Now…” She ushered them away from the scene. “Go get some food. The buffet has been open for ten minutes already and you’ve not even been over there.”

“But I want to see if-” Gordon started. 

“No!” They were all pushed toward the queue for food.

The evening moved on with delicious food, music and dancing, good company and laughter. Virgil did bring Conrad over to talk with his siblings, and they all complimented him (and Kayo) on his outfit. Midnight drew close and the guests crowded the dancefloor, counting down the seconds and cheering as the clock chimed in the New Year. 

Virgil found himself turning this way and that, shaking hands, being kissed on the cheek by various people known and unknown, and wished a happy new year over and over. 

Then finally he found himself face to face with Conrad. It was as if all the background noise ceased and there was only him. He leaned in, and with only the slightest hesitation, gently gave Virgil a kiss.

“Happy New Year.”

Virgil felt like he was floating. There was no hesitation as he kissed Conrad in return and smiled. 

“Happy New Year.”

“It’s been an amazing night,” Conrad sighed. “I don’t want it to be over.”

“It doesn’t have to be. Not yet.” 

“The clock’s chimed midnight. Any moment my beautiful clothes will return to the rags of a space controller-”

Virgil took his hand. 

“I just happen to have one of the fastest planes in the world outside, and it’s not yet midnight over the Atlantic. I know this small town, not really a place that anyone would visit, but it’s nice. At the new year they’d have a bit of street party, a few drinks, some local musicians. Nothing as fancy staying here… but there’s a cosy farmhouse-”

“I’d love to.”

And so, they left to chase the sun, and make their first day last just a little bit longer.

FIN

Best wishes for the New Year everyone! :)   

[tagsecretsanta]

From @soniabigcheese

From @soniabigcheese to @little-vulpecula

First of all thank you very much for sending me the Secret Santa prompts, I have chosen ... 

Tin-Tin (TOS)Exchanging Presents

I did my research and I assumed that Tin-Tin was of Malay origin, I apologise in advance for any mistakes I have made along the way 

Now, let's assume that this is her very first Christmas on Tracy Island and there's a lot of adjusting to their 'Western ways'

She was brought up by traditional customs from her father Kyrano

Christmas morning, the kitchen was alive with the fervour of cooking, amongst other things ... there was the usual disagreement between her father and Mrs Tracy Senior (aka Grandma) over what meals should be cooked  ... a Turkey dinner - oh, absolutely not ... Perhaps the sons of his employer Jeff Tracy  would prefer some dishes of noodles?

Tin-Tin noticed her father's fatigue and decided to step in, with amazing dexterity. She produced several dishes...

... after all, it is customary to make a lot of food for the 'family' ... albeit, a very large and extended family?

She stepped back awaiting the horde of hungry mouths to appear and demolish the dishes in record time

Alan appeared beside her, scooping the noodles into his bowl, a gentle reminder from his dad to thank her for the food. To which he did distractedly, the food already stuffed into his mouth

"Thanks Tin."

"You are welcome," she responded with a gracious bow

"Hey, you haven't forgotten the presents, have you?" he winked slyly at her ... her mouth dropped open, as she realised that they expected more from her ... the food was her gift to everyone. She thought quickly and turned on her heel

"I'll be right back."

Berating herself for not being so self aware, she hurried towards her bedroom and pulled out a small box from underneath her bed and opened it, to reveal a pile of red envelopes ...each containing a small amount of money

Initially she thought that it was a stupid idea  because they already had money, so what else would they need ?

Returning to the lounge, where she was greeted by an array of over stuffed men, and a rather miffed Grandma Tracy who moaned about how she slaved over a hot stove ... and nobody wanted her Turkey dinner because they'd already eaten too much

Present time!

She watched as brightly coloured gifts were exchanged and several pairs of socks were produced along with gales of laughter ... she gripped her box tightly, feeling a little nervous and slightly ashamed that she didn't quite manage to get such silly lavish gifts

Soon, it became her turn and all eyes fell on her expectantly

She felt herself blushing, as she handed out the envelopes explaining 

"It is customary to give money as gifts in my country   ... as well as make a feast for everyone!"

Biting her lip, she expected to see disappointment on their faces, but they all cheered and thanked her profusely for bringing in a little culture into their lives

She sat back and smiled, exchanging a knowing glance at her father ... and taking mental notes 

Next year ....

Silly socks

[tagsecretsanta]

From @sailing-on-a-puddle

From @sailing-on-a-puddle to @katiedido2

Merry Christmas to my recipient! I took prompt 3 “Scott and Virgil being best friends” as the prompt for this story.

Trigger warnings for small mentions of alcohol and the possible non-magical existence of Santa.

—---------------

“Dashing through the snow

In a one horse open sleigh”

Virgil sat in the lounge playing the piano. He wasn't exactly sure when he'd started singing the lyrics to the Christmas songs he was playing, but oh well.

He also knew he should go to bed, since it was past midnight on Christmas Eve, so technically Christmas Day. Everybody else had retired a while ago. But he'd not had a chance to play Christmas music much with so many pre-Christmas rescues, and Scott had landed Thunderbird One a few minutes ago. He'd at least wait for his big brother to appear from the launch chute and push him Merry Christmas.

Come to think of it, Scott was taking a while. He was normally super efficient with post-flight checks and straight back to the lounge.

“Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells,

Jingle all the way”

Right on cue, the wall over the other side of the lounge began to turn, indicating Scott's arrival.

Except the wall didn't complete its turn as it got stuck half way round.

And the person in the launch chute didn't look like Scott Tracy.

It was Santa. With a fake large stomach and a bag of presents which was currently preventing the wall from completing its turn.

Virgil was forced to change the song immediately.

“Wheeeeeeeen Santa got stuck in his launch chute”

Scott adjusted the bag of presents and the fake belly and stumbled out of the turning wall with none of his usual grace.

Virgil continued to play the tune and asked “How was the rescue?”

“Wasn't a rescue.” Scott replied, putting the bag of presents down and wandering across the lounge. “I got there and the local authorities had it all in hand. If anything, I made it worse by having a lot of drunk bystanders trying to walk on thin ice to get a better selfie with One. Thankfully the ice didn't crack.”

Suddenly, both shouted in sync, “ACHOOO! ACHOOO! ACHOOO!”

They both laughed.

“We can't not do that can we?” Scott asked.

“Absolutely not. It's tradition.”

The tradition had begun when Scott and Virgil were small, and their mum would play the song. It was always the first bit any of the children learned. Scott was a teenager when Alan came along but he still joined in with enthusiastic Achooo!ing.

Now Virgil was the pianist rather than their mum, and they still made the noise every time.

“Speaking of traditions” Virgil continued “are you going to explain your current attire, or just carry on like you're dressed in your standard clothes?”

“It's a Santa outfit” Scott replied.

Virgil waited.

Clearly no further explanation was being voluntarily offered.

“Scott, why are you wearing a Santa outfit?”

“To be Santa.”

Virgil took a big breath. “Scott Carpenter Tracy, for what reason or event have you decided to be Santa and wear your current attire?”

Virgil held down a chord in It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas and looked at his brother expectantly.

“To eat that mince pie” Scott replied, pointing at the mince pie that had been left on the desk, along with a glass of sherry and a carrot for the figure he was currently dressed as. “Ooo hang on, who made them?”

Virgil laughed and carried on playing. “I did, you're safe. At least I hope that's your opinion.”

Scott was already eating it. “Excellent!” he replied with his mouth full. Once he'd finished “Apple will always be my favourite, but these are a close second.”

“Soooo, late night baking and Christmas tune playing?” Scott continued in a questioning manner, leaning on the piano. “What's up?”

Scott knew his brother so well. And Virgil knew Scott back. They'd been best friends for so long.

“Nope! No explanations until you explain the costume.”

“OK” Scott sighed. “I bought the outfit last week thinking I'd dress up on Christmas Eve, we'd all be in the lounge, I'd hand out some party food, you know, really get into the Christmas spirit. It's been so long since we had a real family Christmas. But I've been on back to back rescues this afternoon and evening, so no party, and I thought well at least I'll deliver presents in the outfit and give anybody still up a laugh. And I think it's worked?”

Scott looked at Virgil with a questioning look, but it was mostly hidden by the massive fake beard.

Virgil smiled. “It worked.”

“Soooo, the pies and the piano after midnight?”

“Similar story” Virgil responded. “I wanted to play and I wanted to bake, but rescues and everything else got in the way and I just wanted to make sure I'd … been Christmassy.”

Scott smiled. “You did it without wearing a crazy Santa outfit though.”

“Oh I'd have worn it better.”

“You would. The trousers are above my ankles.”

They both laughed.

Virgil began to play We Wish You A Merry Christmas.

“Virg?”

“Yeah?”

“Merry Christmas. And thank you for always having my back.”

“Merry Christmas to you too. And thank you for always having mine”

Scott smiled, and then the smile became a yawn. “We should probably go to bed.”

“Doesn't Santa need to deliver his presents first?” asked Virgil, nodding his head towards the bag that was still on the other side of the room.”

Scott went over and arranged the presents from the sack under the tree.

Virgil finished We Wish You A Merry Christmas with a flourish, and they both headed out of the lounge for some well deserved rest.

[tagsecretsanta]

From @hebuiltfive

From @hebuiltfive to @the-original-sineater

Prompt: Water balloon fight since you can't have snow balls in the tropics

The Annual Tracy Holiday Water Balloon Fight

The afternoon sun blazed away high in the sky, the island below a veritable sauna, all the perfect set-up for the barbecue that was planned later that evening. Gulls squawked as they soared through the clouds, the waves in the distance lapped against rocks, and if Gordon Tracy wasn’t careful, he was at great risk of falling asleep right there and then, which wouldn’t have been ideal at all.

He had climbed the palm tree just south of the villa within moments of EOS starting the siren that echoed across the island. He hadn’t bothered with calculating how far up he’d got; all he knew was that it was the perfect vantage point. 

This year, he was taking no chances. This year, Gordon was in it to win.

Unfortunately, having a can-do attitude wasn’t a sure-fire way of actually winning and so he’d spent the last six months preparing.

His usual Hawaiian shirt had been left draped over one of the lounge chairs, forgotten about in favour of a muted, earthy shade of taupe. Thank you John’s diabolically boring wardrobe! Camouflage was the most obvious starting point and, thankfully, Gordon wasn’t a complete beginner when it came to the skill. He’d picked up subtle hints, tips and tricks between his WASP training and spending more time with Lady Penelope—who was such an expert when it came to The Art of Going Undercover that Gordon wouldn’t have been surprised to find a book written by her in a bookshop within the next decade.

Going solo this year had also been his idea. When he’d first proposed the idea that they forgo the usual pairings in favour of an Every Man For Himself version of events, the others hadn’t been too keen. Gordon had pushed and pushed until the majority relented. As much fun as TT2 had been (Team Thunderbird 2, the name Gordon had given himself and Virgil, who had been his normal partner in crime), he’d realised he had more of a chance at winning this year if he went solo. That also gave some of the rest of his family the same advantage, but he could deal with that.

Gaining the high vantage from the trees had also been decided upon early in his planning. From the top of the tallest palm tree, Gordon could almost make out the coastline, and with his ugly shirt, he blended in with the foliage perfectly. Getting his bucket up there with him had been a little more difficult but he’d managed it all the same.

Now all he had to do was wait for a target.

He’d had the foresight to add a watch to his wrist so he knew exactly how long he’d been in hiding. Two hours, fifty nine minutes. No wonder he was starting to get sleepy. In the heat of the afternoon sun, and his comfortable position he’d got himself in, Gordon’s eyelids were getting heavier and heavier by the second. Perhaps he should have clambered down to give his legs a stretch, if only to keep himself awake. It was a tempting idea, one he almost enacted, until he heard the scuffle of feet on the pathway beneath him.

From where he was perched, all Gordon could see was the messy tangle of golden locks that told him all he needed to know in regards to who had finally stumbled unknowingly into his trap. Alan was looking frantically over his shoulders, his breathing so laboured that Gordon could hear his younger brother panting. He slumped against the trunk of Gordon’s palm tree, hands on his hips as he tried to catch his breath. Gordon’s cunning plan had taken time to pay off, but it had worked. He couldn’t help the smile that creeped onto his face.

Reaching over a frond, Gordon carefully retrieved one of the water balloons from his precariously sat bucket—a red balloon because what other colour would befit his baby brother?—and then hovered it over the edge, aiming with as much precision as he could until…

SPLAT!

Exploding as it hit Alan right in the centre of his scruffy head, water spilled out all over him. His brother shrieked, twirling around to try and find the source of the attack.

Gordon couldn’t stifle his victorious laughter and, grabbing his bucket, he began his slow descent out of the tree. What greeted him at the bottom was a very soggy, very angry looking Alan.

“No fair!” His brother whined, picking out the remnants of the red balloon from his dripping locks. “You can’t do that! That was cheating!”

“There was no rule against hiding in the trees, Allie,” Gordon replied far too smugly. He pointed towards his brother’s head. “You missed a spot.”

Alan batted his hand away, scowling so hard that frown lines began to appear across his forehead. “I was going to win this year!”

“Keep on dreaming, Rocket Boy.”

With a huff and a puff, Alan folded his arms, defeated. He then glanced inside Gordon’s still-full bucket of water balloons. “Was I your first hit?”

Gordon rolled his shoulders. “Hiding up high has some advantages, but only if your targets decided to stop on by. So far, you’ve been my only caller. It also keeps you out of the action, so tell me, how’s it looking out there?”

“John’s out but I think he chose to be out. He didn’t put up much of a fight when Ridley chucked the balloon at him. I think she was kinda disappointed. Last I saw him, he was heading back to the villa with his eyes on his holo-tablet reading the latest edition of one of his journals.”

Which made total sense. If John wasn’t the first out, that would have been more surprising. One win (the first year) had been enough for their space brother and he hadn’t been interested in playing for too long since.

“Then there was Grandma. Scott snuck up on her and double-whammed her.”

Again, that made sense. Scott had a vendetta against their grandmother after she’d attempted to cheat the previous year. Her claims that Scott’s balloon hadn’t hit her were easily disputed by the fact that a) she was soaking wet and b) Brains had been a witness, albeit a very quiet one. For the last twelve months, Scott had been vocal about making sure to get Grandma properly. It sounded like he’d managed to achieve it.

“Virgil was next. Kayo got a good shot at him, but then Rigby managed to strike when she wasn’t looking. Kayo claimed that Virgil had been helping Rigby, but the pair deny it. It doesn’t matter though. While they were arguing amongst themselves, I managed to hit Rigby, so all three of them are out now.”

Alan took a breath before continuing with his breakdown of events thus far. “Brains was the next out, I think. Uncle Lee took him out when he was busy on his holo-tablet. He wasn’t happy about it; his holo-tablet got soaked in the process too, but Lee said he shouldn’t have had it out.”

How Brains had even been allowed to have it out during the game was surprising. EOS had made it very clear at the beginning of the game that none of them were allowed any sort of tech that might give them an advantage. Who knows what Brains had been looking at! Knowing the engineer, it had probably been some schematic that he’d suddenly had a brainwave for, but how was everyone else supposed to know that? For all they knew, he could have been looking at one of the various tracker maps they had for the island. Not that Brains would ever cheat, but still. It was the principle.

“Sounds like Lee was just playing the game,” Gordon conceded.

“Yeah, but he tried to call foul when Kip Harris caught him out on some steps. Said he almost slipped, fell and died. He was just being overdramatic, though. Scott witnessed the whole thing and claimed it was a totally legal move. He then threw a balloon at Kip and sprinted away from the scene.”

Gordon arched an eyebrow. “Is that who you were running from, then?”

“Hm?”

“When you stopped to take a breath, right before I hit you; you were running from someone, weren’t you? Was it Scotty?”

Alan winced slightly. “No. It wasn’t Scott but…”

Gordon grinned. “Did you get too cocky after you took Rigby out?”

“Okay, so I miiiiight have pushed it a little far after that.” He sighed, sitting himself down on a nearby boulder and swatting away some almost-invisible tiny bugs. His golden locks were still dripping, creating little wet patches on the grey of the rock. “In fairness, I was the one playing by the rules!”

“What did you do, Allie?” The accusation in Gordon’s tone was dulled by the fact that he was entirely amused by the prospective story. 

“We said no partners this year, right? It was why Kayo got all huffy with Virgil and Rigs. So when I saw Penny and Parker looking like they were conspiring, I…” Alan trailed off, looking increasingly guilty.

Gordon urged him on with an encouraging, “Yes?”

“I might have thrown all my balloons towards them.”

It was Gordon’s turn to frown, brows creasing with confusion. “You got them out, so why were you running?”

Alan bit his lip. “My aim wasn’t very good and I only hit Parker with one of the seven that were launched. Penelope, knowing that I had no more balloons, marked me as a target, and Gordon, you know how scary Penny gets when she’s on the hunt!”

All of his efforts went into not laughing at his baby brother’s mistake and Gordon distracted himself by patting Alan on the shoulder. “So she chased after you?”

“And she is fast Gordon.”

The dam broke and his laughter rained freely. “It’s an easy blunder to make, Allie.”

Alan shrugged sadly. “I thought I’d lost her when you threw that thing at me. You could have given me a concussion from that height!”

Gordon’s fingers tousled through Alan’s wet hair. “Nothing in there to damage.”

“Hey!” But Alan chuckled all the same as he shoved Gordon away from him. 

He did the quick calculation in his head as he regained his balance. Now that Gordon had ballooned Alan, that left himself, Scott, Ridley and Penny in the game. Ridley was one of the newbies this year and Gordon had yet to see the techniques she employed in play. Given that she was a successful GDF captain, however, had Gordon guessing she’d be a decent opponent, definitely worthy of the likes of Scott and Penny.

Penny.

She’d been chasing after Alan.

And Alan had ended up here…

The smile that Gordon had been sporting since successfully tagging Alan was wiped off his face. He span around, observing the clearing and the bushes beyond.

“Gordon, what are you—?”

He hushed Alan was a quick look, his finger on his lips, but he couldn’t hear anyone. Yet. This was Penelope, after all. Gordon wouldn’t necessarily hear her until she was ready to jump him.

With one swoop he picked up his bucket of balloons and began to leave the clearing with haste. Alan stumbled along behind him, clearly confused by his brother’s switch-up.

“I thought you liked this area? You had the high vantage point.”

“Yes, but now you’ve gone and ruined it.”

“Me?” Alan gasped incredulously. “How have I ruined it? You got me out!”

Gordon rolled his eyes, not letting up on his speed for a second. “You said Penny was chasing you. You could have led her straight here.”

If Alan felt in anyway guilty, he failed to show it. “I don’t think I did. I thought I was in the clear until you soaked me!” He shivered to make his point.

“You’re just being overdramatic. This is far better than the snowball fights we used to have instead.”

“Just because you’re a fish who enjoys getting wet, it doesn’t mean the rest of us do.”

“Alan,” Gordon sighed, “how exactly are we supposed to have a snowball fight in this climate?”

But before his brother could answer, the bushes beside them rustled and, launched from a particularly good hiding spot, a water balloon came flying across, hitting Alan straight in the shoulder.

Stunned, he whirled at the attacker, whining because he’d been soaked for the second time in half an hour. “I’m already out!”

Gordon wasted no time in returning the favour. He couldn’t work out exactly where they were hiding and so, playing it safe, he threw three balloons in the general area. All three hit their target with resounding slaps. Within seconds, the attacker had become the attacked, and a soggy looking Penelope came creeping out from the bushes.

She wore combat boots with khaki coloured trousers and a white top (although the white was more of a dirty grey-green now). Penelope, and by extension Parker, had taken the competition just as seriously as Gordon had this year. Along with Kayo, who had dressed equally as suitably, they’d perhaps been the only ones who had taken it so seriously.

Not that it did the other three much good. Gordon’s smug smile had returned in earnest.

“Sorry, Alan darling.” Penelope offered Alan and apologetic smile. “I had been aiming for your brother here.”

“Aaaaand ‘ya missed,” Gordon sang, greeting her with a taunting two-finger salute. “Too bad, Pen. Maybe next year.”

A twinkle shone in Penelope’s eyes then. “Who’s to say I won’t enact my revenge before then?”

Gordon, quite rightly, silenced himself. He knew better than to challenge Penelope any further, knowing full well that she would make good on any promise made.

The three of them began to make their way back to the villa slowly, Gordon taking the lead. It was a risky move, given that he was one of the last people standing. Perhaps he should have asked Penelope and Alan to flank him as protection. He’d made it this far—the final three—and shouldn’t have needlessly risked making himself a target before he had a shot at winning the competition.

But Alan and Penelope were chattering away behind him, something to do with Penelope and Parker’s earlier conspiring, and Gordon did not want to get himself involved in that conversation. Penelope’s thinly veiled threat was still fresh swirling around Gordon’s thoughts. He’d be sleeping with one eye open for the next few weeks.

The Final Three.

He’d made it! It took all of Gordon’s will to not start grinning unbearably again, after all he still had to track down Scott. Though his older brother might have held the winning spot for the last couple of years, Gordon had a good feeling this year would be different. Scott was lacking Brains as his partner this year, so if he played his cards right—

Gordon rounded the corner and exited the jungle first, Alan and Penelope now far enough behind that he’d lost sight of them.

But he wasn’t worried about that. Gordon was more concerned with his target, Scott, standing a few feet away, with his back to him. Maybe there was such a thing as Christmas miracles because something had dealt him his ability to win on a silver platter.

Or was that a blue platter? Scott was wearing his usual soft cyan shirt, easily identifiable and, unbeknownst to him, would be the cause of his brother losing to him this year.

Gordon lowered his bucket to the floor quietly and reached inside. One balloon. That was all he needed. That would be all it took. With a quick aim, he threw it and the balloon collided with Scott’s back, soaking his light blue shirt into a darker hue.

Scott whirled around in surprise, eyes searching for the culprit of the attack. When they landed on Gordon, he was already doing a victory dance, cheering wildly aloud. Scott’s attempted explanations fell on unhearing ears.

If Gordon had stopped his dancing for even a second, he would have noticed the large damp spot on the front of Scott’s shirt, the only indication that his brother had already been taken out. If Gordon had stopped cheering so loudly, he’d have heard Scott explain that Ridley was still close by, that she was waiting for him to jump out into the open.

If Gordon had realised he’d said Final Three but only accounted for himself and Scott, he might have avoided coming in at second place.

Because Ridley appeared out of nowhere and launched two balloons towards Gordon, both aimed directly at his chest. He couldn’t escape the trajectory. He’d been too late. The balloons exploded and the water soaked John’s shirt.

It put a stop to his dancing. Behind him, he heard Alan stifle a laugh.

Ridley O’Bannon, the new champion of the Annual Tracy Holiday Water Balloon Fight, stepped over to Gordon with her hand outstretched. “Thought you might have been missing home, Aqua-Boy.”

Even if he wanted to be mad at her, Gordon couldn’t find it in him. Ridley had won fair and square. Like the good sportsman all Tracys were, Gordon took her hand and offered her a firm shake. “I’ll get you next year, O’Bannon.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Penelope chirped up. “He says that every year.”

Gordon glanced over his shoulder, narrowing his eyes at Penelope. She simply pursed her lips and sent him an invisible kiss through the air. 

“I’ll be sure to come back and defend my title,” Ridley grinned.

“I wouldn’t look too chipper.” Gordon turned back to the champion with a grin of his own, gesturing to John’s wet shirt. “There’s a Tracy in that villa who’ll be wanting words with you about soaking his favourite shirt.”

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From @little-vulpecula

From @little-vulpecula to @emtb319

Prompt: 'vegetable garden'

A Garden of Remembrance

Sally’s journey to the vegetable garden is a short one. Jeff had designed it to be only a brief walk from the villa, although the suggestion to include one at all had been Kyrano’s. Walking along the shaded path, her thoughts turn to her son. He’d always been filled with such determination. A determination to succeed, a determination to inspire, but, perhaps most importantly, a determination to save.

When she’d first seen Jeff after those long 8-years, she’d been taken back by how different he’d looked. His hair was even greyer, his wrinkles deeper, and his hands more calloused. However, his eyes had stayed exactly the same. They were still filled with that same determination, a determination to save replaced by a determination to be saved.

As she arrives at the vegetable garden she takes a moment to look around. It is a small patch of land, but no space is left to waste. There are plants running all along the ground and towering up into the sky. Small gravel paths weave between the different produce, cutting through the sea of green. Various fruits and vegetables are intertwined, sharing the little space available. It is mostly managed automatically by the Functional Agricultural Robots for Management, Environment, and Resources otherwise known as F.A.R.M.E.R.s. They’re one of Brains’ inventions and allow this garden to exist in the first place. This farm by no means supplies all the fruit and vegetables that the inhabitants of Tracy Island needed, but it certainly saves a few shopping trips to the mainland.

Sally takes her time selecting the best and ripest produce. It is Christmas Eve, the day before what would be the first Christmas with her son in 8 long years. She wants it to be perfect, or at least as close to perfect as this family could manage.

When the first harvest season on Tracy Island occurred, she’d taken all of her grandsons out to this garden. Jeff was fretting over the launch of International Rescue, and she decided it was best to take the boys elsewhere. They spent an hour or so picking the fruit that had grown, although not much actually made it back to the villa. She looks fondly back on that memory, so much has changed since then. None of them come out to this garden very often anymore, but occasionally she would catch someone out here, trying to find a moment of peace. One of her grandsons absentmindedly picking crops after a tough mission, Brains sitting amongst the greenery having dragged himself out of his lab for his mandatory number of hours in the sun, or Kayo looking for a reminder of her father after her latest encounter with The Hood.

As Sally wanders through the garden, she hears a muffled sound coming from the farthest side. Carefully, she sets down her basket and goes to investigate. She pushes through the undergrowth to find, sitting on the bench overlooking the rest of the crops, is Jeff. He’s slightly dishevelled, his hair not combed back as neat as usual, and he’s still wearing his dressing gown. The ex-astronaut is listening intently to his comms device as John monitors the various rescue missions taking place.

She reaches around her son and switches off the communicator. Jeff jumps slightly at the motion, clearly only now registering her presence.

“Hey, I was listening to that.” He responds, although the annoyance in his voice is minimal.

“They will be alright.” Sally sits down on the bench next to him. “They’ve been doing this for years just fine.”

“I know, I know… I just worry that’s all.”

“I worry too, but our worrying isn’t going to help them.”

There’s a brief pause.

“They’ve all grown up, even Alan is an adult. They’ve changed from the boys I once knew.”

“So have you.” Jeff glances up at his mother and she continues, “Can you really say that you’re the same Jeff Tracy as the one who boarded the Zero-X 8 years ago.”

“…no.”

“Some things are different, and some things will never change. But what’s most important is that we get to know, not just the new versions of the people we love, but the new versions of ourselves.” She gently places her hand over her son’s. “They don’t need you to save them anymore, and that’s not because of any failure on your part. Quite the opposite really, it’s due to their success after following in your footsteps.”

Jeff looks off into the sky, squinting as if trying to see beyond the clouds. “For all those years in the Oort Cloud, all I could think about was them, and you, this family. I spent so much time worrying about what would happen to all of you… but you’ve surprised me. You’ve rebuilt this organisation into something far greater than what it was before, than what I could’ve imagined. I feel as though I’m stuck figuring out my place in a world that has moved on from me.”

Sally doesn’t know what to say to that. There is an element of truth to it. They had rebuilt International Rescue without him. She’d mourned her son and yet she continued with her life, a life built around his absence. She never thought that they would all have this opportunity to be a family again.

A moment of silence passes.

But she had never moved on, not really. She didn’t think that you could ever move on from loss completely. She still thinks about her husband, especially when she sees his smile in Jeff. When someone you love dies, the thread connecting your souls is never cut.

“Maybe the rest of the world moved on, and maybe a small part of us did as well. But we never stopped thinking of you. Why do you think we tried so hard to bring you back?” She grips his hand tight. “Because there is a place for you here, it just might look a little different to what it once was.”

Jeff takes a minute to mull this over before he smiles softly. “Hmm… maybe I could take up cooking?” He says with a chuckle.

“Going after my job then?” She attempts to take mock offense, but her tone is a lot lighter than intended, happy to finally see her son smiling.

“There does seem to be a growing number of mouths to feed.”

“Well, if you want to be of use, you can come and carry my basket down to the villa. Oh, and you can help me prepare the vegetables. I’m not actually doing any of the cooking, rather I’m leaving that role in the much safer hands of MAX, especially for Christmas. But, cutting veg is something I can do without causing a disaster.” Sally stands up, keeping a hold of the ex-astronaut’s hand.

“Ok, yeah, I can do that.” As Jeff stands up, he brushes non-existent dirt off the bench's plaque. It’s made of stainless steel but shines like silver. Etched into it is a simple message, hand carved by the man himself; “For my wife Lucille, forever thinking of you”.

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From @hethinksclownsarefromspace

From @hethinksclownsarefromspace to @ajpendragon

Prompt: “All I want for Christmas is…a nap” (My favorite character is John, especially paired with Scott).

A favour returned

Scott woke with two bright blue eyes staring from way too close.

Luckily he’d spent enough time looking after younger brothers that this sort of thing didn’t startle him anymore.

“Hey spaceman.”

Even at John’s young age everyone already knew that he was smart. He didn’t speak much, but there was a brightness in his eyes as he observed everything going on around him, that made you know that he was paying attention. He’d had to tiptoe to reach Scott’s bed, and he was staring at him intently, waiting for him to work out why he was there.

Scott checked the clock. One minute past midnight. This year his parents were too exhausted with the baby Gordon and he’d volunteered to be Santa in their place. He was almost certain that the book that John was struggling to lift had been wrapped in his stocking a couple of hours ago. Oh well. No one would mind.

The little guy was intuitive. Even though he couldn’t contain his excitement he’d known better than to go to their parents and ruin their few precious hours of sleep. Scott, as the eldest brother, was evidently the next voice of authority.

“You want me to read to you?”

He nodded fiercely.

Scott blearily wiped his eyes and gave up on going back to bed. “Let’s go to the living room so we don’t disturb anyone, okay?” Despite how little his brother spoke, Scott always made sure that he talked to him, explained what was going on. The world was scary and confusing enough for a kid already.  “You want me to pick you up?”

The little redhead shuffled into Scott’s outstretched arms.

“Steady there Johnny.”

 Delicately balancing his little brother and the book that he refused to let go of, Scott tip-toed downstairs. This early in the morning the only sound was the tap of bare feet against floorboards and the ticking of the clock. He took the seat closest to the Christmas tree, setting the book open on his knee. John curled into his chest, small and warm.

Under the glow of the twinkling fairy lights, Scott could make out the words just fine. It was an astronomy book. Their dad had been so proud when he’d started showing an interest in the stars at such a young age.

“Mercury is the smallest of the planets, three times smaller than earth, and the closest to the sun. It’s so close that a year on Mercury only lasts 88 Earth days. Since there is no atmosphere, temperatures during the nighttime can fall as low as -180 degrees Celsius.”

Someway through the reading, John drifted off back to sleep, leaving Scott stuck on the sofa with a dead leg, not moving for fear of waking the kid up. He watched the slow rise and fall of his brother’s chest, and the gentle flutter of his eyelashes, until at some point, without even meaning to, he fell asleep himself.

One minute past midnight. 

Technically Christmas Day. The LED display on his alarm clock blinked cheerfully, and John resisted the urge to swat it off his bedside table like a cat.

“Merry Christmas” he muttered to no one in particular. 

International Rescue were still on call at Christmas, but they all still made an effort to spend as much time together as possible. John had cut it a little fine this year, he’d only returned to the island a few hours ago, and now his circadian rhythm was paying the price.

Already dreading the inevitable burnout that was going to suckerpunch him in a few hours’ time, he gave up on trying to sleep. Groaning, he half-wriggled half-rolled out of bed, only feeling a little lightheaded as he got to his feet. Anything was better than continuing to stare at the ceiling.

As he moved, he was acutely aware of gravity with every slow, lumbering footstep, with every tap of bare feet against the floorboards. As he reached the holotable he didn’t bother switching the light on, the twinkling light of the Christmas tree was enough to go by. John stopped to catch his breath, admiring the tree. The Tracy family had had the same artificial spruce for as long as he could remember. In their sleek, modern base of operations the tree was a little bit of home. It was getting a little patchy in places, but they made up for it with enough tinsel to make the branches bow. Among the normal tacky baubles were handmade decorations, saved from school projects and family crafting time. Virgil’s were the best, obviously. He and his brothers had always found it embarrassing, especially as they reached their twenties, but their father had always insisted. After his disappearance no one had even questioned if they were going up.  

His attention was on the tree, so at first he didn’t realise that someone else was there. Scott didn’t see him either, too engrossed with whatever he was doing. He was sat at their dad’s desk, back bent so that the glaringly bright screen in front of him was only a few inches from his eyes. The man was exhausted. John would have been able to figure that out even if he hadn’t been directing him through back-to-back rescues the last couple of days. The blue light made the bags under his eyes even more pronounced, like bruises.

“You know Tracy Industries staff have the Christmas off.” John remarked drily.

Scott startled, swearing. “What do you want, John?”

“Right now a nap, and it looks like I’m not the only one.” That got a small huff of laughter from his brother and he silently congratulated himself. John leaned over the desk, trying not to visibly wince at the brightness of the screen. “Wait, are those next year’s research proposals? They should have been approved months ago.”

That was the wrong thing to say, as Scott tensed like he’d been hit with an electric shock.  “I am aware.” He said curtly.

I didn’t mean it as a criticism. John bit back an apology, refusing to get distracted. Those proposals were the responsibility of Tracy Industry’s director of R&D. Retirement was on the horizon for the old goat, and he’d stopped putting more than the minimum effort into his job.

“Picking up Henderson’s slack again?” He was very careful to keep his tone soft, so it couldn’t be seen as disapproving.

Scott didn’t have the energy to shrug properly. “I’m the only other person with the authority.”

Why wouldn’t he step in to clean up someone else’s mess? Scott picked up other people’s burdens like it was second nature. Between International Rescue and taking their dad’s place in Tracy Industries, there wasn’t a time that Scott wasn’t looking after someone else.

It wasn’t sustainable. They both knew that. But Scott was so stubborn and selfless that he’d convinced himself that he was unstoppable.

John could have said any of this; but it was midnight, it was Christmas and they were both shattered. Instead what came out was  “Move.”

“Why?”

“Because gravity sucks and I need a chair.”

Scott raised an eyebrow at the empty sofas around him.

John met his gaze cooly, refusing to back down.

Maybe there was a time when they could have looked after each other without butting heads, but that was a long time ago.

With an exaggerated slowness, Scott stood up. Before John could celebrate his progress, however, his brother took the laptop from their father’s desk. He flopped dramatically onto the sofa and went back to what he was doing. Begrudgingly impressed with Scott’s ability to exploit a loophole, John took the seat next to him and gently slid the laptop out of his hands.

“Humour me. It’s Christmas.”

John didn’t believe in Christmas miracles, but the fact that his brother didn’t fight him any more on this was as close as he’d ever gotten.

Before Scott could change his mind, John started scrolling through the document that he’d been reading. Although John generally liked to keep his distance (literally) from the business side of things, he still knew what he was doing. The work wasn’t particularly difficult, just tedious. He took the time to summarise and narrate everything he was doing so that his brother didn’t feel like he’d hijacked this completely.

It was only ten minutes before he felt the weight of Scott’s head droop on his shoulder. Carefully twisting his head so he didn’t disturb his brother, John saw that he had nodded off. He smiled a little to himself. Oh well, it wasn’t like he was going anywhere anytime soon. He got back to work.

When their brothers found them on the sofa later in the morning, they were side by side and fast asleep.

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From @emtb319

from @emtb319 to @arwensarboretum

Prompt used: John and EOS celebrating the season on TB5

Family Traditions

Eos hadn’t been sure what to expect.  As promised, John was protecting her and was making an effort to include her in things unrelated to their jobs with International Rescue.  Thanksgiving had been interesting.  She was accustomed to noise, but the very early dinner was a whole other level that she’d never seen before.  There was lots of laughter with family and friends, a very full house of people. 

Overall, it was a positive experience, just very loud.  John did his best to explain and answer all of her questions.  There were a few holidays that they always tried to celebrate, because it allowed them time to gather together and enjoy each other’s company.  Plus, they were their mother’s favorite holidays.  She always loved hosting and being surrounded by family and friends. 

‘How about the Christmas holiday?  I found old pictures with you dressed in weird clothes.’  She showed him the files.

‘Yes, we celebrate that holiday too.  It’s not quite as big as Thanksgiving.  We keep it to just us.’  She continued to look through the old family photos to try to get an idea of what was to come.  Every so often, John would catch her looking at a single photo longer than the others.  ‘If you have questions about them, feel free to ask.’ 

‘Why did you wear similar sweaters?’  She pointed out a few family group photos.  The sweaters weren’t the same, but they were very similar and seemed to belong to the same set.

‘Mom made them like that for us.  She wanted them to be similar for our holiday photos, and she wanted them to reflect something that each of us loved.  Take a closer look at them.’  Scott’s sweaters had planes on them, Virgil’s had his tools, John’s had various constellations embroidered into the design, Gordon’s had lots of little fish, and Alan’s had rocket ships.

‘She made these for each of you?’  John nodded.

‘Mom would start working on them just after summer break ended.  Each one was crocheted and embroidered with her own hands.  It took a while, but I remember her always smiling as she made them and took photos of us wearing them.’  John passed his hand over each of the family photos.  He missed this part of their holiday celebrations.

‘What is it?  You seemed happy a moment ago.  Now you’re sad.’  John wasn’t sure how to explain it to her. 

‘We’ve tried to keep many of her traditions alive, but I miss this one.’  He pointed out some of the other things in the pictures.  Like how they still make handmade decorations for the tree, and how they do pajamas and movie night stuff for Christmas Eve.  ‘Unfortunately though, we haven’t tried to make her sweaters.’

‘We can try now.’  Eos said innocently.  The way she saw it, they had the resources and could make at least one before Christmas came along.

‘I’m afraid I’m not the best at it.  Maybe I can make some scarves?’  He thought about the colors and how he might manage it, and Eos helped with some video tutorials.  After reviewing a few different kinds of techniques, he settled on loom knitting. 

Eos noticed something else as John worked slowly on the gifts for the family.  She’d turn on holiday music radio, and shortly thereafter, he’d change it to some music from his private collection.  They were all piano pieces, but she didn’t know who was playing. 

‘John, why do you keep changing the music?’  After the 6th or 7th time he did it to her, she had gotten annoyed.  She liked the music with the words and other instruments playing.

‘Do you know who’s playing this music?’  He asked.

‘No, but I like the other music.’

‘It’s Mom and Virgil.  They always kept music playing in our home, especially at this time of the year.’  He hummed along as he worked.  The scarves weren’t perfect, but he loved them. 

‘Can we decorate a tree?’  Eos wanted to experience more of what she saw in the old photos.  John thought about it.  He hadn’t planned on doing anything like that, but he supposed they could.  He knew that they couldn’t do a real tree, but maybe Virgil could pick up a small, artificial one for them. 

‘Let me see if anyone can pick one up for us.  We can’t do a real tree, but we can do a small, artificial one.’  She chirped with excitement.  ‘Don’t get too excited yet.  Virgil and Gordon are exhausted from that call out and just want to get home.  I’m not sure if they can do a quick pick up for us.’  Before he knew it, Eos had opened a comms channel with Thunderbird 2.  She needed to know if they’d do it.  John apologized to Virgil and explained the situation. 

‘It’s fine John, really.  Can you put an order in, and would you like some of the old decorations?’  As soon as she heard that, she pulled up the online ordering system and started looking.

‘I can do that.’  Eos was already adding things to her shopping cart before John could finish his 4 word answer.  He went through her order and pared it down a bit.  ‘Eos, we don’t need all of this for a small tree.  Besides, Virgil will be sending up some of our old decorations, and we will make our own.’  She chirped with excitement again. 

‘Ok John.  I see the order confirmation.  If you think of anything else, please let me know.’

‘Yes Virgil.’  Eos answered before cutting the call.  Gordon laughed. 

‘She sounds excited.’

‘Yea she does.  It’s her first Christmas with us, and probably the first one she’s ever celebrated.  I’m guessing that she’s going through our old photos and videos.’  Virgil answered as they landed Thunderbird 2 a safe distance from the store.  ‘Might as well pick up some dinner while we’re here.  I don’t know about you fish, but I don’t want to cook tonight.’

‘Sounds good.  Let’s grab her order then some food for everyone.’

Eos watched as the space elevator ascended with their order and the extra boxes that Virgil had promised.  She was less than thrilled that they had to wait to assemble the tree due to a callout for Alan.  John had to explain that the rescue had to come first, and that they had plenty of time to get the tree assembled and decorated.  Turns out, they had to wait until the next day to try to work on their little tree.

Assembling it was easy.  Once the branches were fluffed out, he made work on the garland.  He was trying to use it to fill in the gaps around the main pole.  Eos loved directing him as he worked through each of the layers of branches.

‘What’s next?’  She asked.

‘Virgil’s box.’  John hadn’t had a chance to see what had been sent up to them until that moment.  He remembered making these ornaments.  One by one, he pulled them out carefully.  ‘These are pretty old.  We need to be gentle with them.’

‘Did you make them?’

‘Yes, they were the last ones we made with Mom before we lost her.’  He seemed sad again, and Eos wasn’t sure what to do.  She waited for him to move or say something.  ‘Sorry.  Mom wanted to try melting crayons inside of the ornaments.  It took a bit, but we finally managed to create these.’  He showed her each of them one at a time.  Eos took time to inspect each of them and the swirls of colors.  Over the next hour, they finished decorating their little tree. 

‘It looks good.  I like it.’  John nodded in agreement.  It felt nice to decorate a tree like this again.  He put his presents underneath it.  Eos was confused.

‘Presents go under the tree, then we open them on Christmas Day.’  Eos looked through the old family photos again and found ones of them opening boxes.  ‘Yes, like those photos, Eos.’  John found others for her.   ‘We can keep these here until it’s time to go down to the island.’

‘Okay.  Music?’  John put his mother’s piano music on again.  He placed the extra decorations around the command center, while Eos peppered him with all sorts of questions about each decoration he put up.  Now, she was very curious about everything.

Christmas Eve, John and Eos came down to the island.  She was still asking lots of questions about the pictures and decorations.  John tried his best to answer her, but in the end, he decided it was best for her to join them and experience some of it.  That night brought silly, matching pajamas and old Christmas cartoon movies. 

Christmas morning, Gordon and Alan bounced down the stairs and sat near the tree.  Scott, Virgil, and John preferred to grab a hot drink first.

‘Why are they bouncing?’  Eos was confused.

‘They want to open presents, but the rule is that we need to wait until everyone is gathered together.  They’ll be okay.  This year, they’re going to be our elves and give everyone their presents.’  She continued to watch them.  The more they waited, the more they bounced.  Once everyone was awake and ready, they joined Gordon and Alan near the tree.

They didn’t have rules per se for gifts, but they each preferred to make gifts for each other and keep things small.  John’s scarves were a perfect choice.  Each of them looked at the colors, and Scott saw the embroidery first.  John had successfully managed to recreate their mother’s sweater embroidery.

‘How?’

‘Eos found lots of old pictures.  I don’t know how many times I had to redo the embroidery, but I think I got it in the end.’

‘You did.  We still have her sweaters, but they’re a little too small to wear now.  You did really well with this.  Thank you John.’

‘Of course Scott.  I enjoyed making them for you.’

The rest of the morning was spent with light chatter, music, and breakfast.  Upon their return to Thunderbird 5, Eos had more questions.  John answered what he could and promised to let her experience more family gatherings.

‘Do we need to take the decorations down?’

‘Not now, we can keep them up a while.  There are even people who keep their trees up year round and change the decorations for each holiday.’  Eos researched the idea.  She liked it, but she also liked that this was special for this time of year.  ‘Don’t over think it.  If you’d like, we can keep things up for now and change the tree for the next holiday.  If you like it, we’ll keep it.  If you don’t, then we’ll pack it up.  Sound fair?’ 

‘Yes John.  Don’t take them down yet.’  John hadn’t planned on doing that quite yet anyway.  He liked being surrounded by memories of his mother.  Maybe next year, he’d learn enough to make sweaters for everyone. 

[tagsecretsanta]

From @such-a-random-rambler

From @such-a-random-rambler to @cookidoughlilac

1. The Mechanic ("unwillingly?") in a santa hat and/or out in the snow?

The Mechanic leans back, stretching out against the aches of being hunched over a work bench for hours. Access to the endless resources of Tracy Industries and International Rescue had at first had him as giddy as a child in a sweet shop, suppressing the urge to flit between the machines and simulations and raw materials for fear of looking too eager. After struggling for supplies for years now, he was reveling in the plenty that was available to him.  

Being able to work without interruptions for scavenging meant that he had been working uninterrupted; this being the first time he’d seen daylight in at least two days. The family was off somewhere, so he was taking advantage of their absence to enjoy their comfortable couches and the quite frankly stunning view. The endless sky and ocean made him feel free in a way that all the assurances that The Hood had been ‘dealt with’ couldn’t match.  

The Mechanic tells himself that he’s only here because he has nowhere else to go. He has bolt holes, workshops and safe houses all across the planet (and even a couple off planet) but they’re all in various states of disrepair and he doesn’t think of any of them as ‘home’. He’s not allowed himself that luxury for some time now, but he’s entering a new era and starting to think about setting down roots again. Maybe he’ll go back to where he grew up, or try somewhere brand new, but until he makes that decision he’s spending a lot of time with the Tracy’s. Not just in their hangers but in their home, socialising as well as working together. 

He’d been welcome at their beach barbecues and a place set for him at the evening meals and his favourite foods squirreled out from him and put on the grocery list and his name entered on the rota for unloading the dishwasher. He’d been given a private guest suite open access to transport on and off the island (it’s easy to be generous with that many zero’s in the bank) but they hadn’t even restricted his access to the hangers with their precious Thunderbirds. In fact, they were encouraging his scientific curiosity and technical aptitude.  After everything that had passed between them, the openness is absurd. Bizarre. Baffling. Oddly heart warming.  

His quiet contemplation is shattered by Gordon and Alan bouncing into the room. Obviously too deep in concentration to have noticed the light aircrafts return, the sudden noise and motion is a shock to the system. It would be rude to leave as soon as they arrived – it was their home after all – so he forces himself to sit awkwardly while they thump down several large boxes.   

“We’ve just picked these up,” Alan tells him, though The Mechanic hadn’t asked. “It’s a family tradition. They tend to get lost or dropped in the pool so we have to get new ones each year.” The boy’s ‘explanation’ does nothing to enlighten him on what’s meant to be in the boxes, pieces of packaging flying everywhere, coloured tissue paper emerging, boxes of what look suspiciously like festive decorations, until he triumphantly brandishes something red and white and velvet and fluffy, with the slightest hint of sparkle. 

Oh no. 

“Oooo those are good this year.” Gordon snatches one up, inspecting it closely inside and out.  “No bell on it though. I thought they were meant to jingle.” He shakes it to demonstrate the silence from the white puff at the end, presumably where the bell was meant to be. 

“The order got mysteriously changed.” John says, walking in ahead of the rest of the family. “I almost committed fratricide last year because of them and didn't feel like putting us all through that again.” 

And as quickly as that the room is filled with lively bustle. Scott and Virgil drop themselves on the couch alongside him, Her Ladyship helps Mrs Tracy organise something in the kitchen cabinets. Parker is teaching his dog a new trick on the balcony.  Hiram is showing John and Kayo and Mr Tracy something on a tablet that involves much gesticulating from him and thoughtful nods from the others. The Mechanic’s palms prick to go and join them and find out what Brains has in the works – he always has interesting ideas. 

“And this one is for you, Mechanic.” Alan brandishes one in his face, drawing him out of his thoughts with only the slightest of hesitation over his name.  

He has one, of course. Something other than the title he’s embodied for far too long, but he hasn’t volunteered it, and they haven’t asked. He’d been careful to erase the paper trail left during his employment on the original Zero-X but he’s no digital specialist like some here. And if they’ve found out by other routes – which they certainly have the resources to do – no one's let on.  

But respect for personal boundaries or not, there’s no reason to be wearing one of those when it isn’t even December yet. 

“I don’t think so.” 

“You have to. It’s Tradition.” Alan jiggles it again. In the meantime Gordon’s been passing out the rest of the box so everyone is in the process of putting on one of the ridiculous hats. Even the dog and the robot had one appropriately sized.  

He expected an ally in John, assuming he would keep some of the distance he usually has between his physical self and all this nonsense. But he had been silently betrayed as John dons the fluffy hat without question or complaint. Perhaps resistance had been pestered out of him over the years, for him to wear it at such a jaunty angle with no sign of distress, as if it were a perfectly reasonable thing to do. He’s even smiling. 

Hiram should be above this sort of thing as well, but he’s working away at the tablet still, with the soft white end dangling in his face.  

“Your tradition, not mine.” The Mechanic insists, arms crossed and face impassive. 

“Well, our tradition is that every person on the island for Christmas eve wears a hat for the group photo.” Gordon comes to stand next to his brother, mimicking the Mechanic’s posture. 

“Gordon,” Jeff reprimands, his voice as commanding as it ever was. “Don’t pester the man, he doesn’t have to if he doesn’t want to.” 

Christmas eve? Really? He’d disconnected himself from the outside world since the work began on the Zero XL and he hadn’t put himself back since it’s success - barring occasional and brief visits to the mainland for essentials. Had he lost tack of time that badly? He checks the calendar and swallows some inappropriately bad language, sitting up in alarm.  

“I didn't realise. That is, I haven’t -” he was going to be a guest in someone's home for Christmas and he didn’t have a gift for anyone. He wouldn’t have been surprised if his grandmother’s ghost rose from the grave to shame him for such rudeness. If he’d known he’d have made sure he was off island, away and alone, for such an intimate family focused day of the year. 

“Don’t worry dear.” Mrs Tracy says “You’ve already given us the greatest gift you could.” She looks over to her son, who shifts, uncomfortable under her attention. 

“Maaaaaaa.” 

“If you really feel bad about it then consider this my gift.” Gordon’s grin says he knows he’s got won. 

“Fine.” The Mechanic almost snatches the dangling hat from Gordon’s hand. “But just for the photograph.” 

“Great” Gordon claps his hands together and yells “Places people!” ducking away from his grandmother and her admonishment to use his inside voice.  

What follows is astounding. 

Astounding that such a highly capable group of people could take so long to organise themselves into three rows. There is much changing of places, shuffling back and forth, complaining about position and dropping of hats. Alan leaves the room completely at one point, and Kayo has to be instructed to let Gordon out of a head lock.  

“Don’t worry,” Virgil nudges him from where they’ve ended up elbow to elbow in the back row. “It’s always like this but won’t last long.” 

It’s a minor Christmas miracle when the chaos dissolves into something neat and orderly.  

“Finally!” A holographic image of Eos’ preferred interface on Five flickers into the Mechanics peripheral vision. “Please direct your attention to the camera.” A light from the security camera on the opposite wall flashes to highlight where they should look. 

“Everybody say ‘the hood sucks’.” Alan suggests. 

That one’s thrown out as not being in the spirit of the season, and ‘Thunderbird One is best’ sparks a brief but intense argument, so they settle on the basic but agreeable ‘merry christmas’. 

“There, over.” Virgil says as the group dissipates slightly, the image of him in a santa hat, deep amongst the Tracy family, preserved for all time. “We’ll be putting the tree up at around three this afternoon, eating at 1 tomorrow.” He lowers his voice slightly for the next part. “John and Dad have it covered, don’t worry.” Then again at a normal volume. “Feel free to join us if you would like but don’t let Gordon’s wheedling get to you. Everyone gets to spend this time how they’d like.” Virgil gives his shoulder a hearty slap, and moves off to speak to Her Ladyship. 

The Mechanic pulls his hat from his head, scrunching it in his fist. Deftly done: a genuine invitation but with the possibility of a polite declination built right in. Anyone would think the Tracy family was trying their best to make him comfortable, make him welcome. Anyone would think they are good people, willing to forgive and forget. How many of those are in the world? 

He catches Jeff’s eye, who gives him a small smile and an even smaller nod. Even after everything.... 

Maybe lingering here wouldn’t be such a bad thing. 

“I have some work I need to do.” The Mechanic announces to the room at large, getting a wave of acknowledgement from Hiram and a questioning look from Scott. 

He leaves them nattering behind him to make a beeline for his workshop, already planning. He has a dozen or so small machines to make before tomorrow; contraptions that  will be have to be assembled from whatever components he can find from his own discarded projects, or scrounged from Brains. Some will be easy: rockets, planes, fish. Some will need a little more thought. Plus he needs something to present them in – boxes, bags, wrapping. He might even sign his name.  

[tagsecretsanta]

From @call-me-casual

From @call-me-casual to @janetm74

The fire crackled gently within its hearth as Jeff leaned back in his chair. He groaned, forefinger and thumb reaching up to rub the corners of his eyes. If I start needing glasses just to write some darn cards…

He'd never hear the end of it, that was for sure. Lee he could deal with, but Lucy could be something fierce, and there was no way in hell he was giving her more ammo to call him her 'rocket nerd'. The fire popped beside him in agreement, earning a nod from the man who raised his mug up to his lips and promptly grimaced. 

"Seriously, who can drink this stuff cold?"

Just as he was about to set the hours old coffee back, a sniffle sounded nearby. Jeff's head all but snapped in the direction of its source.

"Scotty?"

There was a small gasp, the shuffling of feet on wood. Jeff cringed. Had he been too loud again?

"Scotty," he repeated, soft, "bluejay, it's okay."

The man pat his leg and pulled a smile onto his face, "Cm'ere."

Seemingly adequately assured, the small child shuffled into the room. Scott halted half way, little mouth opening and closing like a fish, before big wet eyes spilled over and he lunged with everything he had.

Jeff scrambled out of his seat to meet the boy, scooping him up into his arms.

"What's wrong, sweetie?" He pulled Scott as close as he could, stroking his hair almost desperately. His son hadn't been much of the crying sort for a long time, and yet the kid seemed almost hysterical, grabbing at Jeff's shirt.

"Scott?"

"D-da-" Scott hiccuped, "daddy going away forever!"

For a moment the man paused, until he glimpsed the calendar down the hall and risked freeing a hand up to facepalm. They'd thought Scott completely distracted with his toys when Lucy jokingly complained about his latest deployment lasting 'forever'. Four months, although was that basically forever in the mind of a child anyway?

"Scotty," he began, setting his boy down even as tiny hands clung to him, "look at me, sweetheart. Daddy's not going away forever, just a little while to work on the moon with uncle Lee."

Scott whimpered as his father wiped at his tears, eyes turning to watch the bright satellite in question.

"But… long way-away…"

"Yeah, i's a bit of a trek," Jeff nodded, his own gaze following Scott's for a moment.

"But it doesn't mean I'm not watching out for you, Bluejay. It's gonna take a lot more than that. Here's what we're gonna do; you ever need me, or you just wanna talk, you talk to the moon, and I'll come runnin'."

Scott sniffled, wiping his nose as he slowly looked back up into his father's eyes.

"Bu' what if you can't hear me?"

"The stars will listen for me, and they'll let me know." Jeff smiled, ruffling his boy's already messy bed head. Oh, that things gonna be a fight to brush in the morning…

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Flames liked the frigid air as he rose, up up through the dark. He blinked as snowflakes crashed into his face, melting and falling away to the ground, were the last echoes of a desperate plea called after him. It was Christmas, could he be anymore selfish. He knew should turn back, but he couldn't… not right now.

He burst through the clouds, and at once Scott's world was awash in moonlight as he hovered.

His gaze drifted across the horizon, where the vibrant glow of humanity's achievements were just as much pinpricks in the dark as the millions of stars above. If he actually tried to fly across just one of those small dots below with his jet pack alone, it would take ages, and as he looked out on it all, his throat tightened with the enormity of it all. The brunette felt… small, David and Goliath didn't even feel like an adequate description.

Swallowing, Scott curled his hands into fists and raised his chin. A shaky whisper left his lips as the moon stared back.

"Hey dad… you got a minute?"

[tagsecretsanta]

From @womble1

From @womble1 to @coco9728

Prompts:

Right or wrong

Fire

Virgil

I ended up writing one short whumpy snippet and then one slightly longer fluff filled mes.

Wrong, please make it Right

Some things were right, that was simple. Like the smell of fresh baked bread, or the feel of clean cotton sheets

Other things were a little more nuanced and depended on the situation. For example the crackling of a fire, when you were safely tucked up by a fireplace was all kinds of comforting, but add in the groan of rebar steels under pressure, less so.

Other times it was about quantity, watching dust motes dance across the sunbeams was peaceful, and almost magical. But clouds of brick dust choking in from all sides, that added a different feel to the situation.

Some were even more specific to their family alone. The smell of burning food, could be strangely homely, yes you might want to try and avoid the resulting meal, but it was a sign that their grandmother loved them and that they were home and safe. But the burning smell clawing at his suits' air filters, seeming to permeate through the fabric itself, that was a dark and dangerous thing.

Right now the scales had tipped to wrong, very wrong. The warmth wasn't comforting, it was scalding, even through his suit. The pressure on his chest didn’t come from a welcomed hug, but from a terrified casualty, clawing at his uniform, even as he tried to keep them encased in the protective foil woven blanket. The dust and the heat would still get to them, but he had to do something. The ache in his back wasn’t the pleasant exhaustion after a day of work. It was the constant pressing reminder that he was pinned, trapped, only able to peer into the swirling dust, highlighted in the beam from his helmet torch, praying that his brothers would get there before it was too late.

Then he heard it, a gushing spraying sound, that if you heard it in a domestic setting would have you rushing to turn the stop cock off and calling for buckets. But now it was a welcome sound, a sound that heralded salvation. Even before Virgil had a chance to vocalise his surprise, it was accompanied by a crashing sound that would have had any structural engineer concerned. This was right, they saved people, and it might look wrong, might look like destruction, but one more person got to go home that night.

Healthy Debate

“It's just wrong!” The voice was shrill and indignant, and maybe a half octave higher than he would have liked.

“I have to agree with Alan on this one,” Virgil agreed, his voice slightly muffled from where he was digging around in a kitchen cupboard.

“Wheres your sense of adventure! Gordon jumped up from the table, his seat screeching on the floor, as he went to help Virgil in his hunt.

“Well it's all rather academic if we can’t actually find any marshmallows,” John pointed out from where he was leaning against the back of one of the high stools.

“Well it w-was only a-an academic observation,” Brains clarified, one finger in the air to note his point.

“Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should,” Alan sang out, in the sing-song rhythm of an often repeated phrase.

“Hypocrit” Gordon mumbled, swiftly catching a tumbling packet of raisins as they fell out of the cupboard Virgil was still investigating. He was now firmly embedded up to his elbows trying to reach the furthest depths, and still no sign of marshmallows.

“Marshmallows require campfires!” Alan solemnly proclaimed, with more dignity than many a prophet.

“We have the BBQ” Scott looked up briefly from whatever he was reading, then, considering his part done, went right back to reading.

“”Ewwh, Scott, No!” Gordon pulled a face to fully demonstrate his thoughts on the matter.

“Wheres your sense of adventure” Virgil parroted back, which had Gordon poking his tongue out in retaliation. “He’s right though,” Virgil continued “a gas BBQ is no replacement for a proper woodland campfire.

“What? It's got to be in the woods as well now? That escalated.” Scott's head popped up again, obviously his need to problem solve had been triggered.

“Stand down Scott, they don’t actually NEED marshmallows.” John pulled himself up onto the stool, since it didn’t look like they would be going anywhere any time soon.

“I Beg to disagree!” Gordon said, indignant around a mouth full of chocolate chips that he had liberated from a half full bag Virgil had dislodged from the cupboard.

“How did we even get onto this topic?” Scott asked, closing his book resignedly.

“I m-merely said t-that the new upgrades on the l-laser c-cutter allowed for g-greater precision. Even to the p-point you c-could toast a m-mashmallow without b-burning.”

“See!” Alan was back on his metaphorical soapbox. “It’s just wrong!”

Virgil came back to the table, brushing his hands off, having given up on his excavation of the baking supplies. “Well it doesn’t look like we will be testing it today, we’re all outta marshmallows.”

“Naawwwhh,” Gordon whined in disappointment, having poured the last of the chocolate chips into his mouth, which earned him more than one disapproving raised eyebrow.

“Well it's all going to have to stay academic for now,” John said, prodding at an alert that had just come through to his comms. “Looks like we have a situation.”

………………………………………………………………………

It was several months later when they found themselves at Creighton-Ward manor. Scott had been roped into a Rescue Scout event nearby, and his brothers used picking him up as the perfect excuse to arrive en masse. They were even under the impression that it had been their own idea, so subtle had Penelope's suggestions been. She didn’t remember suggesting the camp-out though. As they started unloading a haphazard pile of bags and boxes by the old coach house, she was more and more convinced that this was very far from the suggested programme of events she would have had in mind, if anyone had asked her. Some truly “vintage” sleeping bags were added to the pile, and only immense self control stopped an unladylike wrinkled nose. Although, really, didn’t they have some of the worlds most advanced survival gear at their disposal? Looking across at the neatly stacked items Parker had rescued from storage, Penelope became very aware that maybe she should be careful applying the term “vintage”. Although her canvas bell tent and wooden antique camp bed arguably had a little more…class.

Eventually the “right” sort of woodland clearing had been found, and the campsite set up, and the men had started debating the best way to build a fire. There were a lot of opinions that needed airing. Kayo and Lady Penelope claimed two directors' chairs that were probably older than their combined age, and watched the debate unravel.

Alan had been banished for suggesting fire starters, that may have been because the fire starters in question were low grade explosives, which Virgil promptly confiscated.

Gordon absented himself early on in proceedings, saying that fire wasn’t really his element, retreating instead to a seat on the ground at Lady P’s feet.

Scott and Virgil were debating the best way to stack the bonfire for best burn, John watched with the critically narrowed eyes that were a sure sign that he had done the calculations and was working out if it was worth pointing that out to those present. Penelope watched as he came to a conclusion, rolling his eyes, then his shoulders, he left them to it. Today was obviously a route of least resistance kind of day.

Parker decided to set the cat among the pigeons by giving his vote to a good slug of gasoline to get the fire going.

“ ‘it gets a good ‘ot burn, there won’t be h-anything h’incriminating left h’after that kind o’ fire….allegedly.”

It was hard to tell what scandalised Virgil and Scott more! And it didn’t get past Lady Penelope's notice when Parker slipped a little tightly wrapped parcel into the bottom of the wood pile in what he clearly thought was a surreptitious manner. She was curious as to what he was trying to dispose of, but everyone deserved their secrets. Anyway, Kayo probably already knew what it was. A quick communication via the medium of side glances and miniscule nods and Kayo leaned forward to whisper:

“Grandma's cookie recipes, she keeps sending him them for Lil’ to try.”

Penelope didn't even try to conceal the shudder. Gordon, mistaking it for a shiver passed her a blanket across, which would have been adorable if the blanket had been a little less authentically vintage. At least she didn’t feel guilty when Bertie jumped up on her lap to share it with her.

It was just as well they had started early, because by the time they had come to a conclusion on optimal combustion methods dusk was setting in, it was quite late in the season for camping.

Parker had retreated back to the manor, and sent a discreet message to Lady Penelope to ask if she wanted supper sent up from the kitchens. It was tempting, but Penelope felt she ought to at least try the offering that Scott had slaved over. It certainly contained a vast amount of beans, she hoped the tents were well ventilated. It all turned out to be just set dressing to the main event, which was the toasted marshmallows, or rather - Smores.

Gordon got to his feet to deliver an animated presentation on the perfect ratios of cracker, chocolate and marshmallow, down to fractions of a decimal place. It was only slightly undermined when John pointed out that his calculations didn’t add up to a round number. He had a cracker thrown at his head for that, along with a cry of “Insubordination!”

Scott went into great detail about the desired features of the optimal toasting stick. He insisted on whittling down any irregularities on the twigs until they met his exacting specification. He looked most put out when Penelope produced an antique toasting fork from the Manor. Alan, however, looked delighted, as he realised he could toast four marshmallows at a time on its tines. He was less interested in being educated that they were called tines and not “pokey bits”. He was also slightly put out by Scott stopping him from his attempt for double decker marshmallows. Alan's argument that he was testing structural tolerances were also knocked down by John’s swift application of maths. 

After a copious amount of sugar, everyone would have been quite happy to succumb to the post sugar slump, if only Bertie hadn’t wanted to play fetch.

Specifically play fetch with the previously confiscated explosives. Virgil had stuffed it alongside the first aid kit as he was lacking in any better ideas. During the hunt for additional marshmallows ( why are there never enough?) the demolition charges had become dislodged and ended up at perfect Pug height.

What followed was a full Scooby-Doo chase sequence, the aged bell tent had no end of people run in and out, they should probably have put in traffic lights. A lunging dive to try and catch the normally obedient pup nearly had Scott to blame for the demise of the antique camp bed. He rolled at the last minute and ended shooting straight out under the side wall of the tent. Which made him the perfect tripping hazard for John who was trying to corner Bertie as he came charging through the tent flaps, thoroughly enjoying life. Virgil was frantically trying to block the dogs path to the fire. The eternal pacifist that he was, he was having to seriously run the numbers on if the risk of potentially crushing should he have to dive to catch the small dog v’s the risk of explosives and naked flames.

Thankfully Virgil’s conscience was saved from having to make the ultimate choice, by Gordon swiping at Bertie, missing him by a hair's breadth. But it was enough to make Bertier swerve, continuing his zoomies towards the treeline. The relief at avoiding the fire was soon replaced by the fear of losing Bertie in the undergrowth. Their cries only worked to cheer the dog on, his wagging tail taunting them.

All seemed lost, for sure, when Kayo materialised from amongst the shadows crowding the trees. Reaching down in one graceful sweep she caught the wriggling pup up into her arms. She convinced him to release the explosives by liberal application of tummy tickles. The charges were quickly handed over to Virgil, with a glare that made it very clear that a safer space should be found this time. Bertie was handed to an out of breath Penelope, who had joined the massed ranks of those who had fallen over Alan during the chase. Bertie's roaming privileges were curtailed with a magenta lead clipped to his collar for the remainder of the evening.

Parker was surprised at the response he got when he returned when dusk had well and truly turned to night. He had brought along a selection of fireworks he unearthed from the potting shed, left over from last November's bonfire night. The response had involved far more screaming and flinching away than he had anticipated. Youngsters nowadays had no sense of adventure.

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From @the-original-sineater

From @the-original-sineater to @call-me-casual

My prompts were:

1. What if Jeff Tracy never disappeared with the Zero-X? 

2. What if before IR, Scott played and was being scouted for football.

3. The Tracy brothers look out for one another no matter what. It’s them against the world.

I went with number 3, but with a bit of a twist. 

Scott

Scott shrugged into his jacket, shot his cuffs, and looked the results over in the full length mirror. Dark blue suit, black loafers, no tie, and black pinstriped shirt open at the throat. He hadn't bothered to shave, he knew the effect of a slight scruff on him had on people. He really didn't want to be here, and he most certainly didn't want to be doing this. But nobody messed with his family, no one. If this reporter thought she was going to get some kind of denial about a perfectly innocent picture of John and Penny hanging on each other, laughing their heads off in a crowded room, well, she had another thought coming.

There was a knock at the door. "Mr. Tracy?" A PA opened the door. "Ms. Baxter is ready for you."

He gave her a little flirty smirk that made her blush. "Ah, but is she ready for me?"

"I - uh - er, this way please?" "Lead the way." He toned it down a bit, it wasn't the PA's fault. But it was nice to know that he still had it, whatever it was.

Paige Baxter was the number one (or number two, depending who you talked to) gossip reporter for Global News Network. She was preening a little in the 'cosy' seating arrangement she had for interviews. Not that Scott blamed her for that, she thought she was getting an 'exclusive' interview. Which she was with him, but nobody had said anything else about the rest of the family.

The techs swarmed in as he sat down on the far side of the tiny sofa, ignoring her pout as he put himself out of touching range. Mics were set and checked, lighting values were confirmed, and Scott slouched a little in the corner of the settee, spread his arms on the back and rolled arm, brought one ankle up to rest on the other knee, and grinned. It was a leopard's grin on sighting an especially foolish gazelle, but no one else knew that.

Paige blinked at his relaxed posture, this hadn't been what she expected. She had what was possibly the juiciest bit of gossip on the Tracy family in a decade: an older brother seen out and about, in the most intimate of embraces, with the girlfriend of a younger brother. Add in that the girlfriend in question was none other than Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward - this was the story of the year!

Her director counted down, this was going to be recorded not live, at TI's instance. Not that Paige actually cared, she was interviewing Scott Tracy! She put her best smile on. "Welcome to the Paige Baxter Show, this afternoon I'm lucky enough to have none other than Scott Tracy as my guest." She turned to face Scott. "Thank you for coming on today." 

He waved a hand, "No problem at all, Paige. No problem at all."

Gordon

The air was soft and warm, the sand was rough and warm, and the sun was just starting to set. Cries of gulls as they headed for their perches nearly hid the swish of water as the planet and its moon twirled in their eternal dance. 

"Hey, I really appreciate this," Gordon said.

"Ah, it's nothin, mate. We both owe you our lives." Buddy Pendergast adjusted a light. "Hows the angle Ells?"

"Perfect!" Ellie Prendergast flicked the camera sync with her tablet, and then checked the forecast. "Clear all night."

"Great." Buddy turned back to Gordon. "Besides, a live broadcast, doing turtle protection, on a night with a high chance of hatching, with a link to donate to the North Island Turtle Rescue? Helpin' you with the goss of the week is just hundreds and thousands."

Gordon laughed at that, the first real one this week. "Nice to know where I rate."

"Mate," Buddy's face grew still. "I meant it, we owe you our lives, twice over. Helpin' you out with a bunch of backbiters is the very least we can do."

Ellie slung her arm over her husband's shoulder. "We mean it. Helpin' a friend and doing conservation work? Just hundreds and thousands."

Gordon rubbed the back of his head. "Thanks, I'm just sorry to upstage the turtles."

Ellie laughed. "Mate, don't worry about that. Once the babies start crawling out, no one is goin' to even think about that bit of goss." Her eyes narrowed. "Which we're goin' sink anyway."

Alan

"Perfect." As a view, it really was: a side-on view of the First Gorge, a rainbow in the mist thrown up by the falls and all framed by the lush growth fed the waters of the Zambezi river.

"You sure that the Bear won't mind?" Alan looked the transmission equipment over, he understood about half of it.

Goose finished pulling her dreadlocks back into a tail at the base of her skull. "If Brandon minds, then he can just deal with it. You got me out of one heck of a jam, helping you set the record straight about your brother and his girlfriend -" "Lady P isn't John's girlfriend. Not like that any way." 

She paused from getting gear out. "Then what is she?"

"His bestie. Like you and the Bear, do anything for each other, but not the . . . other stuff." Alan shuddered a little. "For who knows what reason, Lady P like-likes Gordon, she just likes John. Which is weird. I love my brothers, but John is obviously the better of the two. He's my second best brother."

Goose laughed. "Who's your best brother?"

"Scott." Was the instant answer. 

"Where's Gordon rank? "Usually third with Virg, but second flips around, but nobody beats Scott." 

"You know, if we edit that down a little, that can be what we talk about." 

"About being second?"

"No, about Lady P like-liking Gordon but being besties with John. The world needs to see more people just being friends without," she grinned, "the other stuff."

Alan felt his cheeks heat. "Yeah. I'm not sure about the other stuff part yet. One of the reasons I want to go to college, to figure that out." "Let's not say that on the broadcast." Goose brought her drone to life. "I think you're going to have enough trouble with people chasing you without them knowing that." She pointed to rocky outcropping that made for a perfect seat with a stunning view of the valley behind it. "We'll set up there." "Why would people chase me? I'm not cool like the Bear or handsome like Scott, or a brain like John."

Goose just stared for a moment, looked Alan up and down, then shook her head. "I need to have some words with those brothers of yours. Come on, let's get this set up and going before we lose the light." 

John

"John Glenn Tracy, you are an utter menace." Lady Penelope said behind a genteel smile as she nodded to an acquaintance as they walked past.

John tried to keep from sneezing. "I don't know why you brought me to this. The Royal Academy is much more Virgil's field than mine." He tried to discreetly rub the tip of his nose to help calm the tickle in his sinuses.

"Caroline!" Penny briefly brushed cheeks with another woman, and John thought about trying to flee since she'd let go of his arm. Before he'd made his mind up, Penny had reclaimed his limb. "Because it's been simply ages since I've seen you, you spend far too much time on that station of yours, and you will neither abandon me to discuss style or cling to me like a limpet to pepper me with questions about what we are looking at."

"Heh… Virgil would be mortified and Gordon is just looking for an excuse to hear you talk."

Penny sent another social smile toward a group as they continued to make their way through the crowd. "That may be, I however have missed you a great deal. My family is one of this year's sponsors, so an appearance by a Crieghton-Ward is expected. I have today, which is the private showing, and Last Day. I was certain that you wouldn't want to deal with the crowd on Varnishing day or any other day of the exhibition."

John relaxed as the itch finally faded. "I'm sorry Penny, second day Earth jitters." "Quite fair." She gave him a real smile. "We have one last room to make an appearance in, then we can leave." She cocked an eyebrow at him. "However, we are not going to the west wing."

John throttled down the pout that threatened to appear. "How often am I going to get this close to the Royal Astronomical Society?"

"Darling, the same thing that applies to Virgil, applies to you. We can come back another day." She headed toward a doorway. "Besides, I have booked the Tasting room at the Diamond Jubilee for the afternoon for us to catch up."

Not that John would admit it to any of his brothers, he truly enjoyed a true British high tea. The food was delicious and the ritual was soothing. "My dearest Penelope, that sounds absolutely spiffing."

Her lips thinned in her effort to keep from laughing at those words in a North American accent. "You sir, are a menace to sanity and manners."

"Only around you." John eyed the crowd surrounding the door they were heading for. "What's so important about that room?" "The winners from the last 100 years are in there. Most of them haven't been on public view since they were last displayed here."

His nose twitched again. There were so many scents in the air his system was overloading. "Sounds impressive." 

"A lot of people think so. I'm afraid most of it isn't to my taste." 

"So once around the room and we can leave?"

She gave him her full attention and looked him over. The lines around his eyes, the slightly disheveled air about him, things that only she could see. "I'm sorry, John. You must be exhausted. Just a pop inside, get seen, and then we can leave." 

Normally, he wouldn't want to spoil any of her enjoyment, but today the world and gravity was a bit much. "Sounds delightful." He pasted on his best social smile.

She nodded and they waded into the complete crush that was filling the room. 

John's nose itched again and before he could even try to stop it: ACCCHHOOO, thundered through the room, silencing the crush. "Oh dear God, it smells worse than the Sun King's court in here."

Virgil

The pale limestone of the Coconino Plateau made the endless blue of the sky even more brilliant. At least it did outside the ranch house. Inside it was full of the worn and cozy warmth of a home that was still used and loved. 

Virgil handed a glass of ice tea to his guest, before setting the tray down on the coffee table, and taking his own glass as he sat in the wing chair. "I really appreciate this."

Kat Cavanagh looked up from her tablet. "I owe you all my health, if not my life. I'm glad to help." Her lips twitched. "And if I get to tweak the Global Network News vampires, so much the better." 

He chuckled. "Multi-tasking, nice." He drank some of the tea. "So how do you want to do this?"

Kat brought her drone to life and let it hover to get used to the airflow of the room. "I thought the truth might be our best choice." 

"We tried that, no one wanted to listen." His eyebrows drew in.

"Humph, I'll make them listen. Though I never expected John to be the subject of the gossips."

Virgil rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, well. He's never at his best just down from Five." 

She giggled. "I wouldn't say that. Telling the cream of London society that they stink seems pretty on point for me."

"Welll… you're not wrong. But everyone insinuating that John was dating Lady Penelope over it - "

Kat rolled her eyes. "Is just the world being bored. An all-out offensive by the rest of you should put things to rest. This is a five day wonder and this will put the cap on it."

Virgil nodded. He wasn't as comfortable with being in front of cameras as Scott or Gordon were. But this was family, and they looked out for each other, no matter what.

"Ready?" He nodded and the drone's lights flared to life. "Let's do this." 

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From @tikatu

From @tikatu to @spaceshipsoutthepool

Deep Space at the Museum

The winter wind cut through Jeff’s hair as he exited the hired limo, raising the collar of his topcoat to protect his neck.

“Space may have been cold, but it was never windy,” he muttered, moving up the small wheelchair cutout to where Kayo stood, dressed in a black coat with teal buttons running up one side, her hair in a strict bun, and her ears covered by teal woolen ear muffs.

“Who’d have thought Washington could get this cold, huh?” Scott said as he joined his father. “Missing the island weather, Dad?” He passed Jeff both a cane and the woolen driving cap Parker had sourced for him. “I know it’s not far to the entrance, but you lose the most heat from your head.”

Jeff harrumphed, but took the hat and settled it properly over his silver and gray hair before taking possession of the cane. Scott himself was wearing a brown fedora that coordinated with his long camel-colored wool overcoat. Virgil, who ducked out after him, wore a rugged corduroy jacket with fleece trim and the hat Kip had gifted him. Alan followed, wearing a puffy red winter coat and a baseball-style cap with ear flaps.

“Whoa!“ Alan’s eyes grew big as he scanned the wing-shaped steel-and-glass portico over the entrance to the National Air and Space Museum. The spear in front of it caught his attention, and he leaned back to get a better look.

“Ah, Ad Astra.” John had joined them, wearing a long, black woolen trench coat, buttoned to his chin, a thick white scarf wrapped around his neck, and a plush tuque with its ear flaps down. His square sunglasses reflected the star cluster at the top. Behind him, Gordon was handing Lady Penelope from FAB-1.

“That means ‘to the stars’, right?”

“Yep. Designed by Richard Lippold in 1976.” Grandma joined her two space-going grandsons. “A little before my time.” She adjusted her purple knit bucket hat, swinging one pompom-embellished end of her matching scarf over a shoulder. Slipping on a pair of reflective, heart-shaped sunglasses, she took Alan’s and John’s arms.

“Is everyone here?” Scott asked, doing a quick head count. “Where’s Brains?”

“H-Here.” If John looked overdressed, Brains had him beat. He had so many layers under his knee-length toggle coat that his shape was practically round.

Virgil offered a hand to pull him from the depths. “Y’know, there’s heat inside the museum.”

“I did not know if w-we were going to walk far. Better to be prepared f-for the weather.”

Kayo eyed the camera crews set up on the wide sidewalk. With a nod, the family was surrounded by a security detail worthy of a president.

“Man, we haven’t been here since we were kids.” Gordon walked arm-in-arm with Penelope, his navy pea coat providing a striking contrast to her pink, skirted coat.

“I have never been here before.” She smiled, tilting her head his way. “We must visit again later, when we don’t have such a momentous occasion to attend.”

Behind them, Virgil turned to John. “There’s an art exhibit I hope to have time to visit.”

“The one on astronaut artists?” John nodded. “I read about that. They even have Alexei Leonov’s first piece. The first art in space. I think I’d like to see that, too.”

The group reached the top of the steps, where the head curator, Leslie Matumbo, waited for them.

“Welcome, Jeff Tracy and family,” she said. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you where you can deposit your coats, and we can go on to the new exhibit.”

She led them through the permanent Milestones of Flight Hall to an elevator past the Welcome Center. Every Tracy—including Gordon—had their head on a swivel, either gazing up at the historic aircraft suspended from the ceiling or staring at the displays along the walls. Brains nudged John as they passed Friendship 7, the craft carrying John Glenn, the first man to orbit the Earth.

John chuckled. “Looks like my namesake was a bit cramped in there.”

“Even more cr-cramped than the space elevator?” Brains smiled, giving John another friendly nudge.

“Yeah,” John drew out the word. “My elevator is roomier.”

Virgil glanced back at them. “Good thing this place has more than one elevator available. With our security detail, we won’t all fit in one.”

Ms. Matumbo motioned to one of the open cars, suggesting without words that Jeff should step in. He was followed by Kayo, Scott, Grandma, Penny Gordon, and two of their security detail. The doors closed; the rest of the family shuffled into the other car, accompanied by Ms. Matumbo and the remaining security personnel.

“This way,” Ms. Matumbo gestured to a room across the hallway. “This is our largest conference room. You can leave your things here.”

As they entered, Jeff’s face lit up with delight. “Kris! Bernie!”

“Jeff?” A woman with silver threaded through her brick red hair turned from her dark-skinned companion. Her eyes widened. “I can’t believe it! Jeff Tracy!”

Jeff crossed to them, arms open.”C’mere, you two! Give this old man a hug!”

Laughing, the two women embraced him. He turned to his family. “Let me introduce you to the family. This is Kristina Finn and Bernice Asher. They were the crew of the Calypso, and I had the honor of training them.”

Bernie shook her head. “The honor was all ours, Colonel.”

“We’ve already met a few of your family.” Kris offered a hand to Scott. “Good to see you again, Scott.”

“You, too.” Scott shook her hand.

“I still think you look a lot like your father.” She winked at him.

Jeff began the rounds, introducing them to the rest of the clan. When they came to Alan, Kris put an arm around his shoulders.

“You’ve got one really talented pilot here. Especially for someone so young!”

Alan’s cheeks reddened at the praise.

Jeff shook his head. “Wish I could claim credit, but everything he knows he learned from Scott.”

Brains approached, hand outstretched. “It’s good to see you in person again.”

“Same here, Brains.” Bernie took his hand. “It’s not like we haven’t talked over the data or anything…”

“Excuse me!” Ms. Matumbo said from the door. “I’m informed that the last person invited to the opening of this exhibit has arrived. When he’s brought up, I’ll want to speak about the logistics of this event.” There was a knock on the door; Ms. Matumbo opened it to reveal Wayne Rigby and…

“Th-Theo?” Brains started forward.

“The Mechanic?” Scott murmured to Virgil. “What’s he doing here out of GDF custody?”

Virgil shrugged. “Rigby’s here, too. He’s probably still in custody.”

In the weeks after Jeff’s return, the Mechanic thought long and hard about what he should do. After all, he had taken advantage of both the Chaos Crew’s attempt to break him out of jail and of International Rescue’s proximity to return to Earth. With the T-Drive Mark 2 complete and without the Hood in his head, he felt guilty—not just about his past but also about endangering the family sheltering him. Brains picked up on his preoccupation and, together, they brought the problem to Jeff and Scott.

This led first to a lengthy consultation with the Tracys’ lawyers, and with three of those lawyers, Brains, and Scott by his side, he surrendered to the GDF. They were still untangling which crimes were deliberate and willful, and those where he could be considered under duress. Until then, he remained in GDF custody.

Kayo sidled up to Rigby while Brains spoke with Theo, and helped him with his coat

“What’s he doing here?” she asked, her voice just above a whisper.

Rigby set his uniform jacket over the back of a chair. “He’s here at the museum’s request since he had a hand in both of the T-Drives. Colonel Casey approved the furlough.”

“Oh!” Kayo blinked in surprise. “I suppose that makes sense. How long is he going to be out?”

“Long enough for this shindig and an overnight stay at the local GDF base.” He gestured with his head to the Tracys. “I’m willing to hang around for a couple of hours if anyone wants to chat with him.”

“I’ll let them know.”

Ms. Matumbo raised her voice. “Now that everyone’s here, let’s discuss how this will work. Colonel Tracy, Ms. Asher, Ms. Finn, and Mr. Foster will go first. Give us ten minutes to finalize our set-up before you all join us. I’ll say a few words and introduce each of them—starting with the crew of the Calypso and ending with the Colonel, who will say a few words, too. We’ll get video of the introductions and speeches, then of them perusing the materials. Give them thirty minutes for that, then the rest of you can join him in the exhibit. We’ll be taking pictures for the first hour or so after the exhibit is open to the public.” She glanced around at the assembled Tracys. “Are there any questions?”

“I have a concern.” Kayo stepped forward. “As head of the Tracy’s security team, I need to be with the Colonel.”

Ms. Matumbo opened her mouth, as if to object, but she closed it when Rigby spoke. “Mr. Foster is here under the forbearance of the GDF. I am required to be with him at all times.” 

Ms. Matumbo rolled her shoulders, squaring them up as she faced Rigby and Kayo. “I understand. Please be discreet.”

“We will,” Rigby replied.

Virgil raised a hand. “Can we visit some of the other exhibits during that half-hour?”

Ms. Matumbo smiled, teeth white in her dark face. “Certainly! You are our guests today.” She scanned the room. “Any other questions?”

There were none, so she herded Jeff, Asher, Finn, and Theo out, with Kayo just ahead of Jeff and Rigby following the group closely.

John moved away from their security team, then opened his phone. He spoke softly. “EOS?”

The rondel of EOS’s lights appeared in a miniature hologram over his wrist Yes, John?

“Do you have eyes on Father? Is there sound?”

I do and there is. Shall I connect you to the cameras?

“No, that’s not necessary. Please record whatever’s happening, and follow Dad through the exhibit, wherever you can.”

Do you expect trouble?

“No. I think Dad would like a remembrance of this event. So would I.”

You have spoken of the frailty of human memory. I will do my best to help you both remember this event.

“Thanks, EOS.”

You are welcome, John.

John tucked his phone in his pocket and turned back, only to find Grandma fussing over everyone’s looks.

“I saw those camera crews out there and I’ll bet dollars to donuts there will be one downstairs.” She examined Alan’s face. “Good. You’re clean. Comb your hair.” Glancing over at John, she added, “You, too. You both have hat hair.”

Penelope chuckled. “I must admit, John, you looked positively Russian in that tuque.” She glanced at her watch. “We should join the festivities.”

Another elevator ride, and the family—plus security—were standing outside the entrance to the exhibit. An animated sign took the viewer quickly past Mars and through the outer planets, including Pluto, then the exhibit title appeared: Out Beyond Pluto: Visitors to Deep Space.

As Sally had predicted, there was at least one news crew there, though some of those using their phones to capture the event were probably also with the Fourth Estate. The Tracys filled in behind them; Virgil had his phone out to record, too.

“I’d like to introduce four pioneers in deep space flight,” Ms. Matumbo said. “First we have Astronauts Kristina Finn and Bernice Asher, who spent eight years traveling past the Heliopause into the space beyond and returning safely. The data they brought back in their ship, the Calypso,  has revolutionized our knowledge of lies beyond our solar system.”

Those around clapped as Kris and Bernie smiled, Kris giving a little wave.

“Then we have someone whose work on not one but two faster-than-light engine designs will make trips like the Calypso’s a thing of the past. Meet Theo Foster, one of the engineers behind the mighty T-Drive!”

The applause for Theo—who most of the press knew as the Mechanic—would have been a pale smattering if not for the Tracys, who clapped enthusiastically. One of the reporters turned to see who was applauding so loudly…  and did a double-take to see who stood behind her.

 “And, finally, a man who needs no introduction,…” Ms. Matumbo grinned. “…but is getting one anyway.” She paused as the small audience laughed. “Colonel Jeff Tracy, founder of our exhibit sponsor and of International Rescue. He rode the T-Drive equipped Zero-X all the way to the Oort Cloud for eight, long years.” She gestured to Jeff, who smiled and nodded. “I’d like Colonel Tracy to say a few words before we open the exhibit.”

Jeff stepped up to the microphone to applause. “Thank you, Ms. Matumbo.” He gestured to the three people behind him. “It’s great to be reunited with old friends. Kris and Bernie.. I mean, Bernice… were trainees of mine back in the day. And Theo… without Theo I wouldn’t be standing before you now. He was the key to unlocking the T-Drive so my sons could rescue me.” He straightened. “And if you ask me, there are six other people who have been to deep space, though their visit was brief. That would be my five sons, and the smartest man I know, our engineer, Brains.”

He cleared his throat. “I think I’d better hand this back to Ms. Matumbo before I get emotional. My thanks to the Smithsonian and the Air and Space Museum for creating this exhibit. I can hardly wait to see what’s inside.”

People clapped again. Ms. Matumbo took the microphone again, turning to the four people behind her. “And we thank you all for providing the materials for this exhibit.” She faced front again and said simply, “Our new exhibit, Out Beyond Pluto: Visitors to Deep Space is now open. Please let our contributors have some time to visit before anyone else.”

She led the group into the exhibition space. Kris and Bernice went first, followed by Jeff and Kayo, then Theo and Rigby bringing up the rear. A few reporters shouted questions and one or two tried to enter the exhibit, only to be thwarted by museum guards. The rest of the press turned, almost as one, to swarm around Scott, shouting questions as if this was part of the program. The Tracys’ security detail moved in, trying to insert themselves between the reporters and the family.

Virgil nudged John. “C’mon. Let’s check out that art exhibit.”

John nodded. He turned to one of the security men and, with a motion of his head, asked him to come along.

“Do you know where it is?” John asked, as they went down the wide hallway between exhibits.

“Yup. Checked everything out before we came. The gallery’s on this floor at the end of the building.”

“Hey, guys! Wait up!”

At the sound of Alan’s voice, they paused and looked back. It seemed most of the press had been pushed back; Scott and, God help them, Grandma, were holding an impromptu press conference. Fleeing the scene were Alan, Gordon, and Penelope, with a lone TI security member bringing up the rear.

“Where are you two going?” Gordon asked.

“Art exhibition,” Virgil replied

.

John added, “About astronaut artists.”

Gordon rolled his eyes. “Figures you’d find something to appeal to both of you. We’re heading for the gift shop and then the café.”

Alan glanced between the two pairs, one brother just hanging out with another versus the other brother and his girlfriend. The gift shop and café sounded amazing, but he knew two things. One,  he’d be a third wheel if he went with Gordon and Penelope, and two, if he went with them and did whichever they were not doing, Kayo would have his hide for not taking security with him. (It did not occur to him that Penelope was security enough for Gordon and vice versa.)

“Can I go with you guys?”

Virgil shrugged. “Sure.”

“As long as we stick together so Dave can keep an eye on all of us,” John warned him.

“Works for me!” Alan turned back to where the few reporters left were packing up their gear.   “Hey, where‘d Scott and Grandma go?”

“Upstairs.” Penelope waved at the escalator past the Deep Space exhibit. “I believe there are planes suspended from the ceiling further along.”

Alan sighed. “I’d rather have gone with them.”

“Well, now you’re stuck with us.” “John put an arm around his shoulders. “Let’s find this art exhibit. Virgil’s getting antsy.”

“I am not!”

John returned Gordon’s wave as the two groups parted.

They found the gallery in a corner, a little further along. The animated sign ran through five or six pictures above the exhibit’s title: Astronaut Artists: Space Through Their Eyes.

“So all these people are astronauts and made art in space?” Alan asked.

“Mostly, they made art about space and their experiences in it,” Virgil explained. “Sometimes, they were the first to make art in space.”

“In this case, the definition of ‘in space’ includes in orbit.” John steered them to the central case first. “This is the first art ever made in LEO by cosmonaut Alexei Leonov, over a century ago.”

“It’s a sunrise from space; I’ve seen plenty of those.” Alan turned to John. “Man, that’s tiny! The pencils are longer than the paper. Couldn’t he have brought something bigger?”

John shook his head. “No room to put it or to spread it out, even if he folded it up. The Voskhod 2 had two crew members and was even more cramped than the later Apollo flights. Did you know he was the first man to spacewalk?”

“He was?”

“He even painted the experience.” Virgil waved them over to a freestanding wall. “He painted it after the fact, but probably used the photo taken at the time as inspiration.”

They admired the art and moved along. There were several paintings by Alan Bean, an astronaut on the Apollo 12 mission, displayed. Next,  they found watercolors by the International Space Station astronaut, Nicole Stott. Sculptures and paintings from Moon colonist, Guiying Meining were on display, as were pastel and pencil drawings by Ibrahim bin Almar Al-Ghazzawi.

“I read about him,” Alan said. “First artist on Mars.”

“Looks like we’ve just about finished here.” Virgil rounded a corner and stopped so short that John, consulting his phone, ran into him.

“That’s not space.” Virgil pointed to the sketch, grabbing John’s shoulder. “It looks like… Tracy Island!”

“Oh, yeah! That.”

John shot Alan an incredulous look. “You…” He shook himself. “Explain, please.”

Alan’s eyes went wide. “Oh, crap! I forgot you hadn’t seen it. Just Scott and me. It was on the wall in the Zero-X. Dad drew it.” He frowned, blond eyebrows drawing together. “How’d it get here? Wasn’t it destroyed with the planetoid?”

“It was, son.”

Virgil glanced up from the information tablet he’d read. “It’s a print., made from a picture you took.”

Jeff nodded. “Sketching Tracy Island was something that kept me sane. I offered the scan I’d made of it to the Museum, along with some of my log entries. When I didn’t see it in the Deep Space exhibit, I asked Ms. Matumbo about it. She told me it was here.”

“Well, it is the first art made in the Oort Cloud.”

“Technically, Alan, it was.” John checked his phone. “Ugh. I should have set an alarm. The new exhibit is going to have a line now.”

“John, you and your brothers lived through most of it,” Kayo said. “Rigby is taking Theo down to the café. Time to get off your feet, have some food, and conversation.”

“That sounds good to me!” Alan hugged his father. Jeff let his hand rest on Alan’s shoulder.

“C’mon, John. I want to talk to Theo.” Virgil gestured with his head, indicating John should go first.

John let out a light sigh, then followed Jeff out, with Virgil and Dave from security last in line.

 As they found the escalator down, Alan could be heard to ask, “Can we go to the gift shop, too?”

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From @katiedido2

From @katiedido2 to @screenheart2

“Prompts:

✔1. Virgil gardening

✔2. Alan playing the guitar in his room

3. Tracy Island clubhouse (younger characters [?: ✔do offspring of main characters count?] have a small house on the island and have adventures exploring- the clubhouse is some distance away from the main house.)

Preferences: ✔Hurt/Comfort, ✔no shipping, I would enjoy if some of there were set in rainy weather!”

-o-

A/N: This was fun to write. I tried to work in as many prompts as I could. I wanted to add in the rain, but the story wasn’t giving it. Sorry!

A few things for those unfamiliar with my headcanon. Virgil is bisexual & biromantic. The Stephen referred to in this story is Dr Stephen Furnier from the episode ‘Venom’. He and Virgil inspired a whole other story.

Alan was surprisingly opinionated about many things. He’s stopped chattering in my head, so I’m hoping he’s happy with his portion of the story.

And, dear recipient, I hope you are happy with my humble Secret Santa gift.

Enjoy!

-o-

Not Broken, Just Bent.

“We’re not broken, just bent.

And we can learn to love again.”

-P!nk

Sitting back on his haunches, Virgil surveyed his handiwork.

He had long wanted to put an edible garden on the roof above the kitchen, but the heat from Thunderbird One’s launch had always prevented that space from being utilized. But, after mentioning it in passing to Rebecca, she and Brains had surprised him, almost a year later, with a clear nanotech fence that could withstand the heat and protect any plants he planted there.

Giddy like a child at Christmas, he had rushed to unearth the edible garden design he had long ago planned and was off to get it planted.

Now, hours later, neat rows of tiny plants and a blueberry bush spread out before him. Pleased with his little garden, he took a long, satisfying sip of water from his water bottle.

Then he squirted the remaining contents on his plants. “Drink up, my beauties!”

A breeze ruffled his shirt collar, and he noticed a hint of rain in the air. Looking out towards the water, Virgil saw a storm system in the distance. He idly wondered if it would come their way.

Swirling around him, the breeze was stronger now, and it carried the sound of a guitar. The melody was melancholic.

Alan.

Virgil sighed.

Seven years ago, twenty-year old Alan had brought Sendhil Chabra home, shyly introduced him to the family as his boyfriend, and came out as pansexual.

Five days ago, he had argued with Sendhil about the risks he took with IR and Sendhil’s fear of his being seriously hurt.

The argument had become very heated. Sendhil had thrown him out of their London flat, declaring their relationship over.

Desolate, Alan had returned to the island, uncertain what to do next.

Three days after that, Alan had been injured during an earthside rescue, breaking his leg in four places. He faced months of healing and physical therapy.

Virgil and Scott knew Alan shouldn’t have been with them on the rescue - he wasn’t in the right headspace - but they didn’t want their youngest brother to be alone or feel excluded at this vulnerable time.

As they feared, Alan had been distracted and gotten hurt. The doctors assured them that the breaks were clean and, with proper rest and rehab, he would heal and be able to resume normal activities.

But what worried Virgil wasn’t the bones. He knew the broken bones would heal; he was less sure about his brother’s tender heart.

The guilt was eating at him. He was certain he should have done more to protect his baby brother.

Yesterday, he had cornered Rebecca in their kitchen and asked her what she thought.

Drying the plate she had washed, she considered the question. “I think, short of grounding Alan, you two did everything you could. And you know how well that would have gone if you had. I think in his grief, he was going to hurt himself sooner or later, so it was best he was with you when he did.

She returned the plate to a cupboard and leaned against the kitchen counter. “Talk to Alan, Virgil. Get him to open up about the fight with Sendhil. I think now, while he’s grounded, will be your best time to get him to talk.”

Virgil crossed his arms. “You think so?”

“I do. He’s going to dwell on the breakup. Get him to open up- you’re good at that. Then his heart can heal with his bones.”

“Yeah, okay. But, why me? He trusts you. You could talk to him. You were the first person he introduced Sendhil to.”

Rebecca smiled at him. “I’m good at a lot of things, Virgil. But this isn’t my wheelhouse. It is yours.” She leaned closer to him and ran her thumb lightly over the frown between his eyebrows, smoothing it slightly. Virgil relaxed a little. “He’s comfortable talking to you about difficult things. He knows he can confide in you.”

Virgil persisted. “But maybe it would be better if-” Rebecca pinched his arm. “Ow!”

“Talk to him. This is his first major breakup. It must be so overwhelming for him. You have a gift for getting people - especially your brothers - to open up to you. I think he will benefit from your experience. And if your talk doesn’t help, we’ll call in the big guns and bring everyone to the island for a sad movie marathon with lots of Alan’s favourite foods.”

“Do you think it will work?”

“Sad movie marathon? Why wouldn’t it work? You said it helped you after your breakup with Stephen.”

“I know. And it did. But seeing a therapist also helped.”

“Right, but your situation was different. Stephen didn’t tell you anything was wrong. He just ghosted you. Sendhil has always found Alan’s job stressful. He spent years telling Alan how his IR work made him feel. But Alan is a Tracy, and it’s what you Tracys do. You’re a determined lot who can’t not help people.”

Virgil’s frown reappeared. “Do you find my job stressful? Are we okay?”

Smiling, Rebecca wrapped her arms around his waist. “We are totally okay. I knew what I was getting into when I married you. But, babe, this life isn’t for everyone.”

Virgil nodded and they exchanged a sweet kiss. “Alright, I’ll talk to him. But where do I begin?”

“Get him out of his room.” Rebecca pulled back to look at Virgil. “Maybe sit together poolside and enjoy the nice weather. Sunlight is good for improving one’s mood. And neither of you can stay quiet for very long.”

“I wish I could be sure.”

“Get him outside and see what happens, Virgil. I’ve yet to meet a person who doesn’t feel better being around you.”

“Really?”

Rebecca nodded. “You have a way about you. It’s easy to talk to you. And you give the best hugs.”

“And you say this isn’t your wheelhouse.” Virgil tightened his arms around his wife. “I love you.”

She sank into his embrace. “I love you, too.”

The strengthening breeze again carried the sound of Alan’s guitar. The tune was more melancholic and haunting than the last.

Virgil sighed. The time to talk had arrived.

He brushed off his hands and, gathering his gardening supplies, headed into the villa. After a brief detour to drop off the gardening supplies with his tools, and swing past the infirmary, he made his way up to Alan’s room.

-o-o-o-

Virgil stood outside the open doorway to Alan’s room listening. His brother lay on his bed, his cast leg propped up on several pillows. He shifted to a more comfortable position before resuming the song he was playing.

The song he was playing felt familiar, but also...old. He wasn’t sure if his grandparents knew the song. Listening for another minute, he figured it out and his heart broke a little bit more for his baby brother. Al Green. Jeez, his brother was really hurting.

Virgil moved forward and leaned against the doorframe. “Hello.”

No response.

“Hey, Alan.”

His brother remained absorbed in his saddest sad song.

Virgil raised his voice. “I’d like to check in.”

Alan jumped and the guitar slid from his lap, making a pitiful sound as it hit the floor. “Oh my god! Where did you come from?”

“I said hello twice.”

“Well, hello,” Alan replied, leaning off the bed to retrieve the instrument. “Hello then.”

“Hello to you, too.”

Alan hugged the guitar to him so it shielded him from Virgil’s gaze. “What do you want?”

“You’re injured. It’s nearly time for more pain meds and I wanted to check in. I brought some cold water, in case you’re out.”

“I don’t need more water, Virgil.”

Virgil shrugged. “Luck favors the prepared.”

Scoffing, Alan picked at the guitar strings and avoided looking at his brother. “Luck clearly doesn’t favor me.”

“Don’t say that.”

Alan’s head rose sharply. “Why not? My boyfriend dumped me and I was injured on a rescue! Sure seems like luck has abandoned me!”

“But we haven’t…May I come in?”

“If I say no, will you go away?”

“Probaly not.”

He sighed, exasperated. “Fine. Whatever.”

Virgil entered the bedroom, pulling in a hoverchair behind him.

“What is that?”

“A hoverchair. I thought it would be good for you to get out of this room for a little bit.”

“I don’t want to.” The whine made Alan sound eight again.

The brothers stared at each other for a long moment.

“There’s two ways this goes, Alan. Either you willingly get in the hoverchair and we go outside-”

“Or?”

“Or I pick you up and carry you.”

Alan gasped. “You wouldn’t!”

“If you insist on acting like you’re eight, I’ll treat you like it.”

“I hate you.”

“I know.”

“You’re not going away are you?”

Virgil shook his head. “Nope.”

Another deep, exasperated sigh. “Fine. Help me into the hoverchair.”

-o-o-o-

 A few minutes later, Virgil guided Alan in the hoverchair out onto the balcony and over to his new garden. The rain appeared to be staying offshore.

“What do you think?”

Alan looked at the tidy garden and clear fencing. “Will it survive One’s launch blast?”

“Rebecca and Brains say it will. And you know how much they love testing things.”

“All too well,” Alan said drily.

Virgil chuckled. “They do like focusing on safety.”

“It’s their vibe.”

“Possibly.”

Virgil regarded his youngest brother. Now that they were outside, he could see small injuries that had been hidden by the indoors. There was a purple bruise that ran from his temple to his jaw, and a small scratch that ran diagonal across his pale cheek. The skin under his red-rimmed eyes was nearly as dark as the bruise. He’d lost weight. When was the last time Alan had eaten?

It took everything Virgil had not to crush his brother in a hug. Instead, he reached for his gardening stool, which he had left next to the garden bed. He sat beside Alan.

“Wanna talk about what happened?”

“No.”

“Okay.” Virgil took Alan’s cool hand in his warm one and held it gently.

They sat in silence for several minutes before they heard what sounded like a herd of small elephants charging into the lounge behind them.

“Whada we doin’, Kip?” Jack, Virgil’s four-year-old asked.

“Well, Jack, we’re gonna go to the beach.” At six, Kip was the eldest - by three minutes - of Jeff Tracy’s seven grandsons.

“We know, Kip. What we doin’ when we get to da beach?” Marc, aged four, and Scott’s eldest, demanded.

“We’re gonna have an adventure!” Kip was the ever confident eldest child.

“Och, you say that ‘ery time,” David, Marc’s younger twin brother, said.

“And every time we do.”

“Guys, it’ll be fun,” Alex assured them.

Alan grinned at Virgil. “Sounds familiar.”

“Shhh.”

“We’re gonna take epuipm-erm-tools down to the beach and dig for treasure.”

“How do you know there’s teasure, Kip?” Marc wanted information before he agreed to anything.

“Cause there’s lots o’ wrecks out there, an stuff washes ashore.”

“Ise never seen nothin’ wash a sure,” David said.

“Yeah. ‘Cause it was looong ago, right? We gotta dig for it. That’s why we gotta have tools, shovels and such.”

“I dunno, Kip. I’m s’pose to practice piano today.” This was Jack, who had inherited his mother’s gift for the piano.

There was a second of silence before the men heard Alex’s voice. “Hey. We’re Tracys. Adventuring is what we do.”

“We’re Montague-Tracys,” Marc reminded him.

“Marc-Marc, I thought Daddy ran a rescue org-, org-, company,” said David.

“He does, Davey. An’ all of us are Tracys, even the Montague-Tracys.” Kip had found his voice again. “An’ now we’re gonna go to the beach an’ find treasure an have an adventure!” He paused. “Unless you want to stay here an miss all the fun…”

“I can practice later, I s’pose.”

“C’mon Marc-Marc, let’s go.” Marc must have nodded because David said, “Yay!”

“Good! Les get supplies an head on our adventure!”

There was the sound of a small herd of small elephants moving out of the room.

“Your Kip is a bossy one.”

Virgil shook his head. “I know. He’s just like Scott at that age.”

“How do you know?”

Virgil snorted. “I was the one he was bossing around.”

Sighing dejectedly, Alan said, “He’s still bossy.”

“Yeah, only now we call it-” Virgil made the air quotes. “‘Leadership’.”

That did it. Alan’s sober mien cracked and he guffawed.

“Kip’s lucky he has his own Virgil.”

“Yeah,” Virgil said, smiling fondly. “Alex will keep him from getting too big a head.” He felt strangely satisfied knowing that his boys would play a big role in carrying on the mission of IR. He could see the twins one day flying Thunderbirds One and Two, respectively.

Alan’s voice intruded into his little daydream. “It’s funny how Kip looks exactly like you, but has Scott’s personality. And Alex is you, but looks exactly like Scott.”

“Nah, Alex looks like Rebecca with Scott’s hair and dimples.”

Alan hummed. “I don’t see it. He’s mini-Scott, more so than either of his twins. Hey, how does Jack look so much like John?” He gasped. “Is that why you stopped at three kids? Were you afraid the next one would be Gordon? Bro, I don’t blame you. But you do miss out on your own Alan.”

Virgil gently cuffed the back of his brother’s head. “I have my own Alan. You, spaceboy.”

A brief smile appeared before Alan’s face fell. “I always thought I’d be a dad, but Sendhil didn’t want kids…” He sniffled and chewed on his thumbnail. “Now…” He shrugged. “I dunno.”

“How would you have worked them into your life? You’re busy with IR and Sendhil is trying human rights violation cases all over the world in international courts. When would you have had the time?”

Alan looked at Virgil, his eyes narrowing. “You told me when something is important you find the time.”

“For your relationship. Hobbies. Kids are another thing altogether, Alan.”

Alan waved his hands at Virgil. “I watch you and Rebecca do it. And Scott and Emma. You guys make it work.” He looked out across the water and fell silent. Virgil took his hand and held it. The brothers quietly watched the horde of boys exit the villa from the kitchen. Leading the way were Kip and Alex, off on their beachside adventure.

When Alan spoke again, his voice was wistful. “I wanted what you have.”

“You’re twenty-seven. You still can.”

Shaking his head, Alan avoided his brother’s eyes and picked at a loose thread on his jeans. “I dunno, Virgil.”

“What does that mean, Alan? Why don’t you think you can?”

Alan’s head snapped up and he glared at him. “I see what you’re doing, Virgil.”

Virgil held up both hands. “I’m trying to understand why at twenty-seven, you don’t think you can be a parent.”

“Would you have been happy? Only being an uncle, if you and Stephen had worked out?”

The question surprised Virgil. “I.” He thought for a moment. “I was prepared to be, because I loved Stephen, and it was a compromise I was willing to make for him.”

“But he never made any compromises for you.”

“Sure he did.”

“Name one.”

“Alan-”

“No, Virg. Tell me one compromise Stephen made you for. ‘Cause I can’t think of any. He didn’t want kids, he didn’t want to live on the island, he took a job on the other side of the world without telling you, and then expected you to come to him. And you nearly left IR for him. What did he give up for you?”

Virgil opened his mouth several times to reply, but nothing came.

Alan nodded. “Yeah, I thought so.”

“That’s not fair, Alan.”

“No, Virgil. What isn’t fair is the only thing he gave up for you was your relationship with him.”

“No.”

“Yeah. And now you have a partner who loves you, the kids you always wanted, and you’re still saving people in distress.”

Virgil smirked. “So tell me again why you can’t have your heart’s desires, too?”

It was Alan’s turn to gape like a fish.

“You wanna know something Kayo told me once?” Alan nodded. “She told me about a Chinese proverb she knew, ‘have fate without destiny’?”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that you might have been fated to meet someone and be together for a time, but you weren’t destined to be together forever.”

“Why would fate bring us together, if we weren’t destined for each other?”

Virgil shrugged. “Maybe there was something you were supposed to learn? Maybe it was to show you how nice it is to be loved by someone you love in return. Maybe, it was to help you figure out what you don’t want in your life? Or, maybe it was to prepare you for the person you are destined to be with?”

“Like you and Becca?”

Virgil nodded. “Or any of your siblings and their partners.” Virgil shuffled closer to his brother. “Sendhil was your first serious relationship. Don’t let him be your last.” Virgil placed his hand over Alan’s heart. “You have so much love in you, Alan. It would be a shame if you refused to share it with the right person.”

Alan’s face crumpled. “Why wasn’t he was the right person for me?”

“Oh, Alan.” Virgil gathered Alan in his arms and held him while he wept, murmuring soothing words of comfort.

“H-he threw me away… b-because it was hard!” Alan clung to Virgil’s strong shoulders while he wailed.

“No.” Virgil stroked Alan’s hair. “No, that’s not true.”

“Yes, Virgil. He threw me out…like I was garbage.”

Virgl shifted his grip on Alan, taking him by the shoulders. He gave him a strong shake. “You’re not garbage!”

“But…but…”

“It’s his loss. And he didn’t throw you out, sweet boy. He set you free.” He pulled his baby brother back into his arms and kissed the top of his head. “He set you free.”

They stayed there, Virgil rocking Alan in his arms until he was calmer.

Releasing his brother, Virgil dug in his pockets and found a crumpled tissue. “It’s mangled, but it’s clean.”

Blinking, Alan took the tissue. “Thanks.” He wiped his eyes and blew his nose.

“Are you feeling a little better?”

“Yeah, a little.”

“Are you thirsty? I have that water I brought you earlier.” He held out the water bottle, which his brother gratefully took.

“Yeah, thanks.”

Watching his brother down the water, Virgil noticed that some color had returned to Alan’s cheeks.

“Alan?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to say something, and then I want us to consider this aspect of your breakup closed forever, okay?”

“Okay.”

“You are one of the smartest, bravest, most capable people I know, and considering this family, that’s saying something. You have never been, are not now, and never will be garbage to be tossed away by undeserving people. Am I clear?”

Wide-eyed, Alan nodded.

“Good.”

There was a distant shout. Looking towards the sound, the brothers saw that the boys had reached the beach and were doing something industrious looking with the sand.

“They’re going to be very grubby when they get back,” Alan observed.

Virgil chuckled. “A grubbiness of boys. Getting them clean is the best.”

“How do you do that?”

“Same way Dad did with us.” Alan frowned. “He turned on the garden hose.”

Alan guffawed. “I wanna see that.”

“Stick around and you might.”

“I just might…He was a good dad, wasn’t he, when you were young?”

“Dad?” Alan nodded. “Yeah, he was a really good dad. Still is.”

“Do you do any of the things he did with us with your three?”

“Sure, all the time.” Virgil paused. “Though perhaps a little more with Alex, since he’s determined to pilot Thunderbird Two one day.”

“He is?”

“Oh, yeah.” Virgil grinned.

“Huh. I thought Kip was the only one determined to pilot a thunderbird. It’s still One?”

“It is. And I’d say he’s less determined and more obsessed with piloting it in the future.”

“Have any of the boys claimed Thunderbird Three?”

“No, but they’re still so young.”

Alan wagged a finger at his brother. “Wait, wasn’t Kip two when he ‘claimed’ One?”

Virgil grinned. “I think he’s an outlier. You wanna put in a claim now for Three for your potential, future progeny?”

“A claim? It’s my ship!”

“For now. But it’s a determined wee Tracy who gets the Thunderbird.”

Alan slumped back into the hoverchair and rolled his eyes. “You’re such a dad.”

“If you work hard and eat right, you too can become such a dad.”

Alan snickered. “Thanks, Virg.”

“Anytime, Al.”

“God, I hate being called Al. Sendhil called me Al all the time, and I really hated it.”

“Hey.” He placed a hand on Alan’s shoulder. “I won’t call you that again. But, do you think I like being called Virg?”

“You don’t? Since when?”

“Since always.”

“I- sorry, bro. I won’t do it again.”

“I appreciate it. I love you, Alan.”

“I love you, too, Virgil.”

The brothers lapsed into silence, watching the storm move away from them.

“Hey, Virgil?”

“Yeah, Alan?”

“Thanks.”

[tagsecretsanta]

From @lambsonburn

From @lambsonburn to @misstb2

[tagsecretsanta]

From @thedryswan

From @thedryswan to @hebuiltfive

PROMPT 2. A member (or more) of IR being stuck on a rescue job on Christmas Eve

Snow. Thought Scott. Why did it have to be snow. For the most part, he managed to compartmentalize away the childhood trauma of his mother’s death in an avalanche. That said, he still had to be extra vigilant when iR was called to alpine rescue sites to make sure none of those tricky trauma responses got in the way of his first responder role.

As he approached the mountain slope he took a few slow breaths, in through the nose, out through the mouth, repeat, repeat. He manoeuvered to hover high enough above the slope that his VTOL engines wouldn’t destabilize the snow or set off secondary avalanches, thankful that they had at least a few hours of daylight remaining. He recognized the airborne pink Rolls Royce which was near a deep ravine and by the look of it, Parker had deployed steel grappling cables to a mountain lodge half buried in snow which was in danger of tipping over the edge.

Looking down, Scott could see a pair of legs in bright pink ski trousers sticking out from under the roof and a multitude of ski tracks indicating that mountain rescue teams had already managed to make their way to the incident zone equipped with sleds.

“Penny? Are you receiving, over?”

“How wonderfully formal of you Scott.” she replied, crawling slowly backwards, rolling over and waving up at him. “Yes. Receiving loud and clear. Situation as follows, Kayo and I were at the top of the run, about to ski down when the top sheet of snow detached and took the little auberge you can just see down here. From what I can tell it’s balancing on a rocky shelf below the surface but how long for I couldn’t say. I would imagine it’s only a matter of time before the cables rip the roof off and then there’ll be nothing holding the building on the slope. Kayo is inside and has been helping the least injured climb up and through the window. When last we spoke she mentioned there were only two or three who need stabilising before they can be evacuated.”

While Scott had been listening to Penny’s report, he had been scanning not only the lodge but the surrounding slope in all directions in case any skiers were trapped under the snow, but according to his instruments, all other casualties had already been taken care of.

“Uhm. So, how can I help?” he asked as two more rescue teams arrived with sleds.

“Honestly? I’m not sure. TB1 is something of a sledgehammer to crack a nut, John is monitoring the structural stability so perhaps just hover a while until we’ve emptied the lodge.”

Fighting the frustration of not being immediately required and that conventional rescuers had the job well under control, Scott gained a little altitude but kept the lodge and mountainside in view. He was almost hoping that something would go wrong and he would be able to swoop in and save the day, but as he watched, the two sleds which had been posted through the lodge window were slowly levered out, each occupied by an injured skier and the rescuers took off down to the main resort and medical centre. Kayo finally emerged and flopped onto her back to regain her breath before Parker let down a fast extraction rope. She and Penny grabbed on, securing themselves with belts and straps as he released the cables and engaged the engines, rising to almost the same altitude as TB1 then flying past with a grin and a salute.

“Hey, John? Is there any actual reason for me being here?”

“We weren’t sure of the magnitude of the rescue mission, the fact that it was lighter work than expected is a good thing. However, if you’re not too busy, the avalanche has snowed a train into the mountain tunnel I’m uploading to your holoscreen and there’s a road which is partially blocked.”

At that moment, Virgil radioed in from his own rescue, now concluded, to see if Scott wanted any help and since they were less than an hour apart at the supersonic speeds the Thunderbirds could fly, Scott accepted, asking him to divert and review the roadblock.

Scott turned his attention to the holoscreen and information sent by John about the stranded train and flew to where the tunnel entrance was, albeit entirely invisible under the coating of snow.

The scans showed that the locomotive and first carriage were outside of the tunnel and buried, whereas the following eighteen carriages were still within shelter. As he assessed the situation, a call was put through to Scott via TB5 from the local rail incident team.

“Thanks for being here,” began the woman leading the train rescue, “Although I think we have most of it in hand.”

“Really?” Scott asked, wondering if today of all days, Christmas Eve, was just one wild goose chase after another. “Care to tell me how you plan on handling this?”

“Well first of all, I’m going to ignore your tone of voice.”

Scott did at least have the good grace to blush at his abrupt comments and offered apologies.

“We have a retrieval engine coming from the unobstructed end of the tunnel and the train staff are transferring passengers from the stuck carriage to areas further along the train. Once the driver has completed all the safety measures and put the loco on standby, he’ll unhitch the first carriage from the second so the retrieval engine can just pull the rest of the train back out the way it came. There’s no urgency to dig out the front loco and carriage just yet, we can wait until tomorrow when we’ll have a full day to review strategy.”

Stifling a huff, Scott approved the plan, after all, he had intended to fly over the mountain and into the tunnel, essentially to do what the retrieval engine was already doing.

“Okay, well, let me know if you need any further help?”

“Will do. Thanks.”

Scott leaned back and glared out of his observation windows, annoyed that he was on a mission with nothing to do.

“Thunderbird Two?”

“Yes, Thunderbird One?”

“I don’t suppose you need a hand with anything, do you?”

“Why, you bored?”

“I’m sitting here with two active rescue situations, neither of which require me so yeah, I’m sitting on my ass, bored out of my mind.”

“There’s a lot of vehicles trapped on this road, most of them we’re managing to just lift to a road further down the mountain but there’s a truck which absolutely has to get through, you okay to handle that?”

“Sure!”

It didn’t take long for Scott to arrive and identify the truck in question, a shipping container attached to a low loader. He deployed the rarely used second seat which was positioned behind the pilot in horizontal flight to pick up the truck driver, a stocky man named Eric, and then used his own magnetic grapples to hoist the container.

“You gonna tell me where this is going?” Scott called over his shoulder.

“Can I hook up my gps to your screen? It’ll be easier than just telling you.”

As soon as Scott had a clear itinerary, he engaged forward thrusters and flew at what – for him – was a relatively slow speed. It took less than half an hour to arrive at the distribution depot pinpointed on the map where a line of cars and vans stood waiting.

“Out of interest, what’s in the container?” Scott asked, hoping there was nothing suspicious about this delivery.

“Land this and I’ll show you.” Eric grinned.

Not without apprehension, Scott watched as Eric unlocked the container and flung the doors back.

“I work with an association, we run charity drives to collect donations of toys, books, clothes and whatnot for Christmas presents as well as food parcels. This shipment is destined for a couple of the local hospitals and the foster care service, there’s always a few urgent placements on Christmas and we do all we can to make sure that the foster families will have presents under the tree for all the kids in their care. The food parcels are going to a couple of the local hubs for distribution tomorrow.”

“Now that is awesome.” nodded Scott with a smile. “So, just show me which box goes where?”

For the next fifty minutes, Scott followed Eric’s instructions as he read from the five page list in his hand, helping the volunteers to carry box after box to the various vehicles. One of them paused to thank him for his service, especially on Christmas Eve when, no doubt, he’d rather be home with his family.

The truth was that the Tracy brothers rarely did Christmas at Christmas, not only because it didn’t feel the same since their parents’ deaths, but also because so many other emergency services the world over were running on reduced teams during the holidays so they were happy to step up where needed. Generally, they would pick a day either in November or January when iR would be officially offline for twenty four hours and that would be their Christmas.

The driver who was filling his van with presents for a children’s hospital was frowning down at his phone before cursing quietly under his breath.

Eric looked up “Something wrong?”

“Yeah. The guy the hospital arranged to be Santa and hand out these presents is stuck on a snow-logged train.”

An idea crept into Scott’s head. “You wouldn’t happen to have the Santa suit, would you?”

“No, it’s in storage at the hospital. Why do you ask?”

“It would appear my rescue roster is currently clear, so….”

…

“So that, sweetheart, is the story behind this picture and how I spent one Christmas Eve as Santa at Grey Peaks Children’s Hospital. And unless I’m much mistaken, your mom is about to come out here and say something about bedtime.”

Closing the thick album which held the photo of himself in a Santa costume, the many-years retired, tanned and grey haired Scott Tracy handed it to his granddaughter and kissed her on the head, watching as she skipped up the steps from the pool and into the villa.

He leaned his head back against the cushions of the sun lounger and smiled. Those had been the days.

[tagsecretsanta]

From @gordonthegreatesttracy

From @gordonthegreatesttracy to @thundergirl007

Chapter one. Some good news and some bad news.

“Scott, I have good news and bad news” Gordon announces.

Scott rolls his eyes; he just knows that there is no way any of this is good news! But he plays along.

“Oh just give me the good news” he replies, he can feel the face palm coming.

“The air bags on thunderbird one work perfectly!”

*Flash back*

One week before Christmas.

The villa is baked in early afternoon sunshine, and Gordon is looking longingly towards the pool, but he can’t run away and dive right in as he has to sit through a family meeting, he knows that it will be boring, they are always boring!

Everyone is in the lounge. Even John has come down from thunderbird five for this emergency meeting. He is sitting on the sofa next to Scott with Alan on his other side. Virgil is sitting next to Gordon and he can feel Gordon’s boredom emanating from him like radiation from the sun. A bored Gordon is never a good thing!

Alan and Gordon spent days decorating the lounge for Christmas. A ginormous tree is in the middle of the room, and looks like the unfortunate victim of an explosion in a tinsel factory, and the portraits on the wall have all been replaced with their official Elf portraits, with Scotty Claus right in the centre, despite all of his protests.

Gordon is quietly singing to himself, something that suspiciously sounds like Johnny the red-haired Tracy, and Virgil nudges him in the ribs to get him to stop, as Gordon’s Christmas songs cause more than enough trouble every year, and just once he would like a Christmas where nothing goes wrong.

Jeff is sitting at his desk, leaning back in his chair and getting ready for a lecture, as like Virgil he is determined to make this Christmas the perfect family Christmas, where nothing goes wrong.

“Hm-hm” he coughs, clearing his throat and getting the boys attention. “This year, I am implementing a few new rules to ensure no repeats of the previous years disasters, and we are going to have a wonderful family Christmas.”

Gordon tries not to show his distaste at rules, but he can’t help a look of disgust flashing briefly across his face.

“Rule number one: No arguing.

Rule number two: No wild animals as gifts.

Rule number three: No original Gordon Christmas songs.

Rule number four: No pranks.

“Do these rules apply to me?” Gordon asks.

“Gordon, these rules are because of you, so yes!” Scott replies, rolling his eyes. He personally thinks they are good rules, and he is going to be doing his best to ensure that they are followed.

“Also” Jeff continues, to stop any further interruptions, “I am putting Scott and Virgil in charge of the Christmas shopping this year, and you will leave for the main land in an hour, John you may go back to thunderbird five now. Gordon, and Alan you will remain on call in case any emergency calls come through so don’t go far.

Gordon and Alan go out to the pool to relax and watch Virgil and Scott fly away in thunderbird two, Gordon just hopes everything that he added to the list after his dad had finished with it don’t come under the no prank rules and that Virgil gets him that rubber spider he sneaked on the list!

“Dad is so mean” Gordon complains once he is sure he is out of earshot.

Alan nods in agreement, even though he has been the victim of Gordon’s pranking mastery on more than one occasion. “Definitely”

“I am married now, with a baby, does he really think that I am still twelve years old?”

“Definitely” Alan agrees again, sometimes he still thinks that Gordon never got any older than twelve.

“I will show him; I will show all of you just how mature and how sensible Gordon Tracy can be!”

“Now is your time” a voice pops up from the poolside coms box. “We have a situation; you will need thunderbird one.” John informs him. “There’s a climber stuck on mount Kilimanjaro, he thought it would be a good idea to try climbing it solo without a guide, and no one has heard from him in nearly four hours, but his tracker is still showing.”

“I am on it John! Leave it to me. I will have this mountaineer down before you can say “Scotty Claus is coming to town!” Gordon replies, running for Scott’s launch bay.

Jeff forced Scott to add a hand rail to the platform, so getting into thunderbird one is now much safer, even though Scott is still protesting about it not being needed and is a colossal waste of his precious time, and Gordon gets settled down for a quick flight to Tanzania, collect the stranded climber, and make it home for dinner.

Jeff and Alan watch as he disappears into the early afternoon sun light before heading down to the kitchen to start making lunch.

*TB*

Gordon loads up his favourite songs for the journey, and is singing his way through the sound track to the little mermaid when he arrives at the danger zone and lands Thunderbird one close to the climber’s last known location, and jumps down to the snow-covered ground with a shiver. It is cold up here; he thinks in disgust and wishes that he could have sent Alan to do this instead before remembering his promise to be mature and sensible Gordon from now on.

“Help” he hears a weak sounding cry to his left and starts to walk in that direction, lugging his all-terrain kit with him, which Penny still laughs at him for, which is one of the reasons it goes every where with him, as her laugh is one of the many things he loves about her.

It doesn’t take him long to find the climber, a young man around his own age with dark brown hair and pale skin, he is so cold that his lips are starting to turn blue. He is wearing shorts and a t-shirt, and Gordon can’t help but wonder if he is related to Scott, as this is the kind of stunt his eldest brother once pulled. One that that are still banned from telling their father about!

“Okay, buddy can you tell me what happened here?” Gordon asks, running the med scanner up and down his body and groaning when it picks up on the man’s mild hypothermia and broken ankle. This is not going to be as straight forward as he had hoped.

“F-f-f-fell” he replies, trembling.

Gordon pulls out an emergency foil blanket and wraps it around him to try to stop him from getting any colder. He knows that he has to get him off this mountain, and somewhere warm. “Can you stand if I help you?”

The man grits his teeth and nods, wincing in pain as he stands up, falling against Gordon and almost knocking them both back down the mountain.

Gordon grips into the snow with the points of his boots and is able to remain upright and together they make the short walk back to thunderbird one.

Once aboard the ship, Gordon starts to make hot chocolate and hands the man a celery crunch bar which he gratefully eats.

“Thanks dude, that’s better” the man whom Gordon has nicknamed New Scotty in his mind, says appreciatively.

“no problem, what were you doing up there anyway?” Gordon asks.

“Skiing down the mountain, so don’t tell the park authorities, as it is not strictly legal” New Scotty replies, drinking his second mug of hot chocolate.

Gordon laughs. Definitely Scotty! “No problem, I once went exploring the supreme barrier reef with nothing more than an aqua scooter. Don’t tell my dad!”

New Scotty grins. “I knew I could rely on international rescue to be discreet, I think I should probably go and get my ankle looked at though, we just need a cover story”

Gordon laughs again, and he is glad that he was the one to take John’s call, he likes New Scotty more than Old Scotty who has become a Mini-Jeff as he has gotten older. He drops New Scotty off at the local hospital, and starts to head home, turning on the stereo on and hooking up his phone and playing the theme song to SpongeBob SquarePants on repeat all the way home.

He is just flying over Hawaii when there is a grinding sound from the engine, followed by what feels like a small explosion. Thunderbird One is hurtling towards the ground at a frightening speed, and he has no time to react or bail out. He just knows that this is going to hurt, and that Scott is going to be so angry with him for crashing his beloved Thunderbird.

He gives one last desperate grab of the controls to try and get the nose up, but it is too late. Thunderbird one crashes into the side of Mauna Loa, the largest active volcano in the world.

Gordon’s head plunges into the control panel, before the airbags go off and a secondary impact pushes him back into his seat, and he loses consciousness. There is a steady stream of wet sticky red blood dripping its way down his temple as he can do nothing to help himself.

*TB*

“Go ahead John” Jeff says, hoping that this is not another emergency call as he is now down to one rescuer, as Scott and Virgil are still not home yet and Gordon is still in Africa.

“We have a situation. Thunderbird One went down in Hawaii, and I am unable to make any contact with Gordon.” John sounds scared, Gordon knows from his own past experiences with the Chaos Crew to make contact with his brothers if anything happens, he would never cut contact on purpose. Something is wrong, he can feel it.

“What happened?” Jeff asks.

“Catastrophic engine failure, there was nothing he could have done about it, it went without warning, didn’t even get the chance to bail out. My only hope is that his radio has been smashed. Dad, we have to go and save him”

“I will let Virgil and Scott know, they can be there in less than twenty minutes” Jeff replies, shutting down on John and opening up a link to Scott.

“Scott, this is your father, we have an emergency” Jeff says.

There is urgency in his voice that makes Scott nervous and he leaves his trolley full of food in the middle of the warehouse and runs to Thunderbird two, Virgil right behind him.

They have taken off and are blindly flying in the direction of the island without knowing that they even need to go the other way.

“What’s happened?” Virgil asks.

“Gordon was out in thunderbird one and the engine failed. He was forced to make an emergency landing and we can’t contact him. He’s crashed into Mauna Loa in Hawaii.”

Jeff says quickly.

“He crashed my Thunderbird?!” Scott roars.

“Yeah because that’s the main thing here Scotty” Virgil replies rolling his eyes, swinging thunderbird two around and heading towards Hawaii as fast as he can.

The silence is awkward and the atmosphere tense as Virgil is trying to stay focused on the mission and not being angry with Scott. Scott needs to learn that there are more important things than Thunderbird One. That can be replaced.

They are almost at the Volcano when there is a large explosion from Thunderbird ones last known location, and Virgil can feel his heart crack. They were too late. They didn’t get to him in time.

“G-G-Goose” Scott says with his head in his hands.

“No Scott, he isn’t Goose. He is Gordon. Remember, mom always used to say he was immortal. Heaven wouldn’t want him and hell is terrified of him showing up and taking over. Now we need to get down there and save our Squid. Virgil, like Scott, knows that they are too late, that they have lost Gordon forever.

Virgil brings Thunderbird Two into land. There is a crowd of at least three hundred people there, and he fights his way to the front of the queue, followed closely by Scott. Parked near the wreckage site is an ambulance, and Gordon is lying on a stretcher, an oxygen mask covering most of his face and his eyes are closed, but there is instant relief when they realise that Gordon is breathing.

“Gordon!” Virgil cries, “Thank goodness!”

Gordon’s eyelids flutter as he struggles to hold on to the voice. He is confused as the voice sounds so happy to see Gordon. But who is it?

Gordon opens his eyes and stares blankly back at him. without a hint of recognition.

He has no idea who this is.

And now he thinks about it properly, who is Gordon?

He tries to sit up, lifting the mask up off his face and looking around at his surroundings for the first time. Nothing is familiar, he has to ask the stranger. He has to know.

“I’m sorry, but who are you? Who is Gordon?”

Chapter two: Snowstorm

Six days before Christmas

Gordon is asleep in his room, thanks to Virgil’s recently administered sedative, and everyone has gathered in the lounge to discuss how they can help their brother recover his memories.

“Why should we? John asks, “Now is the perfect time to get a much better version.”

“Excuse me?” Virgil replies.

“Think about it, we just tell him that doesn’t spend days on end wearing the same ugly shirt, he likes suits and ties, doesn’t watch that awful programme into the unknown…” John trails off.

“Does my college work” Alan adds.

“Doesn’t play pranks or tell terrible jokes” Scott says, getting John’s point. This could be the one and only opportunity to get a Gordon he isn’t embarrassed to be related too! “And he enjoys writing mission reports as soon as he gets home, and gets upset when he can’t do his debrief straight away”

Virgil doesn’t say anything, but he knows that this is a terrible idea!

“He cleans his room without needing to be threatened” Jeff adds, having joined them. John is correct, this is his chance to get the perfect family Christmas he has wanted since he got home three years ago.

“Celery crunch bars have not been invented. It will save us hundreds of dollars a year on the grocery bill” John adds.

“We could tell him that he loves peas. He has always hated peas!” Alan says with a mean giggle.

Scott is writing all these ideas down, and making a journal on his laptop pretending to be Gordon. The perfect Gordon that he has wanted for so many years. One that would never have burnt the Christmas tree down, one that would never take thunderbird two joy riding and crash into Santa, one that would never adopt wild animals as pets. Sitting back in his chair he gives a contented sigh. This is going to be the best Christmas ever!

*TB*

Five days before Christmas.

Gordon looks at the stranger in the mirror. He feel uncomfortable in his dark grey suit and tie. His hair has been brushed back and set with Scott’s super shine hair gel. Something feels wrong, but he doesn’t know what. It makes no sense, this is his home, yet there is nothing that feel familiar here. His father said that he is married, but he doesn’t know what his wife looks like, and as she is in England working on a secret mission for the GDF, he doesn’t have to admit to her that he doesn’t know who she is.

“Gordon, breakfast!” a voice calls from down in the kitchen, and he is forced to leave his sanctuary for the rooms below.

He walks carefully down the stairs, and across the lounge and down to the kitchen where there is a plate with a plain bagel in the one free space in between, he stops to check the list of smudged names on his hand: Vinnie and Alvin. Gordon takes his seat and starts to nibble at the dry bagel, not adding butter and jam and drinking the glass of milk while (hand check) Vinnie drinks coffee directly from the coffee maker with a straw.

“Virgil! How many times have I got to tell you not to do that?” Jeff reminds him in exasperation.

Virgil? Gordon thinks. Is that his name? if it is, then who is Vinnie?

“No idea, but it is the best way to drink coffee, while it is still fresh” Virgil replies rolling his eyes and turning his attention back to his coffee. “Ah, breakfast”

“What does everyone have planned for the day?” Jeff asks.

“Well we have to get back to the main land and finish the shopping, Gordon is still grounded from missions as he has concussion, and can’t even remember his own name, Alan has an essay to complete for college, and John is monitoring up in thunderbird five” Scott summarises.

“Would you like to help me Gordon? You wrote the last one perfectly. It is about the Mariana trench, you have explored that in great detail so this is easy for you” Alan asks. He can’t wait to spend the day playing Cavern Quest while Gordon does his school work for him.

“Sure thing, Alvin” Gordon replies after a quick check of his hand.

“It’s Alan” Alan reminds him.

“No. I am fairly sure its Alvin” Gordon confirms with a nod.

Alan doesn’t bother trying to correct him again, after taking a hint from Scott to let it go.

Gordon gets up and follows Alan to his room where Alan has left his lap top open for Gordon to get to work on his essay.

Revenge is sweet! Alan thinks.

*TB*

Four days before Christmas

The villa is quiet. Everyone is home. Gordon is sitting up his feet adorned with matching socks are resting on the rung of his chair as he reads the Count of Monte Cristo which John lent him.

Alan comes running into the room and grabs the book from his brothers hands and throws it on the floor.

“Alvin?” Gordon gasps in shock. “Whatever is the matter my sweet baby brother?”

“I got an F!” Alan replies angrily.

“On what?” Gordon replies confused.

“That essay you wrote for me!” Alan replies.

“What essay?” Gordon asks.

“The one about the Mariana Trench you wrote.” Alan replies.

“What’s the Mariana Trench?” Gordon asks innocently.

“DAAAAAAAAAAAAD!” Alan screams, storming from the room to go and find his father to complain.

Gordon shrugs and picks the book up from the floor and opens it back up and begins to read again.

*TB*

Three days before Christmas

Jeff has called another family meeting, no one is happy.

Alan is still sulking, this was meant to be the best Christmas ever, and instead he is failing geography and has to spend the next few days doing his own research and rewriting the whole thing.

John has just found out that now Gordon doesn’t eat celery crunch bars, he has instead eaten all of the bagels that John asked Scott and Virgil to get him, and now he has to brave the main land supermarket on the busiest day of the year where the stores will be crowded with people to buy more.

Scott is out of super shine hair gel as Gordon used it all for his new hair style, and he too has to go back to the store to replace what his brother has used. Between the bagels and the hair gel, Gordon has cost them a small fortune!

“What’s he done to you Virg?” Scott asks. His brother is sitting on the sofa looking like Christmas has been cancelled.

“Coffee… Need coffee” Virgil replies.

“Sorry about that. I told him coffee was really bad for people, so he threw it all out to save you” John said. “I just thought he would stop drinking it, I didn’t think he would throw it all in the bin!”

“Dad, we need the real Gordon back!” Alan says.

“Yeah Dad, we miss him” Scott adds. He never thought he would, but he does miss him. He misses the silly Christmas songs. Last night he couldn’t sleep, and was lying awake in bed, the window open so he could feel the breeze from the mild wind outside while he listened to Scotty Claus on the music box.

Jeff agrees, he too misses his real Squid. The crazy one who once gave his mom a squirrel as a Christmas present. Remembering Niblet gives him an idea, there is no way he would have forgotten Niblet. Gordon loved Niblet.

“Why don’t we take him back to Kansas, show him where he grew up” Jeff suggests.

Scott nods in agreement. “That’s a really good idea, Dad, we will all go in thunderbird two, as One is still being repaired.” Scott isn’t even upset over losing his Thunderbird, he would much rather have a happy and healthy Gordon than anything else.

“Are we going to ask Penelope to join us?” John asks. She is still deep undercover in her mission from the GDF, and they decided not to pull her out because they thought they could fix this without help, but John is starting to realise that they are in way over their heads here, and they need fresh ideas.

“If this doesn’t work, then yes we will. She needs to know” Jeff replies.

The meeting breaks up, and they all go their separate ways to pack for Kansas, knowing that it will be cold and snowy they pack their winter clothing.

Alan is excited, despite the gravity of the situation, he can’t wait to go sledding down the hill behind the house and build a snowman. He loves winter, and he misses it living on a tropical island, never getting to see snow. He packs his cross-country skis, and favourite hoodie and he’s ready, geography essay forgotten about and discarded on his bedroom floor. He will worry about that later, it is Christmas after all!

*TB*

Two days before Christmas.

“It is very cold here” Gordon says, shivering slightly as he looks around the unfamiliar yard. He has no idea why they have bought him here, and so far he is not impressed. The ground under his feet is frozen solid, and it is snowing heavily. The large old farm house was at least warm with the fire burning away in the grate and he would like to go back inside.

“We thought we would go for a walk up to the lake. You loved the lake when we lived here” Scott tells him.

Everyone Is bundled up in several layers to combat the cold.

“Why would I love a lake?” Gordon asks, confused. He hates water, John said so, he never dives in the pool and splashes water all over his brothers.

“You used to go skating in the winter and swimming in the summer. We used to have to force you to go home at the end of the day. You remember one night when we had that awful heat wave and you snuck out in the middle of the night and went skinny dipping in the lake?” Virgil says.

“Skinny dipping?” Gordon repeats in disgust. “I would never do that. I even wear my bathing suit in the shower”

They start to walk across the snow-covered ground towards the forests edge, Gordon following his brothers determined to just go through this without complaining, but his feet are freezing, he has no idea where he is or where he is going and he can’t wait to get out of here.

There is a squirrel scratching the earth looking for something to eat. It is a small skinny grey creature who is struggling to get through this winter. He feels constantly hungry and he wishes that he too were anywhere but in this snowy forest on his freezing December morning.

“Look Gordon, a squirrel” Alan points out. “He could be descended from Niblet!”

“Yuck, disgusting disease-ridden tree rat!” Gordon replies. “Do I throw something at it, get it to go away?”

Virgil stops in his tracks. Did Gordon just suggest what he thinks he just suggested? Gordon, who once bought home and injured skunk and kept it under his bed for a week? Smellatrix the skunk took some catching and Virgil swears he can still smell her in the house! “Oh Gordon, what has happened to you?” he thinks sadly.

“Leave him be Gordon” Jeff says gently as they carry on.

They head deeper and deeper into the forest and it is still and silent, barely a creature in sight as everyone escapes from the incoming snowstorm to their warm nests and burrows and dreys.

The density of the trees is blocking out any light, and it is increasingly dark, and they have still not found the lake.

“Dad, where are we, the lake was not this far from home?” John asks. He can no longer feel his toes, as they trudge through foot deep snow.

“I want to go home” Alan adds. This isn’t fun anymore. and he wishes that he had never agreed to come on this walk. He is shivering with bone deep cold as he watches the snowflakes swirl upwards in the wind.

“Me too” Gordon agrees.

“We should head back Dad. I can’t even walk any further in this.” Scott says.

Jeff knows when to admit defeat, and he nods sadly. This has not worked out how he had hoped it would, and he is out of ideas. “Come on boys, lets go home”

“It’s this way” Virgil says, turning to the left and pointing to a snowy path.

“No, it’s this way!” Alan says, pointing in the other direction.

“You are both wrong as it is this way” Scott says, tuning around and walking in a third direction.

“No, it’s this way” Alan insists.

“This way” Virgil insists.

“Fine we will go your way” Alan tells Virgil and storms into the gloom in anger. This was the worst idea his father has ever had! They are lost in the forest, in the middle of the worst snowstorm Kansas has seen in fifty years, with a brother who can’t even remember his own name and three stubborn brothers who won’t listen to reason, a geography essay he has to write and a father who seems to think this was a good idea!

“I am going this way, and I will see you when you get home in about three days, try not to freeze to death in the meantime” John replies. “Come on Gordon”

Gordon is stood rooted to the spot. The arguing is scaring him. He wants to scream and he wants to run away from them all, back to the safety of his tropical island.

“Gordon” John repeats, trying to drag him towards the path.

“Leave him alone! This is all your fault.” Virgil says, grabbing Gordon’s other arm.

“My fault? This was not my idea!” John says, glaring at his father. “You should have known that this storm was coming. It is freezing out here, we are lost and when we have to resort to cannibalism you are first on the list!”

“My fault? You are the one who came up with the plan to make Gordon into your perfect brother!” Jeff reminds John. “Who told him that celery crunch bars were no longer a thing so he ate your bagels?”

“Who told him coffee was bad for him, so he threw out all of Virgil’s coffee?” Scott adds.

“And who told him that he enjoyed doing Alan’s homework?” Virgil asks.

“Boys” Jeff interrupts. “Where has Alan gone?”

“He went that way” Virgil replies, pointing to the path where Alan disappeared.

“Why? That is the wrong way” Gordon says.

“Gordon?” Jeff asks in shock.

His fourth son is desperately trying not to laugh.

“Gordon…?” Scott repeats.

“Gotcha!” Gordon replies, bursting out laughing.

“Excuse me?” Jeff replies.

“Amnesia. I can not believe you all fell for that” Gordon says. He is laughing to hard there are tears streaming down his face, which are being frozen by the biting wind.

“You are in so much trouble!” Jeff tells him, as he is pulling him into his arms for a hug. “But I am so glad to have you back”

“Yeah, you can yell at me later, let’s go and find Alan, and feed that poor hungry squirrel.” Gordon replies, pulling out a large bag of walnuts from the pocket of his ski jacket. “Maybe we can take him back to the island with us”

“No, we cannot!” Jeff replies laughing. He is so happy to have the real Gordon back that he would actually consider letting him have a squirrel again.

The atmosphere is light as they skip down the path to get to Alan, calling his name until they eventually catch him up.

“You faked the whole thing?” Alan asks in amazement. “But my essay!”

“Not my fault you didn’t read it before you submitted it!” Gordon replies with a shrug.

“Come on boys, let’s go home. Gordon, lead the way!”

“No way, we came all the way out here, I am going to the lake!” Gordon replies laughing. “it is just around this corner, I know this forest better than anything else, even the Mariana Trench!”

Alan doesn’t reply, he knows he deserved that F!

They step out of the edge of the forest, and the lake is right there, covered in a deep layer of snow and ice, and the snow is getting heavier, but they don’t care, as they have an impromptu snow ball fight. Alan, Gordon and John against Scott, Virgil and Jeff, only stopping when it gets too dark to see.

“I think it is time we went home” Jeff says with a happy and contented smile.

Even Gordon agrees, as they walk back through the forest, dropping walnuts along the way for all of the hungry squirrels.

“What time is it?” Gordon asks, yawning.

“Nearly four-thirty” Jeff replies.

They have been out in the snow for hours now, and everyone is starting to feel the cold, as the snow shows no signs of relenting.

“Getting lost in a snowstorm can definitely be added to our annual list of disastrous Christmases” John says laughing. “It is weird but a week ago all we wanted was the perfect family Christmas without any pranks or arguing, but this has actually been the perfect family Christmas and all we have done is argue and prank each other! Maybe that is the secret to the perfect family Christmas, just revel in the chaos”

They re-enter the yard and gasp at the sight of the new fallen snow. Several feet has fallen in the few short hours they have been out, and the door is barely visible.

“Did you remember to pack the snow dispersal unit or is Alan digging his way in?” Gordon asks.

“With his bare hands?” Virgil adds.

“It’s on Thunderbird two, go and get it Virg” Scott tells him.

Virgl aims the snow dispersal unit at the front door and starts to melt the snow away and they all run inside where there is a fire roaring away ready for them with a large bag of marshmallows and seven toasting forks.

“Seven? Why seven? And who kept the fire going?” Scott asks, looking around for the source of the snacks.

“SANTA!” Alan cries delightfully.

“Not even close!” Lady Penelope says, walking back into the living room with a grin, and wrapping Gordon in her arms for a hug. “What took you all so long?”

“It’s a long story” Gordon replies, sinking down into his favourite squashy arm chair, and gazing out at the now still night.

“Hey look likes the storm is over”

Chapter three. Hot Chocolate

“Did you know?” Jeff asks Penelope.

“That Gordon was pranking you? Of course I did, he learned last year that pranking me was a terrible idea!” Lady Penelope replies with a smile.

They have all changed into matching fluffy Christmas pyjamas and are sitting around the fire, toasting marshmallows and eating baked potatoes cooked in the flames.

“I thought you were under cover with the GDF?” John asks.

“That ended a week ago, I was on my way home with the baby when Gordon told me his plan.” Lady Penelope replies. The baby, now closing in on his second birthday is sitting on the floor at the feet playing contentedly with a toy truck. “Why don’t you read that essay Al?”

Alan calls it up on his phone and groans. He really truly did deserve that F.

I'm a little yellow fish in the deep blue sea, Won't somebody help me?

I'm a little yellow fish in the deep blue sea, Won't somebody save me?

Do you wanna know how living is beneath the waves? Do you wanna know how everything I knew was changed?

It wasn’t such a big commotion, all it takes is magic potion With a wriggle, a twist, a splash and a splish, I’m a fish, Help me!

I'm a little yellow fish in the deep blue sea, Won't somebody help me? I'm a little yellow fish in the deep blue sea, Won't somebody save me?

Do you wanna take a whale bus? Wanna meet a stupid shark? Do you wanna ride a seahorse Or hide in an oyster park?

It wasn’t such a big commotion, all you need is magic potion with a wriggle, a twist, a splash and a splish, you're a fish,

Help me!

I'm a little yellow fish in the deep blue sea, Won't somebody help me?

I'm a little yellow fish in the deep blue sea, Won't somebody save me?

Help me, Help Me I need a remedy, Help me, Help Me I need a remedy.

Life is strange at the bottom of the ocean, You won't believe the things you see! Stay ashore, don’t give in to emotions, If you don’t want to be like me!

I'm a little yellow fish in the deep blue sea, Won't somebody help me?

I'm a little yellow fish in the deep blue sea, Won't somebody save me?

“Repeated 5000 times” Alan announces, trying not to laugh. “Isn’t it that song from that awful fish movie you used to make us watch on repeat all day?”

“No, it is from Help, I’m a Fish, that wonderful movie where a magic potion turns three children into fish, I was so jealous of them growing up, it’s all I ever wanted” Gordon says. “If it makes you feel any better if I was your professor, I would have given you an A. That is a truly wonderful essay”

Jeff gets up and heads into the kitchen, returning with a large camping pan full of milk chocolate and placing it on the fire to heat up, stirring the liquid until it is rich and creamy before pouring it into seven mugs and handing them around.

There is a happy silence among the group, here in the warmth and safety on the old farm house, the house that holds a million memories has just added one more. One more almost perfect evening together.

There is just one thing missing.

One thing that would make this Christmas absolutely perfect.

“Hey Gordon, since you disobeyed my orders about pranking, did you also disobey my order about a new Gordon original song?” Jeff asks.

Gordon takes one last gulp of his hot chocolate and stands up, climbs up onto the chair and loudly clears his throat.

“MHM-MMM”

“Dashing through the air

In a great big thunderbird

Rescues everywhere

Johnny is a nerd!

Scotty is a crank

Virgil loves coffee

Alan’s so much fun to prank

Hee hee hee hee hee

OOOOOOHHHHHHHHHH

Thunderbirds, thunderbirds thundering away

Oh what fun it is to save

The whole world every day!

HEY!

Thunderbirds, thunderbirds thundering away

Oh what fun it is to save

The whole world every day”

“Bravo Gordon!” Virgil says applauding.

Everyone is laughing as they drink another round of hot chocolate and contemplate yet another imperfect perfect Tracy Christmas, and Jeff realises that he wouldn’t have his Christmas any other way, as despite everything, this may just be the best one yet!

The storm has given way to a cold but clear and starry night, and John can’t wait to get upstairs to his telescope when Gordon finally remembers the vital piece of news he was going to give Scott a week ago.

“Scott, I have good news and bad news” Gordon tells him.

Scott rolls his eyes; he just knows that there is no way any of this is good news! But he plays along.

“Oh just give me the good news” he replies, he can feel the face palm coming.

“The air bags on thunderbird one work perfectly!”

Scott gives him the face palm, but he is laughing.

“Never change Gordon, I can’t believe I ever tried to change you. You are perfect just the way you are” Scott tells him.

Gordon smiles and looks back at his eldest brother. “You too Scotty Claus!”

“SCOTTY CLAUS IS COMING TO TOWN!” Alan starts to sing.

“Watch it Allie!” Scott replies in warning.

“No, look!” Alan replies.

 Scott goes to the window where a sleigh and eight reindeer are now residing on the lawn.

“SANTA! SANTA’S HERE! QUICK DAD, MAKE MORE HOT CHOCOLATE!”