Once I get John finished, this is the line art for my next piece of artwork. Virgil (you can tell by the muscles!!!) and Scott in the swimming pool. What do you think??
Another round of Tracy Island comics! â¨đď¸â¨
The boys are missing out on critical fatherly support while Jeff is MIA, so Captain "Uncle Lee" Taylor is happy to fill in! Like helping John overcome social anxiety by dumping him in close quarters with his ol' NASA buddy Steve Zodiac (Fireball XL5). Shaky nerves don't last long when you're throwing hands! đĽ
Meanwhile, Scott tackles his own anxieties with advice from a good friend! Captain Scarlet recommends not overthinking the mission, just trust yourself and yeet off that cliff before any doubt sets in! Perfect for an indestructible man who DOESN'T need to double-check for his jetpack. đŞŚ
I should have been working on other stuff but the TAG fandom is just SO much fun. The responses to my silly art keep me fed for weeks, I love you guys!!! đĽ°
@shinygoku do I have some news for you!! This artist actually painted several Thunderbirds pieces as box art for model kits that you can still buy today.
I studied him in GCSE art. The 60's was a pivotal era of art in Japan, manga was becoming more and more popular but Komatsuzaki stuck to making big paintings for model companies instead of illustrating comics and focusing on scenes rather than characters. He made a looooot of futuristic, sci-fi style paintings
The cast of Our Flag Means Death are in the Pitt!!!
Every patient is dying, Izzy is fist-fighting everyone, Ed managed to deliver a baby, Lucius fainted immediately, Roach has amputated so many limbs for no reason
The Color Game. âHumans canât reliably recall colors. This is a simple game to see how good (or bad) you are at it. Weâll show you five colors, then youâll try and recreate them.â I scored 39/50 but got a perfect score on one color.
movies about apocalypses: itâs every man for himself!! you canât trust anyone, itâs a wasteland of solo travelers and sad families, weâre alone out here
humans irl: *pack bond with strangers*
*pack bond with large carnivores*
*pack bond with robots in space thousands of miles away*
Apocalypse preppers who fantasise about all our artificial rules and governments falling away in times of chaos seem to forget that we invented those rules and governments. Over and over. When you put humans near each other, they group up and make a society; thatâs why those governments exist. Do they think we magically stop doing that in dangerous situations? Because⌠we donât.
He shouldnât have felt the faint tremble through his boots, but he did. Scott glanced down, frowning, but before he worked out if heâd truly felt it or not, his comms blinked.Â
âGo ahead, Thunderbird Five.âÂ
âAftershocks.â John didnât waste words when he had warnings to give. âHitting hard and fast.âÂ
âF.A.B.âÂ
Mindful of the officials surrounding him â rescue teams, the police, and a mayor who didnât believe he could be in the way â Scott kept his tone strictly professional as he opened a wide channel to his team.Â
âThunderbirds, sound off.âÂ
âThunderbird Two, sky high.âÂ
Good: Virgil was in the air and away from any immediate danger.Â
âThunderbird Three, at the rendezvous point.âÂ
âHold your position, Thunderbird Three.âÂ
âF.A.B.âÂ
Alan sounded reluctant but he wouldnât disobey a direct order.Â
âThunderbird Four?âÂ
âThunderbird Four, um...âÂ
Mobile Control was secured and Scott on the move before Gordon finished that sentence. No doubt John had sent the same warning to all of them. Gordon clearly knew he was in a dangerous position.Â
Scott switched to a private channel even as he broke into a run, heading towards Gordonâs last position.Â
âTalk to me, Gords.âÂ
âIâm still at the caves.âÂ
âCivilians?âÂ
âClear. Alan took them.âÂ
That explained why Alan was where he was. A group of people had decided taking shelter in some caves would be safer than sheltering in their homes when the earthquake hit. Virgil had used the Excavator to clear the entrance, but it had been Gordon whoâd roped up and gone in after them.Â
At least there wouldnât be anyone else to worry about apart from Gordon.Â
âI canât get these ropes off. Scott, I canât get clear!âÂ
âF.A.B. Iâm on my way.âÂ
âNo! Stay clear.âÂ
âAftershocks hitting in less than a minute.âÂ
Scott almost stumbled at Johnâs voice. So much for a private line!Â
He pulled out his laser cutter as he ran, not bothering to answer the Space Monitor. John wasnât the only one who didnât waste words. The rocks came into view, making him skid to a stop, looking around â there!Â
A flash of blue drew his attention and Scott pelted towards Gordon. His brother had done his job well: the knots were secure and the ropes firmly anchored. Heâd got half of them off but Scott saw his fingers slip on the knots in his haste.Â
âHands up,â Scott ordered. He waited until Gordon was clear before aiming the laser cutter on its lowest setting. The ropes frayed and broke apart, burning red ends smoking slightly.Â
âHitting now!â Johnâs words were a yell of warning. Years of listening to his instincts and just reacting meant Scott didnât stop to think. All he knew was that Gordon was standing under a cliff that had the potential to dump who knows what on top of them.Â
The first rocks were already bouncing towards them when Scott flung himself forward. He caught Gordon around the waist, sending them both hurtling into the cave even as a boulder the size of his head slammed into the ground where Gordon had been standing.Â
They rolled once, twice, three times before Scottâs momentum caught up with them and they fell still. To Scottâs relief, he was cushioning his brother. He quickly snapped on his head torch.Â
âAre you okay?â His hands gripped Gordonâs shoulders, holding him still as his gaze ran over his brother, trying to find any injuries.Â
âIâm fine.â Gordon shoved his hands away, sat up, then stood. Just as he did so, daylight disappeared as another barrage of scree covered up the exit for the second time that day. Gordon glanced at Scott.Â
âWhat exactly was your plan?â he asked drily.Â
Scott shrugged as he sat up. âSave you?âÂ
Gordon snorted, then his eyes went wide in the dim light of Scottâs torch.Â
âYou okay, big brother?âÂ
âFine.âÂ
Then pain lanced up his arm in a fiery burst that made Scott grit his teeth. He looked down to find his uniform torn and blood gushing from a deep laceration.Â
âOh.âÂ
He hadnât even felt it happen. Fumbling with one hand, he reached to his utility belt, searching for a med-pack, but Gordon got there first. He pulled out his own and dropped back to his knees.Â
Scott didnât watch as Gordon cleaned and bandaged the cut.Â
âThat was foolish, Scoots,â Gordon said softly. âYou couldâve got yourself killed.âÂ
Scott shrugged. âWouldâve been worth it if it saved you.âÂ
Gordon paused in his administrations long enough to punch Scott on his good shoulder.Â
âOuch,â Scott said drily.Â
âI wish you wouldnât say things like that.âÂ
âOuch?âÂ
Gordon punched him again. âYou know what I mean. You canât just throw yourself away on the off chance that it protects one of us.âÂ
âSure I can,â Scott said lightly. âIâve been doing it forever.âÂ
Gordon didnât answer, focusing on tying off the bandage. Scott let him work and lifted his other arm, grateful that his watch was on his right not his left wrist.Â
âThunderbird Two, do you copy?âÂ
âIâve got you,â Virgil sounded calm but Scott could hear the underlying tension. He was certain he was the only one who would pick up on it. âI need to wait for the ground to stabilise before I can land and get the Excavator back out. You two okay?âÂ
Whether heâd seen what had happened or John filled him in, Scott didnât know. But he was grateful he didnât have to explain that heâd saved Gordon only to get them both trapped in a cave and now needed rescuing.Â
âWeâre fine.âÂ
âScottâs hurt.âÂ
They both spoke at the same time and Scott glared at Gordon.Â
âWeâre fine,â he said again, his voice firm. âCheck in with Alan, make sure no more civilians are in danger. Then come back for us.âÂ
There was a pause, in which Scott thought Virgil might refuse. Then a reluctant F.A.B. came over the line before Scott shut it down. Â
âYou didnât need to tell him that.âÂ
Gordon returned his glare. âIâm not in a habit of lying to him. As for you-,âÂ
This time, he poked Scott in the chest.Â
âWill you quit it?â Scott grumbled. He was going to have more bruises from Gordon at this rate!Â
âYou shouldnât have run towards danger.âÂ
Scott rolled his eyes. âLike I was going to do anything else.âÂ
âNow youâre hurt, because of me. How am I supposed to deal with that?âÂ
âNever used to bother you,â Scott muttered.Â
âWhat?âÂ
Damn. He hadnât meant to say that out loud. Maybe his arm was getting to him more than he thought.Â
âNothing.âÂ
âScott.âÂ
Gordonâs voice was serious, which was always a worrying sign. Scott checked the bandage and sat up. Gordon had done a good job, and Scott told him so.Â
âStop trying to change the subject,â Gordon grumbled. âWhat did you mean?âÂ
âNothing. I donât know why I said that.âÂ
âWhen did it not bother me if something hurt you?âÂ
âGordon-,âÂ
âNo. Tell me.âÂ
The conversation was apparently happening, whether Scott wanted it or not. He wondered if he could tell Virgil to turn around and come and get them first.Â
Then he looked at Gordon. There was a hint of panic in those honey eyes, a fear that had nothing to do with being trapped in a cave. It was the worry that heâd done something to hurt his brother in the past. That he was responsible for something that had caused Scott pain.Â
âI honestly didnât mean it,â Scott said slowly. âI know youâd always worry if something hurt me. Itâs just, well, you did go through years of hating me, and that hurt.âÂ
âWhat?â Gordon stared at him.Â
âHmm?âÂ
âIâve never hated you!âÂ
âOh come on,â Scott gave a short laugh. âWhat about all those years when you just screamed at me? Told me regularly that you hated me, that you wanted Dad, John, Virgil, anyone but me? Needed me to go away, leave you alone, stop ruining your life?âÂ
Gordonâs intake of breath was a small gasp that sounded loud in the cave. He was staring at Scott, horrified.Â
âYou thought I hated you?âÂ
âYou were making it pretty clear,â Scott murmured. âI didnât mind. Better that you were taking it out on me so that John and Virgil got the good side of you. I know you were hurting, we all were. I could handle it. But that didnât mean it didnât hurt.âÂ
âI never hated you.âÂ
âNot how I remember it.âÂ
âNo, Scott, listen to me.â Gordon knelt in front of him, a pleading expression on his face that Scott didnât think heâd ever seen before. âI never hated you. You were my safety net, my constant. You were the one person I could rely on to never go anywhere, no matter what I threw at you. I screamed at you because I knew you could take it, you let me yell, and you never went anywhere.âÂ
Scott frowned. Heâd never thought of it like that. But Gordon wasnât finished.Â
âI was terrified that Dad was going to disappear again. That John would shut his bedroom door and not come out. Virgilâs not that much older than me, he couldnât give me what I needed. I had all these emotions, all these thoughts and feelings, and no idea how I was supposed to express them. So I screamed them at you, because you were this unmoveable wall who just took it all and still stood there, ready for more.âÂ
Gordon dragged a hand through his hair in a frustrated gesture. When he looked back, there was pain in his eyes.Â
âI never meant to hurt you. And I never, ever, hated you. It was the opposite. I was a brat because I could rely completely on you to hold me up.âÂ
Scott could only stare. He ran his good hand across his face, and it came away wet with tears he didnât realise heâd let fall.Â
âYou - you never hated me?âÂ
Heâd got over it: Gordon had been a young teen, deciding a career at a tender age while reeling from the loss of his mother and the almost-loss of their dad too as Jeff shut himself away. Heâd accepted it, dealt with it, and tried to protect everyone, including Gordon, from all the big emotions a little boy was feeling. But it had still hurt.Â
Now to find out heâd remembered it wrong. Gordon hadnât ever hated him. Heâd loved him, trusted him, and -,Â
âWill you stop hitting me?â Scott demanded as Gordon punched him on the shoulder.Â
âI canât believe you thought for all of these years that I hated you! Youâre... you.âÂ
âWow. Now we know why John is the linguistic one.âÂ
âShut up. Youâre an idiot. You were my shield against the world, big brother. I trusted you more than anyone! Now Iâm wondering why if you thought I hated you.âÂ
Scott didnât have words to respond to that. He pulled Gordon into a one-armed hug.Â
âLove you too, little brother.âÂ
Gordon returned the grip. Scott knew he would. He was just settling in to having a limpet attached to him for however long when they heard the tell-tale sound of machinery outside the cave. The aftershocks mustâve stopped and Virgil was preparing to come and get them out.Â
Gordon pulled back and clumsily wiped away Scottâs tears.Â
âOtherwise Virgil will think youâre crying with pain, then heâll get really worried that his big macho hero-,âÂ
âShut up.â Scott was grinning though.Â
Heâd never let the memory of their childhood define the relationship he had with his brothers. But it still felt like a weight, a shadow, that he hadnât been aware of had disappeared when he looked at Gordon.Â
Sensing his gaze, Gordon returned it, smiling shyly. Â
His brother had never hated him. Heâd trusted him.Â
âThis is why I do what I do,â Scott said softly. âThrow us into caves to stop a mountain collapsing on your head. Iâm always going to be your shield, Gordy.âÂ
It was probably a good job that Virgil managed to break through at that moment, Scott thought in hindsight. Who knew where the conversation was going to go otherwise.Â
OH! Not where I thought this would go! Genius! Perfect! And how it comes out itâs just⌠yes thatâs what heâd do heâd keep it to himself and never let on and think he was over it. But Gordon wouldnât let that lie. Oh these boys I adore how you write them!! I really canât say all I want to as I should have left the house twenty minutes ago but⌠ahhh wonderful start to the day thank you!!!!
Ok so⌠Iâm finally pressing post. I have been toying with this chapter for far too many months and agonising about what it is supposed to be and what point it has for the story arc and plot and so on and so on. And the longer I left it the more perfect and exciting I felt the next instalment had to be to be worth bringing it to peopleâs attention again⌠But this isnât a dramatic or groundbreaking part of the story really - Iâve got plenty of that stored up for later but I canât honestly let the characters get to that before theyâve worked through some things, built up their friendship, just had some normal silly times. This story has always really been about making friends and learning to counter the negative narratives our minds have learned to default to.
So⌠yep, itâs a very strange little chapter to come back with after nearly a year but as some wonderful people have reminded me, the little human moments and insights are some of the things I write best so hopefully this will be ok for those who are familiar with the story. For those who are brand new to it, it might be more exciting to go back to the start where there is a lot more drama (the characters gotta earn their few moments of peace, right?) I have recapped a little more of the backstory here than I might have had it not been so long a gap but given itâs the anniversary of those events it isnât so strange theyâd be on the minds of the two of them so⌠anyway enough rambling. Herewith fic:
Estera Ch 39 - Guard
Story so far
(From 34 for the story of whatâs going on right now and this particular meeting)
At first Estera had been rather bewildered when Scottâs description of some of the livelier characters at the office degenerated into incoherent nonsense. As she lifted her head to check he finally trailed off entirely, apparently unaware he was no longer speaking. Or perhaps that he ever had been.
He seemed perfectly content however, eyes almost closed against the bright sunlight, his upturned face finally matching the relaxed, unconcerned demeanour projected by the rest of him - sprawled carelessly on the grassy bank, surely at least 90% limbs. She watched with affectionate amusement as his breathing slowed and deepened.
The poor man must have been exhausted⌠she knew enough of his sleep habits to know one skipped night wouldnât affect him this much, and she rather suspected she knew why heâd been losing more. The insomnia was only one of the things they had in common after all and she was not about to interfere if he was finally getting some rest from, well, all of it. Maybe sheâd just keep an eye out for any suggestion of nightmares or⌠or anything like that.
The fact heâd been relaxed enough to dose off in her company was⌠strange. Heartwarming, yes, but still a little surprising: It was only the third time theyâd met in person after all. As friends anyway. Although that seemed hard to believe when theyâd had talked so often in the last few months and⌠well⌠of course there was the history. For despite the horror that saturated their first meeting that would always count too, in its way.
Theyâd kept each other company for a decade after all.
Ten years. For the hundredth time that morning the memories gnawed away at the edges of her composure. The far too fleeting weight of her parentsâ arms around her in the hallway, the hushed fear in the voices of her class, the overwhelming smell of blood, vomit and aviation fuel. That awful knife⌠it swam before her eyes... Sheâd never seen anything like it before - all manner of weapons wielded and waved, discharged at random to intimidate or with in intent to⌠do worse⌠had been part of her everyday experience for months. Yet the one the militia devil had pointed at him still haunted her even now. A tool designed only to maim and destroy life, up close and personal.
But for Scott, Estera knew without doubt sheâd have become very closely acquainted with it herself.
But for the strange intervention of fate the world would have lost him instead of her. He knew it - sheâd seen it in his eyes in that moment that he knew he was done for and heâd accepted it - yet heâd used what should have been his last breath to plead with her to live. Heâd have been gone and with him all the goodness heâd created since - International Rescue, all the life-changing, life-saving things Tracy Industries created. All the hope both gave to the world.
No rational person would have sacrificed all that potential for someone like her.
And yet Estera was beginning to understand that if he hadnât, he wouldnât have been himself at all. The Scott Tracy she was getting to know would do it again, in a heartbeat, for anybody. He really was a real life hero, far beyond the one sheâd imagined all those years. A hero to everyone, not just her. She had to keep reminding herself this was not normal. That she had no right to expect his friendship and it could cease at any time.
And yet⌠And yet. She realised perhaps she could trust him not to do that. Trusting him with her life seemed easy, obvious - who wouldnât? But something as mundane and unimpressive as her friendship? Believing anyone, let alone he would place any value in that without an alterior motive? That was a much harder leap to make.
The tiniest snore interrupted her thoughts - she couldnât help chuckle at the fact he was so very very normal despite it all. Turned out being one of the richest men alive didnât stop you drooling in your sleep. Maybe it just paid for the right people to make sure nobody would ever know.
People! Surely he had people? Estera sat bolt upright, remembering her conversation with Lady Penelope and how worried his family could get about him. She could only imagine the kind of criminals who might want to trade his safety for their own gain. How was he even allowed to be out on his own without some kind of a⌠a security detail or something? Estera tensed and tried to subtly check the surrounding trees for watching eyes. Surely heâd have said if there was someone else⌠unless he didnât want to make her feel uncomfortableâŚ
Or he was so used to it himself he forgot?! A cold sweat prickled - what had she said? Had she said anything terribly embarrassing or personal? Were there people right now making notes on whether she was a suitable person for him to be around? After everything that had happened so far today she was hardly going to score veryâŚ
She caught her breath and gritted her teeth. Slow down, Gwiazdeczka. Donât overthink it.
The old nickname appeared out of nowhere and brought her fatherâs steady logic with it.
No. He wouldnât have admitted the worries he had if someone was listening in. Hadnât he specifically said his fear was that someone would overhear? He trusted her and she could trust him. So - either his people didnât know he was out on his own or were happy he could take care of himself.
They probably hadnât factored him having a snooze beside a public footpath in a remote locationâŚ
In which case she was responsible for ensuring that Thunderbird One and the CEO of Tracy Industries didnât get kidnapped or worse in his sleep. She chewed her lip as she recalled her track history on related tasks was not ideal, at least she had Niebieski this time.
She whistled softly and inclined her head towards the sleeping man. Her ever faithful companion bounded over and flopped down on Scottâs other side, chin on his paws. To the untrained eye, Bez was merely a huge dozing furball - but the truth could be seen in the slightly raised position of those velvety ears: nothing and nobody would get past a flock guardian on duty. Not even a squirrel.
The morning was already warm and the lightest breeze drifted though the trees and brushed the sweat from Scottâs skin as he lay in the grass listening to the birds updating each other on matters of great importance. The combination of post-exercise endorphins, the fact that heâd left home at 830pm to arrive here at 8am having worked 19 out of the previous 24 hours and laid awake remembering things he wished he didnât for the remaining five⌠well that would have been enough even without the white noise of the trees, the heady scent of the bluebells and the rare feeling of not being responsible for anyone or anything right nowâŚ
He started awake at the sound of an muffled bark followed by a hurried âssssshhhh!â
Scott leapt from supine into an instinctive ready crouch and after only half a moment of dread managed to identify Bez standing to attention a few feet away, eyeballing a group of passing ramblers as they disappeared into the forest.
Oh.
Oh that was all. He plonked his butt back down and took a breath, blinking and slightly disoriented as his brain came back online. The forest? Bez? OH. He spun to face his grinning companion.
Scott flushed as he realised heâd actually fallen asleep⌠when he was meant to be spending time with his new friend! Could he be any more rude?
âOh! Oh Iâm so sorry! I didnâtâŚâ
âZostaĹ.â
âHuh?â
âStay. The rest is good for you. Stay.â
The tone of command in Esteraâs last word tickled him enough to dampen the rush of guilt before it flooded him completely. Scott lowered himself back on to one elbow and left one eyebrow just a little behind.
âOk⌠I mean should I be saying woof woof here?â
âVery funny. Actually in Poland we⌠I mean⌠uh⌠where I grew up we said âhau hauâ.
âWell Bez doesnât, he says HHHRROOOOH! HHRRROOOH!â
Scott put some significant volume behind the impression and followed it up with a little tongue lolling panting for good measure. Estera chuckled and patted him lightly on the head.
Bez, having only just satisfied himself that the two humans could be relied upon to continue breathing by themselves and thus felt able to fully engage himself in a mission to investigate some potentially hostile rustlings in the undergrowth, looked around in alarm swiftly followed by evident disdain. Scott hastily retracted his tongue and gave the mutt a respectful salute before making to stand up.
âDid you mention some kind of food plan?â
âI did, but wait a moment, youâre all grassy.â
Scott knew he had tensed as she reached towards his hair and he knew sheâd noticed as she lifted her hand away again, apologising. He hurried to reassure and inclined his head for inspection and whatever reparation she thought fit and tried his best to relax as she moved to crouch behind him. Her touch was light, precise. Teasing out each blade of torn grass from between carefully gelled, if now slightly sweaty strands and dropping it into his lap like a trophy.
People didnât tend to touch his hair much except small brothers messing it up to be annoying. Virgil occasionally stroked his head, would run his fingers through the tamed curls and over his scalp when Scott was sick, injured or⌠otherwise upset. Same as Scott did to the rest them. It was Momâs trick and it was never questioned although some brothers were more susceptible to it than others. And as soothing⌠as helpful as it sometimes could be, Scott always felt guilty about being on the receiving end - because it was he who should be doing the comforting of little brothers. Because thatâs the way it was.
Esteraâs fingers werenât like Virgilâs. Virgilâs fingers were deft, sure. But theyâd never really felt like Momâs had.
Scott shivered. And then blinked rapidly to rid his eyes of the extra moisture they had accumulated.
He could easily ask her to stop, or subtly move away and sort his own hair out. But found he didnât want to. It was nice, for a moment, to just let himself be looked after in a small way. Just for a short while. To pretend it was ok. He let out the breath he didnât realise he was holding.
Maybe it was the whole âlost parentsâ drama from earlier that was still making him feel a little off balance. More likely he had been foolish to think he was strong enough to go out in public on a day like this. Virgil had obviously been surprised for all he tried to hide it... but he was here now. And Scott had suggested it because it was likely an even more traumatic anniversary for Estera so he really needed to get a grip and be more supportive - stop making it all about him.
His spiral was arrested by her efficiency.
âThere we are Mr Flyboy, fit to be seen by your fans againâ. She combed back through his fringe a little, patted it into place then shuffled back into his line of sight to inspect her work. He dispatched a wink and finger guns which gained a sardonic eyebrow before she snorted a laugh then she rubbed her fingers together with a slight grimace.
Ah.
âOh donât you start, yâshould see the state of it without the gel, honestly itâs a necessityâŚâ
âWhatever makes you happy, Blue, you style your hair however you want. However I AM glad I always come prepared.â She rummaged for a while in her small rucksack pulling out dog treats, spare hair ties and an unreasonable amount of pens and then with satisfied exclamation produced a packet of wet wipes and waved it triumphantly âI teach eight year olds remember? Canât leave the house without them.â
Scott found himself distracted from a satisfyingly smug comparison of her to a certain kitchen-sink packing brother by his stomach growling its objection to his skipping breakfast⌠or dinner⌠or whichever it should have been in whichever time zone he was in when he decided it could wait.
Estera tossed a cereal bar over her shoulder with an amused âHave that before you waste away.â
He caught it with ease and smiled as he noted the green packaging: apple & cinnamon. A coincidence? Perhaps. But he suspected not.
Oh my goodness thank you so much 𼚠itâs been so lovely and inspiring to see your comments pop up and the thought that some has not only read it once but twice is just mind blowing 𼰠I have so many words written and so many plans for what happens next but have been kind of paralysed about it for lots of reasons (mostly stupid ones). The next chapter is mostly written in bits and pieces so I will try to get my head straight and get that sorted soon (at least hopefully not so long youâll have to go all the way back to the start again to figure out whatâs going on đŤŁđ¤ŁđĽ´).
Ok so⌠Iâm finally pressing post. I have been toying with this chapter for far too many months and agonising about what it is supposed to be and what point it has for the story arc and plot and so on and so on. And the longer I left it the more perfect and exciting I felt the next instalment had to be to be worth bringing it to peopleâs attention again⌠But this isnât a dramatic or groundbreaking part of the story really - Iâve got plenty of that stored up for later but I canât honestly let the characters get to that before theyâve worked through some things, built up their friendship, just had some normal silly times. This story has always really been about making friends and learning to counter the negative narratives our minds have learned to default to.
So⌠yep, itâs a very strange little chapter to come back with after nearly a year but as some wonderful people have reminded me, the little human moments and insights are some of the things I write best so hopefully this will be ok for those who are familiar with the story. For those who are brand new to it, it might be more exciting to go back to the start where there is a lot more drama (the characters gotta earn their few moments of peace, right?) I have recapped a little more of the backstory here than I might have had it not been so long a gap but given itâs the anniversary of those events it isnât so strange theyâd be on the minds of the two of them so⌠anyway enough rambling. Herewith fic:
Estera Ch 39 - Guard
Story so far
(From 34 for the story of whatâs going on right now and this particular meeting)
At first Estera had been rather bewildered when Scottâs description of some of the livelier characters at the office degenerated into incoherent nonsense. As she lifted her head to check he finally trailed off entirely, apparently unaware he was no longer speaking. Or perhaps that he ever had been.
He seemed perfectly content however, eyes almost closed against the bright sunlight, his upturned face finally matching the relaxed, unconcerned demeanour projected by the rest of him - sprawled carelessly on the grassy bank, surely at least 90% limbs. She watched with affectionate amusement as his breathing slowed and deepened.
The poor man must have been exhausted⌠she knew enough of his sleep habits to know one skipped night wouldnât affect him this much, and she rather suspected she knew why heâd been losing more. The insomnia was only one of the things they had in common after all and she was not about to interfere if he was finally getting some rest from, well, all of it. Maybe sheâd just keep an eye out for any suggestion of nightmares or⌠or anything like that.
The fact heâd been relaxed enough to dose off in her company was⌠strange. Heartwarming, yes, but still a little surprising: It was only the third time theyâd met in person after all. As friends anyway. Although that seemed hard to believe when theyâd had talked so often in the last few months and⌠well⌠of course there was the history. For despite the horror that saturated their first meeting that would always count too, in its way.
Theyâd kept each other company for a decade after all.
Ten years. For the hundredth time that morning the memories gnawed away at the edges of her composure. The far too fleeting weight of her parentsâ arms around her in the hallway, the hushed fear in the voices of her class, the overwhelming smell of blood, vomit and aviation fuel. That awful knife⌠it swam before her eyes... Sheâd never seen anything like it before - all manner of weapons wielded and waved, discharged at random to intimidate or with in intent to⌠do worse⌠had been part of her everyday experience for months. Yet the one the militia devil had pointed at him still haunted her even now. A tool designed only to maim and destroy life, up close and personal.
But for Scott, Estera knew without doubt sheâd have become very closely acquainted with it herself.
But for the strange intervention of fate the world would have lost him instead of her. He knew it - sheâd seen it in his eyes in that moment that he knew he was done for and heâd accepted it - yet heâd used what should have been his last breath to plead with her to live. Heâd have been gone and with him all the goodness heâd created since - International Rescue, all the life-changing, life-saving things Tracy Industries created. All the hope both gave to the world.
No rational person would have sacrificed all that potential for someone like her.
And yet Estera was beginning to understand that if he hadnât, he wouldnât have been himself at all. The Scott Tracy she was getting to know would do it again, in a heartbeat, for anybody. He really was a real life hero, far beyond the one sheâd imagined all those years. A hero to everyone, not just her. She had to keep reminding herself this was not normal. That she had no right to expect his friendship and it could cease at any time.
And yet⌠And yet. She realised perhaps she could trust him not to do that. Trusting him with her life seemed easy, obvious - who wouldnât? But something as mundane and unimpressive as her friendship? Believing anyone, let alone he would place any value in that without an alterior motive? That was a much harder leap to make.
The tiniest snore interrupted her thoughts - she couldnât help chuckle at the fact he was so very very normal despite it all. Turned out being one of the richest men alive didnât stop you drooling in your sleep. Maybe it just paid for the right people to make sure nobody would ever know.
People! Surely he had people? Estera sat bolt upright, remembering her conversation with Lady Penelope and how worried his family could get about him. She could only imagine the kind of criminals who might want to trade his safety for their own gain. How was he even allowed to be out on his own without some kind of a⌠a security detail or something? Estera tensed and tried to subtly check the surrounding trees for watching eyes. Surely heâd have said if there was someone else⌠unless he didnât want to make her feel uncomfortableâŚ
Or he was so used to it himself he forgot?! A cold sweat prickled - what had she said? Had she said anything terribly embarrassing or personal? Were there people right now making notes on whether she was a suitable person for him to be around? After everything that had happened so far today she was hardly going to score veryâŚ
She caught her breath and gritted her teeth. Slow down, Gwiazdeczka. Donât overthink it.
The old nickname appeared out of nowhere and brought her fatherâs steady logic with it.
No. He wouldnât have admitted the worries he had if someone was listening in. Hadnât he specifically said his fear was that someone would overhear? He trusted her and she could trust him. So - either his people didnât know he was out on his own or were happy he could take care of himself.
They probably hadnât factored him having a snooze beside a public footpath in a remote locationâŚ
In which case she was responsible for ensuring that Thunderbird One and the CEO of Tracy Industries didnât get kidnapped or worse in his sleep. She chewed her lip as she recalled her track history on related tasks was not ideal, at least she had Niebieski this time.
She whistled softly and inclined her head towards the sleeping man. Her ever faithful companion bounded over and flopped down on Scottâs other side, chin on his paws. To the untrained eye, Bez was merely a huge dozing furball - but the truth could be seen in the slightly raised position of those velvety ears: nothing and nobody would get past a flock guardian on duty. Not even a squirrel.
The morning was already warm and the lightest breeze drifted though the trees and brushed the sweat from Scottâs skin as he lay in the grass listening to the birds updating each other on matters of great importance. The combination of post-exercise endorphins, the fact that heâd left home at 830pm to arrive here at 8am having worked 19 out of the previous 24 hours and laid awake remembering things he wished he didnât for the remaining five⌠well that would have been enough even without the white noise of the trees, the heady scent of the bluebells and the rare feeling of not being responsible for anyone or anything right nowâŚ
He started awake at the sound of an muffled bark followed by a hurried âssssshhhh!â
Scott leapt from supine into an instinctive ready crouch and after only half a moment of dread managed to identify Bez standing to attention a few feet away, eyeballing a group of passing ramblers as they disappeared into the forest.
Oh.
Oh that was all. He plonked his butt back down and took a breath, blinking and slightly disoriented as his brain came back online. The forest? Bez? OH. He spun to face his grinning companion.
Scott flushed as he realised heâd actually fallen asleep⌠when he was meant to be spending time with his new friend! Could he be any more rude?
âOh! Oh Iâm so sorry! I didnâtâŚâ
âZostaĹ.â
âHuh?â
âStay. The rest is good for you. Stay.â
The tone of command in Esteraâs last word tickled him enough to dampen the rush of guilt before it flooded him completely. Scott lowered himself back on to one elbow and left one eyebrow just a little behind.
âOk⌠I mean should I be saying woof woof here?â
âVery funny. Actually in Poland we⌠I mean⌠uh⌠where I grew up we said âhau hauâ.
âWell Bez doesnât, he says HHHRROOOOH! HHRRROOOH!â
Scott put some significant volume behind the impression and followed it up with a little tongue lolling panting for good measure. Estera chuckled and patted him lightly on the head.
Bez, having only just satisfied himself that the two humans could be relied upon to continue breathing by themselves and thus felt able to fully engage himself in a mission to investigate some potentially hostile rustlings in the undergrowth, looked around in alarm swiftly followed by evident disdain. Scott hastily retracted his tongue and gave the mutt a respectful salute before making to stand up.
âDid you mention some kind of food plan?â
âI did, but wait a moment, youâre all grassy.â
Scott knew he had tensed as she reached towards his hair and he knew sheâd noticed as she lifted her hand away again, apologising. He hurried to reassure and inclined his head for inspection and whatever reparation she thought fit and tried his best to relax as she moved to crouch behind him. Her touch was light, precise. Teasing out each blade of torn grass from between carefully gelled, if now slightly sweaty strands and dropping it into his lap like a trophy.
People didnât tend to touch his hair much except small brothers messing it up to be annoying. Virgil occasionally stroked his head, would run his fingers through the tamed curls and over his scalp when Scott was sick, injured or⌠otherwise upset. Same as Scott did to the rest them. It was Momâs trick and it was never questioned although some brothers were more susceptible to it than others. And as soothing⌠as helpful as it sometimes could be, Scott always felt guilty about being on the receiving end - because it was he who should be doing the comforting of little brothers. Because thatâs the way it was.
Esteraâs fingers werenât like Virgilâs. Virgilâs fingers were deft, sure. But theyâd never really felt like Momâs had.
Scott shivered. And then blinked rapidly to rid his eyes of the extra moisture they had accumulated.
He could easily ask her to stop, or subtly move away and sort his own hair out. But found he didnât want to. It was nice, for a moment, to just let himself be looked after in a small way. Just for a short while. To pretend it was ok. He let out the breath he didnât realise he was holding.
Maybe it was the whole âlost parentsâ drama from earlier that was still making him feel a little off balance. More likely he had been foolish to think he was strong enough to go out in public on a day like this. Virgil had obviously been surprised for all he tried to hide it... but he was here now. And Scott had suggested it because it was likely an even more traumatic anniversary for Estera so he really needed to get a grip and be more supportive - stop making it all about him.
His spiral was arrested by her efficiency.
âThere we are Mr Flyboy, fit to be seen by your fans againâ. She combed back through his fringe a little, patted it into place then shuffled back into his line of sight to inspect her work. He dispatched a wink and finger guns which gained a sardonic eyebrow before she snorted a laugh then she rubbed her fingers together with a slight grimace.
Ah.
âOh donât you start, yâshould see the state of it without the gel, honestly itâs a necessityâŚâ
âWhatever makes you happy, Blue, you style your hair however you want. However I AM glad I always come prepared.â She rummaged for a while in her small rucksack pulling out dog treats, spare hair ties and an unreasonable amount of pens and then with satisfied exclamation produced a packet of wet wipes and waved it triumphantly âI teach eight year olds remember? Canât leave the house without them.â
Scott found himself distracted from a satisfyingly smug comparison of her to a certain kitchen-sink packing brother by his stomach growling its objection to his skipping breakfast⌠or dinner⌠or whichever it should have been in whichever time zone he was in when he decided it could wait.
Estera tossed a cereal bar over her shoulder with an amused âHave that before you waste away.â
He caught it with ease and smiled as he noted the green packaging: apple & cinnamon. A coincidence? Perhaps. But he suspected not.
i just think it really says something about Sir Terry's view of the world etc. that every time he puts a character in front of you and posits them as The Good One, it's never the character who always thinks good things. it's the one who has grit in their soul and thinks bad things but never lets the inner bastard win.
Carrot is a force for good without a doubt, but he is not the Good Man in Ankh-Morpork. Vimes is. Vimes who is deeply suspicious of just about every group in the city, Vimes who constantly has to reexamine his beliefs and prejudices, Vimes who really really wants to kick the shit out of the bad guys but never lets it happen. If you'd do it for a good reason, you'd do it for a bad one.
And it happens again with Granny Weatherwax - the one who wanted to be evil, who can feel the evil nagging at her every day, who nevertheless holds the line.
idk something about how being a good person doesn't mean being perfect or idealistic or even particularly nice. it's just about doing The Right Thing, over and over again. it's about who watches the watchmen? that would be me. ah, but who watches you? I do that, too.
