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tsarisfanfiction · 3 years

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Long Way From Home: Chapter 12

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Family/Friendship Characters: Scott, Tracy Family

Watch me forget to update again last week, whoops. This is also the final chapter of this ‘arc’, so we’ll be taking another break for a while because uni means I don’t have time to keep writing at the moment (and a certain character is being awkward in the next chapter). Still, I hope you’ve enjoyed this pile of Scott&Other-Gordon, and I’ll get back to work on this when I’ve got the time.

For now, enjoy!

<<<Chapter 11

The subject wasn’t broached until they were back in the car, Scott feeling comfortably full as the food settled in his stomach.

“I guess there’s nothing I can say to persuade you to finish the trip now?” Other-Gordon sighed.

“I’m not quitting,” Scott said firmly. “It’s just some sneakers. I’ll try them on, find the ones that fit best, and we’ll be done.”

He half expected Other-Gordon to contradict him and tell him something was different about buying shoes in this universe, but he didn’t.

“That’s the spirit,” he said instead. “I’ll keep them talking, like the last shop.”

“Thanks.” Scott appreciated the thought; if they were distracted with Other-Gordon, then they’d be focusing less on him.

He was looking forwards to being able to wear comfortable shoes. Other-Scott’s fit well enough, but after several hours in them he was starting to feel the rub of an unfamiliar style.

“Mr Tracy!” he was greeted as they stepped through the door upon arrival. “Is there a problem with your last purchases?”

“Oh no, not at all,” Other-Gordon cut in, inserting himself slightly ahead of Scott and into the flustered-looking man’s line of sight. “You’ll have to forgive Scott, he’s gone and lost his voice, but he really liked them, so we’re here to get a couple more pairs,” he assured them.

The fluster turned to relief and then delight as the man no doubt realised he was going to be making another expensive sale to round off his day.

“Of course!” he beamed. “If you’d like to follow me.” They were chivvied along to a section of the shop lined with various designs of sneakers all along the wall, which Scott immediately started to eye up. The designs were varied, and none of them looked exactly like he was used to, but he could definitely see a few that looked hopeful.

Ignoring both Other-Gordon and the salesman, he walked over to the wall to get a closer look. You’re Scott Tracy. He just had to take the initiative instead of hovering awkwardly and waiting for a cue, and then it would be fine.

No-one would suspect he was the wrong Scott Tracy.

Behind him, Other-Gordon was talking a mile a minute, playing the distraction he’d promised, and after the day they’d had it was almost effortless to trust him. The other man had proven time and time again that despite the bizarre nature of the situation, he cared and wanted Scott to be as comfortable as possible.

It wasn’t even a case of just trying to preserve his brother’s reputation. Just as he was Scott Tracy, Other-Gordon was Gordon Tracy. They might not be each other’s brother, but they didn’t need to be related to care. The man that had guided him out of two panic attacks and subtly grounded him at the first sign of other ones had done it because he cared about him.

Scott was used to being the rescuer. He was used to being the one picking up strangers, helping them find their feet and offering whatever aid was needed until they were safe. He’d never been so thoroughly on the other side before. It was terrifying, he realised as he picked up a hopeful looking sneaker for a closer inspection. Putting all your trust in someone you knew of but didn’t know was much, much harder than he’d ever realised.

What Other-Gordon was doing for him wasn’t quite the same – his life wasn’t in danger; he didn’t need snatching from the jaws of death – but the parallels were there. Scott was lost, and there was no denying that he was scared of what had happened, why it happened, what it would be doing to his brothers right then, and Other-Gordon was offering a life line. Something he could cling to while he found his feet, and caught him when he stumbled.

“Scott?” the man in question asked, appearing beside him. “How are you doing?”

Scott looked at him, the heart-achingly familiarity of his face even though it wasn’t the same, and the searching amber eyes that were exactly the same, right down to the concern shining through, and nodded. He’d only known him for a few hours, but Scott trusted him, and that was enough to keep what-ifs and concerns about recognition at bay.

He could do this.

The sneaker in his hand looked like a good start, so he held it up, drawing attention to the selection.

“Would you like to try that pair on, sir?” the salesman asked. Scott nodded confidently, and handed it over so he could bustle over to the store room to retrieve its partner.

Other-Gordon didn’t say anything, even after they were left alone, so Scott continued looking around, searching for another design that looked hopeful. He could feel the other man’s eyes watching him, but he wasn’t asking if he was doing okay, or attempting to provide other reassurances, and Scott wondered if he could tell that he was, as much as he could be, relaxed.

He probably could.

By the time the salesman returned – this one called John, it transpired, but with black hair and brown eyes it was just another man with a common name, and not a painful reminder of his younger brother – he’d found another three to try on.

Four times pacing and then jogging around the room, jumping up and down and feeling a rush from being active, even if it was just rather aggressively putting through sneakers through their paces, and he ended up walking out the shop with all of them. It was easier than picking two when they all felt right.

There was also the nagging feeling that Other-Scott didn’t test shoes quite the same way he did, judging by the look on salesman-John’s face, and the panic had started to bubble up when he abruptly remembered that Other-Scott had only been there recently. Grabbing all four pairs and nudging Other-Gordon into paying for them so that they could leave – a nudge that, yes, might have comprised of four smaller ones that instantly sharpened amber eyes – had been the easiest way to avoid questions and quell the panic.

Other-Gordon didn’t outwardly hurry them out of the shop, but Scott felt the underlying determination as he quipped about getting late and the flight home as an excuse for their departure. The amount of money the quartet of sneakers cost definitely went a long way towards distracting the salesman from anything else.

“Are you okay?” the ginger asked once they were settled back in the car. He didn’t mention that Scott had been fine for most of the time, but the unspoken observation hung between them.

Scott took a deep breath and pressed his head back against the headrest, feeling the hat digging in. He was looking forwards to taking it off. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m okay.”

“Too much cooped up energy?” Other-Gordon asked, clearly determining that he wasn’t about to panic and turning the engine on. “You were mighty energetic in there.”

“They’re nice sneakers,” Scott defended, not responding to the secondary observation.

“So it seemed,” Other-Gordon shrugged. “Well, unless there’s anything else you need, I’d say it’s time to head back to the airport.”

Scott glanced at the backseat of the car, where a small pile of bags nestled.

“That should be enough,” he agreed. “I don’t suppose I can persuade you to let me pilot back?”

Other-Gordon did a double-take.

“What happened to ‘different technology’?” he asked. “You’ve not understood anything here. I saw you looking at the car earlier.”

Scott shrugged. “Apparently the only thing that is the same are plane controls,” he admitted.

Other-Gordon groaned. “You mean you actually were judging my piloting?” he whined.

“I didn’t say anything about your piloting,” Scott defended. Other-Gordon huffed.

“You didn’t need to, but I figured you were just comparing it to what you were used to,” he said. “It didn’t occur to me that you knew exactly what I should have been doing when.”

“So you’ll let me pilot back?” Scott tried hopefully.

“Sorry, fella.” He couldn’t stop his shoulders slumping in disappointment at Other-Gordon’s firm answer. “Look, I would rather you piloted, because I’m not daft enough to think you’re not better at it than me, but you don’t have a pilot’s license here, and it’s not my call whether you sneak by on Scott’s.”

The argument made a frustrating amount of sense, and Scott sighed. “Can’t we ask him?”

“He’ll say no,” Other-Gordon said confidently. “Unless you’re telling me you’d let someone pilot on your license with only his word he’s as good as he says.”

The ginger, annoyingly, wasn’t wrong. Scott wouldn’t.

“We can add it to the things to talk to him about when we get back,” Other-Gordon pointed out. “Still, if planes aren’t so different, maybe that’ll make the training easier.”

He had a point. Scott hadn’t considered that the Thunderbirds might have the same controls, when the jargon seemed so different. “I saw a few external differences,” he said. “Didn’t get a good look at the cockpit, and her engine makes a different sound.”

“Why aren’t I surprised you took all that in?” the ginger asked rhetorically. “Then again, I suppose in a way she’s ‘yours’,” he mused. “Good luck fighting Scott for her.”

Scott groaned, well aware that no matter how good a pilot he proved to be, he was never going to wrangle primary pilot of this universe’s Thunderbird One.

“I don’t think I’ll bother,” he muttered. “He won’t give her over unless he has no other choice.”

“Voice of experience?” Other-Gordon asked, amused. Scott raised an eyebrow at him.

“The last time I let Gordon near her he tried to turn her into a submarine. Virgil hates piloting her, Kayo is banned from going near the pilot seat, John prefers being a passenger in Two if he’s down from orbit and Alan’s too inexperienced,” he listed. “No-one pilots my girl except me. No exceptions.”

Other-Gordon laughed. “That doesn’t surprise me; Scott’s the same,” he confirmed. “But who’s Kayo?”

Scott had forgotten he hadn’t mentioned Kayo to anyone except Tin-Tin yet.

“My Tin-Tin,” he said. “She’s a hell of a pilot, but her ‘bird gets damaged even more than Three. Too many stunts.”

“Hold up.” Other-Gordon even raised a hand to emphasise his words. “Her ‘bird? Do you have six or- but Three? No, you said more than Three. Who pilots Three?”

That was entirely too many questions, and Scott dodged most of them.

“Tin-Tin doesn’t have her own?” he asked in return. “I know she’s an engineer, but so’s Virgil.”

“Tin-Tin co-pilots Three sometimes, but otherwise she stays on the island,” Other-Gordon told him. “Your- Kayo goes out?”

They think we’re delicate flowers, Tin-Tin had more-or-less said. Scott hadn’t made the connection with participating on rescues.

“I get the feeling Kayo would give you all a heart attack if you ever met her,” he said. “There’s no stopping that girl when she gets an idea in her head.”

He should know. He’d tried. It normally ended in shouting matches and her doing whatever she wanted anyway. Sometimes he wondered if building Thunderbird Shadow for her had been a mistake, but then he remembered how miserable she’d been without her own reliable transport.

Other-Gordon eyed him. “There’re more differences than technology and fashion, aren’t there?”

“Yeah,” Scott confirmed. “I haven’t decided if more is the same or different yet. Most of it seems to be small things. Just enough to be off from what I’m used to.”

“Like us,” Other-Gordon sighed. “Sounds like we were too hasty with this trip,” he added. “Even if you needed new underpants.”

Scott shrugged. “We were never going to know all the differences.” He wouldn’t have thought to ask about the minor details, and none of them had even considered that the family business – the actual one – would have a different name.

“I guess that’s true,” Other-Gordon conceded. “But we should still have given you a little longer than a few hours before taking you off the island. Sorry about that.”

He wasn’t wrong, but, “what’s done is done,” he said. “I survived.”

“Get yourself straight in the Ladybird when we get to the hangar,” Other-Gordon said. “If anyone tries to get in your way, ignore them. I’ll get Scott to soothe any ruffled feathers later.”

“I can handle it,” Scott protested. “Jones, right?”

“You don’t have to handle it,” Other-Gordon told him firmly. “It’s been mighty awful day for you, and the last thing you need is Scott’s airfield buddies bothering you. Those fellas know Scott better than anyone else we’ve seen today.”

Scott had almost forgotten that. Other-Gordon was right; returning to the Ladybird was when someone was most likely to notice something wasn’t right. The sandwiches from earlier felt uncomfortably weighty in his stomach all of a sudden.

He couldn’t afford a panic attack in the hangar; Other-Gordon wouldn’t be able to take off, so they wouldn’t be able to get away from Other-Scott’s so-called ‘airfield buddies’.

It would be an absolute disaster.

“Okay,” he agreed. “But I’m not leaving you to load her alone.”

Other-Gordon rolled his eyes. “Maybe it’s different where you’re from, but here we have valets for that sort of thing. Appearances and all that – although Dad’s got them trained to be extra vigilant if it’s me. They won’t let me pick up a single bag, just you watch.”

Other-Gordon’s back hadn’t even occurred to him, but if even his family were treating him like glass, Scott supposed it was no surprise there was hired help to stop him straining himself.

“I don’t know how you stand it,” he admitted.

“Aw, it’s not always so bad,” Other-Gordon admitted. “Helps with the cover. No-one would expect poor, crippled former Olympian me of still being an active aquanaut, let alone be capable of pulling the stunts those fine young men in International Rescue manage.”

That was true, Scott supposed.

“Look,” the ginger said. “If it makes you feel better, you can run through her pre-flights while I’m dealing with the chaps on the ground.”

Scott startled. “You trust me to do that without supervision?”

“I know you were watching me when we left the island,” Other-Gordon shrugged. “I figure if you do come across something unfamiliar, you’re not daft enough to let me take off without getting it double-checked it first.”

Scott could accept that.

“Besides, no-one’ll find that strange around here. It’ll look more strange if Scott Tracy isn’t doing all the checks himself.”

“You could have just said that in the first place,” Scott pointed out. Other-Gordon scoffed, but said nothing.

Jones wasn’t amongst the men that seemed to be waiting for them when Other-Gordon rolled the car up behind the hangar. Scott supposed his shift was over for the day, and in a way that made it easier to reluctantly leave the car and head straight for the hangar. The T.A. was a beacon, and once the door opened, the red of the Ladybird stood out amongst the many planes housed inside.

“Hey, Scott!” an unfamiliar voice called. He ignored them, remembering what Other-Gordon had said about them all knowing Other-Scott and knowing he couldn’t handle trying to interact with any of them without the ginger to act as a buffer without making them suspicious.

Pre-flight checks. Those, he could do.

He slipped into the cockpit, taking the pilot’s seat for the moment although Other-Gordon was doubtless going to shove him over when he arrived, and immersed himself in the blessed familiarity of flicking switches and running all the checks that had long since become second nature to him. While the Ladybird was a far cry from Thunderbird One, she wasn’t so far from more conventional aircraft that he couldn’t work her out.

Engrossed in the task, he barely noticed the ground crew flitting around as their shopping was loaded into the cargo hold under Other-Gordon’s supervision, or the questions about him being fired the ginger’s way, only to be expertly deflected.

He did notice the jab in his shoulder when Other-Gordon clambered up to join him.

“Finished?” the ginger asked. Scott ran his hands over the controls one last time, before reluctantly pronouncing himself satisfied.

“She’s good to fly,” he said.

“Then budge over,” Other-Gordon retorted. Scott reluctantly shimmied over into the passenger seat. “Everything’s fine?”

“Just like our training jet at home,” Scott promised. “I taught Alan to fly with controls like this.” He glanced over at the ginger settling himself into the pilot’s seat. “Gordon, too.”

“You’re calling the Ladybird a training jet?” Other-Gordon asked. “I’d like to see you tell Tin-Tin that.”

Scott chuckled. “Anything’s a training jet compared to my usual ride,” he pointed out.

Other-Gordon rolled his eyes. “I’d like to see you tell Virgil that.”

“His girl’s not a jet,” Scott retorted. “Not unless that’s got a very different definition here.”

“I suppose you have a point,” Other-Gordon conceded, before reaching for the radio. “Tango Alpha Ladybird to Auckland Air Traffic Control. We’re ready for take-off, over.”

Static crackled for a moment.

“Auckland Air Traffic Control to Tango Alpha Ladybird,” the radio responded. “Clear to proceed to runway three-bravo, over.”

“Tango Alpha Ladybird to Auckland Air Traffic Control. Understood. Proceeding now, over.” The hangar door opened and Other-Gordon taxied them out onto the tarmac. Scott occupied himself with looking out at the other planes as they travelled past. Some designs were instantly familiar, while others looked very different to anything he’d seen in his own universe.

Other-Gordon made a few more calls over the radio as they finished taxiing into position, and Scott settled back in the seat comfortably as they waited for permission to take off.

He had to admit he didn’t miss all the bureaucracy with Thunderbird One, and John acting as his ATC wherever he was in the world. VTOL launches helped.

After another half a minute or so, the all-clear was given, and the Ladybird rumbled to life, surging forwards and up under Other-Gordon’s hands.

“Auckland Air Traffic Control to Tango Alpha Ladybird, your route is clear,” the radio crackled again. “Have a safe flight. Over.”

“Tango Alpha Ladybird to Auckland Air Traffic Control,” Other-Gordon replied. “Thank you. Over and out.” He fiddled with the radio for a moment. “Ladybird to Tracy Island, come in.”

“Tracy Island receiving you, Ladybird,” Not-Dad’s voice filtered through. “How’s it going, Gordon?”

“We’ve just left Auckland, Father,” the ginger said. “Estimated ETA in two hours.”

“I’ll let your grandmother know,” Not-Dad replied. “You boys didn’t have any problems?”

“No, sir,” Other-Gordon said, to Scott��s relief. “No problems.”

“Well, I expect to hear about your trip when you get back,” the man told them. “I’ll see you then. Tracy Island out.”

“Thanks,” Scott said after the connection ended.

“I’m still telling Scott,” Other-Gordon reminded him. “But you can thank me by not judging my piloting the whole way back. Stare at the clouds or something.”

Scott chuckled. “I’ll do my best,” he said. Other-Gordon just groaned.

“I am never piloting you anywhere ever again,” he swore. “Cloud watch. Don’t you dare look at what I’m doing.”

Scott rolled his eyes but obliged.

Like the outward journey, their return one passed in mostly silence, Other-Gordon focusing on piloting and Scott doing his best not to make idle comments whenever he didn’t react to changes in the air currents the same way he would.

He liked to think he was successful at it. The aquanaut would no doubt disagree.

“I can still feel you judging me,” Other-Gordon grumbled eventually. Scott wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but it seemed like they should be nearly there.

Up ahead was a small, rocky island. It looked utterly unfamiliar, but Other-Gordon was straight on course for it.

“Home sweet home,” the aquanaut commented when he caught him looking at it. “The same?”

“The only similarity is that it’s volcanic,” Scott answered. “Ours has twin peaks, to start with.” This Tracy Island seemed to have some sort of plateau mountain, rather than the jagged peaks he was used to. It also seemed less like it was making up part of the lip of a caldera.

“That’s interesting,” Other-Gordon hummed. “Your house is nothing like ours either, is it?”

Considering he’d needed a map to find Other-Scott’s room earlier, Scott thought that was rather obvious.

“Not at all,” he said. “Even the pool’s a different shape. Ours is a regular Olympic-size pool.”

“Really?” Other-Gordon asked. “I suppose that makes it easier to retract, though. Easier to pilot through, too?”

“If I ever get the chance to compare, I’ll let you know,” Scott replied. Other-Gordon laughed.

“I should let them know we’re on approach,” he said, reaching for the radio again. “Ladybird to Tracy Island.”

“Tracy Island receiving you, Ladybird.” It was Other-Scott on the line this time. “You’re clear to land.”

“F.A.B., Scott,” Other-Gordon acknowledged.

“How much damage control have you left me with?” Other-Scott continued. “Dad says you said there were no issues?”

“I’ll give you the run-down once we’re down,” the aquanaut told him. “There was paparazzi.”

“If I don’t like what they publish, you’d better watch your back, Gordon,” Other-Scott warned. “I’ll meet you two in the hangar. Tracy Island out.”

“Well, no sense in putting it off,” Other-Gordon commented as the line went dead. “You want to hang around for the debrief?”

Scott shook his head, having no wish to stand around and listen to an account of what he’d already lived through. “Just him,” he reminded. “I’ll get changed while you do.”

“You finally get to change underwear,” the ginger commented, and Scott rolled his eyes. “Coming up on the landing now.”

Sure enough, there was the runway, protruding out onto a pier and lined with palm trees. Definitely Thunderbird Two’s runway, and now that they were approaching it, Scott could see the cragged rockface that no doubt moved somehow to reveal the giant cargo plane. A little way up was a white building, built into the cliff.

He filed that away to ask about later, not wanting to interrupt the aquanaut as he brought them down onto the tarmac with a slight bump, decelerating until they were taxiing towards an open hangar door. It wasn’t quite central to the runway, further cementing Scott’s conclusion that Thunderbird Two was just behind the cliff face.

To his relief, Other-Scott seemed to be alone, standing next to the blue beauty he’d spotted earlier, as Other-Gordon brought the Ladybird to a stop and started the post-flight checks. Wherever the rest of the family were, it didn’t seem like they’d planned a welcoming committee, at least.

“So?” the older man asked once they left the cockpit, already at the cargo hold and looking at the bags. “Dad seems convinced everything went fine, but you didn’t tell him about the paparazzi, did you?” He was clearly talking to Other-Gordon, but his eyes flicked to Scott.

Scott shrugged and reached past him for the bags. “Gordon’ll give you the run-down,” he said. “I’m getting changed.”

“Don’t forget the underpants!” Other-Gordon chirped at him. He rolled his eyes and walked away, but not fast enough to avoid overhearing the start of the conversation. “I’m sworn to silence to everyone except you, and you’re only the exception because he’s your clone, so don’t even think about telling anyone,” the ginger said, quietly but not so quietly Scott couldn’t hear while he waited for the elevator to swallow him up. “Which definitely includes Dad, by the way, but-”

The elevator doors clanged shut, cutting off the conversation. Scott jabbed the button labelled second, which was also the highest option, so he assumed that was the bedroom level.

It was, and to Scott’s private delight there was no-one in the landing, so he managed to slip past the door to the lounge – out of which piano music seemed to be coming – and into the guest room designated as his without being intercepted.

Once there, he upended the bags over the bed, letting the neatly-wrapped parcels of clothes fall out haphazardly, before picking up clothes to get changed into.

It was a relief to finally get out of the waistcoat, shirt and slacks belonging to his counterpart, and even more of a relief to find himself wearing something that much more closely resembled his idea of casual.

Setting the discarded clothes to one side, he rummaged through the rest of the new clothes and set about hanging them up in the closet. His uniform was where he’d left it, he was pleased to see. No doubt Other-Brains would request it at some point, but Scott intended on supervising his investigations. It was good that it hadn’t just been taken while he was out.

A knock on the door startled him just as he was hanging the last pair of jeans.

Who would that be? It could have been anyone on the island – although he suspected Other-Alan might be less inclined to seek him out, and Other-Gordon would probably announce himself, if he didn’t walk straight in.

It was honestly weird having anyone knock rather than just walk in. His brothers had long since stopped waiting to be invited in, although Virgil and John did at least announce themselves with a knock most of the time.

“It’s me. Can I come in?”

Other-Scott.

Scott supposed he should have expected that one. Did he want to talk to his doppelgänger? Most of the island’s residents he could probably predict how the conversation was going to go, but ironically, Other-Scott seemed to be the hardest to read.

He guessed it was because he had no idea how he’d react if things were the other way around, and Other-Scott had ended up in his universe.

His gut told him he probably wouldn’t give up trying to have a conversation if he was going out of his way to initiate it.

“Yeah,” he called back, closing the closet door. The door opened and Other-Scott walked in, closing it behind him.

“Is that what you wear at home?” he asked, blue eyes scanning the clothes Scott had changed into.

“As close as I could get,” Scott shrugged, sitting on the bed next to Other-Scott’s discarded clothes and folding them up, mostly for something to do with his hands.

“Dad’s not going to approve,” Other-Scott warned him. “But if it makes you more comfortable, I don’t see the problem.” He picked up the hat and discarded sunglasses. “You’ll have to stay out of sight whenever we have visitors anyway, so no-one’s going to see you.”

There was an awkwardness about the other man that Scott thought was uncharacteristic of himself, until he realised it was the same awkwardness he was feeling, because there were no guidelines in any training he’d undergone about how to interact with an alternate universe version of yourself.

“Are you checking up on me?” he asked abruptly. It made sense if he was, after getting Other-Gordon’s account of the day, and Scott thought they’d do a lot better if they stopped trying to test the waters.

From the quirk of Other-Scott’s lips, it was a shared opinion.

“I heard what happened,” he confirmed. “Gordon was adamant you don’t want anyone else to know, and I can understand that.” He sighed. “This is weird,” he said, and Scott gave a wry smile in agreement. “And maybe, considering you’re literally another me, I’m not the best person to talk to, but. I’m here. If you have questions, or want sane conversation.”

“After a day with Gordon, sane conversation is sorely lacking,” Scott quipped, and Other-Scott laughed.

“I owe him a billiards match or ten now,” he said. “Remind him he can’t actually beat me.”

“Little brothers,” Scott shrugged. “Give them an inch, they’ll take a mile.”

“Some things don’t change wherever you are,” Other-Scott agreed. “Gordon said you recognised the Ladybird’s controls?”

“Yeah,” Scott confirmed. “We’ve got a plane like that at home.”

“I’ll talk with Dad about taking you for a flight,” Other-Scott said. “Once we’ve established how much is familiar, we can figure out anything else.”

“That sounds like a good plan,” Scott agreed. Other-Scott grinned.

“I wonder which one of us is the better pilot,” he said. “I’m looking forward to seeing you fly.”

That thought hadn’t occurred to Scott. “Best pilot gets primary dibs for Thunderbird One?” he dared.

Other-Scott laughed. “If it’s my ‘bird on the line, I’m not going to go easy on you,” he warned.

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Scott replied, and they both laughed.

“Well, I’m going to go teach Gordon a lesson or ten now,” Other-Scott said. “You’re welcome to join us if you’re not sick of his company by now.”

Scott chuckled. “I’d like to see that,” he said. “He might be better at chess, but if he’s anything like mine, billiards is not so much his territory.” He stood up, gathering the dirty clothes. “Where’s the laundry room? Might as well drop these off.”

“I’ll show you,” Other-Scott said, opening the door again and stepping into the hallway. “It’s next to the games room.” Scott followed him, letting the door close behind him.

Chapter 13>>>

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #tsari writes fanfiction #scott tracy #long way from home #gordon tracy #jeff tracy

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tagsecretsanta · 4 years

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From Vegetacide

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The Night before Christmas - TaG Style

Virgil leaned back against a storm felled palm tree and strummed his fingers across an acoustic guitar, lazily working his way through various cords and stringing together little random ditties as the fire snapped and hissed away merrily in front of him.

Just a little warm up and something to do with his hands while he waited for Scott to make his way back down to the beach. The light played off the fine blonde wood of the guitar, warmed the smooth contours and reflected back off the mother of pearl inlaid fingerboards and chrome frets on the expertly crafted neck.

This was one of Scott’s pride and joys and it didn’t see the light of day often. Usually tuck away in its satin line case in his room but for nights like tonight. Special nights where the family came together to celebrate one of the only holidays that they could together.

Yes, the world at large was still going around and there would always be some disaster or another for them to get involved with. For tonight though this family ritual was one that they were determined to do everything within their power to make happen. To enjoy and participate in. They deserved it for all they did for everyone else. One night out of the year to be a family without the pressures of the legacy their father had left with them.

Besides, the GDF could pick up the slack for a change.

Now if the rest of his family, mainly Scott who had up and puffed to deal with a call that apparently needed to be dealt with now… on Christmas Eve..could unplug themselves and get their butts back down here so they could actually start the relaxing part of the evening.

A soft chuckle beside him drew Virgil’s attention away from his frustrations and he turned to look down at the crown of rich, ebony hair resting against his arm.

“What?” He asked, nudging Kayo with his elbow.

She turned her face, the glow of the burning wood dancing around in her smiling expression. “You.” She answered simply and leaned up to place a kiss on the tip of his nose.

“Me?”

“Yes, you.” She turned back to the blaze and resumed her nestled position at his side. Her head tipped on his broad shoulders and one hand draped over his raised knee, fingers idle playing with the sand between his thighs.

Virgil humphed and she chuckled again giving his leg a squeeze. “It just drives me nuts sometimes. Like seriously, it’s one night a year.”

“Patience, hun. Everyone is on the island and before you know it, you will be sipping hot chocolate and choking down Grandma’s burnt offerings.”

Virgil just grunted in response and continued to sturm away. Idly playing a tune that he had composed just for Kayo the year previously, though he had to make adjustments as the piece had been intended for his baby grand Bösendorfer up on the second floor of the villa.

They sat companionably, enjoying the crackle of the dried wood and breathing in the heady scent of burning pine and eucalyptus boughs that had been brought in from the mainland for just this occasion. An indulgence and an expense that they took great care in every year.

Virgil would fly out in Two with an empty pod when time allowed between call outs and fill it up with a couple cords of wood from a local arborist they were familiar with.

Ted Mccaffrey was on old family acquaintance who had helped selectively clear sections of the island where the villa and facilities now stood.

He was a stout, old codger but he knew his stuff and he was always delighted to help the boys out each year with their little family tradition. Stockpiling the wood over the course of twelve months just for them to use where he would otherwise have just tossed it on in the chipper for the local farmers to purchase for livestock bedding.

The Tracy’s; ever the generous lot, always offered to pay him handsomely for the trouble but the old coot refused every year. Always waving the offered bill fold of money away and saying in his gruff way that the wood was a small price to pay for all the good they did the world.

And every year Virgil would come home, Two full of the piny sweet scent of mint and camphor and the local news would report about some charity or organization having received an ample donation of funds from an anonymous source.

The act of offering the money had turned into a sort of annual tradition in itself. Virgil knew that Mr Mccaffrey would refuse the money just like Mr Mccaffrey knew that Virgil would offer it. Some years, the old, grey haired man would even recommend a place or two that required a bit of a financial boost but the exchange of offering and refusal always took place.

“You should play more often.” Kayo comment softly interrupting his train of thought and the cadence of it made Virgil wonder if she was drifting off to sleep. “I like listening to you.”

He huffed out a snort and shook his head even though she couldn’t see it. “I barely get enough time at my piano as it is. Besides, there are other things on the island I would rather pour my focus into.”

He buried his nose into the crown of her hair, breathed in her rich scent and let it infuse his being with jasmine before brushing her with a kiss. He could hear the sleepy smile in her voice as she sighed and snuggled in closer to him.

“Love you too.” She whispered.

“Yuck, get a room.” Came a petulant remark from the dark followed by a cultured, femine laugh.

“Gordon Tracy, be nice.” Lady Penelope Crighton-Ward admonished as the pair stepped into the circle of light cast by the fire, her hand tucked into the crook of Gordon’s elbow.

Gordon smile was wide, bright and teasing “I can’t help myself. The way these two are if I don’t say anything we are liable to get front row seats to one heck of a show.”

“Oh, hush now.” Her head shaking Penny picked her way around the fire and took a seat on a plaid picnic blanket. “You act as if you weren’t just doing the same thing by the tide pool.”

Virgil could see Gordon’s face going red despite the limited lighting and he laughed. “Little Brother, you will never learn.”

“Learn what?” Came another comment as Alan materialized out of nowhere which resulted in making Gordon nearly jump out of his skin.

“Oh, nothing, Just Gordon being..well, Gordon.” Virgil answered with a shrug.

“So brain dead? Gotcha.” Alan dodged the swatting hand aimed at the back of his head sending popcorn flying.

Gordon snagged the bowl before too much more of the salty snack could be lost and skipped out of the reach of the youngest Tracy with a laugh. Jogging around to the other side of the fire and flopping himself down beside Penny, sand flying everywhere in his exuberance.

Penny tutted at the display and bushed sand from her pressed slacks. “Really, Gordon..”

Gordon handed the bowl to her by way of apology and she plucked up a few fluffy kernels and dimuraly popped them between her kiss reddened lips.

“Where’s the space case and our fearless leader?” Alan asked, taking up his own seat by the fire and pulling a bag of M&M’s out of his pocket. The rustling of which roused Kayo from her snooze with eager eyes tracking the sound.

Virgil nodded his head towards the house. “Call to the board, should be down in a minute. The Bagel is…”

“Right here.” John said and ruffled Alan’s hair is passing before stealing an M&M. “Venus just set and I didnt want to miss it. It’s so clear tonight.”

“Can take the astro-nut out of the space station..” Alan mumbled as he waved away John’s thieving fingers.

And so they gathered, one by one taking up seats around the roaring blaze and laughing at stupid things, chatting and reminising about old times and new. Pausing occasionally lost in thought, gazes distant at somber moments of remembrance.

Eventually Scott managed to join them followed by Grandma and Brains bearing mugs, a large thermos and snacks. He took up his guitar as the elder patriarch passed out cups brimming with hot chocolate and they all grew quiet, the sparking of sap and the lull of the ocean waves filling the void. Quiet, content and together.

One spot was left vacant and as they all sat in quiet repose, their eyes would glance over only to skitter away. A stump of a tree that had been relegated for only one person, sat baren of its occupant. Too strong was the emotion to linger on it for long, the wound of it still too fresh even after all this time.

Shaking his head, Virgil turned from his own introspection and pulled his gaze back to those that were here. His brothers, Grandmother, friends and Kayo at his side, he really should be looking at all they still had not what they lacked.

Kayo put a supportive hand on his arm and gave him a squeeze. She always could read him like a book and she knew exactly where his mind had just come back from.

Virgil cleared his throat instantly drawing the attention of all the others gathered.

On the spot now he grew nervous but the admiration and love that beamed out of Kayo’s supportive face edged him on and with a signal to his brother, he straightened his spine.

The first few cords his brother played where soft. The sweet tone of the expertly played strings balanced and sustained as Scott’s fingers moved along the struts. Building an intro for Virgil with the dulcet presence of each plucked note.

Gathering his breath, Virgil wet his lips and right on cue started to sing, the notes complimenting the guitar. Slow and melodious at first and as the lyrical complexity grew with each line so to did his strength and pitch. Climbing and reaching higher until a brother joined in and then another. All of them adding their own unique voice and harmonizing with each other as the song unfolded.

It was a song their mother had loved to hear. One that Virgil had leaned at the tender age of nine as a Christmas present to her and one that he had asked his brothers to help with. Another tradition born and every year, on this very night they sang it. Virgil’s voice leading the way, crescendoing and interweaving with the voices of his siblings.

Their combined voices had changed much over the years, deepening and maturing but the magic they created was still there non the less. Grandma would shed a tear at the apex of it like she did every time and by the end of it as the last note faded away into the stillness, a relief would settle over them all.

Like a pressure valve had been released, the emotional strain that had been building up would ease off and dissipate with a few captured moments. A homage to the mother they had lost so long ago which now acted to commemorate another as well. A gift from five orphans that was all that they were able to give.

Quiet descended and encompassed the gathered group. In the not so far distance, waves washed up the shore line. The fire snapped and popped and somewhere on the island a night creature called out, a lonely sound. Between one breath and the next, the sorrow of loose suddenly lifted, Alan sneezed, John groaned and Gordon laughed and the two eldest siblings grinned while their Grandmother dabbed at her eyes.

Pushing up to his feet, Virgil walked the short distance over to his Grandmother, leant over and with the strong arms earned with hard work and dedication to his family wrapped her in a hug. “Merry Christmas, Grandma.”

She smiled up at him, tears wavering in the blue gaze that had experienced too much sorrow for one lifetime but she hid it well behind the usual steely determination and wiliness befitting her age. “It sounds more beautiful every year. Thank you, Virgil.”

She was thanking him for more than just the song, and the dewiness in her eyes and the tremble of her bottom lip spoke it loud and clear.

The lump in his throat prevented an answer so he hugged her a bit harder. His emotional quota for the night reached. Any more and he was liable to get messy and that was something he would prefer to do behind closed doors.

A hand on his shoulder had him loosening up and he pulled away, only to be dragged into another hug. The distinct aftershave a give away to who it was.. And then there was another and another hug followed that. Until the whole family had embraced ending with Kayo once more tucked into his side.

“So we going to get this party started?” He spoke up, eager to shift the mood on to lighter things.

He looked down at Kayo’s beautiful face as she slipped an arm around his waist and his world brightened just a tad bit more.

“Ya, at this rate it will be the new year and we will have to pack all this stuff away again.” She commented flicking a glance towards the house and everything Gordon had spent the last week setting up. “Would be a real shame to let it all go to waste.”

“Hey, not my fault Scott is as slow as a snail on land.” Gordon piped up and popcorn went sailing as he tossed a handful at his big brother. “I was ready hours ago.”

“Okay, okay” Scott groused and flicked a kernel out of his hair. “I get it, I get it. Blame the Board of Directors, they wouldn’t let me off the comms before the American Market came back up online.”

Virgil reached over Kayo, signalled Gordon for the popcorn bowl and grabbed a handful. Turning to Scott he took aim and fired.

He laughed at the scowl on Scott’s face but he knew there was no heat behind it as his brother fought back a smile of his own and tossed some popcorn back.

Sally tutted from her spot and sipped her hot chocolate, shaking her head at the antics of her boys. “Now boys..” She admonished in a bored tone. “Don’t waste the food.”

And so started the food fight… popcorn went flying, marshmallows pinged off heads, M&M’s got lost down shirts which lead to an interesting game of hide and seek. Laughter filled the beach and merriment abound as hands tickled and people fought for breathe.

Panting and wiping tears from their eyes they flopped back down on the ground in a heap of limbs and a sea of food. It was going to be fun cleaning up the beach in the morning that was for sure.

“Oh,” Gordon jumped up and they all turned, curiosity evident on their faces. Rooting around in his pocket, he pulled out a small remote and waved it at the others. “I almost forgot the best part.”

Holding the little controller up, he pointed it towards the villa and grinned like a loon. “Okay, I’ve been working hard on this so I need some fanfare.. A drum roll..a countdown. Something.”

He bobbed about on his feet like he was about to rocket off into space in his excitement. Well pleased with himself and wanted his family to join in on the energy that was vibrating out of him.

“Gordon…” An audible sigh came from Scott but the look of eagerness on the squid’s face made him cave. “Fine… on the count of five.”

Alan started beating out a fast rat-a-tat on his lap, Gordon burst into a really bad rendition of Joy to the World and the others counted down each taking a number in turn.

“5…” John, looking a bit displeased with the whole excessively loud affair, parked himself in the safety of his Grandmother’s shadow. Hoping that if anything else went flying he would be safe from any potential fallout.

“4…” Gordon, pausing his ear splitting caterwauling long enough to bellow out his favoured numeral.

Alan covered his ears and bumped Gordon with his hip, nearly sending the aquanaut head first into the sand. “3..”

“2..” Virgil grinned at the lot of them and laughed as Scott dropped his face into his hand

“God, give me strength..” Scott bemoaned. “1..”

The villa erupted into a crazy assortment of brightly coloured lights and inflatable paraphernalia from a massive twelve foot Santa to a three foot Frosty. There was even a mini yellow Stingray floating in the pool being ridden by an elf in iR blues

The palm trees were decked out from top to bottom all around the pool deck, red and green flood lights, shining up at their towering fronds through the foliage of large, variegated dieffenbachia and the spikey strands of yuccas that dotted the well tended gardens.

The pool deck itself was bracketed on all sides with twinkling white sprigs of lights that sprung up artfully from the flower beds.

Dangling, plastic icicles flashed in an array of RGB colours all along the roof line and balcony in a merry dance from one end to the other.

And in the center of it all, showcased behind the thick, shatterproof glass of the villa, adorned and trimmed to within an inch of its life, the family Christmas tree. Gifts piled around its base and all topped off with bright, golden star.

“Wow…” Someone whispered through the hush that had fallen over them all. A sentiment shared heartily by them all.

“Last one in the lagoon gets to put this all away after New Years.” Gordon shouted, dashing off into the darkness. His snowman printed hawaiian shirt fluttering to the ground in his wake.

“Heck no!” Came a squeal from Alan as he raced up to his feet and tripping, dashed off after his sibling. “I am so not getting screwed with clean up again.”

John stuck out a foot sending the young Astronaut face first into the sand as he got up with much more grace and civility before walking off after Gordon as if he his baby brother wasn’t spitting out a mouthful of beach.

Scott just sighed and pushed up to his feet, kicking off his shoes as he looked over at Virgil through the fire light. “You coming, V? Or is it your turn this year.”

Virgil gave Kayo a squeeze and pulled his shirt over his head, not bothering with the buttons. “Technically I think its mine turn, but..” He grinned and approached his older brother.

Scott eyed Virgil suspiciously, the bear had a certain look on his face that he didn’t altogether trust. “Oh, don’t you dare.” He warned, hands coming up to ward off the family tank. “I’m your older brother and I command you.. Don’t even think it..”

Virgil just chuckled before bracing and launching himself at Scott, sending the pair of them crashing to the ground.

“Boys” Came the rather bored tone from their Grandmother as the scramble to get back to their feet ensued and like a bunch of giggling children they tore off into the night.

Kayo just laughed and leaning over gave the older woman a hug. “Merry Christmas, Grandma. “

“Merry Christmas, Tanusha. Go keep those boys out of trouble will you. My tired old, bones can’t keep up with them.”

“Oh, I’m sure you could.” Kayo winked and motioning to Penny to join her as she headed off towards the laughter and splashes coming from down the beach.

Grandma sat contentedly, a smile on her face, a warm drink in her hand and listened to the chaos. Five brothers; so different and yet so alike in so many ways. An adopted sister; accepted, loved and most likely soon to be added to the family in a different way and friends. One, a genus with a heart of gold and the other a British aristocrat with a fierce loyalty to a family that had welcomed her with open arms.

Gathered together to celebrate family and togetherness for one solitary night under the big expanse of star filled sky on an island all their own.

/. \

/.' .'.\

"'""""/ '.' '.'. \""'"'"

^^^[_]^^^

The End.

Christmas Quote

Scott: Twas the night before Christmas

Alan: And Gordon was devouring celery tarts

Virgil: All his brothers’ were gasping..

Gordon: Because of my farts.

Scott: ((facepalm)) Why do I bother…?

#thunderbirds are go #tag team secret santa #secret santa 2019 #thunderbirds 2015 #Scott Tracy #Gordon Tracy #Virgil Tracy #John Tracy #alan tracy #grandma tracy #kayo kyrano #Lady Penelope #fanfic

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