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edutainer2022 · 26 days

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It's a little two-part glimpse into Dad Jeff going away into the sky. And Scotty being not happy about it. Baby Virgil features briefly too. Jeff Tracy tells himself things that tide him over more difficult times (but are not necessarily true).

SEPARATION ANXIETY

It was unbearable. The little face of the boy in his arms was wrought with boundless grief. Bright blue eyes full of tears and fear.

"Daddy, no gooooo! No gooooo!"

Tiny hands were clutching the collar of his uniform. The boy's voice was choking on sobs and Jeff felt his heart being ripped out. He was due at the base for a pick up and relocation for training before the Moon mission. He was a breath away from calling in his resignation right then and there and never leaving his son ever again. He forced himself to exhale and hoisted the child higher, bringing their forheads together. That gave Jeff a chance to blink away tears of his own:

"It's okay, Scotty. It's okay. Daddy will be back soon. I have a very important job for you, Bluejay. Look after Mommy and Virgie, when I'm gone, okay? Can you do that for me?"

The child's sobs halted for a moment it took him to nod very earnestly. Jeff leaned in to kiss the boy's forehead and then kiss away the tears from the blotchy little face as best he could. He turned to his wife with an apologetic smile.

Lucy was hovering in the doorway all this time, ready to intervene. Dad's departure for the Moon was a matter of wide-eyed wonder and endless enthusiasm till it was actually time for Jeff to leave. Then it quickly dissolved into a Greek tragedy. Her own hands were full with the baby. Little Virgie didn't yet understand what was happening, but he developed an uncanny ability to pick up his brother's moods. So to echo Scotty's desperate pleas, the baby's tears were now inconsolable.

Scotty settled to hug Dad's neck, so Jeff beaconed his wife with Virgie to step into the embrace. She leaned her head on his shoulder as he reached to kiss the baby.

"Are you really gonna be okay?"

She smiled up at him. So beautiful.

"We'll miss you like crazy, Flyboy. But we'll be alright. We're in good hands."

She lifted a hand to rub soothing circles on Scotty's back. The baby calmed down too and looked ready for a nap. Jeff gave himself extra minutes to just hold them all together. He didn't know yet he was already holding three sons in that embrace. Baby Johnny was to arrive while he was still thousands of miles away on the Moon. But in that moment he needed to capture the perfect memory of balance and fulfillment that would tide him over a long night in space. They were going to be alright.

***

It was unthinkable. The whole situation was his worst nightmare come true. The hijacked Zero-X was obviously speeding up and overheating. He ran a quick math and the fallout would quite easily cause an extinction of life on the planet. Unacceptable - his sons lived on that planet. His mother and friends. What made matters worse was giving in to Scott's big blue pleading eyes to let him come with him in One and watch the T-drive launch. Little Allie definitely learned to step up his puppy eyes game from the best. So Jeff was now stuck with the impossible variables of his son in the blast zone and One's still untested autopilot.

"Scott, I need you to take over the controls for me!"

He was halfway out of the pilot seat, leaving One on hover. Bright blue eyes, flooded with horror, shot up at him from where Scott was adjusting the harness by the cargo doors (oh, goodness, the boy was actually prepping to board Zero-X himself!)

"Dad! You can't go down alone!"

There it was. Daddy, no gooo! Jeff had to brace himself to enter full Commander mode.

"I need you to follow Zero-X flight path, align in formation. Once I board the hull, you will bank and scout the possible fallout zone perimeter in a thousand miles radius. I need you to shoo, tow or scare away anything that will be flying or floating there, understood?"

Jeff was sorely tempted to set the milage at a farther distance (as far and as fast away as possible, just fly away, Bluejay!), but he couldn't risk Scott questioning his intent in the moment. Blue eyes were still flooded with disbelief, pleading and barely concealed tears.

"Dad, please! Let me come with you! You'll need help!"

Daddy, no goooo!

"That's an order, Thunderbird!"

When he'd come to in the Zero-X wreck, in the middle of the galactic nowhere, and for endless years to come, he'd try and soothe himself with the knowledge Scott obeyed the order and got safely away from the blast. From that point on Jeff would try to convince himself he was not worried. Scotty knew what his job was. He'd look after his brothers and Grandma. They would be alright.

#thunderbirds are go #scott tracy #jeff tracy #scott tracy needs his dad #jeff tracy needs a hug #mom tracy and baby virgil are there too #so is zero-x #methinks i have astronomy #my fic #thunderbirds 2015 #scott tracy needs a hug

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bearskvlls · 4 months

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i heard there was a more active thunderbirds fandom on here so....... hello 👁️👁️💦

nice to meet you!! please enjoy "jeff tracy learns how to use a cell phone" and know that more thunderbirds fanart is on the way :^)

gonna be sharing sketches for now bc i've been out of state, but i'll be reunited with my tablet soon and will clean and color these and many more!!

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #thunderfam #thunderbirds tos #jeff tracy #scott tracy #alan tracy #artists on tumblr #sketchbook #fanart #thunderbirds fanart

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idontknowreallywhy · 16 days

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Resurface 12 - Remember

Parts 1-11 here

So… we finally find out what happened on the roof. Sort of… *cough* sorry Johnny… and Virg… and Jeff. And Scott who I presume is on the receiving end of some version of this account from John…

🧡💚💙🧡💚💙🧡💚🧡💚💙🧡💚🧡💙🧡

He’d done what he was asked. The kids were “kept out of the way” even if they were yelling and crying and rattling pointlessly at the door handle he’d wedged the chair under. He felt awful about it but they had to be safe, not see anything… worrying. Anything that could cause them more problems than they already had. But he couldn’t just stay and babysit when everything might be going wrong. Dad might need help.

John should have seen this was coming. He should have paid more attention. He should have stopped it. He should have been less selfish. Pressing his knuckles into the spaces between his nose and his eyeballs he swallowed hard then raised his voice above the yelling, told Gordon and Alan he’d be back in just a minute. Then with suddenly trembling limbs followed his father up the fold down ladder to the flat part of the roof they used for stargazing.

The sky was cloudless, the sun had just set and blue hour was upon them, the iron oxide-soaked sandstone gleaming as red as any of Dad’s Martian landscape images. Here, in the lee of the dormer there was a dead calm, as if the wind was anxiously holding its breath in the same way John was. His father, about 5 feet above him was edging carefully across the ridge towards where the peaked roof of John’s third storey attic room loomed over the rest of the ranch. Dad looked back over his shoulder and frowned, silently demanding silence.

John complied. His throat had seized up anyway. As had pretty much every nerve in his body the moment as his eyes drifted past his father’s clambering form to the figure standing tall at the highest point of the roof. He clung to the railing at the top of the stairs and prayed to anyone that would listen that this wasn’t what it looked like.

Virgil was stood at the highest point of the roof, one hand resting atop the chimney stack, the other gesticulating as if he was engaged in a passionate debate. His posture was so familiar, the unstyled hair hanging in his face, less so. He couldn’t hear exactly what his brother was saying but his tone was friendly, good humoured even. Which, given the circumstances, was downright eerie.

A solitary bird of prey wailed impatiently as it hovered overhead. Peregrine, probably, John realised with a pang. Scott would point them out as they passed through every spring and every fall. He remembered the otherwise ‘so much more grown up than you lot’ fourteen year old bouncing gleefully around the yard the day they’d seen a female stoop on a pigeon right overhead. Every Tracy knew, because he reminded them often, that that was the fastest any living creature could travel under its own steam, although Scott was determined to break that record one day.

John was aware it should probably be ‘had been’ but was not in any way ready to make that shift. Not in any way at all. He swallowed hard at the lump threatening to close up his throat and returned his attention to his next biggest brother. He edged slightly closer as Dad finally reached Virgil and held out a hand.

Virgil didn’t take it.

More wailing from above, multiple voices this time. John, unable to resist glancing up at the sound, counted a group of four hastening through the sky towards the lone dot in the distance which he imagined wheeling back around at the cries of waaaaaaait-waaaaaait. Scott’s reverent voice reminded him that these birds travelled alone except for newly fledged siblings who would undertake their first big migration together for protection and moral support.

“YOU’RE UNBELIEVABLE!”

Virgil’s raised voice dragged John’s attention back - how had he lost concentration? What had he missed? His father was talking in a low voice, but John detected an edge he could quite place? He was… uncertain? That wasn’t like Dad at all. To hell with it, he had to get over there. He abandoned stealth and scrambled along the roof until the frustrated pain in his brother’s shout stopped him in his tracks.

“WHY WON’T YOU LET ME HELP HIM?!”

Virgil’s back was to his father and he flinched away as Dad reached out to touch his shoulder.

“HE’S GONE, VIRGIL! THIS IS JUST… A… A FANTASY…! YOU HAVE TO COME DOWN! Please…”

His father’s voice was finally raised but then cracked, agonisingly, on that last word and Virgil spun to face him, fury in his eyes.

Time slowed. John felt tension thicken the air, as potent as the moment before a storm breaks and it resolved in much the same way: With a roar of anger and a strike of pent up energy from Virgil’s muscular arm.

Dad crumpled to his knees and leant heavily against the chimney breast. There was absolute silence. John tore his eyes from his father to gape up at his strongest yet most determinedly non-violent brother, in time to see the horrified expression on Virgil’s face, staring at his own clenched fist as though it belonged to someone else entirely. He looked around in a panic and began to shuffle backwards away from his father, more like a small, frightened animal about to bolt than the broad, reassuring presence John knew him to be.

John was moving before his mind even registered the implications. Of course he was too slow, he should have been there to start with. He called out to try to warn him but only succeeded in causing his brother’s eyes to lock on to his for the split second before they widened further and he disappeared from view.

🧡💚💙🧡💚💙🧡💚🧡💚💙🧡💚🧡💙🧡

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #virgil tracy #john tracy #Jeff Tracy #scott Tracy #MIA Scott #idontknowreallywhy fanfic #resurface fic #tw: psychosis

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gumnut-logic · 5 months

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Five times Alan discovered a secret and one time he kept one (Part One)

I wrote something! I'm a little rusty, but words happened!

Many thanks to the wonderful @onereyofstarlight for the read through and sanity check.

I hope you enjoy it :D

-o-o-o-

“Are you sure this is the right thing to do?”

Alan blinked. Virgil’s voice was little more than a low rumble through the wall. If Alan hadn’t been practising his handstands up against that wall, he probably wouldn’t have heard his brother.

Of course, Dad’s office was the best place not to be at most times, but for some reason this exact spot in the hallway was the only place Alan could stand on his hands for any length of time.

He’d tried his bedroom, Gordon’s bed, Virgil’s bed, John’s bed, three of the outside walls, the big tree out in the field, the kitchen wall - Grandma had growled so much - and the living room.

The living room wall wasn’t conclusive as Grandma had chased him out before the soles of his sneakers had touched the wall.

But this spot was the best. No-one hung around outside Dad’s office and Dad had never noticed.

“Scott needs this.”

“This isn’t just about Scott.”

Alan swallowed. Scott had been sick for a long time. It had all been so scary. There had been yelling late at night, and once Alan had heard his brother screaming.

It had been terrifying.

Grandma said that his big brother had been hurt while he was in the air force and he needed time to recover.

But Scotty had been so sad. He still gave great hugs, but he never smiled any more.

Alan wasn’t dumb. He had access to the information nets and he had looked up things that could cause his brother to be so sad. He guessed it was something to do with his mental health, but no one was telling him anything.

He’d asked Virgil and the look on his big brother’s face was almost as sad as Scotty’s, scaring Alan even more.

But Virgil sat him down and explained about someone hurting Scott and Scott just needing some time to get better.

Which was exactly what everyone else had said and didn’t fix anything! Alan wanted his fun big brother back. He wanted to find whoever had hurt Scotty and punch them really hard.

A bigger hunt on the nets pretty much confirmed it was a mental health thing, but the possibilities were endless and more and more terrifying. He had worried and fretted for weeks.

But then one day Scotty had started smiling again. It was sudden and it had Alan running across the kitchen to hug him.

Scott had grunted, like he always did when Alan tackle-hugged him, but this time his big brother picked him up and squeezed him ever so tight in return. He even messed up his hair.

Scott was finally feeling better! The days following proved it to Alan. But there was still something in his brother’s eyes that hadn’t been there before and he still tired more easily, the tap of his cane his constant companion. It was obvious that not everything was one hundred percent.

But Alan had been granted a smile and he was going to take it and run with it. He was ever grateful for it.

“You don’t have to be part of International Rescue, Virgil.”

“Are you kidding? I’m not letting him do this on his own. Or you, or John.”

“You are not responsible for any of us. If you do this, you have to do it for yourself.”

There was silence for a moment and Alan held his breath. What was ‘International Rescue’?

“I am, Dad.”

“But you don’t want to do it.”

“I didn’t say that! I’m worried about Scott. He is clinging to this like a lifeline. It’s not healthy-“

“Sometimes we need to make do to survive.”

There was a creak of furniture as if someone was sitting down. “Dad…”

Soft footsteps. “He needs this, Virgil. I need this.”

Alan froze where he was, upside down against the wall, all his blood rushing to his head, not daring to move and risk being heard.

His brother’s answer was a whisper. “I know.” So quiet.

“You are so much like your mother. She would be so proud of you.”

Alan squeezed his eyes shut. Their mother was a ghost in this house. Someone rarely spoken about but always there. Alan felt left out and guilty for asking questions about their mother.

Scott and Virgil had shown him the photos and videos. Dad didn’t talk about her ever.

Alan had also asked Gordon, but his youngest big brother had only been six and his memories were vague.

At least he didn’t have that weird look in his eyes when Alan mentioned her. His mom was a big hole in his identity, a mostly unknown, hurting black hole.

‘International Rescue’ had something to do with Mom.

But Virgil didn’t say anything Alan could hear.

He grit his teeth. Part of him wanted to flip onto his feet and get out of there but the rest of him wanted to know what his father and brother were talking about.

“So, we are on schedule for April?”

Alan let out a breath.

“Yes. It’s best to avoid the cyclone season and in the meantime finish our preparations.”

“When are we telling Gordon and Allie?”

Again footsteps, this time walking away. “Alan’s birthday, as planned. We’ll make it a surprise, a positive.”

Silence. “You know my thoughts about that.”

“Are you going to fight me on everything?! This is a good thing, Virgil! We will be saving lives!”

“We have lives here! We have family and we need to keep them safe!”

“How does telling them on Alan’s birthday hurt any of us?”

“We’ll be leaving everything Allie knows. His friends, his school, everything, to live on an island in the middle of the ocean. I think that has the potential to hurt. A lot.”

Alan found himself holding his breath. They were leaving the farm?!

“So we should tell them sooner?” It was sharp and mocking.

“Alan will need time. He’s only nine, Dad. This is a big thing.”

“For all of us.”

“Exactly!”

Again silence fell and all Alan could hear was the thudding of his own heart.

“Alan, Grandma is going to force feed you burnt cookies if she finds shoe marks on the wall.” His big brother’s jean-clad legs suddenly appeared near Alan’s head.

He should have heard the cane. Why didn’t he hear the cane?!

Alan teetered sideways and nearly took out the hall table beside him. Strong arms wrapped around his legs and saved the life of one of Grandma’s flower vases.

Unfortunately, Scott must have dropped his cane and, along with it, his extra support and balance. A squawk and clatter of limbs and Alan found himself in a heap on the floor beside his big brother.

For a moment he lay there staring at his brother’s profile - his nose, weird dimples and messed up hair. “You okay, Scotty?”

His brother let out a breath. “Yeah. Just checking the ceiling for cobwebs.”

Alan would have grinned at the joke (paraphrasing a Gordon much put out at missing the growth spurt that had almost every other brother scraping the tops of door frames) but his head was a mess of questions.

He grabbed his big brother in a desperate hug.

“Hey, Allie, you okay?” Warm arms were wrapped around him, holding him tight.

“Scott!” Virgil’s voice startled both of them. Hurried footsteps rushed over.

“I’m fine! Something’s up with Allie.”

Alan looked up from his big brother’s arms to find Virgil kneeling down between them. Behind him, tall and dark-haired, stood their father.

His grey eyes pierced into Alan’s head.

“Allie, what’s wrong?” Scott had worry in his tone, something Alan did not want to hear.

“I don’t want to move to an island.” It came out small and scared.

Scott stiffened beside him and pulled away a little.

Virgil whispered something Alan couldn’t quite hear.

Alan stared up at their father. “I don’t want to go.”

-o-o-o-

Part 2

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #virgil tracy #jeff tracy #scott tracy #younger tracys #nuttyfic

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skymaiden32 · 1 month

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Running an elite rescue organisation is stressful sometimes…

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds 1965 #thunderfam #jeff tracy #scott tracy #virgil tracy #alan tracy #gordon tracy #john tracy #thunderbirds fanart #sky draws stuff #thunderbirds shorts #thunderbirds meme

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alexthefly · 3 months

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Take My Hand

This was supposed to be a @flashfictionfridayofficial , but I was a bit late and got my timezones mixed up, and then the word count went over and... well here it is anyway.

Or read it on AO3 here.

Also tagging @tagloveandthunderbirds 'cos ❤️

Fandom: Thunderbirds/Thunderbirds are Go

Word count: 1048

Warnings: feet/shoes

---------------

“You ready to do this, Sweetheart?”

Lucy took her time smoothing down the front of her dress, purposely not looking at the empty dance floor yawning in front of her.

“Are you? You know dancing isn't exactly my forte; a first dance in front of all these people just seems like asking for trouble." She shuffled in her chair. "Are trampled feet covered by the wedding insurance?”

Jeff snickered. “I checked the policy just before I came over here. We’re all set.”

“Okay, if you’re sure. But I’m wearing heels, don't forget; it's going to be like Bambi on Ice out there.”

He shrugged.

“Well I did suggest the hiking boots instead, but you shot me down; something about ‘the aesthetic’. Which looks stunning on you, by the way.”

He stood back to better take her in, grinning appreciatively.

“Last time I make that mistake,” she muttered, waving away the compliment. “Given ‘the aesthetic’ is currently cutting off the circulation to my pinkie toe, respectfully ‘the aesthetic’ can go jump in a lake.”

She mentally cursed the salesperson who’d talked her into putting fashion ahead of comfort.

Concern flashed across Jeff’s handsome face. “Are they really hurting you, honey? We can get you other shoes.”

She smiled up at him reassuringly. “No really, I’m exaggerating …sort of. They just kinda pinch, that's all.”

If she was totally honest with herself, it wasn't even the salesperson’s fault, really. She’d been the one chasing a dream of being perfect and ladylike, even if it was only this once. Dammit, why was dressing up fancy so hard?!

Of course it didn't help that her new husband managed it so effortlessly. He was currently working ‘the aesthetic’ to within an inch of its life, cutting a very dashing figure in his elegant new grey suit and tie, dress shirt and shoes all perfectly matched and filled out perfectly.

Seriously, where did he get off being so good-looking?

She’d just wanted to appear worthy of him, that’s all. Jeff Tracy: ace pilot, hometown hero, handsomest guy in the county and a genuinely good man to boot. He was the prince, and just once she’d wanted to feel like she could be his match - a princess - instead of some awkward, clutzy science nerd who’d somehow managed to win the husband lottery.

She sighed. Clearly that wasn't to be.

There was a pause, then without another word her very handsome husband - God, he really did look good in that suit - knelt down in front of her and took one of her feet gently in his hands. He examined the delicate and uncharacteristically high-heeled white shoe with utmost seriousness, before removing it and flinging it across the room.

“Jeff!”

Lucy felt her face burst into flames as a roomful of eyes turned towards them.

“What? Doesn't that feel better?”

In all fairness it absolutely did. She wiggled her newly-released toes appreciatively even as she fought the urge to hide underneath the table.

“You can't just go throwing shoes around. You’re making a scene.”

He stopped and looked at her, ignoring the rest of the room, then slowly and deliberately reached out and took hold of her other foot.

“I want to enjoy a dance with my beautiful new wife, and if these admittedly pretty little shoes are getting in the way of that…”

The second shoe flew over his shoulder, just missing a nearby waiter.

“...then they’ve gotta go.”

The room was hushed; everyone was looking at them. Part of her wanted to run and hide in the coatroom until they’d all gone, but he was holding her gaze, keeping her steady.

“I don't want anything getting between me and the most amazing, beautiful, perfect person I ever saw, ever again.”

He rose gracefully to his feet and held out his hand to her.

“So how about it? May I have this dance?”

…

It was late spring and the cicadas were singing. Airbase staff were bustling all around, knocking into her, sending papers flying everywhere. She knelt down to pick them up, and suddenly there was a hand in front of her.

“Can I give you a hand, Miss?”

…

It was fall, and the trees around them were every shade of red. They’d talked about everything and nothing, walking side by side, until he stopped and reached out to her.

“Would it be alright if I held your hand?”

…

It was winter and the snow was falling softly. His ice skates made long swooshing noises on the ice around her, while hers clacked noisily as she tried and failed to keep her footing. Another swoosh and then he was there in front of her, hand extended.

“Okay, so not my best idea. How about we go get a hot chocolate instead? My treat?”

…

It was the last days of summer, and the clear water of the lake lapped at her toes. She’d never felt so happy in her life. A perfect day. Beside her she felt him shift nervously, and then he was holding his hand out, a little red box in it, one knee on the ground.

“I’ve got a question I wanna ask…”

…

Her head flooded with the memories of a hundred moments, small and huge, all of them important. A hundred images of him offering his hand, and at last she understood.

He'd reached out for her.

She was the one. And she was worthy, just as she was.

Smiling, she accepted the offered hand.

“Of course you may, Mr Tracy.”

He grinned and bowed. “Why thankyou, Mrs Tracy.”

She rose and he led her, barefoot and spotlit, to the dance floor without a care in the world. Keeping her hand in his, he wrapped his other arm around her waist, enveloping her like a delicate, precious treasure, safe and protected. Their eyes met and he beamed at her like his face was made of actual sunshine.

She grinned back at him.

“You’re sure about that wedding insurance now? Last chance.”

“Don’t you worry about my toes, darlin’. Just keep a hold of me and we’ll do fine.”

And with that the band struck up an old favourite, and hand-in-hand they danced the night away.

Take my hand

Take my whole life too

For I can't help falling in love with you.

#tag:love&thunderbirds #jeff tracy #lucy tracy #thunderfluff #romance #alexthefly fic #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #FFF238 #...kinda #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds are go fanfiction

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flyboytracy · 3 months

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My child arrived just the other day He came to the world in the usual way But there were planes to catch, and bills to pay He learned to walk while I was away And he was talking 'fore I knew it, and as he grew He'd say "I'm gonna be like you, dad" "You know I'm gonna be like you"

#Thunderbirds Are Go #The Long Reach #Jeff Tracy #Scott Tracy #Virgil Tracy #John Tracy #Gordon Tracy #Alan Tracy

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squiddokiddo · 6 days

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❤: Which character do you think is the most egregiously mischaracterized by the fandom? >:3

I think a lot of them are mischaracterised in fandom, there's a lot of fanon stuff I just disagree with.

I think the most though is probably Jeff. The fandom seems split over what kind of father he is, either down right neglectful and absent leaving Scott to pick up the pieces or this amazing, involved with everything, knows his boys like the back of his hand kinda dad.

Jeff barely has 20 mins of screen time in TAG so it's difficult to get an idea of who he really is but going off of TOS, I think he's a reasonably stern but fair military dad who wants to be involved with his kids' lives more but his job (and also being missing for like 8 years) has prevented him from doing it. He has a kinda "hands off" parenting style, through out their childhoods, he's always known his boys were responsible enough to deal with themselves mostly and grandma was around all the time to cook and keep an eye out for them, but his kids could always poke their heads around his office door when they need help. They love him and he loves them dearly but he's not really lovey dovey or affectionate beyond a brief dad hug and a pat on the back. Typical 1960's kinda parenting.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderfam #jeff tracy #unpopular opinion asks #ask game #squiddo's inbox #squiddokiddo answers #mrmustachious

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matt0044 · 8 months

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Recommendation to mutuals: I really loved Thunderbirds Are Go!

The rescues have the right balance between being based on future technologies and grounded in the real world where it could theoretically be possible. It carries the spirit of the original of how the rescues would be so nail biting because of what could likely go wrong.

There's also certain improvement to the original when it comes to characters. The Tracy Brothers and Kayo have more identifiable personalities with the brothers feeling like, well, brothers who'll roast each other playfully but be there for each other come what may.

You even have Parker being unscrupulous at times with episode revolving around his "misspent youth" and how he values the second chance he got.

Perhaps the real star of the show is that of the model environments that the CGI characters and vehicles interact with. It sort of carries on the spirit of Supermarionation by why of puppeting the CG models across real life construsts. Sometimes I can't always tell which setting is real or animated.

The first two seasons are on Amazon Prime with clips of it on YouTube. Look up the launches for the vehicles and tell me that they aren't epic as all hell.

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2015 #thunderbirds 1965 #virgil tracy #scott tracy #alan tracy #gordon tracy #john tracy #kayo kyrano #tin tin kyrano #kayo #jeff tracy #sally tracy #penelope creighton ward #lady penelope #nosey parker #aloysius parker

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edutainer2022 · 6 months

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So I got under the weather - fever, sore throat, snuffles, the works. But I am "busy" (tm) and, therefore, need to be "fine" (tm). So I'm indulgently reposting a little fluffy Tracy-fever piece I wrote out this summer. I may or may not be eyeing another fever-snippet in my notes. Depends on how "fine" (tm) I am. Please, enjoy!

PUPPY BASKET

A puppy basket. Jeff didn't recall who exactly coined the term - his wife or himself. Or maybe his mother. The point was - with three kids so close in age (and then two more down the line) the flues and colds, and stomach bugs tore through the bunch like a wildfire. There was not enough manpower in the household to keep up with sick boys quarantined in different rooms. So it was just easier and more expedient to stash the sniveling and coughing, and sniffling, and generally miserable puppy ball in the master bedroom. Lucy and himself took shifts sitting vigil, giving meds and fluids, kissing burning up brows. If he were planetside, of course. Later, when the boys' mother was gone, it would be, likely, Scott's room and the elder boys taking up watch hours, while he was busy with grief and work. The one time he came home from New York to find all five boys succumbed to a flu, pretty much delirious in his room, little Alan hoarse from crying - even Scott too weak from fever to call Grandma (and too anxious to call 911 lest child services got a wiff) was a memory he didn't dare revisit often.

He could distantly recall that a feverish Scott would be restless, Virgil would be cuddly, John would be clingy. Gordon would peel off any scrap of clothes on him. Someone would invariably end up upside down with feet propped on the pillow.

That morning got him investigating in Scott's room first thing. Gordon and Alan drew a short straw and were off for a supply run early on (a bright and whistling Gordon and a grumpy half-asleep Alan). Virgil was not expected down this side of 10 am, John was just back from orbit the night before. But Scott never made it to see the Tinies (did they even call the boys that anymore? Alan was starting college in a month!) off, have his run and a morning coffee-cum-strategy session with Dad - something that had become a new, cherished routine for them. The parent alarm in him, that never lay quite dormant even through the endless night of the Oort Cloud, was now blaring full force.

Fair enough, Jeff found his eldest room in an uncharacteristic disarray - a blanket kicked off all the way from the foot of the bed down to the floor, last day clothes scattered on the carpeting - something he came to recognize more as the youngest style, not Scott, who had tried to emulate Dad's military crisp order since he was five and learned to make his own bed. Scott was soon found by his father's increasingly concerned gaze in the middle of the bed, tangled sheets and disheveled curls a testament to a night of tossing and turning, breathing shallow and raspy. Jeff's immediate guess was a nightmare - heaven knows he was no stranger to warding off those, plaguing his boy's naturally light sleep. But a fine sheen of sweat, covering Scott's face and neck, belied a different answer altogether. Jeff wasn't surprised, when the brow he reached for to smooth away the soaked fringe, was burning. Scott wasn't asleep per se - eyes squeezed shut against a headache - but he definitely wasn't alert and present either. Jeff wasn't surprised, but he was getting increasingly panicked. His own mother gave him a semi-clean bill of health and was currently in Kansas, helping a friend out. The time difference made the call tricky. Not impossible, of course, there was no inconvenience Grandma wouldn't go through for him or his boys, for which Jeff was eternally greatful, but all the more weary to disturb his getting increasingly fragile Ma more, than necessary. Kayo was visiting with her own father, so that was not an option as well. The problem was, with Grandma away, there was no medic on the island. Unless, of course... Jeff remembered Virgil determined and precise with a medscanner, and later - all business and in-trade jibberish with the medical staff at the rehab center he had to spend first months back on Earth at. Despite budding worry, as Scott keened quietly and shifted under his father's soothing touch, Jeff smiled fondly. Virgil was, arguably, the closest to his Grandpa in looks and demeanor, but it appeared he followed his Grandma's professional leanings. He should try and wake Virgil up. Scott was definitely under the weather.

As if on cue, the door opened and a gigantic burrito walked in. Jeff started. The burrito was, upon a closer inspection, a human, barefoot, wrapped up in a blanket head to toe. The walking burrito was also eliciting grunts and a lung-splitting cough. Ouch. The intruder ignored Jeff completely, sidestepped the bundle of clothes on the floor, and collapsed on the bed, next to Scott, wrapping the latter immediately in a cocoon of limbs and blanket, like a cuddle pillow. Scott is restless, Virgil is cuddly... Jeff was beginning to get a bad, bad feeling about it. A quick dive into the fluffy depths of fabric and hair confirmed his fear - Virgil had a fever too. That left...

"John!" - he had to spring from the edge of the bed with speed and agility that would make his physiotherapist proud in time to catch a swaying ginger son from planting face first on the floor. John appeared soundlessly, a ghostly vision, almost translucent where he would normally be pale. A sneeze almost send them both toppling again, but Jeff managed to maintain balance and helped John walk the short distance to the other side of the bed. There was no question how the ginger was going to spend his spiking fever - the moment he climbed onto the mattress, John attached himself to Scott side like a limpet, the way Jeff had only seen Alan do so far. When sick, Scott was restless, Virgil was cuddly, and John was clingy. Well, the more things changed, the more they stayed the same. Puppy basket is go!

Jeff was halfway through the mental checklist of things he would need to make the logistics of his three eldest sons down for the count work (fluids, medscanner and monitors to keep track of the fevers, ask Brains if the medkits were in the same spots now, call Ma as soon as the time difference would permit, coax, trick and blackmail the boys into cold meds and cough syrup, call Gordon and Alan to stay away for the day and to go fetch Grandma from the farm, make sure Brains was alright and quarantined in his lab and rooms, check himself up, because Jeff needed to be on top of his game for the sick boys - the day and the following night could be tough), when a loud shriek pierced the silence of the room. Scott was frowning and trying the disentangle himself from Virgil's death grip. Jeff reached for his agitated son's shoulder and rubbed a thumb over - in the haze of the fever Scott could get disoriented and start fighting any restraint. Jeff knew the boy would never forgive himself, if he hurt Virgil, even unintentionally. But Scott was not to be easily placated. His face contorted with effort and, likely, a worsened sinus pain, to Jeff's astonishment, the young man grabbed a barely protesting John, lifted him bodily over his own frame, like he was a... well... puppy, and stuffed him into Virgil's arms, that immediately closed the hug around a different brother, as Scott rolled to the side in a sleek stealth maneuver. He would have rolled all the way over the edge of the bed, had Dad's arms not stopped him. That must have computed to the cold addled brain as "safe", since Scott stopped struggling almost immediately and let out a snuffle in a voice Jeff hadn't heard since when the kids' mother was alive. "M'hot", Scott complained without opening his eyes. Jeff reckoned he should probably be more concerned about photosensitivity and the fact any of the boys was yet to notice or acknowledge him. Jeff made an attempt to hoist Scott up against the headrest, but thought better of it as another painful moan escaped. Instead, he sort of rolled the son back to the center of the bed, closer to the pile of other brothers. Scott seemed game for that and shifted to snuggle and spoon against John's back. That elicited a hum and a sneeze from the ginger. Virgil didn't stir. Puppy basket indeed.

Satisfied that Scott was settled for the moment and the other boys seemed to have fallen asleep, Jeff felt confident enough to go looking for the fever vigil supplies and an extra coffee for himself. But he didn't leave before leaning to reach the assorted temples and forheads for the mandatory kiss better and a soft stroke. So sue him, he missed a lot longer than eight years of being their Dad first.

A detour to the infirmary, a chat with Brains, a lot more strained one with Ma and an anxious one with the Tinies later - Jeff was on his way back to Scott's rooms. Gordon and Alan, of course, offered to come back and help with their ailing brothers immediately. But Jeff shuddered at the idea of having all five of the boys sick at once. He was good, but the tenure in space was taking its toll. The youngest boys would be well supervised under Grandma's watchful eye, till it was safe (or absolutely necessary- something Jeff tried not to dwell on) to return to the island.

The sight that greeted him upon return to the bedroom tugged the corners of his lips up despite himself. Seeing his sons sick or hurting in any way brought him no joy, but the picture was just too precious and hilarious at the same time. John had shifted upside down, somehow, so Virgil was now cuddling his brother's feet. John was also curled in an upside down ball, head resting on Scott's stomach. Scott, in an attempt to cool off, cast his long, long limbs every which way, including over Virgil's lap and head, in a comical replication of the Vitruvian Man. As Jeff stepped in, though, the eldest shifted again, to curl himself around John protectively and to draw Virgil into a side hug. Jeff needed to go ahead with the med scanners and to get the boys awake long enough to make sure they got a drink of electrolytes and some saltines, but first he paused to reach for his comm watch and snap a picture of the puppy basket. He would cherish the moment while it lasted. And he could always use it as blackmail backup against these three running themselves to the ground - under the threat of the photo being leaked to the Tinies.

#thunderbirds are go #scott tracy #scott tracy needs a hug #virgil tracy #john tracy #jeff tracy #jeff tracy needs a license update in fathering #thunderbirds 2015 #scott tracy needs his dad #my fic #methinks i have astronomy

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hebuiltfive · 7 days

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Seeking An Absolution

After returning home, Jeff goes to visit his old friend in prison to try and offer him an unexpected absolution.

Words: 4,331 Snippet below, but the full work is on AO3 here!

------------------------

Even in the days before he’d become a resurrected ghost, Jeff Tracy had never made a habit of visiting GDF Maximum Security Facilities.

Usually his official trips took him to the organised offices of the top brass staff. There, in their comfortable spaces, wood crackled away in fireplaces, echoing around the embellished chamber, and dying embers lit up the room in a warm, homely glow. Timbered walls displayed framed medals that were regularly polished so that they shone and glinted in the firelight. Tea and coffee were customary for a meeting, much of the time being offered the moment a welcomed visitor stepped foot into the office space. He had to say, despite often dreading the tedious tasks which those meetings often proved themselves to be, Jeff found the office spaces far preferable than these dank and dreary corridors that he currently strolled along.

The grey of one concrete wall to his right matched the grey of a stone wall to his left. There was little sustained lighting. It was a purposeful design feature so that inmates were unable to become cognisant of their surroundings. High, impenetrable walls had been built around the outer perimeter. They were so tall that, no matter where you were in the complex, parts could be seen through almost any tiny window. Combine that with the naturally sullen mood that a Maximum Security Facility brought, and the whole place was just downright depressing. It wasn’t just the atmosphere that was cold, however. Located on an island a few miles off the Scottish coast meant that, even indoors and with his thick layers of clothing wrapped around him, Jeff could feel the chill of the winter.

No-one visited this prison, let alone this specific block of the complex. To gain access, he had had to fight Casey for weeks, and that had just been for a referral alone. At one point his request had ending up reaching the World President. Some might have deemed him mad for wanting to visit this particular block. In fact the President himself had called up Jeff to ask if his signing off on such a request was a wise decision. Jeff had insisted upon it. He had to visit. There was no alternative option.

Continue reading here.

#thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderfam #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #five fics #jeff tracy #the hood #fic: seeking an absolution

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tracybirds · 4 months

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I love Christmas time, and I am writing allllll the fic for it :D Here be the start of the main thing I've been working on! Many thanks to @gumnut-logic for reading through! I hope you're all having a very happy end to your year with love and laughter and good cheer <3

[Day 1 - you are here] | [Day 2] | [Day 3]

Five Days Where Christmas Didn't Seem To Go As Planned

Day One

The villa had been in a state of disarray for weeks in the lead up to Christmas. Rescues didn’t stop for any holiday, and with half the world flocking to ski resorts and snowboarding towns, International Rescue had been kept busy.

Scott hardly minded though, not that now the Christmas decorations were finally up. He checked the date on his comm and smiled. With record time to enjoy it too, it would seem.

Festive streamers hung from the ceiling; red, white and green, matching the candy canes and other sweet treats Gordon had scattered around the room. Scott could even see a few tell-tale stripes of peppermint added to the Christmas tree that Kayo and Alan had chosen. Reportedly, they’d fussed and argued for over three hours over the height, the bushiness and finding that perfect shade of green.

Scott was only grateful that John had called him away moments before the family left the island to make the big decision.

Tinsel and matching ornaments hung on its branches, that Virgil had arranged and rearranged by until the perfect balance between eye-catching sparkle and soft greenery had been found.

Along the walls were Brains and John’s contribution; flickering holograms of stars, trees, bursts of holly, reindeer – a projection of a perfect Christmas scene straight out of a storybook. Scott couldn’t help but grin to see a new style of hologram had joined them. It was EOS’s first attempt and although clumsy in comparison, the geometric patterns she’d coded and brought to life held a joy of her very own.

Central to the design were the Christmas stockings, neatly attached to the fire well. Even Lady Penelope and Parker had one, ready and waiting for Christmas morning when they would join the family.

The decorations brought a warm glow that enveloped the villa, and Scott stepped back, surveying the living room with a critical eye.

“It looks great, Scott,” said Jeff, looking almost as pleased as Scott felt. “Much nicer than the chicken scratch I had to make do with out there.”

Scott felt his smile grow fixed, the air catching in his lungs at Jeff’s offhand mention of his long ordeal in space. For the first few months, no-one had dared reference the Oort Cloud at all, tiptoeing around the subject until Jeff had put his foot down. Despite the nonchalance, Scott had noticed his father was reluctant to speak of the place directly and he couldn’t help but imagine the endless dark that had accompanied Jeff.

“Thanks, Dad,” he said, forcing himself to speak. “I... well, thanks.”

Jeff looked at him closely.

“You did a good job,” he said slowly. “You’ve done a good job…”

He trailed off, as he often did nowadays, his eyes sliding off Scott and far away. Scott followed his gaze to the window, out beyond the watery pool lights and into the night.

Jeff shook himself slightly, his eyes refocused on the room in front of him again. “Sorry, Scott, got lost in my own head again,” he said. His brusque tone dismissed any attempt of concern, but did nothing to ease the turbulence in Scott’s own mind.

Jeff turned abruptly, and began to stride out of the room. He paused only once, his fingers resting lightly on the string of Christmas lights near the door.

“Do you remember those lights from when you were small? How strange that even Christmas lights are completely different.”

Then he left before Scott could say a word.

Scott gaped, his mind racing.

It seemed no matter how fast he turned things over in his mind, it wasn’t enough, his thoughts kept getting swallowed by the inky black that nearly swallowed him if it hadn’t been for his dad, and no-one was there to catch his dad for all those eight years, but Scott could do this now for him.

He didn’t really remember putting through the call to John but something must have convinced him because a few short minutes later he was flying over the Pacific.

The trip to the ranch and back went smoothly, and an hour later, Scott held his prize in his hands. He lugged the old box back up to the living room, smiling at the imperfect crafts that had served as their family Christmas decorations of yesteryear.

The pine cones dipped in silver and gold he placed in a bowl in the centre of the coffee table, the reindeer made of clothes pegs he propped up around them. There were paper snowflakes and popcorn kernels in a jar with some needles and thread, there was colourful card for the annual paper chain competition, there were woollen ornaments that Scott could remember his mother making with her friends on the cold, dark winter nights when Jeff was travelling to a new world. There was even an old Advent calendar in the shape of a tree that their Grandpa had made, numbers carved by hand into each wooden box.

And right at the bottom, wrapped up in a neat coil were the Christmas lights they’d hung over the fireplace.

A whiff of stale cinnamon and pine floated from the box and Scott staggered slightly, for a moment six years old on the other side of the globe. The lights were soft and warm, the long bulbs twisting over each other and twinkling brightly in the night. The long December nights were no more, not in this part of the world, but Scott still remembered how endless it felt, how the sharp, cold of daytime was never enough to push back the darkness.

It was nothing next to the endless nothing of the universe, but the Christmas lights had helped, and Scott knew that they’d help now. He found an old extension cord, scrabbling behind the sofas for the nearest power point and plugged them in.

Nothing happened.

Scott’s face fell.

Of course, the box had been jostled so often over the years, of course one of the bulbs had fallen out of alignment.

He sat down with a sigh, his back against his father’s desk, and began to check for loose bulbs.

“Now those, I haven’t seen in a long while,” said Grandma Tracy quietly, and Scott jumped.

“Grandma!”

“Oh hush, you’re halfway under Jeff’s desk. I can’t help sneaking up if you’re the one hiding.”

“I’m not hiding,” said Scott defensively.

“Then what are you doing, kid? And where’d you find these old things anyway?”

“At the ranch.”

Grandma Tracy paused for a moment, then slid to the ground next to him. Without a word, she untangled the other end of the coil and began to methodically check the lights with him.

“You’d better hope that’s all it is, a loose bulb,” she said. “If one’s blown, I’m not sure they make this kind anymore. It’s all LEDs and the like these days.”

“We’d make it work. Brains could solder the ends of something.”

“Hmm,” was all she said.

Together they worked in silence, one step closer with every twist.

“What made you go and get these, Scott?”

He shrugged. “Dad liked the decorations.”

“He didn’t like the new ones?”

“No, no he said it looked good.”

“He liked what you had, so you had to race off to get the old ones? We all noticed One dashing off, and you’re saying it was just for these old things? Tell me why that doesn’t add up, kid.”

Scott flushed. “There wasn’t any reason, I just wondered if we had more lights.”

“That’s a reason. Why’d you think we need more lights?”

His hands stilled.

“Dad mentioned the Oort,” he said, bracing himself for her response.

Grandma Tracy looked at him, her eyes searching for something in his expression. Scott didn’t know what, indeed hardly recognised the flash that was less than fear and more than mere concern that shot through him when he remember those long dark years without their Dad.

“I see,” she said. “Did he say anything else?”

She was cautious now, not willing to initiate discussion on anything his dad might have kept confidential, and Scott understood that, he did, he did, and yet…

“He won’t talk to me about it,” he said, the words dull in his mouth. “He doesn’t trust me, I know that.”

Grandma Tracy clucked her tongue and reached out to gently smack him. “Get that thought right out of your head, Scott Tracy. Your father’s done his best to keep that boundary in place for a reason. He’s not fool enough to rely on you for this, not after what happened when your mother died.”

Scott ducked his head, suddenly very interested in the lights that ran through his fingertips. He felt just as helpless as he did all those years ago, that first, long Christmas without their Dad.

“I just wanted to push the dark away. I keep imagining it, all those years without the sun…”

He broke off with a shudder, wrapping his arms around him tightly.

Grandma Tracy tugged him close, rubbing soothing circles as she held him.

“Now, Scott, don’t go inventing trouble when you’ve already got plenty of your own,” she said softly. “You’re going to have to trust me, and your father for that matter. We’ve got things handled.”

“But,” he began, but she shook her head.

“No ‘buts’, this one isn’t on you, kiddo. Your only job is to enjoy that we got our own Christmas miracle this year. He’s home, and he’s not going anywhere for a long while yet.”

Scott let out a slow, even breath. His hands uncurled, and he reached once more for the Christmas lights.

“He’s really here, isn’t he?” he asked, eyes on the bulbs.

Suddenly, the whole string lit up, red and yellow and blue and green, glowing orbs that trembled as he lifted the lights with a smile.

Grandma Tracy gripped his shoulder tightly, her eyes shining in the dancing light.

“He really is.”

[Continue to Day Two]

#scott tracy #jeff tracy #grandma tracy #thunderbirds are go #sometimes i fic #i have debated back and forth about posting bc the fic is not exactly.... finished lol #but it's not far off and I'm excited for it #so I am sharing <3 #fanfic 🥰#scott 💙#grandma 💜#jeff 🚀#thunderbirds #collected works (mine)#🎄🎄🎄#family feels #2015

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gumnut-logic · 1 month

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Along the Way (Part 7 and The End)

It's finished! ::runs around the room like a loon:: Though I have to say that I doubt this will be the last we see of Mr Sweetapple as there are several threads that need a good neat tie up :D

All the wonderful thanks to @onereyofstarlight for staying up extra late and answering my poke across the Tasman Sea for a last minute read. I hope Alex gives you some nice sleep ::hugs tight::

Also, special thanks to all of you for supporting my geeky fanboy Alex :D There will be more as someone sent me some OC asks about Alex and I've realised that the only way I can answer them is by writing fic. (some other OCs of mine might pop up in fic at some point,too, for that exact same reason) ::so many hugs to all of you for being so kind to me::

But anyway, I will stop my excited rambling and present you with the last chapter of this fic....which has taken so long to write - so many apologies. Though I am excited that I'm writing again :D

I hope you enjoy this :D

-o-o-o-

Alexander Sweetapple’s head was spinning.

Not so much from the concussion he had no doubt he had, thank you, Mr Holographic Scott Tracy, but more from the fact that Virgil had just kissed him.

Not Mr Virgil Tracy, Head of Research and Development at Tracy Industries, no….more ‘ohmigod, I finally found you and you’re alive, I want to hug and kiss your brains out’ Virgil Tracy.

The man was covered in concrete dust and grime, there was more grey than blue on his uniform bar the scratched patches where his now discarded exosuit had sat.

Alex had proof Virgil had hugged him via all the dusty patches on his damp clothes, on his arms, and in his hair.

Virgil Tracy had hugged and kissed him.

For real.

Alex stood beside his mum while Virgil assessed the condition of her ankle and she went about embarrassing her son every way possible.

To be honest, it had been such a day that she was welcome to show Virgil Alex’s naked baby pictures for all he cared. She was safe and that was all important.

A glance over at the remains of the museum building prompted his heart to add a few extra beats per minute to its routine.

Alex let his jaw drop as he watched the roof float away.

Oh god.

“Alex?”

Virgil’s voice was so rich and deep.

“Alex?” And then Virgil grabbed him. Was he trying to hug him again. That would be nice. “Whoa! I think you need to sit down.”

Okay.

He folded himself smoothly down onto the pavement beside his mum.

“Hey, honey, look at me.” Her fingers were suddenly in his hair. “Allie, how the hell did you do all that with a head injury?” She peered closely at him. “Virgil, what do your scanners say?”

And yes, Virgil was waving a yellow light over Alex. “Concussion, bruising…” He frowned. “You’re both wet. You’ve been in the river?”

“Nearly drowned. My foot got stuck and Allie pulled me out. Some water, possibly sewage, may have been inhaled. My recommendation is to watch for symptoms of infection. In both of us.” Dr Sweetapple was in the house.

He turned to Virgil only to find his friend’s eyebrows fully deployed.

They were very nice eyebrows.

Virgil caught his stare. “Thunderbird One, I need to leave the danger zone. Ten minutes there and back for patient transport.”

“FAB, Thunderbird Two. Make it quick, we need your help in the industrial sector.” A pause. “How’s Alex?”

“Concussion, but well enough…and safe.” Virgil still had his eyes.

“Good to hear. Thunderbird One out.”

“What are you doing, Virgil?” The words slipped out without thought.

Virgil looked down at his wrist control poking it. “You both need medical supervision. I’m providing it for you.”

A good hundred metres away, Thunderbird Two rose up on her struts and her module door slid smoothly open. Two hoverstretchers darted out across the road, gliding around obstacles until they reached Virgil’s side. He pulled out a control surface and reconfigured them into hoverchairs. “Sorry to rush this, but time is short. Alex, stay put while I help your mother.” He held up a gloved hand and Alex was forced to settle back and obey.

Besides, the world was spinning again, and after all, Virgil was technically his boss.

He let his head fall into his hand and closed his eyes, suddenly ever so tired.

So this was what an adrenalin drop felt like.

Ugh.

“Alex?” Virgil’s voice was soft and his gloved hand gentle on his arm. That was really nice. “Alex? You with me?”

He blinked. Oh. “Yeah.”

“Let’s get you up.” Virgil nudged him, both hands holding his arms to steady him.

The world wobbled, but a few steps and Virgil had him snug and safe, strapped into the hover stretcher…chair…whatever the hell it was.

Virgil was running, Alex and his mother beside him, until they were all swallowed by the green of Thunderbird Two.

At some point, Virgil must has triggered the chair back into a bed because Alex was lying down and Virgil hovering over him, once again with a scanner flickering yellow light. “You can go to sleep, Alex. You’re okay and you’re safe.” A gloved hand gently brushed away the hair from Alex’s forehead. He knew this should mean something, but he was so tired.

Thunderbird green danced as his eyelids drifted closed.

Somewhere something was roaring just like a Thunderbird launching, but he had no energy to care.

-o-o-o-

Jeff stepped into the elevator only to almost collide with his mother. “Mom?”

“I’m meeting Thunderbird Two.”

“Why?” Was Virgil hurt? Why hadn’t John told him?

A hand on his arm quelled the sudden panic. “Virgil is fine. We have visitors.”

“Who?” Did he have to draw the information out bit by bit?

“Do you remember Alexander Sweetapple?”

“Of course, I do. Gordon thinks Virgil might be…interested.”

“He is.” She held up a finger so close to Jeff’s face, his eyes crossed. “And you are not going to say a thing. Yes, he’s breaking protocol, but he has good reason.” She looked away and let her finger drop. “The poor boy has been terrified all day. Thank god, they finally found Alex. And I don’t blame him for not wanting to let him out of his sight.” His mother stared up at Jeff with all the fire he knew she possessed. “Your son is bringing home his first romantic interest ever and you are not going to spout security blather all over him. This is our house and we can have guests. Especially important guests.”

Jeff took a step back. “I wasn’t going to say anything!” Virgil was bringing home Alex? As a love interest? “What the hell happened?” He really needed to speak to John about keeping him updated. He knew his orbiting son was selective, but this was ridiculous.

The elevator doors opened and his mother glared at him. “Something good. Don’t ruin it.” She stomped off into Two’s hangar, detouring into the medical supply cupboard on the way, just as the hangar doors started their opening sequence.

Jeff stepped cautiously out of the elevator. He had no idea what warranted his mother’s ire. Okay, maybe he had had some words with his eldest at one point, but that was nearly a decade ago.

His priorities were a little different these days.

Two roared in, a little faster than the norm. Virgil was obviously in a hurry. She spun on her turntable and the moment she settled, her forward hatch was lowered, Virgil standing between two hoverchairs.

Jeff hurried after his mother, cursing his cane, as Virgil strode with the two chairs towards them.

“Grandma, this is Doctor Lolly Sweetapple. Doctor Sweetapple, this is my grandmother, Doctor Sally Tracy, she and my father will be taking over your care.”

The two doctors exchanged greetings and slipped into medical babble two seconds later.

“Dad?” Virgil gestured him over. “You remember Alex?” Why was there so much hesitation in his son’s voice?

“Certainly, the creator of Siliwrap.” The man was obviously asleep. “How is he?”

“Concussion, bruising, he and his mother need monitoring for possible lung infection. They were caught in contaminated water.” His son swallowed; his expression hesitant. “I wanted them here, Dad. Grandma has the skills and the tools.” He looked away. “I just couldn’t leave them to the system.” His eyes fell on Alex and Jeff’s heart clenched.

“We will look after them.” He dropped a consoling hand to his son’s shoulder.

Vulnerable eyes looked up at him. “Thanks, Dad.” His hand was squeezed and Virgil was again moving. This time running back to his ‘bird.

His mother immediately took over and bustled them all into the elevator before they could acquire new coiffures a’la rocket engine.

As the doors closed, Thunderbird Two accelerated out on to her runway and the elevator shaft roared as she took to the sky.

-o-o-o-

Alex rolled over in bed and sighed into his pillow. He was extremely comfortable. Temperature was perfect. Pillow was soft. “Mmmmm….”

“About time you woke up, Allie. You were starting to worry me.” His mother’s voice was always reassuring.

“He’s fine, Lolly. Concussion is healing and there is no sign of any lung infection. See, look at the scans.”

Alex frowned. That was a female voice he didn’t recognise. Also, why was his mum in his bedroom?

“You’re giving me equipment envy, Sally. My god, the science behind this is amazing.”

“Virgil has them in development, don’t you worry. A good percentage of our breakthroughs do get filtered down into the market. Unfortunately, there is a difference between the ability to make a device for International Rescue and making devices in efficient, ecological and economic mass production. Our teams do their best.” A snort. “And your boy is part of that team. His devotion to Siliwrap is all to his credit. Alex is saving lives as much, if not more, as any at Tracy industries. You should be proud.”

“Oh, that’s a given. He’s always been a little obsessive, especially regarding the Thunderbirds.”

Wha-?

Alex flung his eyes open to find his mother lying on a bed beside him, smiling. She had her ankle wrapped and raised and was obviously talking to the owner of the other voice, an older lady dressed in a purple jumpsuit.

Both were smiling at him.

“Where am I?”

Yes, that’s the first question out of any alien abductee’s mouth, no doubt about it.

“You’re on Tracy Island, Alex. You and your mother are safe and our guests.” When Alex didn’t respond as his brain automatically overloaded. “I’m Mrs Tracy, Virgil’s grandmother.”

“Watch it, Sally, he may combust on the spot.”

Thanks, mum.

His mother was grinning at him. “I swear he’s been looking for the location of this island since he discovered his first Thunderbird.”

“Mum!”

“Shhh! You’ll wake him up.” His mum was pointing behind him.

“Lolly, don’t worry, Virgil sleeps like the dead. Especially after a rescue like that.”

Virgil? What?

He twisted around and found a third bed behind him. Virgil lay sprawled face down on it, snoring softly into his pillow.

“Don’t worry, honey. He’s just tired. Our boys exhaust themselves and then wonder why their bodies shut down.”

It was only then all the events leading up to his current situation fully loaded into his brain.

Virgil.

Virgil had kissed him. His chocolate eyes held such relief and joy…

The scene played back in his head over and over, declaring that it had happened. That something Alex may have dreamed about but never really considered actually possible, had happened.

He stared at Virgil.

Gone was the uniform and in its place a simple black t-shirt outlining a lax bicep hanging off the edge of the bed. Alex’s eyes tracked down the length of Virgil’s arm to his hand.

Such strong hands.

The emergency responder had a blanket draped over him, obviously placed there after the advent of slumber, likely by his purple grandmother.

“Why is he here?”

Mrs Tracy walked around Alex’s bed so she could face him. “Now, don’t you start worrying your head off, young man. He is fine. He’s in the bed because otherwise he’d be asleep in a chair and that is not acceptable self-care. He wanted to stay here with you and it was the bed or out. Exhaustion did the rest.”

He stared at her a moment, his thoughts spinning.

“How are you feeling, Allie?”

Huh? He turned back to his mother. “Mum, your ankle…”

She waved him off. “Hon, I’ve done worse tripping over kids in the waiting room. Nothing to worry about.” She frowned at him. “How’s your head?”

How was his head? How was he in general?

There were aches, yes, now that attention had been drawn to them, but generally, considering that he’d just been through a major disaster, he felt okay. “I’m okay.”

His eyes drifted back to Virgil.

“Don’t you think of getting out of bed just so you can sit at his bedside, Alex. I know how you boys think, so don’t think you can pull one over on me.” Virgil’s grandmother was proving to be as bad as Alex’s mother.

“Don’t worry, Sally, he’s been very well trained from birth.”

“How did you manage that? I’ve been trying for nearly thirty years with the grandkids. Their father is just as bad.”

Alex’s eyes widened. Their father? Jeff Tracy. The Jeff Tracy who gave his name to Tracy Island. That Tracy Island that was ever so secret and Alex was currently resting his butt on. Well, the bed his was resting his butt on was on the Island. It was simple transference of molecular ownership.

Perhaps this was not the best moment to realise that he was wearing a black t-shirt very similar to Virgil’s and that it was not one he owned, nor was it one he was wearing the last time he was aware and conscious.

He pulled up the blanket and found black shorts. “Where are my clothes?” Perhaps the step up in octave was a little ridiculous on his part, but it had been a very stressful day.

“Your clothes were ruined, Allie. Jeff and Mrs Tracy were kind enough to supply and dress you in some replacements.” His mother was ever so matter-of-fact, as usual.

“Jeff Tracy saw me naked?!”

Okay, he had to admit, that was supposed to be inner voice and not shouted at the top of his lungs. In any case, it proved that it was possible to wake up Virgil Tracy, no matter what his grandmother said.

“Alex? What?”

He turned to find Virgil pushing himself up off the bed, hair sticking in all directions, obviously still half asleep.

“Honey, the man brought up five boys. One more is nothing new.” Mrs Tracy was as matter-of-fact as his mother.

Great. A team up.

“Virgil, go back to sleep.” Mrs Tracy bustled over to her grandson and attempted to get him to lie down.

But Virgil had caught sight of Alex. “Alex! You’re awake!”

Mrs Tracy actually rolled her eyes as Virgil threw off his covers and climbed out of bed. He closed the distance between them on bare feet. “Hey, how are you feeling?”

Alex couldn’t help it. “You look adorable.” Because he did. Big tough rescue operative with puffy eyes and hair sticking up all over the place, not to mention the black t-shirt and shorts that hid absolutely zero anatomical detail. And above all, he was smiling, as if ever so happy to see Alex…which was some kind of miracle and honestly how hard had he hit is head?

“You’re not bad yourself.” That smile turned to one of appreciation.

What?

His mother did mention a concussion…

“Okay, it’s obvious Virgil is not going to listen to his doctor’s advice, so Lolly and I will leave you two boys alone.” Mrs Tracy poked at his mum’s bed and it detached from the wall, hovering quite happily and easily nudged out of the room.

“Allie, take it easy, love. You are recovering from a concussion, after all.”

Yeah, yeah, mum, whatever. Virgil’s eyes were such a beautiful shade of brown.

Both women muttered to each other as they left the room, closing the door behind them.

Virgil was poking Alex’s bed controls with his fingers. “Good. You’ve rested.” His eyes were tracking over medical readouts. Alex’s medical readouts.

“I’m okay, Virgil.”

The man looked up at him again. “Good.”

Alex frowned as Virgil lifted a hand up and gently brushed Alex’s hair clear of his left temple and the abrasion there. “Grandma’s treated you well.”

Alex wanted to fall into that gentle touch. His eyes may have at least partially closed.

“Are we okay?”

Alex’s eyes snapped open.

“I mean…” Those eyes looked down and away. No, come back! “…we haven’t talked about-“

Alex was suddenly kissing Virgil. There had been space between them, but now it was gone, Alex had his arms around those truly magnificent biceps, and startled lips were pressed up against his, ever so warm, and god, Virgil was kissing him back…

There was a brain whiteout for a moment as Virgil’s arms returned Alex’s eager embrace…and then Virgil’s tongue was in his mouth and…

“Whoa! My bad.”

Alex pulled back.

“No! No, you two just keep doin’ what you were doin’ and I’ll just put this coffee down and-“

“Gordon, what do you want?” Virgil hadn’t let go of Alex, but his head did turn towards his brother.

Alex was busy dying on the spot. Why did he do that? Kiss Virgil? Him?

“I brought you coffee! You know, life blood and all that.” Coffee? “Uh, you might want to get back to that tonsil hockey you were playing. Alex looks like he’s might dump you for the coffee.”

“Go away, Gordon.”

“Going away, leaving, like a tree. Happy for both of you. ‘Bout time, Virg.”

“Gordon!”

“I’m gone!” And he was, the door sliding shut behind him.

Virgil turned back to Alex. “Sorry about that.” A slight shrug. “I have brothers.”

Alex blinked. “I have sisters.”

Virgil’s smile was a sight to behold. “So, we’re okay?”

Alex had had a very hard day, his head was a bit of a mess and there were several truths he was ignoring to keep his sanity. But right now?

He tugged Virgil closer. “More than okay.”

“You want some coffee?”

But Virgil’s lips were brushing his and… “No, I’m good.”

The coffee went cold.

-o-o-o-

FIN

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #virgil tracy #alexander sweetapple #jeff tracy #gordon tracy #grandma tracy #sally tracy #nuttyfic #it's finished!#romance #virgil tracy/alexander sweetapple

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