#thunderangst
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Resurface 2 - React
Smashed out some more words on the old commute. Am writing poor Virgil’s story from both ends now - this sits somewhere in the future where it all comes back to bite him (and happens immediately after this scene).
Train fic means unedited for now so please forgive heinous errors. Also it was a toss up between “solar flare” and “rare earth minerals” (thanks @gumnut-logic) for what is hampering Five and EOS for tension purposes - had to hamper them somehow else they are a bit OP. Also one of the other Thunderbirds has Magic so… *fudges everything*
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“HOW CAN HE HAVE DISAPPEARED? WE LIVE ON AN ISLAND!!”
“I’m doing my best, Scott, but the solar flare is overwhelming some of Five’s sensors… there are only so many overrides EOS and I can…”
“Sorry. Yes. I’m sorry, John, it’s just…”
“I know.” The precise set of John’s jaw revealed his tension but otherwise he was projecting calm, sympathetic professionalism.
Scott looked around at the various shades of brave face the remainder of his family were wearing. Allie looked sick as a dog but stood tall and his shoulders were squared. Gordon was muttering aggressively and glaring at the island infographic as if it was deliberately withholding information. Brains was whispering to MAX and recalibrating scans at the speed of desperation. Kayo’s expression had set into neutral with the slightest tension in her frame which he recognised as her readiness to spring to their defence against… whatever was happening.
What WAS happening? It had been so fast and Scott had been so absorbed in his own thoughts he didn’t have any answer for what happened in the seconds between Virgil cheerily entering the room bearing coffee and him bolting like a startled hare.
“And he’s not been hiding an illness? His vitals were…”
“Entirely within normal range until 14 minutes ago when there was a sharp spike in heart rate and blood pressure for 6 minutes then he…”
“Disappeared.”
“Became invisible to Five’s scans, yes.”
“Maybe he took one of the boats?” Gordon ventured.
“Negative, EOS has scanned the dry dock, they are all still down there.”
“And no unexplained life signs?” Scott knew they’d covered this but he just couldn’t accept the answer.
John sighed but answered patiently “No, Scott that was the first thing we checked.”
Scott paced and tried to drag his mind out of the spiral of imagining the various scenarios in which his brother could be somewhere a life sign wasn’t. He needed to compartmentalise. This was just another search and rescue mission.
Rescue. Not recovery. Please not recovery.
“Ok. Manual search it is. Brains, you and Max use the drones to access the caldera and the more remote parts of the western slopes. Kayo, Gordon take Thunderbird Four on a clockwise sweep to check the beaches. Alan, you and I will…”
“JOHN!” EOS‘s voice was shrill and Scott’s heart froze.
“Thunderbird Shadow has commenced her launch sequence!”
Kayo’s eyes widened in shock.
“SHADOW? What? Why?”
Everyone looked blank.
“Is Virgil in there? Can you reach him?”
“Sorry Scott, she’s already cloaked and there’s no reply on comms.”
“Stop the launch then!”
“I can’t, we’re locked out.”
“I can.” Kayo, pulled up her remote access and wrestled with the controls for a few seconds before breathing a sigh of relief. “Ok, she’s not going anywhere. Um…”
Scott was already heading for the elevator to the hangars when his sister’s uncharacteristic uncertainty arrested him. He looked back. She swallowed.
“We may have a slight problem.”
“What? What is it Kayo??” Scott knew he was raising his voice but it was that or burst into frustrated tears which was… not an option.
EOS answered first.
“Thunderbird Shadow halted her sequence on the outside of the cliff face.”
Virgil was suspended over a death drop.
“Can we lock him inside?” Gordon had clearly reached the same horrified conclusion as his eldest brother had. Kayo shook her head.
Brains stepped forward “Unf-fortunately n-not as currently configured. The p-pilot’s ability to exit is always p-prioritised over remote a-access in c-case of… c-compromise.”
“I get it. Not your fault Brains. EOS?”
“I’m working on it Scott.”
“Good, in the meantime I’ll grab a couple of jet packs.” Scott headed for the hangar again.
“SCOTT! Wait!” John had dropped the professionalism which arrested Scott’s momentum faster than a brick wall.
“What now John??”
“Let the others go. You have to change.”
“WHAT?!”
“He can’t see you wearing… that.”
Scott looked down at the dress uniform he had forgotten he was wearing and ice crept down his spine. This… was the problem? He suddenly realised John knew something that he didn’t and cursed himself for not finding out what it was already. But now wasn’t the time.
“Right. You three, take jetpacks and get up there but don’t let him get out before I’m with you. I’ll be there asap.”
“FAB.”
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continued…
#thunderbirds are go#thunderbirds#thunderbirds fanfiction#idontknowreallywhy fanfic#scott tracy#virgil tracy#gordon tracy#john tracy#kayo kyrano#thunderangst#earth and sky#Resurface fic
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Five times Alan discovered a secret and one time he kept one (Part Three)
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3
This one was a bit of a challenge. It fought me (that and work had worn me out by Friday, so I had to delay writing until today).
Thank you again to the amazing @onereyofstarlight for reading through and her amazing support ::hugs tight::
And Thunderfam, I know I haven't replied to anyone yet (I figure you probably want me writing more fic instead with what time I have :D ) but I have to say you've all knocked my socks off with your kindness with this one. You are a bunch of wonderful people. The Tracys would be proud.
Warnings for all the angst and hurting Tracy boys. This one hurt to write.
I hope you enjoy.
-o-o-o-
Everything was numb.
The room was dim and grey. White sheets, blue curtains, and the beep of medical monitors.
Two of his brothers sat around the bed with him, the third lying pale, wan and silent.
It was all in such contrast to his bright and energetic fish brother. He should be sitting there smirking, telling a truly awful joke.
Lying there so still…
Alan felt the well of grief deep in his belly, threatening to reach up and overwhelm him again.
He shut it down. He couldn’t afford to feel anything right now.
He’d already had his hysterics. There were no tears left. His heart was parched and dry, quietly waiting for the rain.
For the good or the bad.
Scott sat beside the bed almost as still as Gordon. His eyes were fixed on their brother, both hands wrapped around limp fingers, holding on as if to prevent Gordon from leaving.
Again, the thought caught his throat.
He must have made a sound, as Virgil looked at him with red-rimmed eyes.
Alan looked away, back towards Gordon’s sheet-draped body.
“Allie, you want to get something to eat?”
Virgil’s soft words disturbed the silence, shifting Alan’s heartbeat.
He shook his head.
Scott looked up and the pain etched into his face cut Alan’s heart to pieces.
He swallowed hard.
Virgil’s attention switched to Scott, but he said nothing further.
“Allie?” Scott’s voice cracked.
Alan moved without any thought other than hurt. He stumbled around the bed and fell into his big brother’s arms.
Strong arms. They wrapped around him and hid him from the reality in the room.
The reality that Gordon might never wake up.
And if he did, he might not be the Gordon he knew.
Scott drew in a harsh breath in Alan’s ear and the sound that escaped between his brother’s teeth was pain itself.
Alan thought he couldn’t cry anymore, but apparently he could.
He squeezed his eyes shut and refused to let out a sound, clinging to his big brother who was trembling almost as much as he.
He clung for a moment before stronger arms were gently wrapping around the both of them. Virgil was saying something, a soft, whispering rumble Alan didn’t have the energy to understand.
Time passed. He had no clue how much, but when he finally pulled away, nothing had changed. Gordon was still lying there; Virgil’s eyes were even more red-rimmed, and Scott’s expression still hurt.
“Sorry.” Alan’s voice was scratchy and harsh.
Neither brother answered him. Virgil gently rubbed his back and Scott’s hand wrapped around his arm.
Scott’s other hand had crept back to Gordon’s fingers and was again clinging to them.
Alan took a step back and cleared his throat. “I think I’ll go and find Grandma.”
Virgil’s hand stopped it’s circular motion but didn’t leave his back. “Allie-“
He stepped away a little more, his eyes drifting to Gordon, ever so grey and still.
“I’ll be back. I just need…I’ll be back.” He turned away from all of his brothers, dislodging both their hands and darted around the bed to the door.
“Allie-“ Scott calling his name hurt, but he pushed through the door and out into the hospital corridor, striding, then running down the hall.
The nurses on duty frowned at him in concern but he ignored them and ended up at the elevators where a small group of people were waiting.
They all looked at him with as much concern as the nurses.
A sign for the stairs and he pushed through into an empty concrete stairwell, the heavy fire door closing softly behind him and shutting out the world.
He stumbled down steps until everything was quiet and he could let himself fall back against a wall and breathe.
He didn’t want to think. Thinking meant hurting and since that call from Aunt Val, that had interrupted Virgil helping him with his schoolwork oh so long ago, the world had been spinning too fast.
Gordon, his amazing fish of a brother had been in an accident. A hydrofoil going faster than it had any right to, an explosion, death, and the remains of his sunshine brother jigsawed together on that bed.
He squeezed his eyes shut. Really? How did he have any tears left?
His throat ached, his head pounded.
The concrete at his back was cold, seeping through his t-shirt.
Just breathe.
It was John’s voice. His space brother teaching him how to control himself. Panic was not recommended in space.
The stairwell swam a little through the moisture in his eyes.
Panic and emotion are dangerous in space. The first step to controlling any situation is controlling yourself.
He could see his brother floating in front of him on Five.
Scott had been ever so proud of Alan that first trip up to their orbiting Thunderbird. He wasn’t allowed up there for long. Long term effects on growing bones and bodies in space had far too many unknowns. Grandma and Virgil had wired him up like a turkey ready for roasting, drawing as much data as possible as to how his body functioned in space. There was no way his family was going to risk him.
At thirteen he was still nodding at most of what his family told him, but there were frustrations. He wanted to be out there like John. John got to do amazing things while Alan was stuck at home doing schoolwork and could only watch.
But Scott had finally said yes to starting his training and that had led to finally being allowed up onto Five to learn with his brother.
It was amazing.
And frustrating even more because it was all moving so slowly.
Control meant safety.
John’s voice, ever so calm, bounced around his head.
Control.
He closed his eyes and drew in a breath. Let it out, let it take his tension with it.
Draw in another clean breath.
Let it all out.
Another.
Slow your heart rate.
John’s voice was melodic, almost hypnotising.
Calm.
Apparently this would all come naturally…eventually. For the moment he was still learning, but he was determined to get into space and make his family proud.
Scott smiled at him, blue eyes glistening.
Alan let out another breath and…
A door banged open somewhere above, and he jumped.
“I don’t appreciate your tone, Mr Tracy.” Aunt Val’s voice was sharp and commanding.
“And I don’t appreciate the GDF’s lack of assistance in this matter.” John’s voice reeked of sarcastic formality. “It is clear there are suspicious circumstances. Why aren’t you investigating?”
“As I stated earlier, we do not have jurisdiction.”
“Bullshit!”
Alan flinched. John rarely swore. In English, anyway. That was usually a thing for his military brothers.
“Are you going to sit and watch this one out just like you did with the Zero X?
Alan froze.
“John, I-“
“No, there are no excuses, Colonel. This is about family. How many more Tracys have to die before the GDF actually does their job? No wonder my father felt the need to spend billions to save lives. Someone has to.”
“Mr Tracy.” Her voice was like ice. “I understand the stress you are under, so I will excuse your remarks. However…” Her tone softened. “John, I will do my best. I promise.”
“Since when has that ever been enough?”
There was silence after that, followed by a door opening and closing.
Alan forced himself to start breathing again.
A scuffle of shoes on concrete proved that only one person had left the stairwell. The remaining soul suddenly let out a sob.
Moving ever so quietly, Alan crossed the stairwell and peered up the stairs.
His star brother had his back to the concrete wall just inside the fire door. His head was in his hands as he let himself slide down the wall until his butt hit the floor.
The sound of crying echoed down the steps.
John never cried.
Out of all of them, he was the calm one. Likely because of his job in space and that control and all. That and if he did, he did it in space where no one could see or hear him.
So seeing him crumpled on the floor sobbing into his hands…
Alan put his foot on the first step to climb up…
The fire door flew open with a bang.
Alan scuttled backwards into the shadows.
“Oh, John, honey.” Grandma hurried over and wrapped his brother in her arms. She drew his head to her shoulder.
Alan’s eyes widened as John clung to their grandmother, so far from the calm man Alan knew.
“I should’ve seen it.” The words were rasped out.
“You can’t see everything, honey. You’re not a god.”
“But I should-”
“You were busy with Scott in Japan. You were doing your job.”
“Just like I did with Dad.”
“John!”
But nothing more was said for some time and Alan grew more worried by the moment. His family was falling apart.
John was a huddled mess in the corner of a hospital stairwell, the concrete as grey as Gordon’s room.
Alan’s chest tightened again.
“John, Alan, get back here now!” Virgil’s voice was harsh over comms.
Alan didn’t think, he just moved. John and Grandma made it through the stairwell door while Alan was only halfway up the steps. He cursed himself for leaving in the first place.
The corridor was an ignored blur and he threw himself through it at a run. He skidded into Gordon’s room, past a jagged hole in the door itself that hadn’t been there when he’d left.
His family was crowded around Gordon, his fish brother’s eyes open and staring at Scott.
Voice whisper quiet. “Keep th-the noise down. Tryna sleep.”
Gordon’s eyes closed and his face relaxed.
Alan bit the inside of his cheek and looked up at Scott.
Exhausted blue eyes shone with hope.
-o-o-o-
Part 4
#thunderbirds are go#thunderbirds#thunderbirds fanfiction#alan tracy#john tracy#scott tracy#virgil tracy#gordon tracy#sally tracy#grandma tracy#val casey#nuttyfic#thunderangst#all the warnings#this one hurt
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Whumpy/Angsty WIP
Trigger warning for blood, angst, shock, whump.
OCs: Tamara Fielding, Jonesy and Mac who work with Captain Cass McCready as firefighters.
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As far as Virgil could tell, only two figures had stood in the direct path of the falling glass; Alan, and the firefighter who had pushed him to safety.
Alan was clearly unharmed; already scrambling to his feet, ready to assess the situation. He may be the youngest Tracy, but he was International Rescue material through-and-through.
The firefighter who had dived to save Alan, however, was still curled in the same position on the floor. Her fire jacket, and the settling dust, making it nearly-impossible to tell whether Alan's Good Samaritan was even breathing.
Please be alive, please be alive…
Maybe, by some sheer miracle, she had dodged the shards unscathed?
Maybe, she was simply lying and waiting for the immediate danger to pass?
Another second, and her ragged breathing became apparent.
Shit.
At least she was alive. He could work with alive.
"TAM!" Jonesy dashed towards his prone friend.
"Wait!" Virgil made a quick scan of his immediate surroundings.
Of course, the fire helmets were properly stored, and not immediately reachable in the decimated foyer. He'd have to improvise.
There was an upturned coffee table. That could work.
"Okay, with me" he gestured, using the table for cover from further debris.
Alan had followed suit, sheltering under the canopy of a firefighter's jacket.
Admittedly, the risk of further falling glass was relatively low - a large portion of the roof above them was now sky, but the wind outside had picked up, toppling the odd piece of loose rubble with a flurry of silt.
Virgil knelt whilst simultaneously removing his plaid shirt.
The casualty's fingers were hovering, quivering above a ragged piece of glass protruding from her abdomen.
"Tam, was it?"
"T-Tam-mmm-m," she nodded as she shivered.
"Short for Tamara." Jonesy offered.
"Tam, I'm Virgil. I'm going to need you to lie nice and still for me."
"O-k-kay…”
The firefighter gave a small laugh as a few rogue tears ran from the corners of her eyes.
“I'm o-kay. M'okay. M’kay. This is ..fineee!" Tam grinned against the tears, as though merely rejecting the situation would suffice
Virgil bunched his shirt and gently guided the woman's quivering fingers away from the wound.
What he'd give for his baldric right now.
"Tam, I know it's hard, but I'd like you to focus on your breathing for me...nice n' steady. Try to control the shivering if you can. We want this wound nice n' still."
"D... don't know...w-why... I'm...sh-shivering so m-much. Doesn't hurt that much...if-f-f I s-stay s-still."
Jonesy was staring at him. A silent conversation passing between the first responders.
Confident the risk of further glass falling was negligible; Jonesy set the desk down to shield Tam's eyes from dust. Sliding himself under the table, he reached for his friend.
"Hold my hands."
"M-M'okay" Tam's protest was feeble, and somewhat pointless, given that she conceded with a simple look.
"I'm sorry Tam, but this will likely hurt." Virgil apologised as he covered the wound (barring the glass) with his shirt.
"Alan, I need you to keep the pressure on this for me, while I set up an IV."
Fielding's sharp wail flooded the room, before fading to a choked whimper as the pain swallowed her voice.
"Ambulance should be with us in five." Mac called.
Five minutes? She'd bleed out in that time.
"Great, thanks," he mustered with as much positivity as his voice could muster.
Virgil rummaged through the medical rucksack for supplies. There must be something...anything, that could buy them some time. First thing’s first; IV.
He turned back to Alan, who was staring at the darkening shirt, his arms slack.
"Like this." Virgil manually guided Alan's hands back down to put pressure back on the wound. His brother's hands were surprisingly cold and clammy.
He's going into shock.
Virgil willed the thought away. Alan was a professional, he'd seen numerous rescues - some arguably worse than this. And right now, he could use all the help he could get.
Professionals aren't immune to trauma, though. She saved his life, possibly at the expense of her own. You need to watch him.
As soon as Virgil removed his hands from Alan's, the necessary pressure was gone again. Jonesy was quick to fill in for Alan, though his face wore a similar shade of grey.
Alan slowly stood, staring at the blood still slick on his palms. He continued to stare as he silently stumbled away in no particular direction.
Virgil tapped at his watch and dialed his emergency code.
Within moments, John's voice washed over him like a tonic.
"Virgil, you've activated your emergency beacon."
"Multi-casualty situation. Building’s unstable. Alan's in shock. Require urgent assistance."
"FAB, we're on our way."
"Your status, Thunderbird Two?"
"Uninjured."
"S-s-lot of-blood. M' S-scared." Tam continued to shiver.
"Hey, hey Tam. Look at me. Look at me."
Wide eyes fixed on his.
"Do you trust me?"
Tam gave a hesitant half-nod.
"You just saved my youngest brother. Do you think there's even a chance I'd let anything happen to you?"
The prone firefighter managed a weak smile.
"I mean, a feat like that's gotta be worth...oooh...at least two drinks at a London bar."
"Two whole drinks, huh?" Her voice was breathy.
"Have you seen London prices? Last time Scottie and myself were here, they charged him £35 for a small measure of whisky! £35! Even I needed a drink after that."
Tam's smile grew a fraction before her eyes suddenly rolled back, and her head lolled to the side.
"Tam? Tam?”
#thunderbirds are go#thunderfam#thunderwhump#thunderangst#virgil tracy#thunderbirds fanfiction#alan tracy
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Vent snippet fic because I've been struggling a bit lately.
Some sibling angst/hurt comfort between Gordon and Squirt. I mainly just post the fluffy parts of their relationship but like all siblings it's not perfect. Gordon has a crush and has been spending less and less time with his little buddy. Squirt's bottled up fears reach a breaking point and hard core angst ensues. No one in this situation is supposed to be right or wrong, it's all just raw feelings and a lack of communication between friends/siblings.
(Tw for mental illness and past trauma, it's not mentioned directly but it's heavily implied.)
𖦹*⊹.𖦹*⊹.𖦹*⊹.𖦹*⊹.𖦹
"It's not fair!!" They snapped. "You don't have time to hang out but you have plenty of time to go to events with her??"
Gordon couldn't speak, he had never seen this kind of explosive reaction from Squirt, it wasn't like them. He swallowed, stepping over and placing a hand on their shoulder as if to steady them.
"Bub, it's not like that and you know it's not..."
He thought he saw tears start to brim in those eyes but Squirt wiped them away quickly. Not daring to look at him through fear of breaking, he promised he'd be there, he'd promised that they'd never have to be alone again and yet they were certain that it wouldn't be long before he would leave. Just like everyone else.
Squirt's head was spinning, thoughts spiralling. It was happening, they knew it was happening. Their best friend was going to abandon them, he'd found a new path in life and didn't need them anymore. Everything felt heavy like being dragged into the depths of the ocean, they were drowning, they felt sick, struggling to catch their breath. Fat heavy tears were spilling over now in an uncontrollable stream.
He was abandoning them.
Gordon reached for their other shoulder and turned to face them directly, prompting them gently. "Squirt, what is this about?"
The dam crumbled and out came the flood.
"You love her!! You're going to abandon me because you love her!!" They blurted out through sobs. "Now that she's actually paying attention to you, you don't want to spend time with me anymore!! Why is she so important?? Why does she always have to come first?? I want my brother back, isn't that just as important as some dumb red carpet date??"
Gordon was floored, all he could do was stand there watching his sibling collapse in his arms sobbing. His mind was racing, there was so much he wanted to say, their overreaction was huge but he couldn't be mad at them.
Gordon wrapped his little sib in a tight hug, hopefully reassuring them in a way that words couldn't right now.
Something was wrong and he was going to get to the bottom of it.
𖦹*⊹.𖦹*⊹.𖦹*⊹.𖦹*⊹.𖦹
Edit: Turns out I'm now suddenly super embarrassed after having posted this. I may private or delete it later, idk I'm really on the fence about how I feel about this. (;^^)
#thunderbirds are go#thunderbirds#thunderfam#thunderbirds fanfiction#thunderangst#gordon tracy#thunderbirds oc#sea-squirt tracy#gordon's date is implied to be lady p but i left it vague because i have no real shipping preferences
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Angsty vent art.
I've been dealing with newly found trauma recently and it's been really difficult. Gords has always good at helping me get through this kinda stuff.
#thunderbirds are go#thunderbirds#thunderbirds fanart#thunderfam#vent art#gordon tracy#comfort character#thunderangst#cw trauma mention#kidthunder's art#sfw interaction only
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Fic: Watercolors (FishTank Week)
Summary: When the water takes, he creates.
Characters: Virgil, Gordon (are you surprised?)
Words: 1,840
Warnings: Past loss on a rescue. Nothing shown, just the feelings.
Special thanks to @the-original-sineater for the read through and excellent advice as always.
A/N: When we hit FishTank week, I knew I wanted to do a spin on the crafty of the bunch, so I’ve been wanting to write this for awhile. Life. It gets away from you. But this is my very late take on “Arts and Sciences” day, plus Math!Scott makes an appearance for ya. :D
And since the timing aligns, this is also for @gumnut-logic, @knyee, and @astranite, as y'all have definitely been inspiring me lately with such lovely pieces to get me off my butt. I hope you don't mind the overlap, but I feel like this pairs well with gumnut’s take on Virgil painting on the floor here, inspired by knyee’s artwork here. And astranite’s lovely watercolors of Two and Four have been such lovely reminders of this idea that's been stirring at my brain. If any of you haven't yet, go give them some love first. This is for you, and for all of the crafty fam. You all are so incredibly talented, and I don’t know how I got so lucky finding a place in this fandom.
Read on Ao3 [this is my 50th work on the archive!!]
*****
Watercolors
Virgil awoke well-rested, but with the sudden memory that they’d lost people yesterday. It had been a comfort in his dreamless, beyond-exhaustion sleep to exist where that hadn’t happened, but while awake it was all too recent to forget. The itch on his scalp scolded him for crashing before removing what remained of the gel out of his hair, but at least he’d managed to change into something resembling sleepwear the night before.
Physically refreshed but weary, Virgil took an additional twenty minutes to wash up and change, the steam from the shower lifting the world from his shoulders just that little bit – enough for his heart to accept that it was a new day. And it would be what he made of it.
He rolled his dirty clothes into his sheets and tore them from the mattress, placing them in a laundry basket he kept outside his bathroom. It was better to have them somewhere organized, just in case the machines down the hallway were already in use by someone else in the family. Luckily, they were not, and it wasn’t until he started his pile on the wash cycle that he realized he could hear the steady pitter-patter of rain on the less sound-proofed walls of the utility room.
His stomach dropped, realizing his co-pilot was cooped up without his usual outlets on a day like today. Though he wouldn’t put it past Gordon to still find solace outside in the rain if he was that determined to be among the water. Hopefully nowhere near the storm-raged sea; Gordon knew better. Four hadn’t been fast enough yesterday, and Gordon, for all his outward carefree nature, would be feeling the loss just as much as him. It was one thing to say they couldn’t save everyone; it was another thing all together when their ships weren’t fast enough. Or they weren’t enough.
Even John had thought they could make it.
Mother Nature – she provides, and she takes.
A quick check in with Scott over comms revealed he and Alan were actually already attending to their brother in the satellite station above Earth. John had wanted Scott to check on the probability calculations of yesterday’s program, not trusting his own analysis being so close to the problem. At Eos’ absolute offense, Scott was there to provide another set of eyes, he admitted to Virgil. Smart move bringing along Alan, Virgil thought. Not just because of Three, but because Alan was best at giving John a distraction, via one of their online games or “space talk” or both.
“What have you found?” Virgil asked curiously.
Scott grimaced, admitting he didn’t think he’d find anything wrong with the program. These things just happen. And, unfortunately, Virgil had to agree – he had the upmost faith in Scott’s math, John’s programs, and Eos’ quick computing.
“Hey, check in on the Squid when you can?” his brother asked, frowning at the numbers through a tirade from the AI. “I couldn’t find him earlier.”
His thoughts exactly.
He signed off with an FAB and sent a prayer off to the stars for his brother’s continued patience. For John’s sake. Despite the circumstances, it made him smile knowing Eos and Scott had gotten at least comfortable enough to argue math. John and Eos both were in good hands.
Gordon was in his.
Surprisingly, it didn’t take Virgil long to find him, and he hadn’t needed to start scouting the Island in the rain to do so. Gordon was safe inside, sitting at the kitchen table when Virgil entered to prepare his morning cup of coffee. The aquanaut was hunched over something – Virgil couldn’t quite see what since he had his back to him, but he recognized the poor posture of when Gordon was hyper-focused on whatever was in his hands.
He slid up to him and placed his hand gently on the curl of his spine between his shoulder blades. “Straighten up before you hurt yourself.” Virgil was guilty of it too at times, but with Gordon’s bad back, he obviously needed the reminder this time. Obediently, Gordon pressed his shoulders down and stretched his neck from side to side where he’d accidentally formed stress in his muscles.
“Oh, ow. I forgot,” he grinned sheepishly up at Virgil, who used the opportunity to glance down at the table for just what had taken Gordon’s attention so completely to forget the key guidelines for the health of his spine. He was usually so attentive to that.
Virgil raised his eyebrow at the familiar array of art supplies in chaos across the kitchen table – a paint palette or two, his watercolors, the cup he used for his paint water complete with a selection of brushes tucked inside.
“I’ll replace everything.” Gordon at least had the good sense not to mess with his top shelf brushes, and expensive paints. So that’s where he’d been then while Scott was looking for him: in his studio. Automatically he bristled at the realization Gordon had been through his stuff without his permission, and it showed on his face despite him trying to reel in the immediate annoyance. Gordon noticed, adding, “I didn’t want to wake you. I think I found the more basic stuff, didn’t I?”
“Yeah,” Virgil grumbled, even though he didn’t often use his watercolors.
“Then go get some coffee so you’ll be less mad at me. Pot’s already made.”
Irritatingly, Gordon was right, and the aroma of fresh brewed coffee relaxed him while the caffeine surged through his system with a warm awareness. Feeling more himself, if not a bit more inspired by the rhythm of the rain against the closed glass despite the lack of sun, he sat across from him and grabbed one of the fresh postcard-sized, art-grade papers from the pile.
On one of Virgil’s palette trays, Gordon had mixed yellow and vermillion, forming a warmer shade of golden light for the shadows, and for the first time, Virgil inspected the artwork of Gordon’s piece, the confident movements of the brushstrokes, and the well-portioned ratio of water to paints. It was no work of a beginner.
“Wait, you’ve done this before!”
Gordon flicked his eyes upward to meet his gaze, “It’s been awhile. Nowhere near like you. This is all the product of tutorials.”
“Still - Wow, since when?” He had no idea Gordon had tried anything similar to his own passions for art.
“There’s nothing to do in a bathyscaphe, but what there’s a lot of is water.” Gordon’s gaze darkened for just a moment, the brushed poised over the paper. “Water is life.” He shrugged, quickly rotating his shoulders back into a better position on his own before Virgil could mention it. “Art worked for you, so I figured why not.”
That gave him pause, imagining that it must’ve gotten old quickly - the appeal of living in a bathyscaphe for an extended period of time, that is. How many little habits and hobbies had Gordon tried on his own? It seemed quite a lonely assignment to Virgil, but Gordon had been so excited to go. After, Gordon had raved about all he’d had the chance to research, the impact he’d been able to make on marine farming, and the possibilities for solving world hunger, though he’d also been equally excited about being back upon his return. As fulfilled as Gordon was during that time, Virgil remembered the first time Gordon had had the chance to skip through the rain after his deployment down below and what was probably the worst burn of Gordon’s life when the sun came out after.
Through his own tight embrace of his little brother’s return, perhaps he’d missed just how hard Gordon had returned the hug, blinded by the initial excited science babble.
“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” Virgil knew the others sometimes dabbled in music, and it already broke him to know they often hid it away, embarrassed about their skill in comparison to Virgil’s. Though, they feared a lecture that would never come. It was unlike him to compare, and more than anything he wanted the world to know art was for everybody, in whatever capacity it inspired. For him, it was as important as air, and the main difference was that he’d given himself the time to develop his skills. He loved those brief moments where Scott would play Heart and Soul with him, and when John would grace them with his singing voice around the holiday season.
But it was Gordon that played his uke with all the confidence of a maestro. And he loved that for him. Gordon was always unapologetic about the things he enjoyed; it was a rare and special characteristic of his younger brother to be himself so fully and authentically. So, the idea that art was something he’d potentially hidden away, made him shrink in himself just slightly.
He suddenly cared a lot less about Gordon taking his supplies for this.
“Hadn’t come up,” Gordon quipped, not in the slightest affected by the swirl of thoughts in Virgil’s brain. “I just wanted to make some flowers in their memory, so I brushed off an old hobby.” He emphasized the statement with a flick of the paint brush, his eyes laughing at his own pun, despite the solemnity of what he’d just said.
When he caught Virgil’s expression, his smile faltered, and eyes widened. “What?”
Virgil shook his head, feeling light, and he swallowed his sadness. “I just can’t believe I had someone to talk art with all this time and didn’t know it.”
“Don’t get excited. I’m still not going to an art museum with you. It’s just flowers. The same ones I’ve done a thousand times at that.”
“They’re very good flowers.” He wondered where the other ones were, and if one day, Gordon would ever show them to him. If he even still had them…
“Really?” Pleased, Gordon squinted at the drying yellow petals, layered on a bed of green connected to stems that trailed down below the postcard.
Virgil nodded, finally finding his subject.
If he were among his paints without his brother here, he would want to channel every horrible thing about yesterday into his art, using the watercolors for the grey and dreary. He’s done it many times, and he would find himself there again. His art wasn’t always beautiful.
With Gordon sharing the load, as he’d done for them all so many times, Virgil found his creative self reaching for the same color of yellow. It felt just so Gordon to reach for the magnificence of what water could create to reconcile the parts that were awful. In the depths of the sea, that yellow - the first color to be swallowed by the ocean - must have been a beacon for his lonely soul, and with it Gordon's art created joy when light reserves were dim.
And so, he found himself inspired by his brother’s yellow.
Since the sky didn’t want them to have any sunlight, Virgil would make them some.
It was a new day, after all.
#Gavii Scribit#For the Love of FishTank#Virgil Tracy#Gordon Tracy#Thunderbirds are go#thunderbirds fanfiction#thunderangst#but also a whole lot of love too#artistic!Virgil
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All Hands Code Verde by @gaviiadastra
Gorgeous story which is simultaneously fluffy and an angsty tearjerker.
Beautiful characterisation of the boys, and a flashback to the aftermath of losing Mom and how that shapes their lives in the present day.
Also much Tracy Island plant lore..
#thunderbirds are go#thunderbirds fanfiction#thunderbirds#scott tracy#virgil tracy#gordon tracy#john tracy#gladys tedford#episode ref: growing pains#sally tracy#Mom Tracy#grief#plant blindness#plants#thunderfluffyangst#thunderfluff#thunderangst#gaviiadastra#fic recs
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Resurface 4 - Reel
EVERYTHING IS FINE!
Previously (in case this jumpscared you and you have no idea what’s going but I’ve clearly gone a bit feral over this today - apologies for flooding your dash!)
First scene, second scene, third scene
(And the history of this is this one)
💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚
The first thing Scott noticed was Shadow stationary and clamped firmly to her ‘roost’ on the cliff side, with two figures buzzing around the cockpit.
The second thing he noticed was Alan perched on a rocky outcrop about 40m below where Shadow clung to the cliff.
The third thing was that there were tears running down his baby brother’s face as he squinted into the sky overhead.
The fourth thing was the telltale glint in the rosy blue of early evening that meant the space elevator was on its way down.
He flew over to Alan and made a hurried enquiry as to his health. Alan dashed the wetness from his face and said he was fine. Scott didn’t believe him and said so. Alan shrugged and clamped his lips together but then his face crumpled and he blurted out:
“They said I had to leave. That Virgil wouldn’t want me to see. But I already did so what’s the point. I want to help! What use am I down here?”
“Alan, what did you see?”
Alan looked guilty. Scott looked up to where Gordon and Kayo were hovering either side of Shadow’s windshield which appeared to be partly raised.
“Alan!”
The response was barely a whisper.
“He thinks you’re flying Shadow to… to…” nothing but a strangled sound came out here but Scott knew exactly the word Alan couldn’t bring himself to say. “He says he has to go too… but there’s nobody in the pilot’s seat Scott.”
“Right.” Scott had no idea what to do with this information and hovered impotently in midair for a moment.
“I’m scared.”
Big brother instinct triggered, Scott snapped out of his panicked indecision and took change.
“I’ll look after him I promise. Please go and fetch the big blue first aid kit, Allie? The one with the… uh, the everything in it.” The word “tranquilliser” was almost as dirty and unspeakable as “Bereznik” was in the Tracy household, but at that height Scott wasn’t going to take any chances with his stronger, heavier brother.
“FAB Scott.”
He watched his little brother leave then made a beeline for Shadow, popping up beside Gordon who was pale and ever so young-looking and Kayo, unflappable Kayo who… whose face was as tear stained as Alan’s had been. Scott swallowed hard and peered through the semi-raised hatch to meet his best friend’s eyes.
“Virgil?”
“Dad!”
#thunderbirds are go#thunderbirds#thunderbirds fanfiction#scott tracy#virgil tracy#alan tracy#thunderangst#Tw: mental health#Idontknowreallywhy fanfic#Resurface fic
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John intervenes 1
This is all @flyboytracy 's fault with their magic gif making skills prompting fic ideas.
However I have to apologise in advance cos this fic comes with a tissue warning. Also, it was supposed to be Allie-focussed and it is, but big brother Scotty plays a very big part in this, and is most of the source of the need for tissues. I'm sorry, Scotty!
Many, many thanks to @katblu42 and @onereyofstarlight for the read throughs and the listening as I wibbled about the ending (I wrote more, but cut it). Also for the tissues needed.
So a heavy angst warning on this for a very upset pair of brothers.
Canon did it, not me! Honest!
-o-o-o-
It was dark and a little scary.
Alan peered out of the elevator into the hangars. The massive caves were quiet except for the distant sounds of the ocean and the wind whistling over the Island.
He wasn’t supposed to be here.
Dad said he wasn’t to enter the hangars alone as there were too many things that could hurt him. He was too little. One day, yes, but not until he was grown up.
He had, of course, been in here with an older brother or Dad. Brains had even let him in once when Scotty had been hurt, and had shown him what had happened and how he was going to stop it from happening again.
Alan suspected Virgil had asked the engineer to do it because Alan had been scared for his big brother. But the reasoning didn’t matter right at this moment.
What mattered was that he knew how to get aboard Thunderbird One.
An unseen breeze tickled his hair.
The residential elevator opened at the top of the stairs leading down to Thunderbird One’s launch bay. As Alan moved, the gaping cavern lit up automatically, lighting up all the machinery and the stairs he was creeping down.
He needed to do this.
His brothers weren’t so he would.
They spent more time arguing than anything else. Virgil in particular. At least Scotty said he wanted to go. Virgil wouldn’t let him.
The fights were loud.
And hurt.
Alan was sick of crying.
He needed to do something.
Thunderbird One glinted ever so silver and red in the overhead lights. She was massive.
And so…wow.
Alan’s heart thudded in his chest.
International Rescue was shut down. Had been ever since…it happened. His brothers had taken out their ‘birds. Many, many times.
But not anymore.
Alan’s hand seemed small on the pilot delivery system. Brains had hit it while talking a mile a minute, explaining that this was a maintenance delivery system and not the main one Scott used. Something about safety and his brother’s death-defying feats. In any case, the wide platform that assembled at the edge of the chasm below had all the guard rails an eleven-year-old could need.
Thank goodness. Brains had demonstrated how Scotty made it to his pilot chair and it looked terrifying.
Fun but terrifying.
He wasn’t as tall as Brains…yet…he had plans in that area, but he was able to reach the controls and direct the delivery platform over to the huge rocket.
A press of a button and her doors slid open.
Because this was maintenance, the pilot’s chair did not deploy and Alan was able to step off the platform and into One’s cockpit.
He stared at the chair for a moment. The quilted red silicone leather had dips where his big brother sat.
Alan adored Scott. He was his biggest brother and so cool. He’d been in the Air Force and now he flew the fastest plane on the planet and saved lives.
Well, he did until…
Alan blinked. This is where Scotty had been sitting.
A swallow and Alan climbed up. Scott wasn’t sitting here now. Hadn’t been for days.
So now Alan was going to sit here and take One and do what needed to be done.
He thumbed the switch that closed the cockpit doors.
“Alan?”
He jumped as Johnny flickered up blue in front of him.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m going out to find Daddy.” Alan straightened in the pilot’s seat and reached for the lever to activate launch.
His older brother hovered before him with wide eyes. “Alan-“
“I’m doing this, Johnny.”
“I can’t let you, Alan.” There was no appended ‘you’re not old enough’ but it was there anyway.
“You can’t stop me!” He activated the launch procedure. He could do this. He knew enough and he was old enough.
Nothing happened.
No.
“I’m sorry, Alan.”
His brother’s voice was calm and kind but it was the trigger point, nonetheless.
“Why?!”
“Allie, -“
“No one is out looking for him! Not you, not Virgil, not even Scotty!”
“Al-“
“You’re not even down here helping!”
“Alan, we are looking!”
“Not enough! We need to do more!” He kicked his feet against the base of the chair. “Let me go!”
The pilot doors suddenly slid open. Scott was standing there, pale, hair askew, in his pyjames.
The chasm loomed below.
“No! We need to keep searching! We need to find Dad!”
Scott leapt into the cockpit, the doors sliding closed immediately behind him. “Allie!”
The Scott-the-hero warred with current Scott-the-sick standing in front of him. He was no longer recognisable. Gone was the shine of confidence, laughter, the big brother he knew and loved.
What remained was a battered mess that argued and yelled.
“I’m going out to look for Daddy.”
“No, you’re not.” Scott’s voice was parched.
“Yes, I am. Why aren’t you?”
And to his horror, there was suddenly tears in Scott’s eyes. “Because he isn’t out there, Allie.”
“He is, you said he is!” He’d heard it yelled at Virgil so many times. It had to be true.
The chair made him taller than his big brother. The partition that made up the floor Scott was standing on slid down when the rocket was in flight and became the back wall of the cabin. Alan had seen it happen when Scotty took him flying.
Old Scotty.
Not new Scotty.
His brother didn’t say anything, but a tear did run down one cheek as he climbed up the chair.
“No! We have to go out!” Alan fought off his big brother, but Scott was strong and determined.
His brother scooped him out of the chair and hugged him within an inch of his life. “I’m sorry, Allie. I’m so sorry.”
“We have to find him.” It was muffled into cotton pyjamas. Anger slipped into grief. “We have to.”
“I know.” Scott was turning, the sound of the cockpit doors opening again, the dip as his brother stepped onto the maintenance platform.
Alan was still being crushed, but found himself clinging anyway.
The cool wind of the hangars dried tears he didn’t know he was crying.
Once the platform reached the other side of the chasm, both Virgil and Grandma were there with worried words, hugs and touches.
Scott didn’t quite let him go, and it was his big brother who carried him back to his rooms and sat down with him on Alan’s bed, still holding him close.
Alan leant into his brother. “We need to find him.”
“I know.”
“We need to keep looking.”
“We-“ Scott’s voice broke. He didn’t continue.
“It’s what Daddy would do.”
Scott shook in his arms, somehow hugging him even tighter. A small, strangled sound whispered through Alan’s hair.
He tried to pull away, but Scott wouldn’t let go, holding onto Alan as if his life depended on it.
It was a long moment before his big brother spoke, his voice hoarse.
“Yes, he would, Allie. He would.”
-o-o-o-
#thunderbirds are go#thunderbirds#thunderbirds fanfiction#alan tracy#scott tracy#nuttyfic#thunderangst#all the tears#sorry Scotty
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WIP Nearly-Wednesday!
💚💛 Fishtank fic! 🐟🖌️
I'm not sure how to tag this one...
❗Warnings for angst/whump/IVs. References Gordon having tried to treat his own injury to avoid hospital/smotherhens.
Only just rattled it off the top of my head so it's likely pants! 🙈
---------------
"Bag of the house white, if you please, my good sir!"
Gordon presented his preferred arm as though he were about to receive a stamp at the nightclub.
A nitrile-gloved hand turned his arm over and began searching for a vein.
"Your veins are awful. Keep collapsing," Virgil grunted, tightening the tourniquet.
"Can you blame them? I feel like an inverted hedgehog the amount of needles you vampires keep trying to stick me with!"
"There."
Virgil hooked the saline on the stand, then rummaged for some IV paracetamol.
"I'll not leave my crunch bar wrappers in Two if you swap the saline for something good..."
Virgil silently flushed the drip.
"Rum! Rum is good."
"No."
Virgil faced away, leaning the majority of his weight on the side counter and inhaled deeply.
Gordon watched his brother's back, seemingly able to read Virgil's silent thought-process through the minor tells of his breathing and body language. Virgil simmered with the quiet anger that was infinitely more terrifying than flat out rage.
Any minute, any second now; Virgil's calm facade would fracture, and the tirade would begin.
And three, two, one...
"Besides, we're all out of rum."
Gordon blinked; surprised by the absent lecture.
The aquanaut tried to read the room, but Virgil's poker face was just too good, so he offered up an impish grin. It was an artform Alan and he had mastered to disarm any disgruntled older brother.
"You know what I'm gonna say, right?"
"But why's the rum gone?"
"Virg! You do listen! We'll make a pirate of you yet!"
Virgil was quietly tapping the medscanner; focussing it on Gordon's knee.
"Blackbeard! You grow this stubble out..."
Gordon prodded the Bear's chin, and Virgil's brows relayed his annoyance for him. Brother medic clearly making that mental note to shave later.
"Not happening Fish. There's only room for one pirate in this family."
"John?"
"No-wha?"
"C'mon...have you seen his movie collection?"
"He lives in space."
Virgil opened his mouth to argue, then seemingly tired of the conversation and returned to the scanner.
A high-pitched beep, and an image of Gordon's right knee hovered in the air before him.
"Jesu-
"-Check it out! I only need four more legs, then I'll be an octopus!" Gordon joked, in a last-ditch attempt to distract from the horror written on his brother's face.
"Four? Wait. No. It doesn't matter. You're not distracting me from this."
"Ehhh, worth a shot."
Virgil folded his arms. Stood straight, still heavy-booted; his brother cut a rather menacing figure when riled.
The wall of muscle spoke.
"How long?"
"Idunno." His answer was more sound than word.
"How. Long?"
Virgil wasn't even looking at him now. A sure sign that his medic brother was anticipating his answer.
"Hydrofoil."
Virgil threw his arms up then turned to face away.
The engineer stared out of the curved glass window, and his mutter was lost to the ocean - which was probably for the best.
Gordon focussed on steadying his breathing. Who knew you moved so much simply by breathing?
"The consultant said it's more prone to dislocating now," he offered by way of an explanation.
Virgil scoffed, then tapped on his watch.
"You didn't say anything. I'm your brother and..."
Virgil began reorganising supplies.
Guilt gnawed alongside the aquanaut's pain.
"You'd just take me back to hospital," he mumbled.
"So?"
"So, A&E'd just refer me to the people I'm already seeing."
"Well sure, but they could at least reduce the joint for you?"
"Why bother? I can do that."
You're not medically trained.
"S'not that hard...I'm basically a human Rubik's cube. YouTube-"
"YouTube?! Christ Gords! Do you realize how reckless you're being? You could seriously injure yourself! You'll destroy your joints!" Virgil waved fiercely at the scan.
Gordon shrugged.
"They're toast anyway."
Virgil dragged his hands down his face and groaned through clenched fingers.
"Gordon. I get it. Really, I do. You don't want to worry anyone. You hate hospitals - we all do! But don't you owe it to the people out there to look after yourself better?" The medic jabbed at the horizon.
#thunderbirds are go#thunderfam#virgil tracy#thunderbirds fanfiction#gordon tracy#thunderangst#thunderwhump
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.*✧Free to use post banners✧*.
SFW interaction banners
#thunderbirds#thunderbirds are go#thunderwhump#thunderangst#post banner#squiddokiddo#sfw interactions only#squiddo's banners#thunderbirds fanfic
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Who's ready for more angst?
I've been thinking about the Hood and how he treats the people who work for him.
Nothing they've ever done in an attempt to please him was ever good enough. Backstabbing, manipulation, verbal abuse and when he's done with them he tossed them aside ready to move on to his next victim.
#thunderbirds are go#thunderbirds#thunderbirds villains#the mechanic#the chaos crew#havoc and fuse#thunderbirds fanart#thunderfam#thunderangst#tw abuse mention#kidthunder's art
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Ficlet - post SOS scene
Characters: Virgil, Gordon, Grandma.
Words: 920
Genre: Hurt/Comfort
For: @greywake
A/N welllll this probably isn’t what you meant with such a hilarious dialogue prompt, but here we are. I hope post-SOS sleepy angst is what you wanted. <3
The walls of the infirmary shield the light of the dawn from disrupting those slumbering within, a blond figure pale beneath tan in hospital blues and, in a corner chair, similar features beneath a mess of dark, unkempt curl pull into a stressed frown. His legs are flung over the arm of the chair – it’s cushioned at least – while his bulky frame is twisted awkwardly towards the open infirmary as if he’d fallen asleep watching. A large blanket has been tucked around his shoulders, revealing a collar in red plaid beneath. His day clothes, wrinkled and worn and with the material at his collar sitting out of place.
It's been a day with too many hours for Virgil Tracy. He awoke that morning to the bemoaning of a robot trapped in the sea and he hadn’t stopped moving until his brother was returned home to them, maybe not all in one piece the way he should’ve been, but at least safe in recovery and on the good stuff to quiet the worst of it.
Gordon, his brother in the bed, is covered by more bandages than blankets, his leg wrapped and casted and raised slightly above the rest of him for blood flow, neck still braced, arm and shoulder supported by a sling. His expression, though, is relaxed in his rest, calmed by the nearby Island air and the familiar walls he’d pleaded so desperately for while he was in the hospital.
Out of the two of them it was Gordon who was worse for wear, though Virgil’s spine would be doing him no favors when he awoke.
Sure, his family pulled Gordon from the water, but Virgil didn’t come out the other side unscathed either, his heart hammering with fear, and with guilt that he hadn’t been there. And he couldn’t even go to him when it’s all he wanted to do – except he was the one with Two’s controls under his shaking hands and he was the one that could push her to his limits to get him to the care he needed.
He should’ve been there.
While Gordon drifted in a sleepy haze, it was all Virgil could think. What kind of co-pilot was he when he wasn’t even there when it mattered most?
That morning, Gordon was as exhausted as him, up even earlier. Was Gordon even fit to fly then? Would his reaction time have made a difference? Nine times out of Ten where Four goes, Two is there a hover away. But today – yesterday – was the 1 time out of 10. Why?
Because he was tired and Gordon had it under control.
But it was the wrong call.
All these worries combined and beneath Virgil’s pinched expression, there’s no relaxation in muscles at all. He’s wound tight, like a spring about to pounce at the first sign of trouble. Though the dark rings under his eyes show he desperately needs the rest. It’s why whoever covered him with the blanket didn’t immediately wake him on sight or scold him for sitting in their chairs sideways.
Virgil Tracy is a man running on fumes along the edge of the world, and he needs to slow down before he finds himself falling towards it.
Gordon wakes first, synapses firing slow like they're trudging through mud, all foggy with what feels like cotton fiber stretched over their pathways. He can't think. And Four has parked itself on his eyelids, so it takes a bit before he can blink them open. His body feels heavy… and floaty at the same time, and the familiar feeling of everything muted reminds him of exactly why he’s in the infirmary in the first place.
He remembers the feeling of his heart racing in his chest, the thundering in his ears. He doesn’t remember pressing his emergency code in, though he’s glad he apparently did. His next recollection is of the stiff mattress against his back and the post-surgery brume muddling both his thoughts and his pain receptors while his family joyfully encouraged him to open his eyes, the colors of them all too bright for him to focus on.
“Your IV is out.” Red. The first of the colors absorbed by the depths of the sea, where the sunlight can still dance over coral.
Virgil’s face fills his eyeline since he still can’t move his head to turn to the sound.
“B’n asleeeep,” he mumbles in response.
“Hmm,” Virgil hums, rubbing the sleep from his own eyes. “If I didn’t remove it and you didn’t do it” - he quickly glances at the monitors bleeping nearby – “then who did?”
“I did.” Purple, bright and sharp like the woman herself. Their grandmother comes around to his other side. “Young man, just whose care do you think your brother was released to? Gordon doesn’t want it there, so he’s going to take his pills and eat like he’s supposed to instead.” She’s answering Virgil, speaking directly to him, but her tone is for the younger of her grandchildren in a way that somehow sounds scolding to them both. “Isn’t that right?”
He'd nod if he could. But he’s closed his eyes to the brightness of purple, and it is not too far a leap into dreams, so Gordon’s slurred “of course” fades at the tail end as his breathing evens.
“And you,“ Grandma continues. “Off to bed with you.”
Virgil has the good sense not to argue at the piercing gaze of cerulean behind violet frames. He knows a non-verbal reprimand when he sees one.
#Gavii Scribit#gordon tracy#virgil tracy#grandma tracy#thunderbirds are go#thunderbirds#thunderbirds fanfiction#thunderangst
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A Lucky Man
Today was a bad day so I decided to write my feelings. The result is questionable and very rough, but I'm posting it anyway because it's better than nothing.
-------------------
Or read it on AO3
Scott Tracy was well aware of how lucky he was.
Every morning he woke up in their luxurious villa on their private tropical island that he shared with his loving family; brothers, sister, grandmother, friends, all of whom he would do absolutely anything for.
As he went about his day perhaps Gordon would be in their Olympic sized swimming pool, or maybe Alan would be playing on his state-of-the-art games console. Virgil might be tinkling away at their grand piano, or Kayo could be working out in their well-equiped on-site gym. Perhaps John would dial in from their giant freakin' space station to catch up.
He didn't actually need to work for a living, but rather than be idle he was privileged enough to be CEO of a multi-billion dollar company, renowned throughout the world. Status and money followed him wherever he went, opening every door with a handshake and a smile.
And then of course there was the elite rescue organisation that gave him real purpose. He and his family and their marvellous machines could go where others couldn't, do what others couldn't, save people that others couldn't. It was the most incredible rush and such a deep, deep joy, knowing that he was making a difference to someone. The looks of wonder on people's faces when they knew that International Rescue had arrived to help. How many other people got to feel so fulfilled at work?
He really was an incredibly lucky man.
But then there were the other days. The days when it became difficult to see the good in the world. The days when the light dimmed and all he could see were shadows. A rolling wave of snow bearing down; the echo of a lullaby no longer sung; a flash of light and debris falling from the sky; the lingering scent of cologne in the hallway; a boat hitting a wave at just the wrong angle; hospital beds and bleeping monitors and so much pain; a sea of faces that he just couldn't save...
On days like those, all he could do was run. Sneakers on, gravel underfoot, he'd leave the world behind and just run away; run and run and keep running until he'd outrun the hurt and the pain. Outrun the cries of a motherless boy. Outrun the lonely young man's rage. Outrun the tears. Outrun the bitterness. Outrun the weight of the world on his shoulders. Outrun the burning injustice of it all. Run. Run.
And when he couldn't run anymore he'd return home, wrung out and hollow.
Empty.
But the emptiness never lasted, because home wasn't empty. A reassuring wrinkled hand on his shoulder, a corny joke to tease a flickering smile, a flannel-wrapped hug to warm the soul, a cup of joy with marshmallows floating on top.
The gentle hum of home.
Many loving hands supporting him and lifting him back up.
Scott Tracy really was a very lucky man indeed. Sometimes it did him good to be reminded.
Next: A Gentle Man
#Scott Tracy#Thunderbirds#Thunderangst#Thunderbirds Are go#Thunderbirds 2015#alexthefly fic#angst#Lucky Man Series
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