Fanfics mostly

Two hours and a RoS nap later, Charles was sitting on one of the couches in his quarters with an old Frederick Forsyth spy novel and taking a very much needed break now that they were stood down from ‘active crisis’. There were a multitude of things that he could have been attending to, especially in the face of Jeff Tracy’s death in the cells at Spectrum New York, but he was at an age where he’d learned to take a moment to rest. The current bevy of problems were all ones that could wait a bit as reports were drafted and examinations were completed. WP Younger had already been informed of what he needed to know, and that would be enough until the facts had been established and the sequence of events clearly defined.

He’d gotten a good three chapters and two cuppas into his book when his intercom chimed for attention.

Charles was not surprised by it. He had strong suspicions about who this would be, knowing the man, he’d expected this would happen sooner or later, and ‘sooner’ was the ideal. Laying aside his book, he went to the door and poked the intercom. “Yes?” 

“Sir, um, it’s me,” Cobalt’s voice floated through the speaker. 

One button press got the door unlocked, revealing a young man having a hard time keeping his inner turmoil off his face and clearly second-guessing himself. 

“Sir,” Cobalt started.

Before he could go any further, Charles interrupted with a gesture at the kitchenette. “Tea or coffee, Scott.” This wasn’t an officer needing to speak to his CO, this was a younger man needing guidance - and reassurance. ‘This is something he should have been getting from his father, but I’ll gladly stand in his stead.’ 

The use of his name got a startled blink out of him, his train of thought abruptly derailed. “Uh, coffee please, black.” 

“Good. Sit down.” Charles waved at the pair of couches while he went to boil the kettle. 

A nod and Scott did as he was bid, the tension in every line of his body betraying his agitation. 

Charles used the time needed to brew himself an Earl Grey and a cafetière of plunger coffee  to order his thoughts. He had a reasonably good idea of what might be troubling the younger man, and derailing him by using the name his mother had given him had been a deliberate choice. ‘He is so like Scarlet,’ Charles mused as he poured milk into his cup. ‘Both of them can logic themselves into corners and get lost in trying to do the right thing for those around them while ignoring their own needs and wants, but hopefully this will mark the start of a new chapter for Scott.’  

Once the drinks were ready he brought them over, placed the coffee before Scott and sat down opposite him, holding his own cup in both hands as he waited for Scott to figure out what he wanted to say and how he wanted to say it. 

“...I don’t know if I can leave Spectrum.” Scott was sitting with his elbows on his knees, shoulders hunched and fingers intertwined to keep himself from fidgeting. Staring into the depths of his coffee, his voice was very soft. “Spectrum’s been a haven for me and for Xanthic. It gave me a job, a purpose, it let me do good… and if we both go… you’re going to be short handed again.” 

“Scott, look at me.” The order was voiced kindly, but it was still an order and Scott automatically obeyed. “You do not have any sort of debt to repay, not to me, not to the others and not to Spectrum,” Charles informed him. “You and Gordon will be missed, do not get me wrong on that, but it is well past time you chose something for yourself, not for others.” 

Charles sat back and sipped his tea while waiting for Scott to finish being astonished at how quickly he’d divined the underpinning thoughts and reasonings that had him tied up in such complicated knots - the legacy of that man and how he’d raised Scott to see himself as a liability and a hindrance with an eternal debt to repay for having the temerity to exist. 

“But…” 

The protest drew a fond smile out of him. Scott simply would not be Scott if he didn’t make another attempt at putting those around him first. “Scott, you are a first rate Colour Captain, but you are a better Thunderbird. Your family needs you out there with them, not here with us, and yes, I know the War is still on, but what point is there in us fighting if there is nothing left to save?” Charles took a sip of tea to wet his throat. “I like to think that in this, Spectrum and International Rescue can be two sides of the same coin: one’s work gives the other a world to save.” 

“I…” Scott’s mouth worked for a moment as he mulled it over, little shifts in his thoughts betrayed in his little movements as he adjusted his perceptions around the new perspective he’d just been given. “...that… yeah, that makes sense.” A shy sort of smile played about Scott’s face, his shoulders dropping by increments with the realisation that yes, he could go home and he had Charles’ full support, full blessing, and full encouragement to do so. 

“Good.” Charles nodded his approval. “Drink your coffee and we’ll discuss your new orders. Unfortunately there is bureaucracy to satisfy and the sudden disappearance of Captains Cobalt and Xanthic, timed with the sudden reappearance of the original Thunderbirds One and Four, will raise questions.” White made a face. “I’ve been advised that similar to the ‘Thunder-spotting’ community, there is a similarly dedicated group who report on sightings of Colour Officers, so a transition period is needed to cover things.” 

“Yessir.” Cobalt nodded, picking up the mug. “Five and EOS can help generate fake sightings to muddy the waters.”

“Very good, I’ll speak with them later about a plan around that.” White took another sip of tea. “Officially, I will be sending two officers to Tracy Island to begin the investigation there, along with some additional officers to help scan and transport anything uncovered. Copper’s latest report is that they are still finding caches at Tracy Tower, so I imagine it will take some time to conduct a thorough search of the Island, enough time for the next Mysteron threat to occur. The aftermath of that event will be used to announce that two Spectrum officers were killed in action. With the subsequent lack of sightings of ‘Cobalt’ and ‘Xanthic’, the online groups will draw the conclusions that we wish them to make. Ideally International Rescue will be in the air before the reports are made, but due to the, ah, ‘outside factors’ in play, we’ll make do with whatever happens.” 

Cobalt nodded, sipping his coffee as he tested the plan and found it solid. “S.I.G. I’ll get you a timeframe as soon as I can. Five and Two reported that the terrestrial Thunderbirds were pretty securely locked down before they evac’d. Between that, people’s conditions, and straightening out the mess of TI, it’ll take us a while to get everything sorted out and get iR operational again. I’m not going to have an estimate until we can see the damage.”   

“Quite understandable,” White nodded. He placed his half empty mug down and drew in a breath. “I know it isn’t official yet, but let me be the first to say it.” He held out his right hand. “Welcome back, Commander Scott Tracy of International Rescue.”

Scott’s blooming smile was broad as he reached out to accept the firm handshake. “Thank you, Colonel White.” 

T H U N D E R F A L L 

At roughly the same time, the Officer’s Lounge had their own guest: Alan. With John and Virgil sleeping, Gordon visiting with Penelope, Scott dealing with something else, and Kayo having a strategy session with Brains, Rigby, and Dosela over their next moves, he’d been left at a bit of a loose end. After ‘finding’ Alan in the Promenade (Cloud may or may not have been involved and neither of them were going to confirm or deny it) Scarlet had brought him to the Lounge with the brief explanation of ‘he needs to be around people, but not general-public people.’ 

All present had immediately understood that and immediately shifted into ‘Operation Distraction’ mode, welcoming the youngest Tracy into the fold with a hot cup of coffee, a prime spot on the couch, and the offer of plenty of stories - something which Gordon and Scott gleefully joined in on when the younger dropped in after visiting with Lady Penelope and her household and the elder stopped by after whatever he’d been up to. The rest of the team automatically included the older Tracys in the rhythms and patterns of the active operation without saying a word. They knew their brothers-in-arms more than well enough to know that some pleasant distraction was very well needed by them too.

But as the conversations ebbed and flowed, there was something that Magenta noticed that the others missed. 

Scarlet could read a field of combat like a picture book. If you wanted to know what a person did, you asked Ochre. But Pat was the master of body language, with his background he'd had to be. So he was the one that saw Alan’s tiny shifts of position, the shape of the lines around his eyes, and the twitch in his fingers. He moved over to sit next to Alan, leaned over and barely moved his mouth to ask "Al, you okay?"

The fact that Alan didn't start spoke volumes, and he gave an almost invisible shake of his head.

Pat shifted closer and showed Alan something on his tablet. "What do you think?" Meanwhile, 'what wrong how help' was tapped out on Alan's leg. Pat wasn't that good at Morse, but he'd been practising since Scott and Gordon had shown how useful it could be when words were too hard or silence was needed.

Alan gave him a side eye look, took the tablet, and moved his fingers over the open notepad. 'I need to do something, anything.'

"Huh, you're right." Pat took the tablet back, looked the people in the foreroom over and sent a message to Gordon. 'Taking Three for walk, needs air.'

Gordon checked his watch and nodded, never looking at their direction. He then jumped into the conversation. "Oh man. That's nothing, you should see it when Cobalt and Five play cribbage. We've had to lay down tarps for the blood bath." Which set off a spirited discussion on card games. Which gave Pat the moments he needed to get Alan out of the foreroom.

He waited until they were around the corner. "So what kind of something? A couple of rounds in the gym? Maybe run laps? What?"

Alan rubbed the back of his neck. "Um… cookies? Maybe make some bread? Kneading is pretty soothing for me."

"Help you bake? Gladly!" Pat grinned and guided Alan towards the commissary. This was going to be a unique variation on the usual ‘Operation Distraction’. "I'm sure the cooks won't mind the help."

Perhaps an hour later, ‘Operation Distraction’ was slowly winding down when Blue looked around. "Where's Magenta?"

"Better question," Scarlet said, scanning the room. "Where's the Madman?"

Xanthic cleared his throat. "Mags told me he was going to take Three for a walk, something about air." He looked at his watch. "But that was ages ago." 

"Cloud?" Cobalt called.

Yes?

"Can you tell us where Magenta and Thunderbird Three are?"

They are currently in the base kitchen. They have just finished their second batch of cookies and Three is showing Captain Magenta how to do a five strand braid with the cinnamon bread dough. 

"Well, stress baking is good for something," Grey grinned. Cobalt tilted his head. "What kind of cookies?"

"They’re cookies, unless he's making Grandma's special ones, who cares?" Xanthic stood up and made sure his uniform was ship shape and Bristol fashion. 

Double chunk chocolate chip and chocolate with white chocolate chips and macadamia nuts.

There was a moment of silence, then Paul stood and grinned. "I think we should retire to the kitchen, gentlemen." He looked at Scott and Gordon. "You do both realise that if White, Fawn, or any of the Angels samples those, Three is never leaving Cloudbase, right?"

“We’ll have to reserve some for the Angels,” Blue warned, “they’ll be irritated if word gets out the Madman did some baking and we ate it.” 

“Yeah, ‘Happy Angels’ and all,” Ochre chimed in. 

“Good point. We’ll reserve some for the Angels and Green, then destroy the rest of the evidence before the Old Man or the docs catch wind of things.” 

“I’ll go on ahead and box up some for them,” Xanthic volunteered, getting up to do just that, with Scarlet and Blue on his heels with offers to ‘help’ - though if it was with the boxing up, the evidence destruction, or a bit of both was left very ambiguous. Cobalt just shook his head and strode out after them.

Meanwhile, Grey snagged Ochre to help fill the dishwasher - it was their turn - waited until the door was fully shut, then turned on Rick. He had a lingering question that needed answering and now was the perfect opportunity.

“Okay Rick, time to spill.” 

“Spill what?” Rick bluffed as he put down his handful of mugs, frantically trying to figure out exactly what he was supposed to be spilling.

“Back in Medical when we brought everyone in, what had your radar pinging when Lady Penelope’s cook called Parker ‘Aloysius’?” 

Rick considered trying to fudge the issue, then gave up. There was no way Brad would let this go. “I'm almost certain he's Aloysius ‘Nosey’ Parker, the best safe cracker and getaway driver of his generation. He completely vanished from the scene about fifteen years ago.” 

“And you think that he became Lady Penelope’s bodyguard?” 

“I did a little looking overnight, the timeline checks out, he starts showing up as her bodyguard at roughly the same time.” 

Wise eyes took his measure. “You gonna do anything about it?” 

Rick shook his head. “Hell no. One, I don’t have any proof, and two, if Kayo doesn’t do something to me, Lady Penelope will, or Cobalt will, or Xanthic will. As far as I’m concerned, if he’s been working for iR, he’s balanced the scales.” He finished loading the dishwasher and washed his hands. “Anyway, we have evidence to deal with. C’mon, let’s get down there before it’s all gone.” He grinned, a teasing expression. “Unlike you lot, I haven’t had any of the Madman’s cooking. I’m not missing out a second time.” 

Brad laughed at that and pushed Rick in the appropriate direction. “Then get a move on, I can tell you just how fast it vanishes!” 

“Moving!” Laughing, Rick was already on his way to the door at something just below a dead run.

T H U N D E R F A L L

The sun was on its way to the horizon when Alan finally stopped in front of Rabbi Azure’s door, having been guided there by Cloud since all the others were busy ‘destroying the evidence’ in the commissary and he was quite happy to leave them to it: this was one mission he needed to complete on his own.

This was, he had to admit to himself as he checked the time, the root cause for why he’d needed to stress-bake. Booking the appointment at something around zero-dark-thirty last night had been the easy part, but that’d just been all theory. This? This was the practical, and he’d have been lying if he’d said he was completely comfortable with it all. ‘But she works here with Orchid, and I like Orchid and Virgil trusts her, and she’s been recommended by Paul. That has to count for something, right?’ 

The numbers rolled over on his watch and Alan pushed the chime on the intercom. He was still very unsure about this, but Pau - no, Captain Scarlet, had suggested this. ‘So I’m at least going to try it. I can do that. I can try. If it doesn’t work out, no big, but I tried.’ 

The door slid back to reveal a woman in dark clothes, with white blonde hair in a braid that looped all the way around her head. Green eyes narrowed for a moment before filling with warmth. "Mr. Tracy?" "That's my older brother, I'm just Alan." He held out his hand.

"Rabbi Azure," her grip was warm and firm. " Please come in."

"Thank you." Alan wasn't sure what to expect, Cloudbase kept surprising him. It was a small room and held a comfortable looking chair, a couple of throw pillows, and some assorted other bits of furniture, all in warm shades. A one armed daybed made his eyebrows go up, but he sat down on the foot of it. Azure settled in the chair before the wall desk. Yes, it was an office, but it was a relaxed and restful one.

The rabbi herself was also relaxed in jeans, boots, and a long sleeved shirt in deep blue. Alan would be willing to bet it was 'azure'. The thought brought a grin.

"May I offer you something to drink? I have tea or water?"

"Water would be nice."

"Cherry, peach, or blood orange?"

"Huh?"

She smiled at him. "I have cherry, peach, or blood orange flavored water, carbonated."

"OH! Peach, please."

She got one out of a small cabinet, mostly hidden by her chair, that turned out to be a miniature refrigerator. Alan downed about half of it in three gulps. The ice cold liquid felt so good on his throat.

"So, Alan, what brings you to my door?" She sipped from her own bottle.

"Uh - what did Captain Scarlet tell you?"

Her smile was gentle. "That you needed to talk, or not talk, to someone, and that I should clear a block of time if you did want to talk."

"Oh." He had no idea what to do with that.

"The good captain couldn't betray a confidence even if he wanted to." She settled back in her seat. "How about I start, and tell you what I know about you?"

"Uh, that's fair." This wasn't like any therapist he'd ever tried to talk to. But then again, Gordon did say that the people here had the interpersonal skills of a box of rocks, which was understandable since they were professional spooks and other flavours of secret-keepers.

"So, I know that you are the youngest of five -" "Six. Can't forget our sister." At her eyebrow, he added. "She was adopted."

She nodded. "The youngest of six," she waited for his nod. "You've kept a low profile in a high profile family, surrounded by over-achievers, yet quite at ease in your own skin. You know who you are. You've also had your share of bad luck, not the least of which is having," the calm mask dropped for a second and showed a flicker of rage before concealing it again, "Jeff Tracy as your father."

"S.D. isn't my father. That's my brother Scott."

She tilted her head. "Not unreasonable, but what does 'S.D.' mean?"

"Sperm Donor," he drained the bottle. "Could I have another one, please?"

She gave a bright laugh. "Oh, that's perfect. Of course, what flavor?" "Cherry this time, please."

The new bottle handed over, she once again sat back. "So I've given you an outline of what I know, why don't you tell me what I don't know." Azure held up a hand. "No judgements or anything like that. Just tell me what you want to, or we can talk about hockey. Don't ask me about soccer/football. If it doesn't involve ice and a stick, I'm hopeless."

"What about curling?" He had to grin.

"Ice and a stick, I can talk about curling just as long as I can talk about hockey."

Alan nodded and rolled the bottle between his palms, thinking. She didn't know him, other than the superficial level, Paul had recommended her and Alan was fairly certain that Paul trusted her. This was also a chance that might not come again: not having one of his siblings breathing down his neck, trying to 'help'.

He took a deep breath to center himself. "Let's talk about ice and sticks later. Right now - I need help. I need to know if I did the right things, if I made the right choices."

"Of course. I won't pass judgement on anything you tell me. That's not my place. My place is to help you with what happened."