just a girl in love with Thunderbirds

—-------------------------------------------------

Many years later… 

It was Christmas Eve. Sort of. When your work made you regularly cross time zones it was sometimes tricky to keep track. Still. Gone midnight on Tracy Island, so yes, Christmas Eve. Still the day before in New York, which was where Scott currently was, and still dark for another hour or so.

It was easy to think he had all day today and tomorrow to sort everything out. But the time he had gained going west he would lose again heading east. But he was in New York. Lots of shops! He could get those last-minute gifts. Head into the office to chase whoever was lingering out of it. Technically the office was closed as from lunch time for the Christmas break; they gave all their staff the week off. Some of them would hang about finishing things off though. Scott didn’t approve. They needed to get home to their families. He could finish up any paperwork and make sure that the staff got home on time. Or go to do their Christmas shopping. He really should have started that already. It was almost stereotypical, a man of his age leaving it until Christmas Eve. But he’d been busy. But Dad was home! He had to make this Christmas the best one yet! 

He gritted his teeth as the beam lying across his shoulders shifted. A trickle of dust poured down through his torchlight, glittering in a mockery of the season’s decorations. He glanced down at the shop workers huddled together in the narrow space he was holding open. He was under no illusions; he knew he wasn’t holding the whole shop up on his back, just keeping something in balance that was holding something that was holding something else and stopping the situation from getting worse… but it certainly felt like he was holding the whole building up.

“How’s it going there, Virgil?” he grunted through gritted teeth.

“Nearly with you. Hold on.”

“Holding on.” Don’t think about the weight. Think about other stuff. Like the orders that still need to be put through for the new year. Like that loose connection in Thunderbird One that kept telling him that the port light was out even though they’d checked it and it was fine, but what if the light really did go out and he ignored it thinking it was just a faulty warning? Like should he buy brussels sprouts cause no one except John and Virgil really liked them but it was kind of a tradition? Besides they would complain that it was the only time they got to eat them and they were nice. Nice. Huh. 

The beam shifted again, the weight pushing him down to one knee.

“Virgil!”

Light. 

The space that had been confined was illuminated in a bright white, the cold air of the night brushed past his fingers, and the weight was gone.

The shopworkers scrambled to get out.

Scott sat down with a thump and took a deep breath, feeling it filling his chest, stretching his aching shoulders, holding it for just a moment, before slowly breathing out the tension and relaxing. He’d done it. They were out.

“Hey, Scott.” Virgil put a hand on his shoulder; it was sore, but he welcomed his brother’s reassuring touch anyway. “Not a good idea to rest here, bro. Come on. Everyone’s out, and Two’s got our morning coffee waiting.”

Scott laughed.

“Morning? Was evening when we left the island.”

“Evening hot chocolate then,” Virgil gave him a gentle tug. “Come on, on your feet.”

He helped Scott up and they climbed over the rubble and away from the flashing lights and cameras, back up into Two’s module.

“I’ll clear up,” Virgil offered. “Take a break. You've been up for hours. In fact, get John to fly One back. I'll fly home and you can sleep.”

Scott yawned and looked at his watch. 

“No, the shops will be open in a couple of hours. I'll head to the office, grab a shower and get those orders in, then I can head over to the store-”

“Seriously, Scott? Take a break. We're all having Christmas day off. If you wear yourself out today you're just going to spend it sleeping.” 

“Yeah but I've still got stuff to do.” He ran his hand through his hair. “It's gotta be perfect, you know? Dad-”

“Dad doesn't expect anything other than for you to be there to celebrate with him. Awake. Come on, Scott. You don't have to do everything for him, you know. He's Dad.” “He was stranded in space for eight years, Virgil.”

“Yeah?” his brother started shifting some boxes, replacing tools and supplies that had been dragged out when he’d arrived. Scott leaned back on a crate, watching.

“You can’t act like everything is just going back to the way it was before.” 

“I don’t. I’m well aware of how far he’s progressed with the physio, how far he still has to go, and the physical damage that likely won’t be healed. But he’s still Dad. His mind is still as sharp as ever, and he hasn’t lost any of that determination that he had before.” Virgil grunted, lifting another box. “The problem is, Scott, that you are not letting anything go back to the way it was. He’s capable. He’s already not the same guy you pulled off that rock a few months ago.”

“I know. I’ve read his progress reports too.”

“Do you, though?” Virgil paused in his rearrangement of Two’s hold to stare at Scott. “‘Cause I get the feeling you don’t really believe them, and you’re not going to until you see Dad start to do more.” He shifted another box. “Which you’re not going to see until you slow down a bit and pay attention.”

“Yeah, well,” At a loss for how to argue against that, Scott pushed himself off the crate, stretching and ignoring the crack his shoulder produced. “I’m going to the shops. I’ll be back for bedtime.”

Virgil gave him a disbelieving look.

“I promise. Someone’s gotta go get your disgusting sprouts.”

“Fine. I’ll wait here to fly you home. If you’re not back in five hours I’m going to come get you.”

“You won’t need to.”

“Good. ‘Cause that would be very inconvenient. I still have to add more glitter to the card I’m making for you.”

“Uh, I said no glitter this year! It gets everywhere.”

“Tough. Christmas is sparkly. You shall have sparkles.”

“See you later, Virgil!”

“Five hours.”

Scott threw a wave over his shoulder as he departed for the offices.

A shower, a clean outfit and a coffee later and Scott was feeling… well, tired, if he were honest. But he had an hour to sort the paperwork and three hours to shop before Virgil would be after him.

Of course nothing was that simple, though, because the paperwork he thought he’d completed last week had been bounced back, and he could delegate it, but he wasn’t going to do that to anyone on Christmas Eve. Or Christmas Eve Eve. Still the 23rd here, he reminded himself. It wouldn’t take long.

Two and a half hours later he pushed the last of what he was going to do away and rubbed his eyes. There was more to be done, but it could wait. It might mean a bit of a crunch in the New Year, but he needed to do the shopping.  He needed to make this Christmas perfect for his Dad’s homecoming. 

Whenever John went shopping, it was a precise operation. He would look at the footfall trends, the weather reports and optimise the route to visit the shops he wanted to go to in the order that required the least doubling back. John would never, ever, have ventured into the shops two days before Christmas. Scott had to admit, his brother was onto something.

The crowds jostled and heaved, queues to check out stretched back into stores, blocking access to the shelves. It wasn’t so much that Scott minded crowds, certainly they didn’t bother him as much as they did John, but it was frustratingly inconvenient when he was in a rush.

There were some things he knew he had to get; A few fresh items that he hadn’t remembered to list on the last supply run; (bag of sprouts, some chestnuts, a bunch of fresh sage to make stuffing with,) some Eggnog, and chocolate after dinner mints, (because he’d always liked getting an extra sweet after dessert.)  

As he piled the food into his basket he tried to work out what time he’d have to start cooking in the morning to make sure everything was ready, then decided he’d figure that out later. He was too tired right now. He (eventually) checked out with his purchase and belatedly realised that it would have been far more sensible to leave what he knew he needed until last, because now he had to carry it around while he browsed for gifts.  

Luckily Kayo was easy to shop for; in the weeks leading up to Christmas she would always make sure to leave magazines or website pages open with things she wanted. It was just a matter of “stumbling” on what she had been browsing and coordinating with his brothers to make sure they didn’t all buy the same thing.  This year he had been allocated a kimono wrap style silk top with a turquoise and pink floral print, which he knew he could get from one of the big department stores, because he had actually checked that some time ago with the intention to call in and get it bought early. He hoped there would be something he could get to go with it there too, because he’d always thought it was more exciting to at least have something that was a surprise, even if it was just a pack of sparkly hair bobbles. (Kayo had actually declared that a very thoughtful gift because hair bobbles would frequently vanish.)

May as well start with that, he thought as he wound his way down the street.  He was still lacking a good present for Gordon, and had no idea whatsoever what he should get his Dad. What do you get the guy who both owned an island and had lived with nothing for nearly a decade? He’d had everything and nothing. A box of chocolates just didn’t seem to cut it.

A man in a tophat and tails opened the door for him as he entered and Scott nodded his thanks, giving a smile that was perhaps starting to verge on the side of a grimace. Tables decorated with whimsical Christmas scenes interspersed shelves of nuts, biscuits, chocolates and dried fruits. Further on makeup, bath bombs, soaps… He scanned the goods on display as he wound his way to the clothes department, hoping that inspiration would strike. 

He’d barely reached the silk tops, (stopping only to pick up a jumper for Gordon that he’d spotted on the way,) when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He fished it out to see Virgil’s name across the screen.

“It can’t have been-” a glance at the time told him that it had, in fact, been five hours since he’d set off from Two. He did consider ignoring it and pretending that he just hadn’t heard the ringtone in the busy store, but he wouldn’t have put it past his brother to suddenly appear out of the crowd, pick him up and carry him out. He reluctantly swiped to connect the call.

“Hello.”

“Time’s up. Meet me back at Two, I’ll fly you home.”

“I’ve still got to buy a few things…I haven’t checked out here yet. …and I haven’t got Dad anything.”

“Scott, he doesn’t need anything. Just grab him some food. Honestly, he’s still loving anything with a taste, he’ll appreciate it.”

“It just feels so impersonal, you know?” 

“You’re overthinking things again. Seriously. I’ll give you an extra twenty minutes. Look around the store you’re in, grab something that reminds you of Dad, even if it’s just a little toy plane, and come back.”

“Thirty minutes?”

“Twenty. You’ve got to allow time to walk back here and if we don’t leave soon we’ll miss the evening at home, Christmas Eve movie together, remember?”

“..okay.” He hung up and then marched as quickly as he could through the store thinking; something that reminds me of Dad, something that reminds me of Dad…

“You get something?” Virgil asked as Scott came jogging up to Two. 

“Yeah…” Scott ran a hand through his hair. “I’m not sure I did so well on the presents front this year. I should have started thinking about it earlier.”

“Relax Scott. All done now. We should be back before midday, enough time to get a sleep in before tonight. Try to have Christmas off from worrying.” 

Scott frowned as he followed Virgil to the flightdeck and settled into the co-pilot seat and tried to relax for the flight home. He couldn’t help but do a bit of worrying though. Christmas had always been a big deal in the Tracy household; and this was the first time in eight years that his Dad would have a proper one. What if it didn’t live up to the memories? He closed his eyes so Virgil would think he was trying to get some sleep while he ran through the dinner plans in his head again.

—----------------------------------------------

The lights on the tree were multicoloured, because everyone agreed that even though they were rich now, “classy” plain white lights were boring. The only other light was from the projector, playing the first movie of the night. They hadn’t been able to decide between “A Muppet Christmas Carol” and “Die Hard” so it was a back-to-back, with festive drinks and snacks. 

Scott was sitting on the sofa, shoulder to shoulder with Virgil and his Dad. It was warm, the lights were soft, the muppets were singing. His eyes were heavy. 

He couldn’t go to sleep yet. It’s not like he hadn’t grabbed a few hours when they’d gotten back earlier. There were still things to do. Still things he needed to prepare for the morning, presents as yet still unwrapped… 

“Might want to hold off on starting Die Hard, Virgil,” Jeff said softly as the first movie ended.

Virgil looked over to see Scott slumped on his Dad’s shoulder, mouth slightly open, eyes shut and breathing deeply.

“I’d leave him, but he’s not as light as he used to be. And he’s going to get a cricked neck at this rate. We’d better wake him and send him to bed.”

“Don’t wake him. I’ll take him. I’ve done it before.”

Jeff frowned at his son, then raised his eyebrows in surprise as Virgil stood and picked Scott up, with a smooth enough motion that the older brother slept through being moved.

“Does this happen often?” he asked the room at large as he watched Virgil carry Scott out.

“Does Virgil try to pick Scott up and take him to bed? Yes,” Gordon grinned. “Does it work? Most of the time, no.” 

“He normally wakes up, unless he’s very tired,” John clarified.

“Then they have an argument about it. Then Scott goes to bed. Then they make friends again in the morning when they apologise to each other,” Alan added, oblivious to his older brothers shooting him a look that said he could have left the arguing part out.

“I see,” Jeff frowned. The Scott he remembered was meticulous about getting enough sleep; always wanting to make sure he was fit enough for anything the day threw at him. That he didn’t always, well, that was news to him.

Virgil returned a few minutes later, giving a thumbs up.

Good he’s getting some rest now, Jeff thought, that’s something I’ll have to have to deal with. But for now, there were other things to think about. One son asleep, four more to go.

—----------------------------------------------------

“Scott! Santa’s been!” Gordon crashed onto his brother’s bed, no longer a small boy, but a rather heavy man. Scott woke up with a start as he was bounced off the mattress.

“What?! Gordon?” He rubbed his eyes sleepily. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” Gordon was grinning at him. “Santa’s been.” He waved a present in his face.

“Santa?” Scott repeated with a sleepy frown.  He didn’t remember coming to bed. In fact he was still wearing his clothes from the night before. He wiggled up onto his elbows and looked down at the foot of his bed. Sure enough, there was a blue gift, wrapped with a silver ribbon, and a label with his name in cursive attached to it.

“Well?” Gordon didn’t grab the present as he so often had in years gone by. This one was for Scott and he knew Scott needed to be the one to pick it up first. 

For what seemed like the longest time to an impatient Gordon, Scott just started at the present, convinced that he was dreaming. Eventually he sat up and crawled to the end of the bed. Picked up the package, running his fingers over the ribbon and re-reading the name on the label. It wasn’t his father’s handwriting - it was Santa’s. It was the same script his Dad had used to disguise his own hand when he took the role.

“Santa’s been,” he whispered. “Santa’s back.” He grinned and opened the present, pulling the ribbon free and ripping the paper off.

A model kit Tiger Moth fell out.

“This was the one I’d asked for when-” the tears started to run down his face, but he was still smiling.

Gordon’s eyes looked a bit glassy too, as he threw his arm over his brother’s shoulders and gave him a hug.

“Hey, shall we wake the others and show them?”

“Wake the… wait, Gordon, what time is it?”

—-----------------------------------------------

The sun was rising, golden light streaming through the windows and sparkling off tinsel and glass, causing the huge Christmas tree to glitter in a rainbow of colour. 

Underneath; a stack of presents, not all of which had been there the night before. 

Scott felt as if he were in a dream. It was the same, but different. Their childhood tree had been half the size, it would have hit the ceiling of their home otherwise. But the years-old paper and dried pasta decorations they had made at school, the over-glittered salt dough shapes they had made with their mom, still hung among the shop bought baubles. There were still candy canes that Alan claimed he didn't touch until Christmas day, yet were always fewer in number than at the start of the month 

He watched as Alan raced Gordon to the tree, sliding on their knees to stop among the presents. John and Virgil followed at a more leisurely place, having already obtained hot drinks. 

Virgil's hair was sticking up funny, and John was wrapped in an interestingly-patterned dressing gown. They were all smiling and laughing, and there was an air of excited anticipation. When was the last time they had tumbled into the living room in PJs to open presents? They’d left that long behind, always putting it off to get dressed first, because really, what was the rush? But now, Scott felt the buzz too, the remembered magic of the morning. His Dad had pulled up a seat with a good vantage point near the tree. He was dressed; smart shirt, not a hair out of place, and sipping his coffee with a knowing twinkle in his eye.

And just for a moment, he looked as he had all those years ago. Scott saw him dark haired and strong, a quiet presence while the rabble of boys dug through gifts, reading labels and pushing parcels to the recipients with enthusiastic calls of “this one's for you!” and “look what I got!” 

“Hey Scott!” Alan slid a present towards him, breaking his reverie. He grinned and forgot about the things he hadn't had time to organise, instead moving over to sit with his brothers and join in. There were gifts from his siblings, a fancy hamper of biscuits, jams, chutneys and chocolate from Lady Penelope, a jumper his grandmother had made, and, for the first time in eight years, a stocking stuffed with little gifts from “Santa”. He ripped the paper off patterned socks, a box of chocolates, a book, a puzzle and a bottle of colour changing bubble bath. Colours were compared, chocolates swapped, advice on puzzles offered and rejected. 

He dished out his gifts to his family, (hastily wrapped after Gordon had woken him), and tried not to squirm a little as he handed his present to his Dad over. 

“Get anything that reminds you of him,” Virgil had said. What had made him think this represented his Dad he had no idea, but it was what it was. 

Jeff opened the parcel to reveal a shirt with flamingos all over it, and laughed, a genuine, happy, surprised laugh.

“Your mother bought me a shirt just like this, when you were a toddler. You loved it. You'd sit on my lap and count the birds. I thought you'd be too small to remember it.” 

“I didn't,” Scott replied in surprise. “Not really. I just saw it and thought of you.” 

“It's perfect. Thank you Scott.” And he meant it.

Scott grinned. He’d really been enjoying the morning, living in the moment with his family, but the sun was getting higher and he knew he had to get on with things.  

“Well, I'd better get to the kitchen,” he looked at his watch, attempting to remember any of the timings he’d worked out on the flight home the day before.  “I think it might be a bit late starting…” 

“It's already started.” Jeff smiled and gave him a wink. “Don't worry, Scott. Santa got everything organised today.” 

“You did?” Scott blinked. “I mean… but… how?”

“I worked out how to survive on a rock for eight years and ran a multinational company for several before that. You think I couldn't figure out how to sneak a few presents home and sort a dinner?” 

Scott turned red. 

“Well, uh… I just thought…” 

Jeff laughed.

“I got some of it prepped yesterday and had a bit of help from Brains before he flew out with setting up the cooking timers. He left a little robot here, that’s quite a help in the kitchen. Honestly, it’s all in hand, and you can help me with dishing up when it’s ready.” He smiled.

“Why don't you go play some games with your brothers? Looks like Alan has a couple of new video games, and Gordon's setting up a chess board there.” 

Scott glanced over. Alan was starting up his console, while Kayo collected controllers and Gordon was carefully pouring something into a set of frosted glasses arranged on a board, while John and Virgil watched. John was seated in the opponent's chair and had a much more serious expression on his face than Virgil who was wearing a face-splitting grin.  

“Shots chess?” Scott realised. “Oh no, who got Gordon that?”  

By the time dinner was ready, both Gordon and John were tipsy, (they had had the sense to stop after one game, after all, Dad was watching), Alan had been permitted a go at the shots chess against Virgil using lemonade and cola, and Scott had found himself caught up in games and laughter and simply forgetting that he’d ever been worrying about how long to cook potatoes for. 

They settled around the big table, to roasted turkey and honeyed ham, crispy potatoes and parsnips, steamed carrots and (in Virgil and John's case) sprouts. There was sparkling wine to drink, pudding with brandy cream, for afterwards. Finally, they settled around the lounge with coffees and the after-dinner mints, allegedly to watch a movie, but in reality, to doze after having eaten slightly too much food. 

There was a pleasant lull in the afternoon; a pause where each member of the family took themselves off to have a bit of space and quiet. They knew they would come together again later, and it was in companionable silence that they arrayed themselves about the place each absorbed in their own task. John and Alan had stretched out at either end of a sofa, leaning back on the cushions, legs tangled, new Christmas socks on display.  The only noise coming from either of them was the flutter of paper as they occasionally turned a page in their respective books. Gordon and Kayo had gone for a walk, insisting that exercise helps with digestion. (John had claimed that it did nothing if you waited through a two-hour movie after dinner before you went for the walk, but was threatened to a rematch at shots chess instead, and so had conceded the point.) 

Virgil was painting on the mezzanine, trying out a set of metallic paints he had received. Scott had settled himself nearby, dragging a table into position and tipping out and sorting the parts of his kit airplane. 

He glanced down over the balcony railing to see his father sitting at his desk with a newspaper folded on his lap, and some magazines arranged before him. He was chatting softly with Grandma. It looked like they might be doing a crossword. Scott smiled, as a long-forgotten memory resurfaced of the pair of them doing word puzzles from time to time. 

Everyone was content, and calm. Scott returned to his model, concentrating on the immediate task, warm in the knowledge everyone was safe and happy and home. 

—-------------------------------

The sun set over the sea, and the stars appeared in the clear night sky. 

Scott found himself standing on the balcony outside, with a glass of whisky in hand, the salty ocean breeze mingling with the scents of the trees, and the lingering smells of pudding and cinnamon wafting from inside. Virgil was playing the piano, happily taking the requests that were thrown at him. There were a few old favourites, some classics and an ill-fated attempt at converting this year's viral Christmas hit into something that could be played on the piano. 

He took a deep breath, drinking in the scents, the sounds, the sight of the lights reflected on the pool below. It was only now he'd had time to reflect on the day he'd realised just how much he'd needed this. To let go, to be a child again. And it had been good, really good. It had, he realised, been perfect, without him obsessing over getting everything just right.

His dad joined him on the balcony, glass in hand. 

“Merry Christmas,” he raised his glass and took a sip. Scott did too, acknowledging the toast.

They stood in silence for a few moments more, his father enjoying the same sensations.

“When I was out there,” he tilted his glass towards the stars, “for a while, I thought it was the pageantry of Christmas that I missed. The lights, the colours, the food.” He shook his head. “It wasn't, really. It was seeing you and your brothers have fun.”

“It really has been. Fun, I mean. And I can't remember the last time-” he suddenly realised what he was saying and shut his mouth, then gave his Dad an awkward smile. “I hope you've had a good day too?”

Jeff laughed and clapped his son on the shoulder. 

“I've had a great day. Do you know how long it's been since I've gotten to order other people around?” He grinned. “I thoroughly enjoyed the challenge of getting all this sorted without you noticing. And to see it all come together…” He gave a short laugh. “It's so refreshing, working things out again.” 

“I thought you'd have had enough of working things out, after…well you know.” Scott nodded up towards the sky. 

“There was a lot to work out there, sure, to start with,” Jeff leaned on the balcony, next to his son and looked up at the stars. “I had to figure out how to make things work, how to get sustainable food, water, power…” He shrugged. “...and then one day I'd done it. Got everything working, everything running on cycles. Got a routine. And then that's what I did, day in, day out for years. I tried to keep my mind active, of course, drew stuff, wrote things. But actually using the skills I enjoy to organise, to face a new challenge. That's something I've not done in a long time.” He smiled at Scott. “To be perfectly honest a lot of the time I was pretty bored.” 

Scott smiled in amused surprise.

“I guess I thought you were working every second, up there.”

“It was pretty quiet.” He took a sip of his drink and then gave Scott a sideways look. “I missed working with others too. Letting them take some of the burden. Collaborating. Delegating.” 

Scott huffed a gentle laugh. 

“That wasn't subtle.” 

“Subtlety was never my strong suit. Virgil told me whenever you weren't sure what to do, you'd ask yourself what I'd have done.” 

Scott mumbled something about interfering brothers. 

Jeff laughed. 

“Well for the most part, you got it right, Scott. You've achieved more than I could have ever imagined. But you got one bit wrong…” 

Scott felt his stomach drop. What had he done wrong? 

“I never even tried to take all that on my own.”

“...But you built the company from the ground up, got it going-”

“With help. Your mother's for a start. Who do you think was earning a living when I was starting out? She loved her work, yes, but even so, I wouldn't have sat at home trying to launch a business if she hadn't agreed to it. And if it hadn't been for your grandparents helping to look after you boys, well it would have never worked. And even away from family, I had a budget to get things off the ground, and that included things like paying for an accountant to help with bookkeeping when necessary… and do you think I made the website alone? I mean, I had a go, but it looked like someone had made it at the kitchen table.” He patted his son's shoulder again. “I'm not superman, son.” 

“Oh. I just, I guess I'd never thought about that.” 

They settled on the balcony, a comfortable silence passing between them while they reflected on the past. 

Scott became aware of his Grandma requesting a song. Virgil launched into “Rocking around the Christmas tree,” and she started to sing, then his brothers joined in. He smiled to himself, memories of them all singing as his mother played the piano so many years before.

“You should be CEO again,” he blurted out.

“Scott, when I said you needed to ask for help, I didn't mean I wanted to take over from you. You've been doing an excellent job and I don't want to take that away from you.”

“No, I want you to.” Scott swirled his whisky around in his glass, watching the liquid spin close to the edge. “I really hate meetings.” He gave a half smile. “And I seem to remember you quite enjoyed them.” 

Jeff wondered if that was a dig at the family meetings he'd call whenever he was trying to work out which boy was responsible for the latest mischief. 

“I thought when you came back that things had changed too much to go back to how they had been. You'd been through so much, and we've all grown up… heck, the world is different in some ways too.” He furrowed his brow in thought. “And I don't think it will go back, not exactly, not to how it was before. And I think that's why I wasn't letting anything go back at all. I think I was scared because it wouldn't be exactly the same as before, it would be like, I dunno… grasping at trying to relive those days and then finding it coming up short. But I'm not scared of that anymore.” 

“What changed?” 

Scott grinned.

“Santa came back. And it wasn't the same but it didn’t matter that it was different. I still felt those feelings again, the excitement of a bit of magic in the air.” 

Jeff grinned.

“I was a bit worried you'd think it was a foolish old man trying to relive your childhood.” 

“No. It felt…happy. I feel happy.” Scott visibly relaxed, his shoulders softening and giving a contented sigh. 

“So… you really want me to take over TI?” 

“Yep.” 

He considered it for a few moments. 

“You know, I think I'd like that. I don't think I had even thought about the fact I could go back, really.”

“So you’ll do it?”

“We’ll work something out, together. But for tonight let’s just enjoy ourselves. Come on, I want to join the others.”

The group at the piano had gotten to the end of the song and belted out at the top of their lungs:

“Everyone dancing merrily, in the new, old-fashioned wayyyyyy!”

Scott grinned as his father went inside.

That seemed to shock Scott out of it as he stopped mid-sentence. Vigil spoke once more in a loud growl. “Why are you yelling at them like that, actually don’t answer that, you’ve been in a bad mood all week but it gives you no right to speak to them in that way.” Scott turned away from them all took in a long breath and spat out “pack it up, were going home.”

Virgil walked to check on the younger two as Scott walked away  from them back to thunderbird one without looking back. No one saw the tears escaping from Scott’s eyes as he walked. Virgil immediately jumped into medic mode crouching in front of Gordon to make sure he was okay. “You okay he asked”. “What’s his problem”, questioned Gordon, “it’s Christmas Eve and all I was trying to do was lighten the mood”. “I don’t know Gordon, I really don’t know I know it’s been a heavy week for rescues but this is odd even for him. John chose that moment to interject “he’s been getting more and more worked up all week, but even in the past no matter how bad he’s gotten he’s never snapped like this, especially not at Gordon and Alan”.

Scott flew home mentally berating himself for losing his temper on his younger brothers, just one more problem to add to his ever growing list of disasters. He could count on one hand the number of hours of sleep he had gotten this week due to rescues and ever growing problems at Tracy industries due to the end of the year. And to top it all off news articles had decided to swarm him critiquing his every move in the past eight years since his father had disappeared, down to how he ran Tracy industries to his command role in international rescue and even worse was how he was a parent to his siblings. Slow news week john had told him over coms, which was laughable in itself considering how many rescues they seemed to be attending this week. A few more tears escaped Scott’s eyes as he tried to figure out how he was going to make it up to his brothers after his outburst. But the fact was he simply just didn’t have the time and on top of everything he still had to organize Christmas for his brothers. Ever since his dad had disappeared the job of filling up his brothers stockings and getting them gifts was up to him.

 As soon as one was in her docking bay Scott normally would be up and out but not today. He just sat there his mind racing with a hundred thousand different thoughts of what he needed to do. He didn’t even register the sound of two landing and rolling herself into the hangar thirty minutes later.

Gordon, Alan, Virgil, and john had come up with a plan on their way home to get Scott talking to them and find out what was wrong. Knowing Scott he would be at the desk writing up the report from the day’s rescue they planned to talk to him there and get him to put his feet up for a bit and relax as it was Christmas after all. Once they all finally found their way into the com’s room though they were shocked to find it empty except john sitting all alone. “He’s not here” exclaimed Gordon. “You mean he wasn’t still down in the showers with you” questioned john. This wasn’t normal at all. The first thing Scott did not matter what if he had an argument was to find the said brother and apologise, or would wait for them by the desk so he could make sure they were okay. This definitely was not normal at all.

John walked up to the desk and pulled up a map of the villa and hangars, “he’s still in one” he announced quietly, that sent alarm bells ringing for all the brothers. John sat down at the desk and quietly began tapping keys on the control panel. “What are you doing” asked Alan nervously. “Getting to the bottom of what’s going on” he replied, none of the brothers said anything as they rounded the desk to see what john would find. It was an unwritten rule of the household not to snoop into each other’s computers, but they needed to find out what the hell was going on. Almost immediately nearly 200 documents opened on Scott’s page, ranging from end of year TI documents to GDF documents concerning IR, to horrific news articles being published about their older brother dating from this week. The brothers looked on in horror as they stared at the mountain that was on top of their brother. “No wonder he was tense”, remarked Alan. What’s this asked Virgil clicking on a document marked Christmas? In here they found a document with each of their brother’s names and a detailed plan of surprising them on Christmas morning with gifts and personal experiences to make a glorious day. “Shit” said Gordon. “Shit indeed” whispered john. “We need to fix this” Virgil stated. And from there a plan was hatched.

Scott didn’t know how long he sat there for; all he knew was tears kept creeping down his face every so often. It wasn’t until a large bang went off he even knew where he was. With his heart racing he smashed the button to disembark from the craft and was running in seconds to the source of the noise. He tried calling his brothers over coms to see if they were all right but no one picked up. He skidded into the kitchen to see Gordon holding two large pans next to john’s com which he was holding out to Gordon. The rest of the brothers were also there standing in a line in the most fluffy Christmas pyjamas he had ever seen. Scott stood there frozen in front of them with red eyes from crying and the tear tracks still visible on his face. Virgil walked forward and pulled him into the biggest most bone crushing hug he had ever given anyone before. Scott just shrunk into him letting himself feel small against the huge fluffy arms that held him up. Next thing he knew he had a small Alan squeezing in-between them snuggling up against him. He fell to the floor cuddling the giant teddy bear that was his younger brother whispering how sorry he was continually into his ear. Next he knew Gordon was on the other side of him snuggling in as well telling him to stop being such a dafty. Virgil had kept his arms around Scott as he had sat down and now had John helping him hug his brother on the floor as well. Not one of the brothers could tell you how long they stayed liked that only that none of them wanted to be the first to break the cuddle pile. Eventually Scott sat up straighter though and whispered a thank you to all of them. Only then did they begin to let go. Alan told him to go get a shower and to meet them upstairs as they had a surprise for him.

When Scott got out of the shower he was delighted to find a pair of matching fluffy pyjamas waiting for him. He threw them on and went to find the rest of the family who were already sitting together in a pile of blankets and cushions with big mugs of hot chocolate. He saw that a mug was waiting for him on the side and picked it up. As soon as the brothers saw him they moved aside to let him into the middle of the cushion and blanket pile and as he sat down his brothers cuddled up to him and his favourite holiday movie began playing, Klaus.  Before the movie began properly though john handed him his data holopad and whispered “merry Christmas Scott”. He opened it to find every job on it was either completed or delegated to the right person, every news article bad mouthing him and also seemed to have disappeared as well. The only thing open was his file marked Christmas. He opened it to find a blank document with only 4 words. Enjoy your Christmas Scott. It was signed by each of his brother, and a cheeky AI which is how he presumed all of the news articles had gone missing but he wasn’t going to poke around to find out.

He sat back sipping his hot chocolate feeling happier than he had done in a long time. He really did have the best brothers ever he thought as he slowly drifted off to sleep. He awoke early the next morning to find all of his brothers still firmly asleep next to him, he smiled to himself as he relished being in a cosy cuddle pile (even if Gordon was drooling onto his foot). Just then a call came through from Eos waking the rest of the brothers up. Less than 10 minutes later they were all on their way to help dig out a small (and by small I mean like 3 houses max) village at the base of a mountain. They all decided to go to make it quicker and since it was Christmas they wanted to spend the time together even if it was on a rescue.

Hey Virg!

Scott!! You’re alive!

‘Course I am and - great news - I’ve found a new adrenaline sport!! Extended wash, rinse, 1600rpm spin followed by the ‘gentle dry’ cycle!! Next time I’m going for extra fast drying…

Scott… your legs…

What? Oh.

This is fine.

THIS IS NOT FINE!!!

Tis but a flesh wound…

See? All good now.

You are going to be the death of me, Scott Carpenter Tracy!

Virgil keyed in the course change on his wrist controller, and activated the mini-Mole. With a high pitched squeal, the small ROV again started drilling into the concrete and rebar of the collapsed building. It captured all the detritus, mixed it with a quick setting binding agent, and extruded it against the ‘walls’ of its tunnel, ensuring that the resulting space wasn’t going to collapse immediately behind it.

Virgil eyed his wrist controller as he crawled after the machine. Time was still of the essence in this type of rescue. They hadn’t been able to ascertain exactly why the commercial complex had collapsed, and that made Virgil very unhappy.

In front of him, the mini-Mole chirruped, slowed its pace and drill, and pulled forward to show a hole in the ‘wall’ facing a void. Virgil activated his passive line to John, then crawled up to the entryway and cautiously poked his head through. “International Rescue. Is anybody here?”

Stupid question, he knew there were two human life-signs in this space, but the enquiry served multiple purposes. Firstly, it identified him, and stopped anyone from trying to brain him with a rock – it had happened. Trapped people panicked, and if they had fears about running out of oxygen, another person in ‘their’ space, breathing ‘their’ air was a threat that had to be ‘dealt’ with.

Secondly, it told him if the lifesigns were conscious. No conscious victim could resist responding to the magic words...

“International Rescue!”

And there it was. One of the two lifesigns was currently bouncing towards him, a little girl about seven years of age, rushing across the space, her pigtails streaming behind her, pink ribbons fluttering. Virgil watched carefully as he crawled into the space. She was moving freely, despite concrete dust liberally coating her body, and bloody red grazes on the sides of legs and palms of her hand. Her dress, once a pink frilly layered affair was now torn and lank.

She must have felt like a princess when she left her home this morning.

The little girl grabbed his hand and started trying to drag him back with her to the far corner. “You have to come, Mummy’s stuck! She can’t get out!”

“Judy! Calm.” The voice was laced with pain but firm and calming. Two conscious resucees. That was good.

Judy stopped her insistent dragging, but didn’t let go of Virgil’s hand. “Please, Mister International Rescue. My Mummy is stuck. Can you help her get out?”

Virgil smiled, it was a practised smile, confident and calm. “That’s why I’m here. Now, where is your mummy, and what is her name?”

A deep breath. “My Mummy’s name is Jennifer Robson. My name is Judy Robson. Mummy is over in that corner,” she pointed. “And her legs are caught under the roof. Mine were, too,” she added, “but I’m little so I managed to wiggle my way out. Mummy can’t.”

“Thank you, Judy. You’ve been very brave, and very helpful. Can you keep helping me by staying here, while I go and see what’s got your mummy stuck?”

A determined nod, but her fear was betrayed by small teeth gnawing at her lower lip and bright water gathering in her eyes.

Virgil smiled again, and lowered himself down beside her mother. “Mrs Robson?” he asked, it never hurt to check names with parents. Judy had spoken clearly, but a misunderstood name at a rescue site could have consequences later.

The woman smiled up at him from where she lay on her left side. “That’s right, please call me Jenny. It’ll save time.” A glance at her daughter. “It’s a bit more complicated than just being stuck. I think something’s gone through my left leg.” A frown. “My right leg is lying in front of the left, and I can move it freely, but…”

Virgil nodded. “Okay. I understand.” He pulled a device from the satchel he had been dragging under his chest, clipped to his harness. “This is a snake,” he showed Mrs Robson. “I’m going to slide it behind you, and it’ll let me see what’s holding you in place. Then I can come up with a plan to get you out.”

“That would be appreciated,” Jenny smiled.

Virgil eased his way behind her, and activated the snake, sending it slipping down next to her back, and relaying what it ‘saw’ to a little 2D screen on the control box.

He frowned at what he saw. A piece of rebar – entirely too thin for what it was presumably doing, he noted absently – had been freed from it encasing concrete, and had stabbed through Jenny’s left calf. He sent the snake bobbing down, to examine beneath.

They were in luck, the rebar had only just broken the skin, and hadn’t pinned her to the slab below. One cut, a slight jacking of the slab above her, and Jenny could be pulled out.

He informed Jenny as much, and then paused. Judy was sitting cross legged where he had left her, her apparent calm betrayed by the clean furrows tear tracks had carved down the concrete dust coating her face. He couldn’t send the little girl up the tunnel on her own, there were too many side branches that had been carved to reach other victims of the collapse. He couldn’t take her himself, and leave Jenny alone. And they really couldn’t afford the time to have one of his brothers come down and collect Judy, but she was still only young, and he didn’t really want her to see the state her mother was in.

Jenny saw where he was looking, and smiled. “If you’re worried about upsetting her with blood, you shouldn’t. Your biggest problem will be keeping her out of the way to wrap up a wound. Little girls come in two flavours, precious princesses who kick up and fuss at the mere mention of the word ‘blood’, or perfect little ghouls, who delight in it, and must be shown any wound the instant they learn of it.” She raised her voice so her daughter could hear. “Judy wants to be a doctor when she grows up, she is very interested in first aid and how to treat injuries. Judy the Ghoul, we call her.”

Judy perked up. “Oh, does Mummy need first aid? Can I help? I know how to apply bandages! Please, can I help? I’ll be super helpful!”

Virgil glanced at her mother, who was all but laughing at his confusion. “Judy, tell Mister International Rescue how you treat someone with a stab wound.”

“First, never ever ever take the object out of the wound. Take a bandage, and make doughnut, like this,” she held up both hands to make an ‘O’ shape, “slide it over the foreign object, and then wrap other bandages around it to keep in place.”

Virgil nodded approvingly. “Very good. That’s absolutely correct. First I’m going to have to get your mom out, and then we can do the first aid together, okay?”

A determined nod. “Yes, sir.”

“Okay, then, let’s get cracking.” He turned to his satchel, and pulled out a jack, setting it up, again behind Jenny, and then pulling out a version of Mini-MAX. This one programmed for exactly this kind of scenario, and kitted out with a miniature version of his shoulder mounted laser.

Virgil always had trepidations about ‘his’ Mini-MAX. It had taken Brains a lot of trial and error to tone down MAX’s natural enthusiasm. That coupled with a high powered laser had had … interesting results. International Rescue’s high energy equipment testing protocols and test chamber had both needed serious overhauling.

As was his habit, Virgil held his breath as Mini-MAX attached the heat absorbing shield, and activated his laser. But the little robot did his job perfectly, flying back out to his ‘travel’ case, leaving Jenny with a half-inch of rebar sticking out of her leg.

Virgil again held his breath as the jack slowly, so slowly, eased upwards just enough for him to slide Jenny out without jostling the rebar, and, once she was clear, slowly easing the slab back down to its original position.

As Virgil turned his attention to his charge’s injury, he found the little girl, kneeling beside her mother, her face mere inches from the ground, as she examined the injury with a bright-eyed intensity that made him just a little bit uneasy.

Gently pulling the girl, back he helped her sterilise her hands, and they both made a ‘doughnut’ out of bandages, and while Judy held them in place, Virgil started the binding bandage. He then turned to give Jenny painkillers, while keeping an eye on Judy as she completed the binding.

Quickly assembling the hover stretcher from its folded up state in his satchel, Virgil explained his evacuation plan to his patient and ‘assistant’. Jenny was soon installed on the stretcher, and strapped firmly in place, while Judy was more loosely strapped to her right side, so she could ‘monitor’ her mother on their trip to the surface.

Bringing the mini-Mole around to face back up its tunnel, Virgil tethered the hover stretcher to its back, and sent the Mole, the stretcher and its occupants trundling back towards freedom. Quickly packing up his remaining equipment, Virgil started crawling after the Mole, quietly confirming with John the condition of his rescuees and confirming that there was appropriate resources waiting for them top side, and that there was no-one else to pull from the wreckage of the building.

The trip back up passed quicker than had the one down, with Judy chatting happily to her mother, and then relaying regular ‘updates’ back to Virgil. The dying rays of sunlight bathing the scenery in reds and golds seemed unnaturally bright to Virgil as he crawled out of the hole, accepting Gordon and Scott’s help to stand upright again, and pull off his helmet. His back cracking as he straightened, but he bit back the groan as he twisted. That was just a bit too ‘old man’.

Ambulance crews, already briefed by John as to Jenny’s condition, and treatment already provided, had shifted her from the IR stretcher to their own gurney, and Judy was standing, watching intently as they took her vital signs, and unworriedly alternating between talking over, and talking to the little girl.

A woman, dressed in the ambulance’s uniform, drew Jenny away, and briefly examined the grazes on her legs and hands, and Virgil was briefly concerned that he had missed something in his haste to free the mother. But as the woman realised Virgil was watching, she offered a smile, and a thumbs up; and Virgil relaxed.

Beside him, Gordon nudged his arm, pressed an object into Virgil’s hand. It was one of the buttons Virgil had had made up, a test run of item he wanted to propose to Scott for distribution to kids at Danger Zone. A small button with a pin back. In the centre was the IR logo, an around it, in – naturally – Thunderbird Two Green was the words “I Was Brave For International Rescue”.

Virgil frowned at Gordon. These weren’t supposed to be here, but Gordon just nodded to Judy. “She’s earned it. Scott’s busy, go on, Virg.”

Virgil walked over, and knelt down beside Judy. “I wanted to thank you, Judy. You were very brave and very helpful back there.” He held up the button to her. “You’ve earned this. Can I pin it to your dress?”

Judy’s eyes went wide as she saw the button, and she nodded. Virgil reached forward, and very carefully pinned it to the dress, probably a bit high, it was near her collarbone. But Judy stared down at it a moment, before launching herself at Virgil and nearly strangling him with a hug. “Thank you, Mister International Rescue. Thank you for helping me and my Mummy.”

Virgil cautiously returned the hug, “Thank you, Judy.” A shout from the nearby ambulance had Judy’s caretaker gently pulling her away from Virgil and leading her away. Judy bounded as she went, pigtails streaming behind her. Back to her mother.

Twenty Years Later

Virgil lay back, watching the flickering pattern of light tiles rush past over his head. Whatever drugs they had given him on the way to the hospital were working a treat, what had been a fiery burning pain was now a dull throb, annoying but he could live with it.

A new body joined the lineup alongside his gurney, and Virgil turned his attention to the newcomer. A woman, about thirty, her long dark hair was caught in a plait, a pink ribbon incongruously woven into the braid, and formed the tie, candy pink scrubs that stuck out like a beacon amid the soft blues and teals.

A photo ID card at the end of the lanyard bounced about as she ran, and Virgil couldn’t make out then name, but recognised from the colour stripe along the right edge that the woman was an Emergency Department Trauma Surgeon. Attached to the lanyard, near her collarbone, was a pin, and Virgil strained to see it. He frowned, and reached up a hand to tug on the lanyard so he could get a closer look at the pin.

A IR blue clad arm reached about and caught his hand. “Hey, Virg, no grabbing. Hands to yourself, even when drugged, bro.”

There was a laugh, and the woman pulled off the lanyard one handed, and held the pin for his inspection. It was an old button, faded from exposure to light, but Virgil instantly recognised it. Scott had quickly forbidden them when he had found out, but the IR logo in the centre, and the words, “I Was Brave For International Rescue” ran around the edge in Thunderbird Two Green was unmistakable.

A name came to him, an image of a cement dust covered little girl in torn pink dress and pigtails, peering in fascination at the rebar piercing her mother’s leg. “Judy the Ghoul,” he said, voice slurring.

Above him, Judy – Doctor Judy – laughed. “That’s me. I’m honoured you remembered me.”

Virgil lay back and closed his eyes. “Never forgot. Little girls are ghouls. Important lesson t’ learn.” He opened his eyes. “My little girls are even worse. Had’ta keep infirmary locked. Was tryin’ to play ‘doctor’.”

She laughed again, turning her attention to his lower body. Virgil really didn’t want to know what she was seeing. Feeling what had happened was bad enough. A thought. “Did y’ Mum keep th’ leg?”

“No,” was the absent reply. “Sepsis infection at the hospital meant she lost her leg, at the knee. She has a prosthesis; reckons it’s the best thing that ever happened to her. Says it reduced her footache by fifty percent.”

She turned back to Virgil. “But I’m afraid we’ll not be reducing your footache, Mr Tracy. But if you can be very brave and helpful, we’ll have you back rescuing little girls from collapsed buildings in no time.”

Virgil smiled, as half of the people surrounding him, including his brother, fell away, and he was propelled through double doors into the gleaming sterility of a surgical theater. “I look forward to it.”

Notes:

I have five nieces, aged between ten and two. Any bandages or bandaids must be immediately removed for them to inspect the damage. Ghouls. The lot of them. Unless it’s their blood!

The standard disclaimers, I do not own Thunderbirds, either the TOS or CGI Series. (Although I do own copies on DVD.)

“Dad!”

Jeff didn’t hesitate in catching his youngest as he sprinted across the cafeteria, savoring the fact that he was still willing to show Jeff such vulnerability. 

“Is Scott--” Alan looked up to him, eyes wide as he chewed on his lower lip.

“He’s fine, kiddo, just having a minute with Virgil and John.” He shifted to straighten, guiding Alan back to where Gordon was still pouring over the snacks on offer, “You find any good stuff to take up there?”

The youngests shoulders immediately dropped under Jeff’s hand, a breath leaving him as he nodded quickly towards the tray Val was carrying for him.

“Yep. I got chips and cookies, but Gordon said we should get fruit too. Does Scott still like apples?”

Gordon was looking over the fruit on offer, his hand hovering like he wasn’t quite sure what to pick up.

“I think he’d love an apple from you guys.” Jeff nodded to Gordon in encouragement.

“Dad?” Alan’s frown was deep, concerned, as his hand snuck into Jeff’s own, “Scotty is gonna get better, right?”

Jeff sighed, glancing across to Gordon as the swimmer turned at the question. A cafeteria was hardly the place for such a conversation, but delaying it would only worry the pair more, and where else would he find in a military hospital that would be any better? Crouching to level with them both, he squeezed each of their shoulders.

“You remember what I told you when I found Scott? That he was hurt real bad and needed a lot of sleep and rest to feel better?”

Alan nodded solemnly. 

“A coma.” Gordon murmured, “Grandma said he was in a coma.”

Jeff swallowed, the memories of those long weeks still too fresh in his own mind. They were a long way past that, Scott was upstairs, awake and talking. There was still a long way to go but his eldest was so far from where he had been. 

“But now he’s awake.” Alan stated, “So he’s better, right? He can come home.”

“No, Alan.” Gordon looked to his younger brother, “You saw, he’s still hurt.”

Tears welled in the eyes of the youngest, “But--”

“It’s like when you fell out of that tree Allie, when you broke your arm,” Jeff cut in, “Even when it was healed, you still couldn’t use it properly for a while, right?” 

“Yeah, you made me go to physio.” Alan nodded again.

“Well, that’s kind of what it’s like for Scott too.” He swallowed, wishing it were all just as simple, “Except Scott needs some time, he’s dealing with some things that he won’t want to talk about and he might not be entirely himself for a while.”

“But,” Alan glanced to the pile of snacks on the tray, “He’s still our Scotty, right? He’s still… him?”

And how was he meant to answer that?

Scott was, of course, still Scott. 

But the son Jeff had sat with on the back porch before his deployment was not the same son that was sat upstairs.

“He’s still your big brother in every way that matters.” Val cut in when Jeff’s hesitation lasted too long, “He still loves apples and chocolate, still wants to hear all about your day and show you all the cool stuff he knows, he still loves his family with every fiber of his being.”

It was Gordon who narrowed his eyes, “I sense there’s a but.”

“But he’s not the same person that left home in the Spring.” Jeff nodded, “There might be parts of him that you don’t recognise.”

Alan’s frown deepened, “I don’t understand.”

Jeff sighed, wishing there was a way for them to see without needing to.

“You will Allie, one day.” Gordon offered, looking back to the tray with a hard swallow, “I think we need more chocolate.”

Jeff stood as the pair turned away, mouthing his own thanks to Val as he grabbed a couple of juice boxes to add to the pile alongside the bottles of water. Scott had been willing enough to quietly ask for help across the room in front of his brothers, but Jeff was sure his vulnerabilities wouldn’t stretch as far as an explanation as to why water wasn’t his preferred beverage any more. 

Hugh had met them at the elevator and Jeff had been hard pressed to hide his surprise as they had headed back up to Scott’s room. The Englishman had introduced himself to Alan and Gordon as a family friend, but the older of the pair had understanding on his features as he had hung back when the elevator doors opened. 

“Thank you, sir.” Gordon had nodded, his brow dipping into a frown as he had looked up to Hugh, “We, uh, we owe you.”

Hugh’s chuckle was soft as he held out a hand to Gordon, “You owe me nothing, son, it was the right thing to do.”

Gordon’s smile was brief before he turned and scampered ahead to Scott’s room. 

“So,” Hugh started as they followed at a more sedate pace, “How is he?”

And wasn’t that a million dollar question? 

“Better.” Jeff sighed, “For now.”

They both knew how healing wasn’t linear, how a laugh and a smile today could just as easily be screaming and tears the next day. 

“He’s like his father,” Hugh shrugged as they reached the threshold to Scott’s room, “He won’t take no for an answer.”

Alan had clambered back up onto the bed, clearly chattering away about something that held the attention of his three eldest brothers. Gordon was standing by the bed table, his hand reaching out over the tray with a selection of fruit clearly ready to offer something to Scott. Val was in the armchair, arms folded as she relaxed back with a grin on her face, her glance drifted to the doorway and held Hugh’s eye for a long moment, something clearly passing between them. 

Scott caught it too, still a little on edge and very much aware of all his surroundings. The eldest straightened, frowning for a moment before smiling easily, “Hey Dad, we’re good here. You go and get some proper rest.”

Jeff froze at the suggestion, surprised and unsure. 

He hadn’t left since Jen had visited, and even that had only been for an hour at most. 

Scott was less vulnerable now, but still had moments. Jeff knew he would have to leave him eventually, his son didn’t need a shadow to protect him forever. His reaction to the Dog Tags was still fresh in his mind though, and his brothers didn’t know the triggers and what helped to settle them.

“Val’s here,” Hugh nodded from Jeff’s side, as if hearing his thoughts, “she’ll keep them out of trouble.”

Jeff looked to her, and she raised an eyebrow in response. She didn’t need to speak for him to know she was challenging him to find an excuse.

“You’ll come back tonight, right?” Scott asked, just as Jeff was beginning to form an argument.

Hugh’s hand clapped Jeff’s shoulder, “I’ll bring him back myself and swap him out for the troops here.” 

John looked up, “Did you speak to--”

Hugh’s laugh cut him off, “I was in the room when you spoke to Penelope, Son, none of you ever need to ask for a place to stay here.”

John smiled in response, nodding a quick response. 

Jeff could only see the genuine smile Scott was giving him, as well as the pointed look towards Val and his brothers. 

As Hugh guided him away, all he could think of was how he had promised to be there, had promised to stay with him even when he hadn’t been sure of what Scott had needed. It was a minor reassurance that he seemed ready for what came next, ready to allow different people back into his life, ready to leave that place behind. 

It was a step forward. 

And Jeff knew he had to let him take that step.

***

Time had gone on and Scott had come home to the farm house, returned to his old room that held memories less haunting than a military hospital. He’d admitted to Jeff that the move had seen him sleeping better, with only the occasional night where he ended up walking the hallway to check on the other residents in their own rooms. The physio and talking therapies both tired him, and Jeff wondered how much each played into the eldests exhaustion. 

There had always been a tiredness in Scott, something that had sat heavy on his shoulders long before he had gone off to war. Jeff had a feeling it had settled there about the time they had lost Lucy, when Scott had taken on far more than his fair share of the burden and never once really questioned it. He hid it well when Gordon and Alan were around, but Jeff knew it still hovered just waiting for him to let his guard down. It was something he longed to ask his son about, to find out if there was anything he could do to help in ways that he hadn’t already. 

Jeff just didn’t know how.

Not when Scott was smiling more, getting more mobile, throwing himself back into family life and cooking dinner and helping younger brothers with homework. He called Virgil and John at their respective colleges on an almost daily basis, checked in with Jeff himself multiple times a day when he eventually started to stay away for longer business trips. If any of the others voiced their appreciation for the action, Jeff wasn’t sure, but he made sure that he made the calls himself just as often. 

It was after one such business trip, on the long drive home from the airport to the house, that Scott had called him asking if he could pick Gordon up from the pool. Jeff hadn’t hesitated in agreeing, it was on his way after all.

The son he met at the entrance wasn’t full of his usual enthusiasm after a training session though, instead Gordon had scowled when he had spotted Jeff and hunched in on himself.

“How was training?” He asked as both fell into step back towards the car. 

“Fine.” Gordon had shrugged in response.

If the scowl hadn’t set alarm bells ringing, the response most certainly did. Gordon always enthused or ranted about his sessions, depending on how well or bad they had gone. Jeff wasn’t sure he had ever had a one word answer relating to swimming.

“Gordy?” He paused as the kid pulled the car door open, “What’s wrong?”

He threw his bag into the seat, back turned on Jeff as his head dropped, blonde strands still damp from the shower.

“He won’t come to the pool.”

Jeff almost didn’t hear the uttered words, but he was glad he had. There was no bitterness in them, no anger or hatred of something that Scott couldn’t yet do for him because of things beyond both of their control. He could tell though that Gordon still hurt because of it.

“It’s not because he doesn’t want to.”

“I know.” Gordon turned back to him, his sneaker scuffing against the asphalt as he looked down, “I read about it.”

That caught Jeff off guard. 

“Y-- you read about it?”

Gordon shrugged, finally looking up to him with pursed lips, “Thought about going into the WASPs, thought I should know what-- what could happen.”

Jeff had already almost lost one son to the Forces, even as his brain offered the benefits to the idea of his most wayward son joining an institution as strict as WASP, he selfishly hoped Gordon had changed his mind.

“Is that something you’d still like to do?”

“They do a summer camp.” Gordon shrugged, “Figured after the Olympics I could see what it was like, that was until…”

Until Scott, went unsaid. 

“A summer camp isn’t exactly going into a war zone.” Jeff conceded slowly, “How about we get the Olympics under our belt first though?”

Gordon brightened at his suggestion, eyes widening as he nodded quickly. 

“As for Scott,” Jeff sighed, “He’ll be there when it matters, when he can.”

Gordon sniffed, shaking his head, “I don’t wanna be mad at him Dad, but he does all this stuff with Alan and I just--” 

Jeff held his arms out in offering, “I know, you want to have your brother back too.”

Gordon threw himself at him, “It’s not his fault.”

“No, it’s not.”

“It’s not fair.” 

“I know,” Jeff sighed, rubbing the kids back, “but we got him back, and things will get better.”

It was a mantra he had repeated to himself in the long weeks Scott had spent in the coma, when he too had wanted to scream at the world for being so unfair. Was it not enough that he had lost his wife and the boys their mother? 

Kyrano had told him to focus his sights forward, to think about what came next and how things would get better as Scott did. Their Project had been pulled from the back-burner, a supersonic jet that he just knew Scott would be dying to get his hands on just as soon as he found out about it. It was a goal that still felt too far away, but looking at where they had come from, Jeff knew the older man had made a valid point. 

“When?” Gordon sniffled, pulling back to wipe his face on the arm of his sweatshirt. 

“I wish I knew.” Jeff shrugged, crouching to the kids level, “But I know he’ll be so glad to hear about it, even if he can’t be here.”

Gordon had swallowed hard at the suggestion, nodding fiercely as he turned to climb into the car. It hadn’t fixed anything, but it had opened up the conversation, talk of Gordon’s swimming had dominated dinnertime. Alan had enthused about not only having a brother headed to work for NASA, but another brother headed for Olympic stardom, allowing Gordon the chance to ask Scott the all important question.

“You’ll be there, right? If I make it to the Olympics?”

Scott’s face had fallen briefly before he had hidden his feelings away and thrown an arm across the swimmer’s shoulders, “We’ll all be there, I won’t miss it for the world.”

***

It was later that night, after the younger pair had finally been sent off to bed and Jeff had been headed in the same direction, that he found Scott hunched over the bathroom sink. The kid’s eyes were screwed tightly shut, his knuckles white against the porcelain as his damp hair fell over his face. He only had a towel around his waist, emphasizing each shuddering breath from his still too slim torso. 

“Scotty?” He murmured softly, knocking lightly on the door, “Can I come in?”

He didn’t look up, but his nod was quick and sharp in response. 

Jeff hesitated, glancing down the hallway to the room Gordon and Alan still shared as he debated whether or not to shut the door. The youngest pair didn’t need to see their oldest brother in such distress, but there was obviously a reason Scott hadn’t shut the door fully.

“Don’t--” Scott’s broken word drew Jeff’s attention back to him, “Leave it open.”

Jeff did as he asked, stepping fully into the room and hearing the running water for the first time. A glance over to the bathtub had him moving quickly around Scott to turn off the faucet before the water began to overflow. 

As the last drips dribbled into the warm water, he heard a heavy exhale from Scott. 

Jeff perched on the edge of the tub, watching as his son’s hands gradually loosened their grip on the sink edge. 

“Where are you?” He asked softly, starting the checklist the therapist had advised. 

“Home.” Scott choked out, “I’m home.”

“What can you feel?” 

He caught the movement of Scott’s feet against the fluffy strands of the bathmat, how his toes scrunched against the fabric as another breath came more steadily.

“What can you hear?”

It was only after he asked the question that he realized Scott’s phone had fallen down next to the toilet, playing a soft piano tune that could have easily been one of Virgil’s recordings. It was a new habit he’d gotten into, something that had started when he had first been facing the showers in the hospital. Jeff reached down to the phone, picking it up to set carefully next to the sink so Scott could hear it better. 

“What can you smell?”

The kid’s lips quirked at that, something that he could smell clearly triggering safer, happier thoughts. 

“What?” He couldn’t help but ask with his own smile. 

“Your aftershave.” Scott snorted, “Always your aftershave.”

“Suppose that’s what you can taste too.” Jeff teased gently, relieved when Scott chuckled softly and looked over to him.

“I didn’--” Scott started on his next breath, looking past him to the still full bath, “Thought I’d be okay, I was okay.”

Jeff nodded, “Want to talk about it?”

“Thought I’d have a bath,” Scott shrugged, eyes glancing to the faucet as it dribbled water again, “Sorry, should’ve warned you what I was doing.”

Jeff sighed as he stood, taking the single step across to stand next to Scott. He would have appreciated the warning, that way he could have at least anticipated any problems before they arose. Maybe he wouldn’t have found Scott in such a state if he’d known earlier. 

“You’re not wrong, but I found you anyway and I’m here to help you. That’s what’s important right now.”

Scott’s brow dipped for a brief moment before he stepped back from the sink and ran a hand through his hair. 

“How can I help?” 

He swallowed, looking down with a heavy sigh as he wriggled his fingers, almost as if he were testing their mobility. 

“Hot cocoa?” He asked after a moment, looking to Jeff hopefully. It reminded him of long forgotten years when he’d seen the same look after nightmares had woken a much younger boy and Jeff had been trying to comfort him. 

“Of course.” Because he never had been able to say no to that look. 

They reconvined back in the lounge, once Scott had changed into an old Yale sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants, Jeff had handed him his preferred mug and joined him on the sofa. For a moment there hadn’t been a need to talk, Scott clearly lost in thought as he held his drink in both hands against his chest. Jeff didn’t push, knowing from experience that he would talk if he needed to and once he was ready. 

Instead he sipped at his own drink, grateful that they at least had that moment. How many nights had he wandered the house, wishing for just such a time when his boy was home safe? How many times had he looked over Scott and longed for the day where they could sit together and share a drink as they had done before his deployment? 

“I--” Scott started, frowning down at his drink as he hesitated.

He waited for a long minute before prompting him gently, “Scott?”

Twisting in his seat, Scott folded his legs up under himself as he turned to face Jeff, “You thought I was asleep in the hospital, before Virgil’s recital.” 

Jeff nodded, remembering the night well. He’d been wondering just how out of it Scott had been since he had mumbled a confirmation that he had wanted Jeff present for the debrief. 

“You said something to Aunt Val.” Scott continued, “I didn’t know how to talk to you about it before, I’m still not sure I do.” 

Jeff reached across to his son’s knee, “I’m here to listen, son, whenever you’re ready.”

Scott looked up to him, holding his eye for a moment before looking away again, “You were right, you didn’t find me.”

Jeff sucked in his own breath, surprised but not shocked by the comment. The words weren’t bitter, there was no anger or hatred aimed at him with the statement. He had been sure that any conversation surrounding that day would have left Scott wanting nothing more to do with his father, not once he realized the reality of what he hadn’t been able to do.

“You found a prisoner, a shell of a man who had lost who and what he was…” Scott’s frown deepened as he continued, “I-- I think maybe part of that was true even before the war started.”

Jeff heard the unspoken, knew that it had been when the boys’ mother had died and Scott had stepped in as a parental figure that the kid had started to lose sight of the person he wanted to be. Another fault of Jeff’s, one that he had been trying to fix for so long but never felt like he could get any further forward with. The way Scott worded it though, still without hurt or blame, like he somehow didn’t blame his father at all.

“But you pulled me out,” Scott looked back to him, eyes glistening in the low light of the lamp,  “and you stuck with me, and never let me give in to any of the things that threaten to take me down.” 

He reached to set his mug on the coffee table before resting a hand over Jeff’s on his knee, “I knew that you’d be there, Dad, like you always have been when I’ve needed you. I knew you’d be there to save me, even when they made me believe I wasn’t worth saving.”

It was that which made Jeff’s heart twist sharply in his chest, his own half finished mug following Scott’s to the coffee table as he leant closer to his son. 

“I never believed you were gone.” He murmured, holding his son’s eye, needing him to hear each and every word, “Not when they told me you were MIA, not when every contact I had came back to me with nothing to go on, I was going to make sure you came home son.” 

He paused and swallowed against the lump in his throat, “An--And I’m sorry it wasn’t sooner, I’m sorry I didn’t do more to get you out of there. And I’m sorry if you ever thought you had to follow the path I took.”

Scott shook his head quickly, “Dad, I wanted to go into the Air Force. That’s-- all I ever wanted was to fly and help people, I didn’t-- it was never--” He paused, shaking his head again, slower that time, “I wanted to make you proud, but Mom made sure I knew I could do that without having to follow your footsteps.” 

Now that was news to Jeff. 

“She did?”

“Yeah,” Scott swiped at his cheek, “Right before… when you were on your way home from Mars, John had started talking about wanting to be an Astronaut and all I ever talked about was jet planes, she sat us down and told us to do whatever made us happy. I didn’t really get what she was saying at the time, but … after you came back to us, I remembered.”

Scott’s hand squeezed over his, “The Air Force was as inevitable for me as NASA is for John and the Olympics are for Gordon, this wasn’t your fault.”

His instinct was to argue, to insist that he should have done something more, something different, something better. 

Except, Scott hadn’t left him a single leg to stand on. 

A single assurance didn’t get rid of the nightmares that had plagued him for months. He was sure they would still come as they had done before, and had continued to do so despite having Scott home safe. Perhaps, it was the start of a change though, a step towards changing the ending of his dreams.

“I’m so proud of you.” He stated instead, reaching to clasp Scott’s shoulder, “Your Mom would be too, you’re so strong son. You were fighting all the way through, all that time you were determined to survive.”

“Surviving was easy.” Scott swallowed, pressing his lips together, “It was the thought of everyone here that kept me going. It was all of you that I tried to survive for.”

He looked to the stairs, clearly thinking of his youngest brothers soundly asleep in their room. 

“And you did.” Jeff murmured, moving his hand to his son’s cheek, willing to remind him a thousand times over if he needed to, “You left that place behind and you got to come home to us, and now, you get to do whatever it is you want to with your life.” 

Scott’s smile was slow but sure as he sighed, “I wanna fly again Dad, perhaps not next week, but when I’m better.”

The thought of his Project was the first thing that crossed Jeff’s mind at the admission, he had been intending to wait a while longer before sharing it with any of the boys. The designs were all too vague, the plan barely more than a series of bullet points in a journal he kept locked away. 

It was almost inevitable that Scott would be discharged though, even if nobody had stated as much yet, and Jeff knew that no other agency had planes quite like the air force. 

If the plans all fell into place, he’d perhaps be able to give Scott something better than anything he had flown before.