“Ha! Johnny! Who went and swapped your legs out for string noodles! Huh? Geez kid!” John struggles to freehimself absolutely ineffectually against his Father’s thick arms as he getscompletely ignored as Jeff turns to scrutinise Scott.

“Right then Scotty, how’re the Thunderbirds? Wereyou able to keep up operations? Lord Creighton Ward promised to be at yourservice if anything ever should happen but I can’t say I anticipated this.”Laughing he gestures at the dark, empty expanse of space above them. At thesharp silhouette the Zero-X2 makes parked alongside the wreck of the old one. “Boys,I can’t believe you’ve…”

It’s then he looks up at Alan,standing a little apart from them. The youngest Tracy is eyeing them almost nervously. His stare frozen inwide and disbelieving. There’s a pause of quiet between them as Jeff simply regardsthe young man and the young man regards him.

Jeff frowns.

“Alan?” He callsout, loosening his grip on John enough for his spaceson to wiggle free, hairrumpled and expression unsettlingly pleased about it.

Alan doesn’t move.There’s a beat of time. Scott frowns sharply at him, making gestures to comeover here right now from behind Jeff’s back.

There’s another pause.

“Hey, Allie?” Jefftries again, puzzled. “Is that you over there Sprout?” As if Lucy’s blues could possiblybelong to anyone but one of his sons. “Com’ere kiddo.”

Alan has only blurryhalf memories of the man stood before him with his arms open and there’sa tight, twisting sensation somewhere inside him that feels an awful lotlike the vessels of his heart tying themselves in knots.

“Dad?” There’s nothing Alan can do aboutthe way his voice breaks on the vowel. Nothing he can do about the way hishands are trembling.

His last fuzzy half memories of this man are of beingcarried up the stairs cradled close to a broad, warm chest. Of his Father’sheartbeat, strong and solid under his tiny hand. Of fingers in ducking-downblond hair and the press of a kiss to his forehead. Of a ‘goodnight, sleep tight, see you in the morning light’ that neverhappened.

“Oh Alan.” Jeff’s arms drop. His voice is very soft and is familiar inthe way only a faded photograph can be. His voice had become just a memory,something that Alan realises he thought he’d never hear again.It’s another one of his Dad’s ghosts.

Because that’s nothing new. Whenhis Father had disappeared Alan kept seeing his ghost everywhere. Not in any literal sense, but instead in the thingshe’d left behind. In the empty desk in the hall, the chair where only he wouldsit, in the bits and pieces of their Father’s life that Grandma, gradually overthe years, began to pack away. Alan remembers how the sight of John wearing oneof Dad’s old pullovers would twist something sharply in his chest. How so manylittle things that before would have brought to mind happiness and safety andthe warmth of his Father’s arms instead triggered a sharp, deeply burrowedanguish in him. He’s tried to put on a brave front, to hide his reactions fromhis brothers, never quite sure if they feel what he’s feeling too. They must, afterall, losing someone you love can’t be done lightly. But he’s never been braveenough to ask.

Loss is isolating like that.

John, his closest brother, had thrown himself intowork. Into stats and schematics and rescues. He became as much part ofThunderbird Five as Five was of him and the part of Alan that aches for hisFather aches for the old John too.The John before he’d had to pair up with Gordon and use pranks to get his attention. The one who spent time with himplaying games and joined in with his hobbies, the one before everything becameabout training. About preparing their youngest brother to face the perils ofspace and save lives. About making sure that if they sent him up into the blackhe’d come back again.

Everything was so, so different now, and he hasthis selfish, awful fear that’s been building the whole trip that theirFather’s sudden return into their lives will throw everything off all overagain. Alan doubts things will go back to the way they were before: after all,they’re all different and older and wiser now. Scott’s the only Field CommanderAlan’s ever known and they youngest Tracy doesn’t know if he’s ok with changingthat - let alone if Scott himself could ever step aside again. And yes, he doeswant John home more often, he wants to have his brother physically around and maybe Dad can make that happen but he doesn’twant John to lose something so importantto him. Their Father had just seemed so critical of John’s appearance and…What if Dad tries to force John down from orbit?  Alan knows his brother is up there, not justbecause he adores it, but because it’s more importantfor him to be up there saving lives than down on Earth playing video games withhim.

Alan feels, frankly, kind of ill.

He can pinpoint in his head the exact moment that Johnbecame so distant from him and it involved an explosion over the South Pacificand The Hood’s dark laughter breaking up the recording. He’d been asleep whenit actually happened. But he’d seen the tapes.

They’d all seen the tapes.

And Alan would have given anything to see hisFather again instead.

And now here he is. And Alan Tracy doesn’t have a clue what he should do.

He becomes viscerally aware of the fact he’sshaking.

“Allie? Son? What’s wrong?” Jeff separates himselffrom Scott and John, both of whom are regarding their younger brother with a quiet understanding.Their Father crouches down next to his baby boy, aiming to level their heightsbut finding, surprised, that it puts him lower than Alan’s eye line. “I’m here now, yeah? I’mnot sure I agree with their decision to bring you out here when it could havebeen so dangerous, but your brothers did a great job piloting the new Zero-Xand…”

“I piloted it.” It’s the first time since theinitial shock that Alan’s properly found his voice and it comes out squeaky.  “I… I flew the Zero-X2, D-Dad.”

A hand falls on Jeff’s shoulder, gently pulling himslightly out of Alan’s personal space. Alan relaxes only minutely.

“You’re looking at the most talented young pilotthe world has ever seen.” John tells their Father, with perfect sincerity.“Alan is a fully fledged member of International Rescue and has been runningmissions for three years now. We trained him ourselves. I don’t have enoughflight experience and Scott doesn’t have enough spacetime racked up for this.” John’shand settles on his little brother’s shoulder and Alan feels a rush of gratitudetoward him that takes his breath away. “He was the right man for the mission.”

Jeff looks from John to Alan and back, disbeliefclear on his face. He takes a moment to just stare openly at Alan, taking inthose wide, familiar baby blues and the soft blond curl of his hair. This youngman is so different to the child he left behind and Jeff is hit with the suddenrealisation that he’s missed a lot ofhis youngest boy’s growing up. There’s a firmness to Alan’s jawline now. He’s lostmuch of the baby fat from his cheeks and he’s taller, so much taller. If heshoots up much more he’ll not only surpass Gordon but maybe even Virgil.

“I…. kid.”There’s an awkward fumble where Jeff seems lost for words but then wide, warmarms pull Alan from John’s side and wrap tight around the kid’s shoulders,pulling him in to that broad, familiar chest. “I’m so proud of you.” Jeff chokes on the syllables and something in Alanbreaks down.

There’s a deep gasping sob from the littlest Tracy.

“I thought you were gone.” The teens fingers curl tight in the thick material of hisFather’s old International Rescue blues. “I woke up in the morning and theytold me you were g-g…” There’s a uncomfortable hitch in Alan’s chest and hebreaks down into monosyllables and broken sobs.

“Hey hey,” Jeff’s fingers smooth reassuringlythrough his baby boy’s hair, “its ok Allie. It’s all ok now. I’m here. You didit kid, you absolutely did it. I’m here.”

And actually, Alan thinks, as he buries his face inhis Dad’s shoulder and clings to him like he never wants to let go again, that’sall that’s really important.

Everything else will work itself out.