"Quiet Time"
Author: ArtisticRainey
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Thunderbirds is copyright of Carlton Entertainment, not me. Many thanks go to Gerry Anderson and the team for creating this marvellous show. I am not making profit from this story.
The sun was only beginning its arduous trek upwards through the sky when Gordon Tracy was out of bed and walking through the villa. He had a cool glass of orange juice clutched in one hand, and he sipped it as he entered the lounge. The room was completely silent in the early morning hours, bereft of its human inhabitants, who were all tucked up in bed, not yet ready to greet the morning.
Gordon quietly slid the glass doors open, and stepped in bare feet out onto the warming concrete balcony. He stood for a moment, watching the glow of the sun as it slowly rose up above the horizon, and took another sip of juice, savouring the flavour before allowing the cool, bittersweet liquid to slide down his throat. Around him the low moan of the tropical island's insect population filled the air, and a cool breeze blew up from the ocean ahead of him.
Morning was a wonderful time, he thought. Gordon slowly descended the steps toward the pool, his feet making dull pats on the hard ground. Morning on the island was when Gordon could just be himself. With no one else around, he didn't have to worry about making sure everyone was happy, because the only person around was himself, and he was perfectly content to soak in the silence and the peace. If he told that to anyone, he doubted if they would believe him.
It was true he was a thrill seeker; Gordon snorted as he swept a toe through the fresh pool water. He had nearly died whilst thrill seeking a few years before, flying at top speed on a hydrofoil. Granted, he had been doing a job at the time, but he had wanted to push the craft faster, to test her to her very limits. And inevitably, she broke apart, going at 400 knots, no less.
No, Gordon thought, finishing his juice and setting the glass down on a small table, there was no way he could not call himself a thrill seeker. He flopped down onto a poolside recliner. The want, the need, for excitement coursed through his veins, like an integral part of the blood that pumped though him day after day. However, that didn't mean he couldn't appreciate a little quiet, now and then. In fact, sometimes his favourite part of the day was sitting in the rising heat, being serenaded by the bugs' song and the birds' melody. Gordon stared out across the sea, his chin propped in one hand; he was just watching, nothing more.
Far above the ocean, deep, globular white clouds furled and floated across the sky; Gordon smiled. He knew in his heart that he would never succumb to a life of carpet slippers, driving gloves and reading the newspaper in an easy chair. He, like his father, was filled with an intense longing for adventure, and for fulfilment; he, like his father, would never allow the phrase 'take it easy' or the word 'retirement' into his vocabulary. Gordon intended to be the world's oldest bungee jumper, or skydiver, or crocodile wrestler. And if he died? Well, it would be a hell of a way to go. That was how he saw it, anyway.
But just then, he thought, as he lay back to watch the clouds rolling overhead, that same Gordon Tracy was content to lie back and soak in the warmth, the calm, and the peace. The breeze caressed his tanned skin like gentle fingers; the heady scent of exotic flowers drifted up from the gardens. Gordon sighed and shielded his eyes against the intensifying rays of sunlight, allowing the bliss of the morning to overtake for a little while.
Every guy needs some quiet time.