Darkest Hours

by Fenix Uzumaki

[WTC rewrite] AU A field trip gone wrong traps sixteen-year-old Alan Tracy inside the South Tower on September 11th. It was just a normal day that quickly turns to a nightmare for the Tracy family and changes the world. A new age begins with an act of terrorism. It's a race against time for International Rescue, but can they handle the possibility of being too late?

1. Part One - The Nightmare Begins

Hello and happy holidays! I know many of you wished I would continue the original story, but I'm my writing style has changed, so I am restarting and hope to do this right. Looking back on the original story, I found some issues with it I disliked very much, mistakes, and some things I felt I didn't take seriously enough, not to mention some rather confusing things that even I don't remember writing. Forgive me, but I was in High School and just really starting at writing.

I'm going to give it the quality it so rightfully deserves now, though. The length, too. Also, as of publishing this, I am OFFICIALLY done with the story. It is written out, and, minus a few tweaks and bonus scenes, it is completely done. So, don't worry about me not finishing it this time! I apologize if you aren't happy with me not finishing the original, but it is something I felt I needed to do, and I welcome those from my original story to rejoin me once more as I return to one of the first fandoms I wrote for. The first fandom that I got serious about writing for. The first fandom that I really started challenging myself to write better.

Now after writing for another fandom for seven years, I am returning to finish my original novel. I believe I have grown enough as a writer to properly tackle this story, and I hope you all can see this. This story will be dealing with sensitive material, and some things may change from the original version, but there may not be many – on the contrary, a lot may change as well. We'll just have to see the further along we go. I will try to keep this story rated T.

I've also added in some ideas that I wanted to before, but when I looked back at the original story ideas [that I finally found again] I saw how bad they were. And then I thought of something new. I always questioned why exactly Alan had been so good at piloting the Thunderbirds when he had no training with them [in the 2004 movie]. And why it seemed like when the Hood mentally attacked him, it was not as bad as when Penelope and Parker were attacked. Why could Alan simply shake it off? Was the Hood being lenient with him because he was a child, or was it something more?

Oh, and one more thing! I've mixed some things from 'Thunderbirds Are Go' 2015 in, as I've fallen in love with that show, and keeping some things from 2004 while also mixing the original series [like Alan's love of racecars [as I believe that's what that is from, forgive me if I'm wrong], a hint of Speed Racer [the races Alan mentions, but no actual characters from the fandom] and actual reality to create a compelling new story. I also changed some minor details for the movie as well. See if you can spot the mixtures!

Another thing, real quick [yeah, I know], I'm not sure where exactly in the South Pacific Tracy Island is located, so I put their time zone as HAST, or Hawaiian time. That was a mistake I made in original story, I believe. As far as I know, they are American citizens, so I figured they'd be somewhere near the USA, right? It would still take them time to fly to location, though. Also, this takes place is a far more futuristic 2001 [hence International Rescue], so reality is a bit warped, too. Or you can choose it to take place in the future. Up to you. I'm not giving a year it takes place.

FINAL THING. Lmao Okay, so in the live action movie [which is the main storyline I'm working with], Alan was played by Brady Corbert [forgive me if I misspelled] and the dude's final height is only 5'8", so from pictures I've found, Alan IS the shortest in the family. Scott – 6'1"; John – 6'0"; Virgil – 5'9"; Gordon – 5'10"; Jeff – 6'0". Haha, Even Fermat's final height is 5'9". Poor Alan. I also adjusted the ages a bit, too.

First and last chapters will be the longest! The rest will be between 12-14 pages, whereas the first and last are 18-20+? Yeah, I'll admit my writing got away from me in quite a few places. Plus, I figured you all deserve a super long first chapter since I made you wait about seven years for this story.

I just wanted to give a shoutout to my biggest TB influences – CriminallyCharmed, Shadowfox8, and LittleMissBump. To this day, your stories still inspire me, and your characters helped me figure out how to properly get things written out.

Welcome back to my Thunderbirds story, and I hope you enjoy and this was worth the ridiculously long wait! SUNDAY UPLOADS. Please review!

DISCLAIMER! I DO NOT OWN THUNDERBIRDS

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Darkest Hours

.~*Part One – The Nightmare Begins*~.

9/10 – 9:00 p.m. EST

Astro Dome, New York City

"When do you think Dad's going to take me up in Thunderbird Three?" Alan asked softly as he stared up at the simulated stars above him. The room was dull and fairly quiet, the air filtered through a silencer designed by one of his father's businesses so not even the sound of the AC could be heard. He imagined this was how it was like in space. Utter silence, penetrated only by the sheer beauty above him. How he wished they were real and he among them, but alas, one could not see the stars in the night sky in New York City, nor fly with them. Not without a rocket and space suit.

He was on a field trip to the city and Manhattan for two weeks during a special national youth scientific and inventor's convention that he had entered with Fermat, not that his family knew. Oh, they knew about the field trip; just not the competition or his entering it. They were far too busy with International Rescue business for Alan to even consider asking them to attend any school events.

He had purposely made sure they did not know about any school events unless he told them – which was fairly rare in itself – by planting a subroutine on his father's computer to block any incoming news from Wharton's Academy unless it was sent directly by the principal. Even then, Alan could intercept the messages on his own computer and answer in his father's stead, as he often did for minor field trips and the like.

Besides, his family had never questioned the lack of school events. Or, if they did, they never asked him. They more than likely assumed that he never did any school activities, which was fairly far from the truth. In reality, Alan was in a few extra-curricular activities, such as the track and field team, cross-country, and an 'extra-credit' program designed just for him by one of his teachers, a Mr. Swan. If his family knew about that, his father would pull him out of school before he could cross the finish line in a T-180 on one of the fastest tracks!

He had always known that his love of racecars and racing would land him in trouble someday, but so far he had managed to keep it quiet. He was the youngest racer in the underground circuit, not that anyone other than his coach knew. It was a closely guarded secret. Just like International Rescue and the Thunderbirds.

There was only a week left in his trip, and part of him wished he had gone home for the Fall Break instead, since he had not been back to the Island since early July; however, Fermat had talked him into entering his racecar engine design into the competition. Though timid about it, Alan had. To his surprise, he had won first place in the Young Mechanic category.

The youngest Tracy was quite pleased with his achievement, yet he wondered how he would bring it up to his family. They would question why he was wasting his time on building a racing engine instead of his studies, and Alan could not handle that. So, naturally, he snuck away from his group and hid in the star room to call his second oldest brother, John, to talk about the Thunderbirds instead.

"For all you know, he might've been planning to take you up during this break, Sprout," John answered, his small holo-form smiling at him. "I'd have been glad for your company. I could have taken you out to the stars myself. Real ones, too. One of these days I'll get you up here and you can spend a week or two with me."

Alan glanced down at his watch, amusement in his eyes as he adjusted the specialized ear piece letting him hear his brother in such a public place. He had seated himself far away from anyone in the observatory, which only had a few people and no one he knew as the school group still on the building tour. He had chosen this room in particular to have some time to himself under the stars. That was one thing he missed about home – laying on the beach and looking up at the night sky. He could not even do that at Wharton's Academy for Boys. Not without being interrupted, at least.

"Yeah, well, I decided to go on this field trip instead. Now I get to stare at simulated stars and not be dealing with a tropical storm. Such is life." He almost felt bad for his family being stuck during a storm. Whenever the Thunderbirds were grounded by severe weather – and it took a lot to ground the mighty machines – there was down time. For a busy family like the Tracys, however, relaxing meant doing maintenance and catching up on paperwork. Gordon was more than likely going stir-crazy from not being able to swim during his downtime. It would be time for the Kyranos to do some extra cleaning around the inside of the villa as well.

"I hear you. That's one thing I don't miss about being on Earth – the storms." John grinned and winked. "Scott must be going bonkers with being cooped up doing even more maintenance than usual."

Alan raised an eyebrow. "Are you kidding me? He loves working on 'One."

"Wax on, wax off, scoot, scoot, scoot!" John giggled childishly in a horrible mockery of their oldest brother.

A snort exploded from him at his brother's impression. "You're awful."

"I'm his younger brother, therefore I get to make fun of the Scooter, too," he argued petulantly.

"So you think, Astro-Nut," the younger responded with a wry grin.

"Excuse me, Rocket Boy? I am not a nut."

"Scott's not a scooter, either, yet look at what we call him." He looked thoughtful for a moment, scratching his chin. "Honestly, I think only Gordon and Virgil are true to their nicknames, now that I think about it."

"Fish-feet and Mozart. Yup. The rest of us, however…"

"Yeah. I don't know why you guys sometimes call me Rocket Boy, anyway. Dad won't even let me near 'Three." It was a fairly sore subject for the younger Tracy. No matter how much he asked his father, the Tracy patriarch refused to give in.

"Probably because you have rockets on the mind all the time. Just like why we call you Sprout, because of your love for-"

Feeling his watch vibrate, he told his brother to hold on a moment while he looked at the text message sent by Fermat. "Huh. Tour's almost finished."

Holo-John blinked. "Wait a minute. Aren't you supposed to be with the rest of your group, Al? According to the schedule, you are supposed to be taking a tour of the Astro Dome? Are you skipping, young man? Gasp, what would Father think?"

"Oh, hush. Just needed some time to myself. I'll rejoin them in a couple minutes, you worrywart." He settled back in his seat, continuing to stare at the simulated sky above him, wishing it would change to something new. Perhaps a view from the Moon.

To his surprise, the view seemed to do just that. He could see a fake Earth in the sky instead of the moon, and the view changed ever so slightly. A normal person would not have noticed right away, but Alan Tracy was obsessed with the stars. Always had been. He had forever felt at peace beneath their, well, peacefulness. It was the one memory of his mother he still had.

John shook his head and wiggled his finger at him. "Alan, you're there on a school trip. Don't go getting into trouble now. You'll never hear the end of it from Dad. Or Scott."

He had to laugh at that. Out of all his siblings, Scott was the most like their father in terms of being a mother hen. Actually, he was way worse. Especially towards him. Smother hen, in reality. "Don't go telling them that I'm ditching, Johnny. You know why I came in here."

Holo-John nodded. "I know, buddy. I know. That's why I like it so much up here, too."

The sixteen-year-old smiled and closed his eyes for a few minutes. "I just wish I remembered more about her, John. All I have is the stars. That's why I want…"

"Want Dad to train you for Thunderbird Three. Yeah. You'll have to wait until winter break now, kiddo, before you can really talk to him about that. I'll even help you convince him. How about that?"

"That'd be great. 'One is great and all, but she's no spaceship. 'Three is so much more powerful and better. Like a racecar. Or a street racer."

"Listen here, you adrenaline junkie," John began, but Alan waved him off.

"You're not going to tell them about that, are you? You promised not to."

"No, I'm not going to tell them as long as you don't do it again until after you get a license. Understand?"

"F.A.B." Alan lied, knowing full well that his older brother did not know about the underground racing circuit he had joined. He was not about to tell him about that, either. Letting John know about the other event had been a slipup by Fermat. He had to keep some secrets to himself from his family! Otherwise, where was the fun? They more than likely would not approve, anyway, of his racing. Waste of time. Whenever there was a race on T.V., his family had almost always turned it off.

"You better not be lying to me, Alan. I'm always watching you."

"Creeper!"

"Stuff it, kiddo. Just want to make sure you're safe, given how far away you are from the rest."

Alan bit his lip. "You're a lot further away than I am, John," he murmured, focusing on the constellations and mentally naming each one and the star belonging to it. "You chose to go work in 'Five. I was forced to leave for school, if you recall. Only one of the family made to go to boarding school. Life is utterly great there…"

"Alan? You know that Dad only did what he thought was best for you."

"Yeah. Sending me away. Lucky me. I know I'm not his favorite kid, but he could at least pretend to like me."

John frowned and crossed his arms. "Sprout, Dad loves you. He wanted you to have a distraction-free education. As for favorite child, the eldest always gets that slot. Just like you'll always be the baby."

He cracked a small smile at that. "Just because Scott'll one day take over the company… As for a distraction-free education…" He sighed. There was nothing distraction-free at Wharton's. Jerks who picked on Fermat and him, locker break-ins, some of his gadgets going missing… It was one reason why he had given his phone up for a non-suspicious looking watch that doubled as a full-on communicator with holographic projection. No one would try to steal a boring old watch.

"What, a pretty girl on your mind?"

"You realize it's an all-boy school, right?" he mused, looking at his brother's holographic form. Honestly, he had enough of girls lately. How many times had he been cornered by people who wanted him for his money or because he was the son of Jeff Tracy? Even on this field trip, he had been sought out by people. Frankly, he was sick of it.

"Oh, I was thinking more of an island girl with brown hair and chocolate eyes… Name rhymes with Gin-Gin?"

Hearing John laugh at his reddening face, he gave him an almost cat-like hiss. "You're a jerk." Okay, there was at least one girl he could handle, and she just happened to be his best friend… that was a girl.

"Just admit that you have a huge crush on her!"

He scratched the back of his head nervously. "I was… thinking about asking her to go to the Winter Dance."

"Awe!"

He blushed horribly. "Shut up, John! Just as friends!"

"Uh-huh. Awe, you're so cute! Better get a move on, though. There's a betting pool going. I think the only one who says you're not going to get together is Gordon."

He raised an eyebrow. "Why's that?"

"He says that she's too good for you."

"Oh. Ouch." He frowned. Had Gordon meant it in jest? Or did he really believe such things?

"Though, I think he said that because you stole his scuba gear."

"Yeah, well, he dyed my hair Thunderbird Red. Serves him right."

"He's going crazy, Alan."

"I don't care. He can wait until winter break to get it back if he doesn't find it first. Which, given where I hid it, he won't."

John snorted. "You're cruel."

"He shouldn't have dyed my hair. I get enough jerks at school without having them at home, too!" He bit his lip. Whoops.

Holo-John frowned. "Alan? What's going at school that you're not telling me?"

He refused to look at the holo-form. "It's nothing, John… Nothing I've not dealt with before."

"Alan… Are you being bullied?"

For a moment, the teenager thought about telling him the truth. He always told John the truth – well, except for the racing circuit. He was saved, however, by Fermat's appearance in the doorway, telling him to hurry up. "Listen, I gotta go. I'll talk to you tomorrow night, maybe."

"We'll be discussing this tomorrow, Alan. Don't make me get Scott involved. Go rest up. You have a busy day tomorrow. Don't go getting into more trouble, ya hear?" John repeated, giving him a pointed look.

"What, me? I'm in New York. What kind of trouble can I get into?"

"Given your track record…"

"Oh, shut it, spaceman."

.~*Thunderbirds Are Go*~.

9/10 – 9:15 p.m. EST

Thunderbird Five

John shook his head as Alan signed off. Goofy kid. Still, John loved him. It was hard to not love the youngest Tracy, despite his teenage mood swings. Yet, this about the bullying at school… and having heard about Alan street racing some guy from Fermat… John was starting to worry about his youngest brother. He had always questioned his father sending the youngest away to the mainland for school. At least the Sprout had Fermat, so he had a part of home with him.

"Thunderbird Five, this is Tracy Island. John, how're the stars this fine afternoon?"

Thoughts of Alan were pushed to the side as Scott's holo-form appeared before him. He had almost forgotten that it was time for Scott to check in. A grin crossed his face at the sight of his brown-haired, blue-eyed elder. "Hey there, big brother. The stars are just as beautiful as they always are, as is the world below me. Nice storm system, by the way. Looks like a beauty!"

"Tell me about it. It's quite a doozy. I don't think we'll be launching any time soon. Clean up is going to be a pain in the ass." Scott shook his head, his form fizzling slightly. "Talk to Alan lately? He's been ignoring our calls again."

"Well, given that the only reason Gordon contacts him is to demand him to reveal the location of the missing scuba gear, you act like a smother hen, Virgil tells him to change his underwear every day and take his vitamins, while Dad always telling him to do great things, no wonder he doesn't want to talk to you guys."

"Ah… So, he's having a bad day then."

"Scott." John crossed his arm, putting on his best annoyed face. "Have any of you ever tried just talking to him? I'm starting to get worried about him."

He raised an eyebrow. "If you're starting to worry, that gives us reason to worry. What's up?" Holo-Scott sat in a chair on his end.

"Just a few things he's mentioned here and there… I'll get it out of him at some point, Scooter, so don't worry your pretty little overly gelled head about it. Besides, I know you. You tend to freak over the smallest things. Just leave him be for a bit and he'll give you a contact eventually." John smiled reassuringly. Honestly, if his brothers and father would just give Alan as much space as John did, the teenager would open up to them more.

"Why does he always open up to you? I'm hurt. I'm the eldest! Practically raised him! Does that count for nothing these days?"

"Ah, but I'm his favorite," he teased.

"Only because you're in the stars, Astro-Nut!" Gordon piped up, showing up next to Scott. "We all know I'm his real favorite!"

"You dyed his hair red, Gordon. He had to bleach it back to normal! You are his least favorite currently."

"You mean I allegedly dyed his hair red."

The blond raised an eyebrow. "Gordon."

"Okay, I did it. Jerk shouldn't have stolen my cookie."

"YOU DYED HIS HAIR BECAUSE HE STOLE A COOKIE?!"

"GORDON!"

"Whoa, whoa! It was one of the cookies that Lady P brought out from France!"

"Oh, well then, that makes it okay," John responded sarcastically. "That was a horrible summer! You know he has Mom's temperament!"

"Kid needs to learn to take a joke."

"Yeah, well, he deals with enough at school as it is and then comes home to that."

"What do you mean?" Scott questioned.

"Nope. If you want to know, ask him yourself on the weekend. I believe Sunday is free day for the group. He has to get to bed. Early day tomorrow. He's going to the Twin Towers."

Scott and Gordon both frowned at being left out of the loop.

"What are you guys doing? You're supposed to be helping me wash the 'Birds!" Virgil yelled from out of the picture.

"Talking to John, obviously," Gordon responded.

"Hey, Virge," John greeted as his first younger brother appeared in the holo-form. "These two slacking off? Naughty, naughty."

"Very much so. Just because it's a storm doesn't mean we shouldn't get some things done. I've already re-arranged my medical bay," Doctor Virgil spoke, looking quite pleased with himself.

"You boys better get to it. And remember, if you want to annoy Alan, he has Sunday free, according to the field trip schedule." John laughed a bit at their upset expressions. Part of him wished he was down on Earth, but the storm had delayed his pick-up. Well, that, and the fact that Alan had chosen to go on a field trip instead of going home, which had been a main reason for John's trip home.

"And, hey, talk to Dad about Alan and 'Three. You all know how much he wants to fly her."

"Oh, we're well aware. That's why were surprised that he decided on the field trip," Scott responded. "Then again, Dad was keeping taking him up a surprise. If Alan had known…"

"He would have been torn between two things and Fermat might have had to miss out on the convention, since he didn't want to go alone. We all know that Alan wouldn't do that to him."

"Are we sure it's Tin-Tin Alan's into?"

"Gordon!"

"I'm just saying."

"It's fairly obvious that Alan has a major crush on Tin-Tin and not Fermat, you dork," Scott responded.

"Given how much he was blushing when I mentioned her name, yeah," John snorted, grinning at the laughter on the other end of the line. "There's also the fact that he's trying to figure out how to ask her to the Winter Dance."

"Squee! Are you serious?!"

John blinked. "Did you just… Squee?" he asked, staring at Virgil's holo-form.

"Not at all," the doctor grinned.

"Liar. Our boy is growing up." He wiped a fake tear from his eye.

"Faster than any of us want to admit," Scott mused. "Sixteen already…"

"He's been sixteen for a few months now, Scooter," Gordon laughed. "Or are you forgetting that in your old age?"

"I'm not old."

"Oh, but you are," John grinned. "Compare us to Alan, and we're all old."

"Well, he is seven years younger than Gordon, ten years younger than Virgil, twelve from you, and thirteen from me… Yes, we're all old geezers," Scott chuckled.

"None of us have dates, either." John frowned in annoyance. Well, that was not quite true. There was a fellow astronaut that worked at a new space station, Global One, that he had his eye one.

"We committed ourselves to the organization. Then again, we all have our eyes on someone," Scott snorted. "It's just hard to date and keep such a secret at the same time."

John shook his head. "Not that this isn't depressing and all, but I'm going to get some sleep. I've already set up the automatic response system telling that we are shut down for maintenance. It'll be nice to have a full night's sleep for once. I'll talk to you guys tomorrow."

"Night, John!" all three chorused out.

Smiling, John ended the call and stretched a bit. Now it was time for some popcorn and a quick movie before bed. Having time off was great. Hopefully, things would remain calm for a while.

.~*Thunderbirds Are Go*~.

9/11 – 7:40 A.M. EST

Lobby of the South Twin Tower of the World Trade Center

"Another beautiful morning on the Island of Manhattan! The sun is rising over the smallest sky scrapers as we speak, so those working in towers might want to don their sunglasses! I'm your morning host, John Megobas, and I'll be keeping you filled in the rest of the morn-"

Anne McCarthy stifled a yawn as she glanced at her watch after switching off her desk radio. The time was twenty to eight, and the student group from Wharton's Academy for Boys from Massachusetts would be arriving at any time. Anne was not exactly pleased about this, as she hated teenagers with a passion. Nasty, smelly, destructive little beasts! How many times did the school groups that came through the building make a mess? More times than they were worth! It did not matter that she was only a few years older; she had always disliked playing nice with others. Unlike her sister, she was not a people person.

The only reason the young woman had volunteered to take them around was because one of them was the sixteen-year-old Alan Tracy, youngest son of the billionaire and former astronaut Jeff Tracy. If she played her cards right, she could get in with the big boys instead of remaining here as a receptionist. Just about all the boys at that school were from well-off families with large trust funds to their names. Some were even of legal age! Lucky bastards.

That was why she had dressed so precisely today in a knee-length navy blue skit and jacket, neat and pressed. Her jacket was not closed, and her blouse was low-cut, showing just the right amount of cleavage without being trashy or getting an official reprimand. Her blonde hair was tied up in a tight bun; her eyes piercing, and she wore light, fairly natural makeup, with a contrasting dark lipstick that was delicately painted onto her tightly clenched lips. Her shoes, which added an extra two and a half inches to her height, were black.

Checking herself once again in her small compact mirror to make sure there was not one strand of hair out of place, the young receptionist was unhappy when she realized that her hair style choice was not perfect enough for such young male minds. Who would want her if she was in such a state? She looked like an old maid!

Glancing at the clock on the wall, she excused herself to go to the bathroom and released her mid-back length locks of wavy hair and tasseled it just enough to create a striking appearance. Finally satisfied, she went back out to her desk and waited, looking out to the large courtyard that stood between the two towers with impatience.

Would Alan Tracy be in her group? Or would he be in the group of boys going to the North Tower with her elder sister? The nineteen-year-old hoped beyond hope that the young billionaire would be in her group. If only there was a way to check! Oh, wait. She had a list!

Digging through her desk, she finally located and nearly let out a squeal of excitement when she found his name on the group of five students, along with the names of other silver spoon babies – Joshua Matthews, Erik Santee, Robert Jones, Issac Lawson. These five students had been entered into a school raffle and they, along with five other students that would be in the other group, had been the winners selected to journey to New York City for two weeks for a conference of some sort. At least, from her understanding it had been a raffle. Or had it been a competition? What did it matter, anyway?

From what she knew, they had been staying at the most expensive hotel in the city and living the life of luxury, a life she had craved from the time she was small and had realized her family could barely afford to feed themselves. She had promised herself that she would escape the gutters and make something of herself, if only to save her parents from the poverty they remained in.

If she had to make a fool of herself to get the attention of these young, rich, spoiled brats, she would do so. Maybe these rich boys would be better behaved than the regular school groups... and hopefully not worse. Then again, who really cared? If she could attract at least one of them, she would be happy.

She was determined to make the best of today. To have an absolutely perfect morning.

.~*Thunderbirds Are Go*~.

9/11 – 7:50 a.m. EST

Courtyard between North and South Tower

At sixteen-years-old and standing in the light of the sunrise, Alan Shepard Tracy was youthful and handsome, despite the boring blue Wharton Academy uniform. His messy blond hair and cerulean blue eyes simply accented his features. He was only 5'8", the shortest and scrawniest of his brothers, but he made up for it with quick reflexes and expert driving skills. Not that he would tell them, given that he was racing illegally. Nope, that was one thing he would not let his father know. Only John knew what he had done, and even then, he did not know all of it.

All it had taken was one joyride due to a challenge by Joshua Matthews, who had taken Fermat's science project the night before the big science fair, where his project was worth fifty percent of his grade. Alan had not been about to let his friend's GPA suffer because of idiots who mocked his stutter and liked to pick on him. Alan had easily won the race, weaving in and out of obstacles as if he had been driving for years as a profession stuntman. After flying a Thunderbird, a T-180 was nothing!

Alan had always been cool and collected behind the wheel of a vehicle. He could focus so much more. He sat behind the wheel of a car or the throttle of a Thunderbird, and the world made sense. Anything else, however, left him rather dazed and not quite sure how to fit in.

That was why he was a prime target for bullies most of the time. He was a ditzy daydreamer with his head among the stars instead of earthbound. At least things had changed somewhat in recent months. Not by much, though. Joshua was still his number one hater.

Crunch!

Wincing, Alan looked down to see what he had broken this time with his clumsy feet. Picking up Fermat's phone with a now badly cracked screen, he frowned. "Uh, Ferm? What's your phone doing on the ground?" Glancing over at his friend, his eyes narrowed. "Hey! Leave him alone!" he growled, pulling Fermat away from the group of bullies that had accompanied the school group. "You want to get to him, you go through me!" His eyes narrowed at them, fingertips tingling.

Fermat thanked him, taking his phone back. Those bullies would thankfully be going in a different group, the South Tower group, but they always tormented him if Alan was not around or paying attention. "My screen..."

Alan looked away from the bullies, who had dispersed after their phones all suddenly went on the fritz, much to his amusement, and returned his gaze to his young friend and the broken screen. "Here, let me see it," he muttered, taking it and examining the screen as he ran a tingling fingertip over it. To his astonishment, the specialized glass began to repair itself after giving him a slight shock. "Huh. Neat trick of your Dad's, Ferm."

Catching the tossed back phone, Fermat was confused. "Trick? Wh-What are you ta-talking about?" He looked at his friend, eyes widening. What was going on with his eyes? Were they... slit? Wait, no, they were back to normal. Must have been a trick of the light. Then again, this was not the first time since the Hood's invasion – and defeat – that Fermat had noticed odd things going on with his friend and circuitry.

The first instance going back to Thunderbird Four, the one Thunderbird that Fermat knew for a fact that Alan had never played in, yet he had piloted like he had been using it for years. Same thing went for Thunderbird One. Sure, they had pretended to be flying the mighty ship, but actually do it? How had Alan known the controls so well?

The only thing Alan had technically screwed up on was the landing, which had been rather bumpy. After that, there were other little odds and ends, such as a broken coffee machine repairing itself after he had touched it, or making a broken hoverbike work like it was brand new. It made no sense to the young future engineer.

"Self-repairing circuitry and things connected to it or whatever!" Alan simplified. "That's neat. Wish I had thought of that. Though, mention to him that it gives off a static shock."

After texting his father about such things, and getting a response, Fermat looked more confused. "Uh, A-Alan, my D-Dad's not cr-created anyth-thing like that..." the younger boy began, but the older teenager was beyond hearing.

The youngest Tracy craned his neck to look straight up between the giant towers he stood between. The tallest buildings in the world! Honestly, it was amazing to look upon. Not quite as amazing as Thunderbirds One and 'Three – 'Three being his absolute favorite, not that he would admit to anyone other than his space brother – but it was not half bad.

"Isn't it a-am-amazing, A-Alan?" the fifteen-year-old Fermat Hackenbacker stuttered from his place at his right side upon realizing that Alan had forgotten their previous conversation. Like his older friend, Fermat was astonished at the accomplishment of engineering, that something so tall could be standing. Pushing his thick blue glasses up his nose, he took a deep breath and ran his hand through his spiky brown hair. Fermat had entered puberty with grace, having become quite the handsome young man.

"Yeah, it is. And, before you start, don't start listing facts about them again. You drove me nuts with that last night after we got back from the observatory," the Tracy responded with a laugh. "Even in your sleep!"

Fermat closed his mouth immediately, his lips curling into a smile at his best friend's light teasing. He had looked up, and essentially memorized, every fact he could find about the World Trade Centers, and, Alan, being his roommate, had been the one he had repeated them to. Multiple times.

"Scott had always said they were amazing to see up close. All I've ever seen of them is from flying nearby or driving. Or, ya know, the internet. Scotty was actually right about something for once. Other than Gordon is a horrible cook. Then again, so is Scott, so he had no right to complain. Virgil's the only decent one, and he taught me, so we're pretty much the only two of us brothers that can really cook. John's not bad, though, but he's no Virgil."

"Def-Definitely." Fermat laughed and nodded. He had been here once before in his youth with his father, but he did not remember much about the trip, having been so young. "Yeah. W-We're h-here now, t-tho-though," he replied, slipping his phone into his pocket after taking a quick selfie with Alan and texting it out to their families back home on Tracy Island.

He knew that Alan would have done the same, but the Tracy had traded in his phone for a communication watch with all the same features. Like Alan, Fermat had the same device, but chose to use it only for emergencies, whereas Alan used it for everything else. Alan had been utterly delighted when the new line of communication devices had been announced by Brains, and immediately adopted one for his own.

He opened his mouth to speak again when their teachers interrupted them.

"All right, students! Split into your pre-assigned groups!" Mr. Swan, a red-haired plump man, called to the assembled group. Though there were only ten of them, the volume of talking combined with the nearby traffic was such that he was not heard. In a louder voice, he repeated himself, and then again in a near shout. Finally, a shrill whistle pierced the courtyard, and instantaneously he received the attention he had wanted to begin with.

Removing his index and middle fingers from his mouth, he glared at them. "Thank you! As I was saying, while your attention was so very occupied with other, more important matters, I'm sure, please split into your pre-assigned groups." Pleased, he watched as they did just that.

Beside him, Mr. Maus, the bald, body-builder giant physical education teacher, spoke next. "Let's make sure you get into your right groups, shall we? North group is Fermat Hackenbacker, Ray Pilot, Edward Bellingham, Roy Finkleton, and Alex Riley. You will be touring the North Tower with our host, Katie McCarthy, and myself. Now, group two is the rest of you. You will be visiting the South Tower with Mr. Swan and Anne McCarthy." He looked up from his clipboard and surveyed them as a few switched to their rightful groups. "Great! Now that that is settled, North group, follow me."

Fermat and the other four boys followed the man. The young genius quickly turned around and mouthed a goodbye to his friend before hurrying after his group.

Alan watched him go, feeling a bit sad that he had not been allowed to be with his friend, but understood why – they constantly got into trouble together, like the time they had blown up the science lab on his twelfth birthday while helping the teacher with an experiment in fireworks with interesting results. Very explosive results. Yeah, that had not been a good day. His brothers still would not let him live it down. Nor stop laughing about it.

"Great! We've got Thunderturd Tracy!" a voice behind the young adult sneered. "Head up in the stars, dreaming about being a hero! Like International Rescue would recruit someone like you! Set your expectations lower, like the mailroom, you flunkie!"

Alan turned on the spot and glared at the much bigger Joshua Matthews. Joshua was a muscle-packed, 6'8" eighteen-year-old with a big attitude and even larger ego. He had brown hair with thin blond streak and honey-brown eyes. He constantly took every opportunity to make Alan's miserable, with the reasoning that Alan's father was a business rival of Joshua's. He thoroughly enjoyed making the youngest Tracy's life unhappy. More than once had they gotten into a physical altercation that usually ended up with Alan in trouble with the headmaster. Joshua was never blamed for anything, as the Headmaster and Joshua's father were golfing buddies.

The only time Joshua had nothing negative to say to Alan was when Alan had beat him in a car race. Not that either could say anything about that in front of the teacher. That was a pact they and the group of student witnesses had made, though he was sure there was a video file of it somewhere – probably on the WTF WAR-TOWN website run by the students. It was not a very friendly website, as anything could be posted on it if you had the password to even access it.

Since the race, however, Alan realized that he could hold his own against the larger boy after all. He had become more daring, too, signing up for driving lessons with his new permit, and shortly after discovered the underground racing circuit, which he entered with a false I.D. with the help of a teacher that sponsored him. Mr. Swan, actually.

Mr. Spritle Swan was a former racer, and he happened to have been out driving the day of the challenge between the students. He had since taken Alan under his wing and taught him all he knew about racing, the tricks of the trade, as well as how to build a racecar and engine. When he was sure that Alan was ready, he had gotten him a fake I.D. under the name of Kayo Swan, and let him drive his old T-180 in the circuit. It worked out for both of them: Mr. Swan took most of the winnings, and Alan got to race and earn much needed extra credit.

Alan quite liked his teacher, and had taken him on as a mentor. It was through his tutoring that Alan had designed his award-winning racing engine at the convention. His teacher often told him that he had a future as a champion racer. That he had a rare gift.

He also knew about the rivalry between Joshua and Alan, and usually would let them settle it between themselves provided it did not go too far.

"And we, unfortunately, have Diaper Boy Matthews. Did you put a fresh one on this morning? Or is the old one riding up your butt?" Alan retorted, referring to one of the Matthews family businesses, Matthews Diapers, the most popular baby diaper brand in the world.

Hearing the other boys snicker, Joshua's eyes narrowed. "Excuse me?! Do you want to go, you scrawny toothpick?" he growled.

"Scrawny toothpick, huh? That's a new one," Alan snorted, catching one of the boys pick out their previously fritzy phone to record what was going on. Great. Another video out on the web. He was fairly surprised his family did not know about the other videos that had been posted about him. Most of them were negative, actually, so Alan was fairly glad that his family never cared to look up such things. Not that they could, given that the videos primarily went up on the WTF WAR-TOWN site. "Not your best, but, alas, you got the brawn, not the brains. That's why Fermat and I took first place in the convention instead of your non-placing failure."

"WHAT?! Tracy, I'm warning you!" Joshua's eyes were narrow as he started towards the younger and shorter student, but stopped when Mr. Swan put his arm between them.

"Enough," the teacher spoke, wishing he was paid more to deal with these childish arguments from young adults, though it was fairly entertaining. "You are representing Wharton's and your respected families! How dare either of you behave in such a manner?"

"He started it," Alan stated somewhat petulantly with his arms crossed and a smirk on his face. "Didn't get any diaper cream this morning, apparently, for that rash. He's going to need some ice for his burns if he doesn't get that taken care of. I can't imagine what those will do to his-"

"Oh, that is it!" The larger boy lumbered towards him, fists at the ready. To his surprise, Alan dropped back, and Joshua missed connecting his knuckles with his target's jaw. Alan had somehow dodged his attack! "What are you doing, Twinkle Toes? Can't face me?!"

"Oh, I could, but this is so much more fun," Alan grinned as he moved his upper body in the opposite direction of Joshua's fists, finding this quite fun. It was a nice way to test out his physical training from Lady Penelope and Parker. As an added bonus, he got to show up his bully! If only Gordon could see this! He would get a kick out of it! He would have to tell him about it later.

"Boys!" Mr. Swan warned, years of practicing his teacher face keeping his expression straight and not allowing his amusement through.

"I'm not doing anything, sir. I am merely dodging his swings," the younger teen responded honestly. "It's not that difficult, actually. I think he's trying to give us ballet lessons. Though, given that he absolutely sucks, I will not be paying for any from him and would like to cancel my trial membership, thank you very much."

Joshua gave one last swing amidst the roaring laughter of the gathered group, throwing himself off balance as he spun and hit the ground with his hands and knees. "You little sh-"

"One more word from either of you, and you'll be going back to the hotel!" Mr. Swan stated as he helped Joshua back up. "That goes for both of you! We're running late as it is, and we need to get to the building. Do not disgrace your families in front of the world!"

"This is bullcrap, and you know it," Joshua responded, giving up on the fight. "He needs a good punch."

"Because he called you a diaper boy? Is it really worth it? You called him a name first," Mr. Swan responded, choosing to ignore other statements made. If it had not been for where they were, he more than likely would have let the fight continue. It had been entertaining, after all. Being a teacher was fairly boring, which was why he quite enjoyed his time teaching Alan to race. The extra money did not hurt things, either. "Stop this childishness! Both of you! You can settle this later. We are running late!"

Joshua grumped and shrugged him off. Regaining his composure, he walked past Alan, giving him a vicious shoulder bump that knocked him off balance, and went back over to his only friend in the group. "At least my family shows up for school events. Yours doesn't even give two shits about you. Probably why they sent you away in the first place."

Mr. Swan chose to ignore the attack and instead got his group rounded up and lead them into the lobby of the South Tower, keeping a firm grip on the furious Tracy's shoulder.

.~*Thunderbirds Are Go*~.

9/11 – 8:00 a.m. EST

Lobby of the North Tower

Fermat sighed. He was upset that Alan was not in his group, and that he would not see his friend all day. That disappointment, however, was nothing compared to the excitement he held at finally being able to experience the Towers after all his weeks of research. Looking over at his guide, he tuned into what she was saying.

Katie McCarthy stood in front of the students in an outfit similar to her much younger sister, but with more finesse and self-respect. At twenty-five-years-old, she dressed for success and enjoyed being a tour guide. Unlike her sister, she not only did student groups, but business men of repute! She did not struggle with self-identity like Anne, either, and had more than enough money due to her contacts within the tour groups that came through.

"We're going to begin our tour from the bottom up, while your fellow students in the South Tower start from the top and work their way down. We will break for lunch around eleven o'clock precisely, before returning to our tour. At four o'clock, we will conclude our tour with the gift shops in the concord mall and you will be free to return to your trip!" she spoke, speaking with just enough enthusiasm to not be overbearing nor boring. "Now then, please follow me and we shall begin!"

.~*Thunderbirds Are Go*~.

9/11 – 8:20 a.m. EST

South Tower, 85th Floor

Alan yawned. When they had walked into the lobby of the South Tower, Anne McCarthy and her icy, fake smile greeted them. The first thing Alan had thought when he had seen how she was dressed for a tour with teenagers could be summed up in one word: Desperate.

She had sidled right up to Joshua, addressing him a few times as Mr. Tracy, much to Alan's amusement. When Joshua corrected her and pointed him out, much to her disgusted expression, she switched tactics. From then on, she seemed to be trying to get closer to him with major personal space issues. He was not sure if she had purposely brushed her hand past his butt, but he chalked it up to her being socially awkward and let it go. It was not the first time such things happened, nor would it be the last.

There were other subtleties that were not quite so subtle, such as a breast push-up, a little jiggle here and there, and other annoyances. Apparently, she did not get the memo that he was not interested. If his brothers had been there, they would have let her have it for being a creep. Scott probably would have had her arrested for pedophilia. Alan was half-tempted to contact his oldest brother to get some help in that subject when she got even closer to him, but quickly remembered that it was almost two in the morning back home. No point in angering any of them over something so trivial.

Mr. Swan had come to his rescue and had told her to remain away from the teenagers if she was going to behave in such a manner. In response, the tour guide had become monotonous and boring, sometimes speaking with hostility in his direction.

After that, Alan had begun daydreaming in the back of the group, bored out of his mind. Minutes passed, things were going fine. The tour guide seemed to be getting softer in tone. It was not until he felt arms around his waist pulling him back against someone's hips did he snap out of his dreams of floating among the stars after piloting Thunderbird Three on a rescue. Lurching forward and turning around, he struck his harasser with a clenched fist. "Leave me the hell alone, you damn perverted pedophile!" he snarled loudly, glaring at the tour guide.

Anne stumbled back, eyes narrow as her hand raised up to the reddening cheek. "How… How dare you touch me!"

"No, how dare you?" Mr. Swan growled, grabbing her by the arm. "He is only sixteen! Someone call the cops. I've had enough of you trying to fondle him!"

Alan refused to stay any longer. "I'll be on 77," he spoke up before hurrying towards the thankfully just opening elevator and punching in the button for the correct floor. He knew he should just go down to the lobby, but needed to be close enough that he could give his statement. He just had to get away and not look at her. It was not the first time he had been physically assaulted like that, but it had been a while since someone had tried to do it in such a way. Keyword being tried. Last time, his brother Scott had been present and the person had gotten quite a butt whooping.

Getting out on the 77th floor, he found himself an empty corner, plopped himself down, and pulled out his journal. His pencil strokes were angry as he doodled a drawing of the three main Thunderbirds. He forced back the tears that threatened to fall. This was so stupid. This was why he hated being at a boarding school, away from his family. His over-protective brothers and father.

He had to force himself from calling them. There was nothing they could do, anyway. Tracy One could not fly in such weather, and his father and brothers would just be burning with fury until they could come to his aide.

No, he would handle this himself for now.

Clenching eyes shut, he slammed his pencil into his journal and snapped the book shut, stuffing it back into his satchel. Pulling his knees up close to his chest, he buried his head. This day was so not going the way he had planned.

"Tracy."

He stiffened the voice. Great. Joshua was here to gloat. Just what he needed right now. Tightening his grip on his sleeves, he refused to raise his head. Maybe he would just go away.

"I'm going to sit next to you, okay?"

Something was not right. Why was Joshua being… nice? Alan listened to the sounds of his bully settling in next to him, thankfully putting some distance between their bodies. "What do you want? To laugh?"

"Look, I know I might beat you up on occasion, but even I would not laugh at something like this. Mr. Swan sent me down here after you to make sure you were safe. I know more about what you're going through than you think."

The blond lifted his head, a questioning aspect upon his face.

Joshua would not look at him, instead staring out the window. "I'd rather not go into the details. Being the son in a rich family is not all its chalked up to be, huh? You got people who want you for your money, kidnapping attempts, and, yeah, even attempted sexual assault and harassment. If Mr. Swan hadn't stepped in that moment, she would have gotten a right hook from me. That kind of assault against anyone is uncalled. Even a prick like you."

Joshua took a deep breath, just sitting there in silence and ignoring the office workers that were glancing in their direction from time to time. "We can stay here as long as you want. Eric'll give me a call when you're needed for your statement. I don't know if it'll be up there or down in the lobby, though."

The younger teenager remained silent, mulling over this information. At least he was not being made fun of that, and for that he was grateful. He was not quite sure what he would do if Joshua began laughing at him, to be honest. Would he sit there and take it, or would he just catch a ride back to the hotel and deal with the consequences later?

"What do you think they're going to serve us for lunch?"

The question was so out of the blue that Alan could not stop the smile curling at his lips. "Hamburgers, hopefully. Brussels sprouts, too." He was still fairly miffed that there had been none of his favorite greens available at that morning's breakfast.

Joshua cocked an eyebrow. "You might be a rich boy, but you damn sure don't act like one. I mean, hamburgers? You should be eating the best premium steak money can buy!"

"I'll take my McDonalds, thank you very much," the younger responded, the shock starting to wear away and a cool feeling falling over him. While it had been surprising what Anne McCarthy had tried, it was far from the worst that had ever happened. She would be taken into custody, and he might be able to go about his day. Worry about things later. At least, until his family got a call stating that there was an incident. Lovely.

"This tour sucks. I'm going to go get a drink real quick now that the lights aren't flickering so much. Started around the time you left. Anyway, stay there." Joshua got up and left, but never out of Alan's sight as he raided a vending machine.

Laughing, he nodded. It really had. Fermat was probably having fun, though. Lifting up his watch, he formed the holographic keyboard and shot a message to his younger friend, wondering where exactly he was. It was now 8:44. Lunch seemed so far away!

Upon receiving the reply that his friend was still not very far up the other building, Alan smiled a bit, telling him that he would see him soon enough for lunch, given how fast they were going through the tour without giving anything away. He was not about to trouble Fermat with his problems, though he knew his friend would find out soon enough once word got out, if it had not already.

Thanks to Joshua, he was already feeling much better. Able to refocus himself. Who would have thought it was possible?

The other teenager soon plopped down next to him again, passing him a strawberry soda. "This is your favorite flavor, right?" At his nod, he turned his head away. "Now, don't think me being nice to you right now is going to save you from an ass-kicking later. I'm still quite angry about earlier, Thunderturd."

Alan smirked, taking a sip of the drink and pleased he had gotten the holographic keyboard put away before Joshua saw it. "Yeah, I figured you would be, Diaper Boy. I'll schedule you in somewhere. How does five o'clock sound?"

"Oh, shut the hell up and drink your soda."

.~*Thunderbirds Are Go*~.

9/11 – 8:45 a.m. EST

North Tower, 10th Floor

Fermat was enjoying himself, despite his friend's interrupting texts. Why could Alan not simply enjoy the tour of the magnificent buildings? Why did he have to constantly think about food? Oh, wait. Fermat knew the answer to that all too well. He was a Tracy, and Tracys loved food. Especially Alan.

Nonetheless, he answered his friend's texts and slid his phone in his pocket after putting it on silent. He could talk to Alan again at lunch, if they were eating together, or he would talk to him that evening when meeting up in the exercise room at the hotel. Alan had asked him to go with him while he trained for his upcoming cross-country meet. It was the final competition of the fall season, and Alan was determined to come out on top. Fermat had appointed himself as his best friend's personal coach. While the young genius was not very athletic himself, he did enjoy being there for his friend while the Tracys could not make it.

Returning his focus to Ms. McCarthy's speech about the exciting and fascinating history of the North Twin Tower. It did not matter to him that he knew most, if not all, of what she was saying before she said it herself.

"Does anyone know how many people work on a single floor?" Ms. McCarthy questioned, smiling at her bright young students.

His hand shot up immediately with eagerness and pleasure filled him when she called on him. "It va-varies from f-floor to f-floor, but on th-this fl-floor, I be-believe there are-" He broke off as the building shuddered and a loud explosion filled the air. He stumbled and fell backward, startled by the quake, and struck his head against a desk. For a few brief moments, his mind was confused as to what had just occurred, but did not have any time to think about it as darkness swam into his vision and he slipped into unconsciousness.

.~*Thunderbirds Are Go*~.

South Tower, 77th Floor

"Holy freakin' crap!" Joshua shouted, pointing out the window as the upper levels of the North Tower exploded into a giant fireball. Smoke billowed from the gaping hole in the side of the building, thick and black. Papers from the damaged floors fell like snow to the world below. Hanging from some of the beams were people. Some fell. Others jumped.

Alan jumped from his just-starting daydreams of flying Thunderbird Three at the sound of the explosion and resulting shockwave. Eyes widening with wonder, he shot up, looking at the rising smoke with a drop in his jaw.

He glanced at Joshua for a moment, pleased that he was distracted and would not try to direct him back to the rest of the group on floor 85, and backed away from the window, trying to find a remote spot. Since most of the people on the floor were gathering around the windows facing the North Tower, he took his leave.

"Tracy! Tracy, where'd you go?! Get back here, you wuss! We need to go join the rest of the group!"

Oh boy. Alan ducked into a cubicle, hiding from Joshua for a moment. Touching the sides of his watch, he relaxed slightly as the retinal scanner verified his identity. Relief flooded through him as the watch face shifted to a computer screen with the International Rescue logo as the signal found the nearest satellite dish that would bounce the signal up to Thunderbird Five. He did not have long to wait before the line picked up.

"This is International Rescue. We are down for the next few days for necessary maintenance. We apologize for the inconvenience, but are automatically patching you through to local authorities."

Annoyance bubbled with him. Canceling the call, he attempted to contact Tracy Island, but received no signal. Right, the tropical storm. Frustrated, he called his space-bound brother again. "Come on, John… Answer me!"

"Tracy!" Joshua called out again.

"This is International Rescue. We are down for-"

"Damn it!" He hung up and tried again. What if Joshua found him before he could connect?!

At last, John's form took shape from the tiny projectors. "This is International Rescue. I'm sorry, but… What the... Alan? Aren't you supposed to be on a tour, Sprout? Don't tell me you're skipping out again! What's going on?" John questioned, his holographic form looking at his younger brother in confusion and disappointment. His form bobbed up and down a little, letting Alan know that John had turned off the gravity in the space station yet again. Sometimes it was just fun to float, John had told him once.

Taking a deep breath to calm his rattled nerves, Alan closed his eyes for the briefest of moments before speaking. "The North Tower just exploded."

Holo-John's eyebrow raised. "What? What are you talking about? North Tower? Explosion? You had nothing to do with this, right?"

"What? No!"

"Had to make sure. Now, explain."

"There's probably news coverage of it right now. I don't know, but there's a big gaping hole in the upper floors. I don't know what happened, but you guys need to get out here, if you can." To his credit, Alan managed to keep the edge from his voice as he spoke to his brother.

"Alan, if this is some sort of joke, I swear. I was sleeping..." John's voice dropped out, and Alan knew immediately he had found what he sought through the information portal. "What in the world?"

Alan gulped a little, but otherwise remained calm as his training expected of him. This was no time to panic. "John? Fermat is in the North Tower."

.~*Thunderbirds Are Go*~.

9/11 – 8:55 a.m. EST/2:55 a.m. HAST

Tracy Island

Jeff Tracy sighed as he flipped another page in the book he was mindlessly reading. Well, attempting to read. He was bothered, but he could not quite put his finger on why. Perhaps it was the meatloaf surprise his mother had made that evening for dinner? Not one of her best dishes, that was for sure, but she had insisted on taking over the kitchen from Onaha for one night while she visited.

Then again, it could even be the call he had gotten earlier that evening from Alan's Headmaster, congratulating him on his son's science convention victory. Jeff had not even been aware that his son was entered into any competition. Alan had told him that the conference was something that Fermat had wanted to go to. Why had his youngest son lied?

The thought had bothered him so much that he began looking into more of Alan's school history, wondering why he never got any announcements. It was then that he discovered a subroutine in the computer preventing things from Wharton's coming through. Emails, school announcements, and the like. The only thing that came through was direct calls and grade reports.

By the time he discovered all of this and made the corrections, allowing the back-filed files flooding through the filters, it was far too late to contact his son about this outrage. About all the missed school events that Brains always seemed to know about.

When had Alan learned to hack a computer, let alone Jeff's? As soon as this tropical storm was over, the Tracy patriarch was determined to take Tracy One to the mainland and get a direct answer from his son, even if he had to pull him away from his field trip.

Regardless, he could not sleep and he hated it.

Then again, it could be the severe tropical storm raging outside like a hungry wolf wanting to break in and devour all it could. Yeah, that could be it, combined with everything else. The storm shutters were in place, the buildings were protected from the harsh weather, and the Thunderbirds grounded. There would be no rescues this night, no matter what calls came in.

Tomorrow, hopefully, the recovery would begin and then they could leave for any emergencies. It was far too dangerous for them to go out to clear the bay doors or pool to launch in this storm. They had tried that once, and Thunderbird One had almost ended up crashing into the villa as a huge gust of wind caught it at the wrong angle while taking off. It would take a very extreme rescue for him to even think of attempting such a thing.

Grumbling, he tossed the book to the other side of the bed and turned on the TV to ESPN, trying to catch the highlights of the previous day's games. He needed to get to sleep, he knew, yet he could not get his eyes to close.

His thoughts drifted again to his youngest child, the one that looked so much like his late wife. Alan had always been a problem child, not quite fitting in with the rest of his brothers. That could be chalked up to the fact that Alan was seven years younger than Gordon, his next brother in age. The age difference between Alan and Scott, his oldest, was almost thirteen years! The difference between the other brothers was a year between Scott [29] and John [28], two between John and Virgil [26], and then three between Virgil and Gordon [23].

Alan truly was the baby of the family at only sixteen. As such, he was constantly trying to prove himself, and more than once his attempts ended in disaster, such as the case of the science building in his last school four years prior. That had been a long day. Just thinking about it made Jeff tense all over again. It did not matter that the memory was downright hilarious in hindsight. How proud Alan had looked after the explosion.

His youngest did, finally, get to prove himself the spring break of his fourteenth year when the Hood had invaded Tracy Island and trapped the rest of the family up in the space station, leaving Alan, Tin-Tin, and Fermat running for their lives.

It was through the actions of the youngest members of the Island that any of them were still alive, though all three of the trio had been almost killed on several occasions, with the Hood taking a personal interest in Alan. Recalling that interest made Jeff sit up in bed and sigh, his stomach queasy at the mere thought of the Hood and what he had almost accomplished. Ever since the encounter with the Hood, Alan had been... odd. More focused, able to do things that Jeff had not thought possible, such as pilot two of the Thunderbirds without any prior training other than his own imaginings.

He remembered being trapped on Thunderbird Five, unable to open the airlock to get to Thunderbird Three and safety. The Hood had so generously decided to leave the security footage running when he had discovered there were unaccounted children on the Island. They had watched the battle take place in the hangers below the surface of the Island up until the point that the trio had been cornered in the silo for Thunderbird One.

"Poor Alan, the one always left out. The youngest. Useless. The very reason why the Tracy family does not have a matriarch any longer." The Hood smirked. "Your father would have traded you for her in a heartbeat."

"You're lying!"

"Tut, tut. Have you not noticed how he cast you out? Sent you away from the ones you were meant to call family? I'll even bet you that he never wanted you to begin with. After all, there is quite a gap between you and your next older brother, is there not? Seven years, if I read the tabloids correctly. You were an accident. A mistake. Unwanted."

The Tracy patriarch could not rid himself of the pain he had seen written on his youngest son's face as he watched helplessly from the station. His rage spreading through his older sons at the man's words. The heartache on Alan's face. In his eyes.

Yet, Alan had defied the Hood and gotten them out of there by using some sort of invention – later identified as a skimmer – by hitting an access panel with a rock. For a brief moment, Jeff thought his son had been saved as he disappeared from sight.

"Get them!"

"Transom! Fire up Thunderbird One! And set it to broil!"

Jeff remembered his heart stopping the moment he thought he witnessed his youngest's murder as the thrusters of their headlining ship fired into the tubes. How his breath caught in his throat. A silent yell never leaving his mouth. A plea. A cry. Knowledge that his son had died believing that his family never wanted him. He had felt like a broken man until hearing Alan's voice hours later over the video feed from the satellite.

The relief. The joy.

Until the Hood shattered it once more.

"Found you, Alan."

The Hood had interrupted their communications, leaving that as the final message between father and son until another few hours had passed when power was finally restored to Thunderbird Five. When Brains had awakened them right before they all died in their sleep.

That day, his youngest had almost followed in the footsteps of his mother, who had died ten years prior to the events of the Hood due to an avalanche. His beloved wife had given her life to protect their baby, who had been with her when the avalanche had swept her away. Alan had barely survived that day with the Hood, same with everyone, and just thinking of the incident sent hot tears to his eyes. He could still hear his struggled cries as he gasped for air as the Hood strangled him and threw him against pillars to kill him. Nearly sent him falling into a running Mole after strangling the boy had not worked out as planned.

If not for Tin-Tin…

Pulling out his phone, he called up his buddies at the international high security prison H.O.O.P, just to make sure the Hood was still behind bars. Satisfied with their quick response, he then chose to look up the day's schedule for Alan while he was on his field trip.

He knew his other sons were sleeping – well, John probably was not – but Alan was in Manhattan on a school field trip, a full six hours ahead of them. For him, it was already morning. From the weather report, it was a beautiful morning.

He soon found that today Alan and Fermat would be spending time at the World Trade Centers. Heh, Alan was probably bored out of his mind! Poor guy. He was not much for looking at buildings, but when it came to things that required physical exertion, such as rock climbing or hiking, he was all for it. Same with space. Alan absolutely loved the stars, just like his elder blond brother and mother. Just like Jefferson Tracy himself. The Astro Dome Observatory the previous night had probably been the highlight of Alan's whole trip.

It was one reason why Jeff had finally decided that he was going to train Alan to pilot Thunderbird Three. While the world had not yet traveled farther than Mars, or finished setting up colonies on the Moon, there were space shuttles and luxury satellite hotels. One day, Jeff was going to retire from International Rescue as a rescuer, and he wanted his youngest to take over as the family astronaut. Gordon had already made it clear he preferred helping Virgil out in Thunderbird Two and piloting Thunderbird Four, which perfectly suited the aquanaut.

Eventually, Thunderbird Three would be retired. As of right now, in another hanger on a nearby island, a second, much bigger, space rocket was being built with better abilities, grappling arms, and new thrusters. The cockpit was going to be redesigned, making it rotate on an axel so that it always stayed upright while the mighty craft twisted and spun in space. Not only that, but it was having a long drill build into the cone and neck of the craft for latching onto asteroids or other surfaces where normal landings would not be possible.

Since it took quite a while to work on such a large craft, the original Thunderbird was still in service. However, by the time the new one was finished in about another year and brought to Tracy Island, Alan would begin training for space travel, and the new beast would be his to fully command once he graduated from Wharton's Academy. In fact, Jeff had already designed a simulation for his youngest son with Brains' help, that would train the future astronaut in the form of a video game. Only a few more kinks needed to be worked out with the controls of the special console, but it would be ready by Winter Break.

Jeff had kept this new rocket a complete secret from all but Brains and a handful of trusted engineers, as he wanted to surprise his youngest son with it as soon as it was complete. All his sons, actually. Scott and Virgil would probably complain about the size of Alan's Thunderbird – Gordon especially! He did not particularly care. Thunderbird Three had always been the largest, as space travel was incredibly dangerous. Yet, he knew that if any of his sons could handle it, Alan could and would.

He could hardly wait for the revelation. Soon, his son would fly among the stars like he had always dreamed. The smile would not leave the father's face as he pictured his child's reaction to such a mighty machine. Especially since Alan was the first person Jeff wanted to ride in the beast with him as he brought her home to the Island.

Though, none of this would happen if he did not get a straight answer out of his son about the subroutine planted on his computer. Okay, it would happen, as Jeff could not bring himself to take this away from his son, but he would do it grudgingly… while enjoying every moment of it.

He could just not stay angry at his youngest, no matter how hard he tried.

Harsh red light followed by the cry of the klaxon startled him out of his musings. Groaning, he sat up in bed and swung his feet over the side, rubbing his face for a moment before pulling on some pants and hurried from his room to the main circular office, where he found Hiram 'Brains' Hackenbacker already activating the Command and Control Center.

"Stay up late, too? Was it the meatloaf? Or are you trying to fix Alan's subroutine in my computer? I thought I told you I fixed that…? At least, I think I did?" Jeff rattled off, looking over at him in surprise. "Did you activate the alarm by accident? I thought I said no more late-night tinkering after last time!"

"N-No. I-I was up wo-working on a few things, i-including the c-co-computer, b-but I d-did not s-sound the alarm," Brains responded as he placed his hand on the hidden scanner pad. Like Jeff, he knew that John would not activate the emergency alarm while Tracy Island was in such a storm unless something was horribly wrong.

"Activating Command and Control," a cool feminine voice spoke. The office began to turn, the original desk sliding into the floor as a control panel, one with high tech keyboards, rose out on the opposite side. The sea-view window was covered up by a long panel, and the large picture on the wall disappeared, being replaced by seven portraits, one for each Tracy and each with a different background color. This was the infamous Command and Control Center of International Rescue.

Jeff, having changed into his jumpsuit as a precaution, glanced towards the doorway as this metamorphism took place, watching in great amusement as his exhausted older sons stumbled in with only their boxers on. "Really?" he questioned, laughter in his voice. "Do none of you have pajamas? Fairly certain you each got a pair for Christmas last year from Grandma."

"Seriously? It's three in the morning! And we live on a tropical island, Dad. No one wears pajamas. Especially when there's a humid tropical storm going on!" Gordon complained unhappily and he reached into his portrait tube and grabbed his jumpsuit, his brothers doing the same. The office was rather chilly to counteract the humidity, so getting dressed into the rescue suits was the next best course of action.

Virgil was just as grumpy as his younger brother as he finished zipping up the white uniform trimmed with green. "Tell me about it. Hasn't the world heard of sleep? We're in the middle of a tropical storm! What is John thinking? We're all grounded because everything's blocked! I thought he put out the automatic response?"

Scott rolled his eyes. "Oh, shut it. We knew we'd be up at random times for years, and yet you always complain! Why?!"

"Because it's fun to annoy you," the younger two responded with a laugh, much to his infuriation.

Jeff shook his head and looked towards the portraits as John's eyes lit up and his holographic form took shape in front of them. "John?" He frowned, noticing that John did not seem quite like his serious self, but more troubled. Brow knitting in fatherly worry, he tried again to gain his second oldest son's attention. "John? What's going on? You know we cannot leave the island during a tropical storm."

The blond almost seemed startled and distracted, increasing the worry that the single father felt. "You may have to figure it out. There's been an incident in southern Manhattan. Specifically, the World Trade Centers." John's voice was neutral as he spoke, and his form was stiff as he locked holo-eyes with his father. "We haven't been requested yet, but…"

Gordon smacked his forehead. "What did the Sprout do this time? That's where he was going today, right?" he asked, looking at Brains, who nodded in response. "Did he blow something up? He has a knack for that, after all." The others all gave small nods of agreement.

John, however, shook his head. "Alan did nothing this time. Reports are jumbled and confused, but from what I can see, a plane has crashed into the North Twin Tower. It's all over the news."

Scott's eyes widened as he switched on the TV, barely listening to the anchors as they spoke, but instead had his eyes glued to the picture on the television of the burning building. A few of the video clips showed a large passenger plane flying right into the side of the building. Hundreds of lives taken within an instant.

Each Tracy was sucked into the confusing reports, rooted to their spots as they knew they could not deploy until International Rescue was requested, as per the conditions set forth by the United Nations unless it was in international waters or space. There was also the storm to consider.

"How… is that possible?" Gordon asked softly, staring at the screen.

Minutes passed by in a flash as the family watched the news footage unfold in utter astonishment. Papers flooded the air, a few people were jumping from the white-hot flames to their deaths. It was better to jump to one's death instead of being burned alive, it would seem.

Jeff tried a few times to form the words to describe what he was seeing, but nothing was quite right. The only thing that pulled any of them away from the screen was John's voice once more.

"Sorry, Alan, I finally cleared the airways enough to get your signal through to home. The airwaves are crammed packed with panic and people trying to reach for us," John stated as a not-quite formed, school uniform clad, holo-Alan appeared from his portrait's projectors.

Jeff's head, followed swiftly by his island-bound sons, snapped to the sight of the youngest Tracy and the panicked voices they could hear coming through the feed. "Alan!" His voice was joined by his sons as they tried to find out if their little Sprout was okay.

"I'm okay. I'm in the South Tower on the 77th, but..." He paused a moment as his holo-form fizzled. "Fermat was in the North Tower. From the last text I got from him, he was on the tenth floor. I can't get ahold of him, though."

Brains' eyes widened at this news, and he collapsed into his chair with relief that Fermat was probably already evacuated from the building and just could not respond due to the chaos. His son... his only living family, was more than likely alive. "I'll try to raise him on the wristcomm."

"Good luck with that. I barely got Alan through. The airwaves are simply horrible," John muttered, shaking his head. "Heck, I'm hardly keeping Alan on the line."

"Alan," Jeff began, "try to get everyone to evacuate the building. No one should be in either tower. Where's your school group? You kids get out of there now."

He averted his eyes for a moment. "Yeah, about that… They're about seven? Eight floors up?" He winced slightly, trying to give an innocent grin but failed miserably.

"Did you seriously ditch them again, Alan?!" John asked in annoyance. "What did I tell you about that?! Especially now!"

Alan raised his hand. "Whoa, whoa, I had a perfectly legit reason for that this time, John. Totally punched the tour guide."

"YOU DID WHAT?!"

"ALAN SHEPARD TRACY!"

"I have a legit reason for that! See, the tour guide decided she rather…" His widening eyes shifted upwards. The teenager cut out of the picture suddenly, which began shaking, as if Alan were moving. Panicked screams filled the air.

"Rather what?" Jeff questioned, glancing at the clock. 3:03 a.m., their time. It would be 9:03 a.m. where Alan was at. "Alan, what are you talking about? You better answer me, boy!"

"What are you doing, first off, and what's that noise?" Gordon interrupted as a dull roar became a mighty shriek.

"GET DOWN! OH, F-" Alan shrieked before his line cut out with a mighty explosion.

Voices from the television rose up in a shocked yell. "Holy shit! Did you see that?! Another plane has just crashed into the South Tower! Oh my God!" Another voice screamed in the background, "This is terrorism! It has to be!"

Video feed of a second plane hitting the South Tower appeared on the screen, caught by a shaking camera. The explosion blast, the shriek of metal, the roar of the engines, all caught on visual audio for the world to see.

Jeff, feeling his knees go weak, grabbed for the desk, not quite believing what he was witnessing. Another plane... Right into the side of the building his baby was in. His heart pounded loudly against his chest, and he began to find it hard to breathe. Prickles ran up and down his arms as he tried to gain some sense of what had just happened. This could not be happening.

His sons were in much the same way, either standing in shock or swaying slightly. Slowly, distress and panic overcame their dazed faces. Fury. Terror. Confusion. Pain.

Had they really just seen what they had? A distinct act of terrorism in this day and age? An era of peace shattered in minutes. The world as they knew it coming to an end in a matter of minutes. Hundreds of lives taken in seconds. And Alan…

Had they just witnessed the youngest Tracy's death?

"Did…" Scott began, hating the way his body trembled. It was one thing to be on a rescue and witness such events. It was another for such events to happen to his family. Not again.

"Dad…?" Gordon whispered, unable to tear his eyes from the screen. It could not be possible. Not after Lucille Tracy's death. Not after the Hood's invasion.

"Alan…" Virgil murmured, clenching his eyes shut. He could only imagine what his youngest brother looked like, if there was anything left of him.

Brains sat in his chair, dumbfounded and speechless. There were no words he could say to offer comfort. Running a trace, he relaxed slightly upon finding a signal for Alan's watch. Then again, the watch was fairly indestructible. Unless Alan contacted or answered them, they would not know if he was alive.

John took a deep, shuddering breath and turned his holo-self towards his family. "International Rescue, the call just came in. Thunderbirds are go."

Jeff nodded, gathering himself back up. This was no time to stand like a fool. They had a job to do. A son and brother to save. Many other lives as well. Looking straight at John, he spoke the familiar callsign. "F.A.B."