Hello, folks, and welcome to my first story of 2019!

Still no sign of new TAG, unfortunately, so it's been left to the plot bunnies to help tide me over.

Thanks to my wonderful friend Madilayn, this is the third crossover between TAG and Emergency! Both of us thought that Outta Time and Back To The Future needed one more story to round the series off.

Of course, the bunnies had other ideas - hence the title.

As always, I hope you enjoy!

Endings and Beginnings

Well, this was embarrassing. Had a nice touch of irony too. Rescuers, especially these rescuers, were NOT meant to need rescuing themselves.

Still, he'd bring up the finer points of embarrassing irony later. Right now, Scott's thoughts were focussed more seriously on his own situation.

He'd been in far worse, of course, but this... no, this was different. Personal. Any rescue that left any of his brothers in danger raised his anxiety levels to what they jokingly called Scott-Con 1.

Just Virgil this time, thank God. A strangely comforting advantage in their current predicament. If he could choose any brother to face it with, he'd choose this brother in a heartbeat. Not just for his strength and ingenuity, but for the level headedness that could prove even more crucial.

Whether said brother would agree with him was another matter. Like that debate on embarrassing irony, he nudged this other discussion into the 'Not Now' part of his mind, and concentrate instead on getting them both out of this mess.

Still, for every reason he had to fret, there were equally welcome reasons to be grateful. As commander of International Rescue, it was knowing the family they'd been trying to help had made it to safety. Even if it hadn't ended as planned, any mission where they saved lives still counted as a win in his eyes.

On its more personal level, both Gordon and Alan were safe too. Returning home after their own mission - though no doubt en route to Los Angeles as fast as Thunderbird Four could bring them. And neither himself nor Virgil were hurt - at least, not that badly. A few bumps and bruises, and that gash along Virgil's wrist that he'd already managed to bandage.

So yes, he had a lot to be thankful for. Just not the aftershock that had struck with the lousiest timing. Trapped under a fresh fall of rubble, they were well and truly... stuck.

Or, as Virgil had put it - "stuck in a basement, with a whole building on top of us."

Or, as his more pedantic brother had put it - "stuck in a basement with a COLLAPSED building on top of us."

Not just any building either, but one of the tallest in Los Angeles - left in ruins by the massive earthquake that had rocked the city. A thought that drew out another wry smile as Scott glanced around him. If Gordon were here, he'd no doubt quip out the inevitable punchline.

"Now its shortest."

Instead, John's more serious voice gave him the latest update on how he and Virgil were going to get out of it.

"The rescue team's arriving now, Scott. They need to make sure the building's stable above you, then they'll start to clear the debris."

A pause. Long enough for them to trade puzzled glances. Their all business brother didn't pause like this without a damn good reason. And there was always an explanation behind it. But neither of them could figure out the answer to this one. Or why Mr Straight And Sensible sounded so... mischievous.

"And you're never going to believe who it is."

Ooooh, a mystery! A welcome distraction to keep them occupied. Well, it wasn't like they had much else to do to pass the time. And their options for I Spy were pretty limited.

In the glow of his light-sticks, Virgil's eyes widened too, while the same excited grin spread over his face.

"Kip Harris?"

Ah, yes. Once a fanboy, always a fanboy. And while he couldn't see his other brother's amusement, Scott could still hear it in John's reply.

"Sorry, Virgil, but no. Let's just say it's a whole... crew."

For two still puzzled brothers, the penny dropped at pretty much the same time. They knew every rescue team in the city had been called out to this emergency, and... no. As much as they might hope for yet another quirk of fate and time... no, it couldn't be.

"Scott? Virgil? This is Chief Stanley, Red Watch 51. Just sit tight, we'll have you out of there in no time... okay, Flight Engineer Stoker... you're up."

Stanley and Stoker? Well, that settled it. Barring the two biggest coincidences in history - yes, it could.

Three months after dropping in on their 20th century brothers, it seemed at least two of their descendants were about to do the same. And as they shared delighted grins, Scott couldn't help but agree with Virgil's wry observation.

"Not that I'm complaining, but we just seem fated to be with these guys."

"No complaints here either," Scott grinned, happier still that his commslink now allowed him to answer them - even if that answer did hold a note of rueful apology. "Thanks, Chief. And thanks for the help, this... uh, wasn't part of our rescue plan."

A chuckle of laughter spared him any further embarrassment, while another voice left him too surprised to worry about it anyway.

"Hey, are you kidding? You saved that whole family! My great granpa was right, you guys are the best!"

Yes, nothing like a little hero worship to ease an awkward situation. But with just voices to go on, they could only guess who it belonged to. A member of Chief Stanley's crew, obviously, but - which one?

From the amusement on Virgil's face, he was trying to figure it out too. It had all of John Gage's exuberance, and sounded young enough to belong to this family's baby. Judging by the affection in Chief Stanley's voice, he was just as much of a handful.

"That they are, Mikey. And when we get them out, you can tell them that in person. So let's get Big Red in here to clear this debris... and easy does it..."

Glancing again at his brother, Scott could see the same 'Say what?!' on his face too. Yes, these quirks of fate and its connection between two unrelated families just kept on coming.

Mikey?! Mike Stoker's great grandson? Well, no surprise there. As Mike had told them himself, there'd been firefighter engineers in his family as far back as they could remember.

No, their surprise came from that wholly un-Stoker like torrent of words. The same thought caused them both to chuckle with laughter. The quietness they'd come to know so well had clearly skipped this generation.

Some of those old Station 51 traditions, though, were still reassuringly familiar. As tonnes of rubble and tangled metal were lifted away, so a glimpse of blue sky above them disappeared behind a mass of red.

Flying red, that both of them now recognized. One of the rigs they'd seen when Hank Stanley and his crew had time-jumped into their lives, and joined them on that first, unforgettable rescue together. And in keeping with its twentieth century predecessor, its numbers gleamed in brightest white.

In awe of her size and tech-laden beauty, Virgil whistled in a fellow engineer's appreciation.

"Wow, isn't she something? Yeah, where you see a fire rig with those numbers on it, you know you'll find a Stoker either driving it or flying it. Though I've gotta say, Chet was right. Those things really do make their Big Red look like a Dinky toy."

A fair and true point, of course. But as Scott dryly reminded him, not everyone agreed with it.

"Don't let Mike hear you say that, or he'll do to you what he threatened to do to Chet."

"You mean tie him up the hose tower? Yeah, I wonder if he actually did that."

Beyond these bantering memories, a more sobering reality from the present remained. This reminder that their 20th century brothers were now long since dead. For every time they went back to see them, there'd be the poignancy of returning to a future where they didn't exist.

They also had to consider Brains' warning on the risks of travelling back in time. If any of them did anything to change the course of history for their ancestors, it could lead to serious, and irreversible consequences.

So yes, however hard it was, both of them knew it couldn't continue. A more subdued glance between them ended in a silent nod of agreement. That trip back to 1970s Los Angeles would also be their last.

More immediately, the rubble around them was clearing by the minute. They could hear other voices too now, and see the approaching glow of light-sticks. A few moments later, the welcome sight of their first rescuer appeared - removing his helmet to reveal a shock of red hair, and eyes that could only have come from his great grandfather.

"Scott? Virgil? I'm Chris DeSoto... it's an honour to meet you."

"Though maybe not like this," his partner grinned, his eyes also twinkling with mischief as he held out his hand. "Hi, I'm Roddy Gage. And much as it pains me to agree with him, my partner is right. It is an honour to meet you."

Was said partner at all impressed by such brotherly confidence? Was he hell. And even through three generations, the famous DeSoto sarcasm was still as sharp as ever.

"Gee, thanks."

Ignoring the smirk that answered him, Chris turned his more serious attentions to Virgil's arm. From one medic to another, its injury had been treated well enough to last until they reached safety. With most of the debris around them now cleared away, they could start the slow, careful crawl to freedom.

Several bumps, crashes and the odd 'Ow... damn it!' later, they emerged into a cacophony of noise and light. Cheering applause from the crowds who'd watched and waited for their return, and a salvo of flashes from news channels' holo-cams. Coming so unexpectedly, it was a bit of a shock.

But then the crowd shifted sideways, allowing a single figure to stride through it to reach them. From his white helmet to his turnouts - not to mention his height - his identity was unmistakeable. So were the warm, kindly eyes that swept over them, and his own crew, for any sign of injury.

"Well, if I'm as happy to see you boys as these folks are. Chief Stanley... though with all the history between us, that's waaay too formal. So if you're happy with Scott and Virgil, let's make it Ryan instead... okay?"

Oh, yes, he was a Stanley all right. Bright, direct, with that same air of fatherly command. Feeling the same connection with him as he'd had with his forefather, Scott grinned back - a solid handshake getting this new friendship off to the best possible start.

He could sense, too, that Hank Stanley's living legacy was as full of questions as he was. But with the quirks of fate and nature that had brought them together still playing out around them, neither of them got the chance to ask them. Instead, a now all business voice brought them both back to full, professional alert.

"Chief? We've got an oil fire, just off Catalina Island. Rig 127 needs us for back-up. And the island's been hit pretty hard with that tsunami... no casualties, but there's a lot of damage."

Damn if this wasn't the freakiest case of déjà vu that Scott had ever experienced. And even with its role of command reversed, his response to it now was the same as Hank Stanley's had been then.

"If you need our help too, Chief, just tell us where."

Just what a fire chief would want to hear when his resources were stretched to their limits. Yet despite the approval on his face, Ryan was still frowning with a poignantly familiar concern.

"You sure, Scott? You boys were trapped in that rubble for a long time. And that cut looks pretty nasty."

"Hey, we've had worse," Scott assured him, nodding towards his brother. "Virg here went through a whole day without telling me he'd wrenched his shoulder."

"Yeah, sounds familiar," Chris sighed, throwing the same 'what can I do with you?' glare towards his 'who, me?' faced partner.

Ah, brotherly love at its best - as entertaining for fire chiefs as it was for equally long suffering big brothers. And with yet another emergency for his crew to handle, this fire chief was now glad for all the help he could get.

"Well, if you can take over here, Scott, while we see to this fire..."

Striding alongside him to where Big Red was coming in to land, Scott was already activating his comm-link.

"You got it. Thunderbird Two has firefighting gear in its pod, and I can get Thunderbird Four out there too, if you..."

"FAB, Scott! We'll be there in five minutes..."

"...need them."

Beyond the grin and roll of his eyes, Scott also felt an immeasurable swell of pride. Yeah, like there was any power on Earth that could keep these two out of the action. And, of course, he knew Gordon and Alan were as eager to meet the rest of Chief Stanley's crew as he was.

They already knew it included three descendants of its originals, with Ryan, Chris and Roddy very much their forefathers' sons. And yes, Mikey Stoker bore an equally strong resemblance to his great grandfather too. But as they'd already heard, he wasn't nearly so quiet, or reserved - greeting them with a beaming grin, and handshakes that nearly took their arms off.

As Scott fondly noted, he was as much an overgrown fanboy as his brother, who was still staring in awe around Big Red's interior. If she'd looked huge on the outside, then the size of her pods and bays seemed even bigger. And if he'd heard that waspish comparison of his 'bird to a Dinky toy, he was too distracted to retaliate.

The surprises didn't end there either. While Mike Stoker's quietness had skipped this latest generation of his family, so Chet Kelly's lack of height had skipped through his. With the same mischief lurking in his eyes, "CB to my fellow brothers" was just marginally shorter than his Chief.

Juan Lopez, too, had been blessed with the height gene that Marco had missed out on. But the warm eyes and broad smile were every part his great grandfather's.

After the hugs and handshakes came the more serious reasons for their working together. With everyone assigned to their respective missions, Scott returned to where he'd left Thunderbird One, and Virgil to Thunderbird Two - though not before he'd left his eldest brother in teasing fear for his life.

"And if my 'bird's a Dinky toy against this Big Red, what does that make yours?!"

Oooh, he'd heard that after all? Damn it! And as he watched two giants of red and green rise into the air, Scott had to sigh in defeat.

"How about a brick of Lego?"

A chuckle of laughter made him groan, and glare down at the comm-link that he'd thought he'd deactivated. Damn these smartass little brothers! But for every blow to his ego came a moment to make him feel ten feet tall again - if just for a few seconds.

"Hey, Mr International Rescue? Can you come rescue my cat?"

Yes, whether you were saving the world from disaster, or rescuing a ten year old's cat, the joys of being a hero just never stopped. But then the overjoyed hug that came afterwards made it all worthwhile.

Even so, he was privately glad when the relief teams he'd been helping cleared him for stand-down. With the most critical emergencies now passed, including that on Catalina Island, he was free to fly out to those oil fires, and help out on what Virgil had described as "...a bit of a beast."

That was just a bit of an understatement. Arriving on scene, Scott stared out at a real life vision of hell. Above a sea of fire hung palls of black smoke. And right in the thick of it, just as he'd known they would be, two blurs of red and one of green were braving its fury to bring it under control.

To his relief, they appeared to be winning. Of course, Thunderbird Two had the latest fire-fighting technology, but even that paled against Big Red's specialist equipment. And as he watched her bank around to make her next run, he couldn't help but smile at her truly majestic grace.

"Sorry, Mike, but these rigs really do make Big Red look like a Dinky toy."

But then he sobered again. Remembered once more that, as he and Virgil had agreed, they wouldn't be taking any more trips back to their 20th century brothers. Instead, he made a vow to himself, to make a special request of their 21st century counterparts. When they'd all been cleared for stand-down, they'd all have one final call to make. To a place of hallowed ground, to say a very poignant goodbye.

There was something oddly comforting about a graveyard. Whether for those who'd died in service of their country, or lifelong causes, or just devoted their lives to their community, its peacefulness seemed to ease the pain of grief and loss.

Dedicated to the city's firefighters, Cinader Memorial Gardens was no exception. Every graveside was immaculate, with flowers and personal keepsakes keeping the memory of each fallen hero alive. But among the rows of headstones and memorials, there was just one that Scott, Virgil, Gordon and Alan had come to see.

Between himself and his brothers, Scott had expected to pay these very personal tributes by themselves. But then, he should have known better. Ryan, and Chris, and Roddy, and CB, and Juan, and Mikey had even greater right and reason to be here too. And just as it had done when they'd first met their great grandfathers, working together for just a few hours had forged a lifelong bond between them.

Arm in arm, they stood in respectful silence in front of the memorial that held so much meaning for every one of them. There had been tears at first, of course - mostly from Alan, who'd needed an extra tight hug from his biggest big brother. But as they listened to Ryan and his crew share their own memories, and tell them how the memorial had come about, so the grief for their lost brothers in arms turned to the same depths of pride.

"...yeah, they made one hell of a team..."

"...LA County's dream team, as their Chief put it..."

"...which was kinda nice of him, Chief... considering how your great granpa burnt his hat..."

"...thanks for the reminder, Mikey..."

"...and even when they were assigned to different stations, all their families kept in touch..."

"...yeah, they all promised each other that... well, when the time came, they'd all contribute to this memorial..."

"...so even though Roy and Johnny were buried separately, at least here they're still together..."

"...yeah, they're all together here..."

"...and when we qualified as firefighters, we got special permission to work together too..."

"...yeah, that's how legendary they were..."

"...we all come here on each anniversary..."

"...on every Firefighters Day too, and... y'know, I've always thought it's... you know, fated..."

"...yeah, Junior, me too... seems whatever generation we're in, you need a DeSoto to keep you out of trouble..."

"...hey, when have I ever caused you trouble?!"

"...you want that list alphabetically, or chronologically?!"

"...oh, go ride a hose..."

They were all laughing now. Celebrating the lives of five people unrelated by blood, but bonded together by ties that were even stronger. And for the five brothers who'd become part of their family, their connection to them wasn't over yet. With or without his Chief's authority, Mikey Stoker was going to see to that.

"And you know the coolest thing? With us all being in the rescue business, we'll get to work together too!"

Glancing across at his fellow commander, Scott saw a poignantly familiar expression on Ryan Stanley's face. The long suffering indulgence that his great grandfather had made his own. But then Ryan grinned back at him, giving his engineer's hair a fatherly ruffle as the rest of his crew nodded agreement.

For Scott, too, this brought this latest mission to the best possible close. A thought he knew every one of his brothers shared as they each gave the memorial in front of them a final, reverent pat. As one band of brothers left their lives, so another promised an equally special partnership.