Dear John

Alan started sniggering and erased the words on his data pad. He couldn't find it in himself to send his brother a 'Dear John' letter, even if it was his name.

Hey bro,

That was better, but still not great. It didn't quite convey the feeling he wanted his brother to know.

I know you haven't heard from me in a couple of weeks, but that's because I've been studying – yes, I've actually been doing work – please don't fall off your chair, it's not that earth shattering. And I passed all my exams with flying colours – now that is earth shattering!

I just wanted to say…god, how do you put this in a letter or an email…I just wanted to let you know that I miss you. There –I've said it. I do miss you, you know. More than you'd believe, I guess. I miss all of you, but at least I get to see the other guys regularly enough on holidays. But you are always in your lab. It's not an accusation – it's just the truth. The last time I got to spend time with you, neither of us were exactly 100 % after what happened. So I talked to dad – no shouting involved, and I calmly explained to him that I'm losing touch with the only other blonde Tracy…and shock on shock, he listened. So we talked some more, and I get to start my training on TB5 properly during the Summer Holidays. I hope you don't mind company, because you are getting me for two whole weeks. I tried to persuade him to send us to Maui to get our quality time, but that went down like a lead balloon… : ) Sometimes he just doesn't have a sense of humour!...or believe me when I'm serious!

Orbiting the earth, John laughed softly as he scrolled down the data pad. "Yeah, Sprout, sometimes dad's sense of humour is a little skewed." He grinned, and looked around the station. So, Alan would be visiting him in a week's time. His grin widened slightly and he rubbed his chin, setting the pad down so he could grab a handful of star charts to pack them back into their cases. Little did Alan know, he'd already had the same discussion with his father…including the Maui option. Nothing like a little R&R in the Hawaiian Islands to bring on some brotherly bonding.

XXXxxxXXX

Scott shook his head ruefully as Alan practically bounced in the co-pilots chair in Thunderbird 3. The kid was so wound up on adrenalin, he was surprised that he hadn't taken off under his own power. "Easy, Alan." He cautioned quietly. "You've already flown 1 and 2…and 4," he added belatedly, remembering his heart stopping in his chest when he saw his baby brother emerge from the Thames River in London. "Now you get to Pilot 3. Now, I'll still have access to the controls, and I will take over if necessary, but it's up to you to get us in the air, through the atmosphere and docked into 5. Got it?"

Alan nodded decisively, his hands gripping the throttle. "FAB, Scott."

Scott grinned at the familiar use of FAB and nodded. "Ok, engines are off and we're just sitting here. Let's get going, Sprout."

Alan nodded, and to Scott's pleasant surprise, did a full pre-flight check before turning on his headpiece and confirming with their father and John that they were ready to go. In the command chair, Jeff smiled, having followed all of the manual checks as they were completed, and gave the ok to launch. Less than a minute later, he crossed over to his window to watch the big red rocket soar high up into the air, quickly disappearing into the clouds.

"What took them so long?" Virgil asked from the doorway, and Jeff grinned over his shoulder at him

"Alan did all the pre-flight checks."

"I thought Scott already-"

"Yes, and Alan did as he was taught. Don't trust that someone else has done something – always check yourself. "

Virgil nodded and stuck his hands into the pockets of his shorts. "He's really after growing up the last few months, hasn't he?"

Jeff shook his head. "He was grown up long before now, Virgil. We just didn't see it, or let him show it. The incident with the Hood showed me that. He stepped up, like any one of you would have done. I guess it's hard being the youngest. Gordon stayed a child as long as he could, because he had older brothers to terrorize, and a younger one to form a posse with. Alan, though – he always had to run to keep up with all of you. Literally, sometimes."

Virgil nodded slowly, his mood growing more sombre. "How do you think he'll do?" He jerked his head upwards, indicating Thunderbird 5.

"He'll make us proud, Virgil. Just like you all have. He has a steady head on his shoulders, when he's allowed show it. He has a temper, of course; he gets that from your mother, but it only comes to play when he's riled up. When he's teased, for example."

Virgil smiled sheepishly and shrugged his shoulders. "We all agreed, dad, no more mentioning things that we know will spark him off. But he has to lose his sensitivity – when he gets to college, they'll crucify him if he's an easy mark."

Jeff shook his head, his smile now gone. "That's just it, Virgil. He's not an easy mark. You've all made him into one. And you know you do; you know all his deepest darkest secrets – you've known him since he was born. You know what he's done every step of the way, and you know how to get to him. Just like Scott knows how to get to you, and you know how to get to Gordon. But none of you prey on Scott or Gordon like you do Alan. Before Spring Break, it was verging on bullying. I didn't put a stop to it, and I should have. But I am now."

Virgil nodded glumly. "How come you haven't mentioned John in all this?"

Jeff looked at him pointedly and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "John, to my knowledge, has never once teased Alan to the point of tears."

XXXxxxXXX

The son in question was waiting when they docked, his ever-present ear-piece hooked over his right ear, and a wide grin on his face.

"Well?" he directed the question to Scott, not looking at his pale baby brother until he got the answer he was waiting for.

"Alan's broken Virgil's record for speed, made two errors in all, and on the whole, was a hell of a lot better than Gordon's first try at docking." Scott replied frankly, shoving a box into his arms. Behind him, Alan blew out a long breath and tried to stop his hands from shaking. "Not bad for his first go."

Alan looked almost on the verge of being upset at the clinical description of his maiden voyage in Thunderbird 3, and John tucked his arm around him as he guided him inside his Thunderbird. "Aside from Dad, Gordon's the best at docking Thunderbird 3. Did you know that?"

The look of relief on Alan's face almost broke Scott's heart, and he summoned a warm smile to reassure the suddenly nervous teen. "I think it's something to do with docking a submarine; he had a lot of practice at that when he was in WASP, remember?"

Alan nodded, realizing that Gordon was a complete natural when it came to throwing Thunderbird 4 around underneath the water. Space probably wasn't that much different to an aquanaut. "He's really good at it then?"

John shrugged as they entered the main living space and gave Alan a small push inside. "Near enough. Not as good as Dad is though…"

"Nobody's as good as dad when it comes to throwing a rocket around space." Scott quipped, dropping his box onto the floor. "Kyrano sent up some perishables too. They're in Alan's box. He said they'll have to be eaten in the next three to four days."

John nodded, keeping an eye on Alan as he moved to the middle of the room and swept his eyes across the consoles, taking in every millimetre of space. "I'll walk you out." He murmured, following Scott through the access hatch. Sure Alan was out of earshot he tugged on Scott's sleeve. "How'd he really do?"

"Ok, so he might have made three mistakes, not two. But other than that, he acted like a pro, John. Cross my heart."

They both laughed softly at the action, and John nodded grudgingly. "Fair enough…"

"He's really excited about this, John. Just ease him into it slowly, but don't baby him. Ask him about what he thinks he's capable of doing and make him do a bit more. I think he'll surprise you."

"Let me guess; he surprised you?" John asked wryly, and Scott grinned in answer.

"Not me; dad. They took TB1 out for a spin yesterday and hit some bad weather. A lightning hit fried some of the stabilization booster circuits. Sprout managed to keep her upright and faced in the right direction until dad could re-boot the systems…"

"You must have been delighted."

"They only told me this morning." Scott snorted in reply. "Dad was grinning like a loon."

John rolled his eyes as Scott ducked through the airlock, quickly running through the procedure for un-docking from the Space Station. In the meantime, John returned to the control room, his grin returning when he saw Alan practically pressed up against the large glass window that covered one side of the room.

"What do you see, Sprout?" he asked fondly, coming to stand beside him, and Alan glanced up at him, his eyes wide with awe.

"Everything..." The teenager breathed softly. "John, this is...this is amazing. How can you stand to come down again?"

Alan found himself being tucked underneath John's arm as they both relaxed against each other, and John sighed. "It's hard, Alan. But you start to miss natural light after a while. And fresh air...and the feel of wind against your face. And earth...plants...human contact...home cooking...Then I have no problem coming down. But it will be nice to have company for the next two weeks. Especially yours. So tell me; how did you get on in school the last semester?"

Alan grimaced and picked up one of the boxes they'd brought up with them and shrugged. "Oh, the usual."

"I thought you said I'd be surprised at your results?" John immediately frowned, picking up the other box and leading the way into the small galley kitchen.

"Oh, they went fine. Better than expected....better than I'd expected even though I put in a lot of work the last few months. It's just that the teachers are a pain in the aft."

John's lips twitched at the use of the naval terminology for the rear of a ship and shook his head. "If dad hears you using Navy slang he'll wring your neck. Where'd you learn that from?"

Alan grinned as he ripped open his box and began to unpack, holding up each item of 'smuggled' contraband for his brother to see. "Bobby Bolivia at school, his father's pretty high up in the Navy; I forget what his rank is. After Ricky Parson got detention for three weeks for using the word 'ass', we needed a less...controversial word to use. Aft was the winner. Bobby won a week's supply of chocolate for his outstanding contribution. As far as I know, the teachers are still working out whether or not they can class the term as slang or not. We'll probably find out next year."

A soft chime interrupted their unpacking, and Alan dogged John's heels as he trotted back to his chair, sliding onto it smoothly and flicking a switch to put him through to the caller. Alan slipped on a spare earpiece and listened in as John quickly calmed down the youngster that had somehow managed to contact them and after listening, the older blonde's fingers began to dance over the console, triangulating the boys position and contacting the local authorities to tell them that the boy was stuck halfway up a cliff. He stayed on the line with the frightened boy until he could hear sirens in the background, and the boy hung up after he could hear his rescuers voices.

"That happen often?" Alan asked, adjusting the earpiece, and John shrugged, making his way back to the kitchen.

"Not too often. It's not that easy to contact us, Alan, and it's usually just the local authorities that know how to get us. Of course, Mayday calls from planes and boats are automatically picked up and an alert goes out-"

"The IO8 frequency?" John was surprised and merely nodded as Alan began to stow away the food. "Dad was telling me about that a few weeks ago. It's a pretty neat idea." Looking up, he saw John's shocked look and ruefully rolled his eyes. "John, you know I know the ins and outs of TB1, 2, 3 and 4's user manuals and a good bit of their plans, right?"

John nodded mutely.

"What makes you think I just stopped at 4? There were 5 Thunderbirds last time I looked, and I don't think that's changed, unless you've downgraded the station yourself. Why wouldn't I look at the Training Manual and simulator for the station? Dad's made no secret of the fact that he wants to have 2 of us as the main contacts up here, just in case something happens and someone needs to be replaced. I know he said that everybody's pretty good at everything, but Virgil does get Space Sick, Scott gets antsy being enclosed up here and Gordon..."

"Gordon just doesn't really like space." John finished off for him. "I know dad's hoping you'll take over some of the shifts when you finish college and everything. That won't be for a while, though, Sprout."

Alan shrugged, leaning against the countertop. "There's always holidays, John, until I finish School at least. And I've been thinking of doing some distance learning college courses...I know you've written books and everything up here...I could probably study around rescues. At least there'd be no distractions other than call's. I want to be a part of this; and I need to start learning as soon as I can. I've got a lot to catch up on, practical wise. It's all full and well knowing what to do in a rescue, but actually doing it, and doing it well is a whole other ball game.

They shared a knowing look, and Alan busied himself with heating up the dinner that Kyrano had sent up for them both. He knew it was a treat for John to eat so well when he was up in the sky, and having had to suffer with School Dinners for most of the year, he kind of knew how his older brother felt. He hadn't even touched the start button for the microwave when a blue light flashed inside the kitchenette, shocking him into running out into the main room.

John held up his hand for Alan to keep quiet, but quickly snatched another earpiece and handed it over. "Scott, you're nearing re-entry now. Do you think you can manage it on only one of the engines?"

There was a long silence as Alan quickly scanned the automatically generated transcript of the emergency call and blanched; something had caused two of Thunderbird 3's engines to shut down, and the third was only operating at 90% efficiency.

"Affirmative. I've managed to get Engine 2 back up to 100%. I can get her down and home on one engine, but I don't think she'll be going anywhere for the next couple of days; not until we can give the engines an overhaul...hang on, I'm hitting re-entry now. Talk to you in a minute or so."

As the radio cut out, John was already calling Tracy Island, relaying what they knew to have happened, and that Thunderbird 3 would be coming in crippled. It was a tense twenty minutes as Scott carefully angled the damaged rocket towards the island, and Alan found himself gripping John's hand tightly as their eldest brother brought it in for a landing. Only when Scott was reported as safe on the ground did either blonde breathe, and John realised he didn't know who had reached for whose hand; it was very probable he'd done it himself.

"He's fine, John." Alan nodded decisively, shrugging off the near-disaster that had nearly hit their brother. "He's fine, and we need to eat. We can't do anything from up here, can we?"

John nodded in agreement, feeling some of the blood in his body rush back to his face, but not too happy about the paleness of his brother. "Yeah, sprout; you're right. Uh...about, uh..."

"Hand-holding never happened, right?"

"Right!"