Disclaimer: I do not own the characters used in this story; they belong to Thunderbirds and its related companies. I am making no money from this story.
Inspired by the song 'Father And Son,' by Cat Stevens.
A/N: I've removed the song lyrics, having heard rumours that songfics aren't allowed on anymore. I've attempted to write it so that the son could be any one of the five. I hope you like it, and hoping for feedback :)
Title: Father and Son
Jeff walked into his son's bedroom to find him with his back to the door. The young man had his hands placed firmly on the window sill, supporting most of the load. He faced out at the sun setting serenely over the sea, casting golden glitter over the water.
The last rescue had not been an easy one for the entire team, but this son in particular had felt the heat, literally. It was only through sheer luck and quick thinking on his part that he and his brother had escaped being at the core of a massive explosion. Although he had been congratulated on the shrewd manoeuvre of the Firefly, he had still not forgotten that it was due to his err in the first place that their lives had been put on the line.
After taking part in two large and demanding rescues previous to this, the events of the day had almost finished the boy off, physically and mentally. Seeing his work taking its toll on his son, Jeff had decided to pay him a visit, give him some much-needed encouragement, and offer him a ten-day break away from the island. Jeff gave out vacation time sparingly, knowing that the International Rescue organisation did not have a great number of staff as it was, but he knew that there was no other choice for his son. Recuperation was required, before lives were put at risk.
'Hello, son,' Jeff greeted, causing the junior Tracy to turn his head around sharply. There were dark circles beneath the eyes that usually held a bright sparkle within. The darkness stood out like a sore thumb against the frighteningly pallid face.
'Hey,' he greeted, strain and fatigue showing in his voice. 'Anything you need?'
'A word,' Jeff told him, taking a seat upon the end of the bed. Offering him the holiday was now out of the question. After seeing the appearance of his son, it was now going to be an order. 'Son, with the hard work you've done recently, its been decided that you are long overdue for a holiday.'
'A vacation? But, what if there's an emergency?'
'Son, when did you last have a holiday? Can you remember?'
A blank expression answered his question.
'It's obvious you need a break,' Jeff continued. 'You've been on rescue after rescue, doing most of the physical work. Everyone put under that sort of pressure needs a break once in a while, you know that as well as I do.'
'You're saying you don't think I'm up to the standards of everyone else? You don't think I can pull my weight?' His son looked at him indignantly, almost angry at this apparent accusation.
'On the contrary, you've been doing more than enough in rescues. In fact, too much.'
It was not only the physical side of rescues that had taken its toll on the International Rescue member. The mental stress, the pressures, had begun to gnaw away at him. Jeff noticed that his son's actions seemed almost perfunctory. He had lost his cheerful, funny nature, and had become reserved and withdrawn.
'A vacation will give you a chance to relax and unwind,' Jeff explained. 'It's not an easy job you do, and sometimes you've got to relax and get away from it all.'
There was a bigger issue to be discussed. The pressure had become so much that Jeff's son was becoming almost robotic, instead of human. His life was becoming far too centred on International Rescue. Although the business was a great obligation, still being human and living life took precedence.
'Go out and have fun,' Jeff insisted. 'You never know who you might meet out there. A nice young lady, perhaps? None of us would be there to cramp your style,' Jeff added, chuckling.
His son raised an eyebrow.
'You've got your whole life to live. Don't burn out at this young. Take it slowly, okay?' Jeff grappled with the words to tell his son that, at the end of the day, his sons were more important than his organisation, International Rescue. 'You've got a whole lifetime ahead of you, and I want you to live it well.'
He looked up to see one sole tear sliding clumsily down his son's soft cheek.
Jeff took his son into his arms, and stroked his silky hair. 'It's all right,' he soothed. 'You have to do this, sometimes. You've got to let it out. It's doing you no good staying inside. If not to me, then you've got four brothers and many friends to listen to you.'
His son, now bearing the panicky eyes of a five-year-old who had just scraped his knee, looked up. 'Dad, we could have died. We could have died all because of me.' He choked as he spoke the last sentence.
'I know, son, but you didn't. That's what's important. You've got to move forward now, not look back.' Jeff continued to stroke his son's hair and rubbing his back, soothing him as he let out the emotion trapped inside him. The emotion that had spent days tormenting him, and psychologically tearing him apart, was being beaten with the help of his father.
After some minutes, Jeff stood up. He thought that his son would prefer to spend some time thinking alone, before he heard, 'Dad, please don't go.'
Jeff nodded and turned back. The father sat with and rocked his son as he cried.
The End