I'm judging the ages on Scott being about 16 when Alan was born, and Gordon being about 7 (I'm a bold girl basing them on my own family ). So, if Alan is 35, then Scott, god bless him, is about 50/51, Gordon 42 and the rest ranging in between. In my happy little world, Jeff was 21 when Scott was born, so that would make him 71. I think...I suck at math. You may note I've added in a few non-canon characters. It only stands to reason that the boys would get older with time, as would Jeff and Brains, and I doubt they'd want the 'business' to stop with them; as they get older, others surely would have to be brought in to carry some of the strain, especially as Jeff's grandkids have to grow up and go to school and college before they join the family business.
I'm not sure how well this one works, but I hope you all enjoy it!
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"Alright Mr. Tracy, strip and hop up on the bed, cover yourself with the sheet and we'll be with you in a moment." The woman smiled brightly; a fake white smile behind a fake orange tan. She disappeared and leaving on his shorts, he slipped off his shirt and slid underneath the sheet to lie face-down on the massage table. Resting his cheek on the cool, soft towel, he closed his eyes and listened to the birds chirping in the leafy man-made tropical paradise outside the balcony.
"Mr. Tracy?" His eyes shot open; he'd been on the verge of falling asleep and hadn't even heard her approach.
"Alan, please, just Alan; Mr. Tracy is my father." He turned his head and smiled up at her, pleased to see that she looked more normal than all of the other 'attendents' at the spa his wife had sent him to for his birthday. No bleached teeth, hair or anything else. She wore minimal makeup, her hair looked to be a natural brown and her nails were short, well kept with no polish.
"No problem, Alan. You're here for a back massage, is that right?"
He nodded and she moved around to the front of the bed, removing the pad where his face would go. "Could you take it a little easy on my right shoulder? I wrenched it a few days ago trying to move a machine."...
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...The ship listed sideways a fraction more, and Alan looked up with wide eyes as Gordon let out a loud yell for him to move. The Juke box that had been on the far side of the entertainment lounge had broken free and was sliding towards him. Diving to the floor, he rolled out of the way as it crashed into the hatch, smashing the door closed. Gasping for breath, Alan rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling as Gordon hurried over.
"You alright?"
Alan grunted and allowed his brother to help him up, and the two of them turned to stare at the only door that led into the room, that was now blocked by the heavy machine. "We're going to have to move that to get out, aren't we?" He griped, and Gordon smirked, clapping him on the back.
"Yep. Oh, say, did I sing you Happy Birthday yet?"
Alan's eyes narrowed behind the tinted visor and Gordon started to sing in a sotto voice; "Happy 35th Birthday to You, Happy 35th Birthday to Yoooo, Happy 35th-"
/This is Op2; would the two of you stop messing about and get out here! Pete's happy that the scanner's right and there's no more passengers in any of the cabins. The ships taking on more water and if the two of you-/
Gordon closed his mouth with a snap and the two of them began to wrestle the bulky machine out of the way. When they appeared on deck, Virgil and Pete were staring at them sourly, and Gordon shrugged. Alan attempted to do the same, but winced as his shoulder protested and shook his head.
"Getting old, little brother; getting old." Gordon taunted him, but Alan grinned evilly as they climbed into the rescue pod.
"If I'm getting old, Big Brother, what does that make you?"
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"Must have been a big machine." The masseuse murmured as she drew the sheet back to his waist and warmed the oil in her hands.
"Juke box. My brother and I decided to move it." He murmured, a wry smile twisting his lips. She nodded, even though she couldn't see him and began to make gentle strokes up and down his back.
"Well, your back isn't in great shape." She advised him after a couple of minutes work. "You are tied up in knots."
Alan grunted and shifted on the bed as she began to work on one of them. "Stressful job sometimes."...
..."Virgil, MOVE!" Scott shouted as the pylon began to shift and groan ominously. A few meters away, Virgil looked up as the massive structure, weakened from the fire and impact of the drone, began to topple. Knowing he had no time to get away, he crouched down into a ball and covered his head with his arms as if that would protect him from several tons of debris falling on him.
Dust billowed up as the mess of concrete and steel hit the ground with enough force to embed it into the earth, and the three brothers froze in horror as the dust cloud enveloped the structure, blocking it from view. Only Pete and Mike could get their legs to move as it began to settle, and they scrambled over the twisted metal struts, trying to work out where Virgil had been standing when it fell, shouting orders to each other as they moved.
It took a moment longer for Alan to get his legs moving, and he rushed after the two newest members of International Rescue. Ducking under a strut, he felt his knees go weak as Mike raised his hand and smiled with relief. "Your brother's a lucky son of a gun, mate." He shook his head in awe. "The thing fell around him. If he'd 've moved, he'd 've been toast. Virgil; wave at your brother to show him you're ok."
A hand rose through the twisted metal and completed a small but shaky wave, and Alan sank to his knees as relief welled up inside him. Swallowing hard, he activated his comm. system and cleared his throat. "He's ok, John. It missed him."
Up in Thunderbird 5, John sat back, his face paler than ever. "I, uh, haven't told Control yet..."
"Don't!" A voice ordered sharply and all of the brothers began to relax as Virgil began to babble "Dad'll go nuts and you know the doctor said no sharp shocks!"
"Virg; it was a kidney stone, not a heart attack!" Scott blurted out, exasperated, and sharing a long look, Gordon and Alan began to smile as they reached down into the gap and gripped both of Virgil's arms, helping him out.
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"So, what exactly is it you do?"
"Research and Development, mostly." Alan sighed as the knot eased away and he could finally stop wincing. At least until she moved on to the next one. "With some real world application."
"Now that's an evasive answer if I ever heard one." She muttered and he snorted.
"Believe me, that's the easiest way to explain it. It's a family run business, so we develop some of the newer things and get to field test them."...
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..."Brains; are you sure this thing isn't going to blow up?" Jeff asked worriedly, and Tin Tin and Alan shared a quick look before edging back towards the door. The device was hissing and rattling on its supports and Alan found himself reaching for her hand, ready to tug her behind the half-finished pod for Gordon's newest sub.
"M-Mr. Tracy, I a-ssure you it won't-" He glanced down at the tablet in his hand and then back up at the display and licked his lips nervously. "Pe-perhaps it might be b-best if...run!"
Alan dragged his fiancé to the ground behind the pod and shielded her with his body as the sound of running boots approached, and his father landed on top of him. A split second later the machine exploded, showering them with liquid.
"Alan; you can get off me now." Tin Tin wriggled a little underneath him, and Alan grunted, feeling the weight on his back roll away. He gingerly got to his knees and held out his hand to help her sit up.
"Are you ok Tin? Dad?"
Jeff sat up with a groan and looked down at the ground around them which was spattered with liquid. Reaching down, he dipped his finger into it and put it into his mouth. "Brains...that would have been the best cup of coffee I've ever tasted." He muttered mournfully, and the scientist sighed, picking himself up off the ground.
"I-I will try again, Mr. Tracy." He shoved his glasses onto the top of his head and walked away, peering at his notes and scratching his head.
"Dad-"
"It's the one thing he's never been able to build Alan." Jeff cut him off, shaking his head. "If he wants to spend his free time trying to design a coffee-maker, then let him." His face turned sad and he looked down at the puddles around them, shaking his head, almost pouting. "That would have been a damn good cup of coffee."
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She worked her way down his spine, her fingers following the line a faded scar the width of her ring finger. "If I'm hurting you, let me know." She instructed softly. "You have a lot of scars..."
"I got that one Scuba Diving." He could feel her fingers on the slightly raised skin and sighed softly as the tension he didn't even know he was carrying began to drain away. "An old wreck. It shifted...I was lucky my brother was with me."...
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...Later, Gordon would swear that his heart stopped when the wreckage finally stopped moving and settled. They weren't deep enough to need to operate from inside Thunderbird 4, and the scuba gear was all that was needed on this rescue. Trying to keep his position in the water as the current tugged at him, he looked around frantically for Alan, one hand gripping the hook attached to Thunderbird 2 tightly.
Up in Thunderbird 5, John's attention moved from Thunderbird 2 to Gordon as the red-head's comm. unit was activated.
/Alan, what is your location?/
Johns fingers stilled on the console as the soft static was the only thing to come over the airways. There was a soft click as Gordon activated his comm. unit again.
/Alan; respond/
/Alan, where the hell are you!/
/Op4 to Op3, try to get through to Op5. I have no visual on him, and no response/
The professional words couldn't hide the shake in Gordon's voice, and John's fingers began moving without his bidding, activating the homing beacons built into the wet-suits. /Gordon; no response from him. I'm reading him 10 meters north of your position. What happened?/
/Alan was bolting the last eyelet onto the skin of the sub when it all shifted. I had to move to get out of the way of the funnel of the ship and there was no sign of him after it all settled. The current here is strong; it's no wonder the sub got dragged this far/
Gordon began fighting the current and moved closer to the wreck. He reached the position where Alan had been working, and attached the last grappling hook onto the crippled submarine and began to look around. When the Sub's engines had failed, it had been pulled through a reef into a deeper trench, and the strong current had smashed it into the wreck of an old small 20th Century cruise ship, firmly wedging it in place. Some point along the way, its ballast tanks had ruptured and it was now in a serious position.
/Alan, c'mon man.../ His face inside his scuba mask was pale, and he chewed at his lip as he swam into the ship. Inside, the only light came from his torch and the illuminated faceplate of Alan's scuba mask.
/John, we have an Op down. I repeat, we have an Op down. Alan's pinned between two pieces of metal...oh god, I think it's going into his back.../ Gordon swam closer and put his hand on his brother's arm, trying to gauge how conscious he was. He didn't get a response when he squeezed and shook his head.
/Gordon; hold position. Virgil's fighting the winds and doesn't know if he can come down. Can you cut him out and get him back to 4?/
/Negative. 4 doesn't carry portable cutters, remember? There's just what's on the arms and I can't get either it or them inside here. The current is sweeping through this place too, remember? He must have gotten dragged when the wreck shifted. What about Scott/
/Nowhere near to land/
/Is there anyone who can be freed John? I'm not kidding; I can't get him out of this alone/
Aboard the coastguard cutter that was bobbing about in the high winds and high swell, the radio operator looked up at the Captain who had a frown on his face. Somehow the man had managed to find the Thunderbirds radio frequency and they'd all been listening with growing alarm. "Sir?"
Looking around at his men, the Captain cleared his throat. "Suggestions?"
Their deep diver was already pulling the thick neoprene suit up around his torso. "Get a line on me and I'll go down." He announced with a grunt as his head popped through the opening at the neck. "I know the risks, Captain, so don't lecture me. They also knew the risks and they still went when we decided it was too risky."
Captain Fisk nodded and looked out one of the portholes to where the sea was churning menacingly. "Be careful."
Pete slid down into the water and took a moment to get his bearing before heading down to the cleft in the reef where the Sub had gone through. When he emerged on the other side, he spotted a light flashing from inside the ship which was a good 30 meters further down.
/Captain, you get through to the Thunderbirds yet?/ He asked as the current carried him towards the wreckage. When the captain replied in the negative, he sighed and hoped that the man wouldn't react badly to his presence. He knew what it was like to receive unwanted and unexpected help in the middle of a rescue.
Making his way past the sub, he slipped in through a rift in the hull of the ship and flashed his torch twice to alert the man to his presence. Gordon saw the light dancing off the wall in front of him and turned sharply to find an orange-clad man swimming slowly towards him. /John; I think the Coastguard sent the cavalry. I've got a diver coming towards me with what looks like a laser-cutter. Ask them what frequency he's on/
Aboard Thunderbird 5, John breathed a sigh of relief and then realised he'd been completely ignoring the line with the Coastguard on it as he, Gordon, Virgil, Scott, their father and Brains tried to work out what to do. Connecting them was easy, and the Diver gave a nod as Gordon's voice came through his head-piece.
"Good to hear you mate. Now let's get your buddy up to the surface so we can send these Poms on their way, shall we."
Despite the seriousness of the situation, Gordon found himself grinning, and held on to his brother as the man began to cut away the metal holding Alan in place. His laser-cutter made short work of the metal, and a second cut allowed them to punch a strip of metal away so they could extract Alan and the metal stuck in his back. 24 hours later, Alan had a host of stitches and a concussion but thankfully no other damage to his back. His brand new wife had coddled him until he couldn't stand it any longer. And two months later, they had a new Thunderbird Chick to train; an Aussie named Pete.
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"Alan...Mr. Tracy? Wake up, your massage is over."
Alan smiled and stretched slightly. He hadn't been sleeping, but obviously had been close if the smirk on the masseuse's face was anything to go by. As he stretched, he realised he felt a lot better than he had before lying on the table. She smiled and left the room, leaving him to get dressed. Grabbing his shirt, he turned and began to put it on but paused, seeing his reflection in a mirror. Under the tan, he could see a patch of rougher skin, barely noticeable from the undamaged skin around it, that ran down his side, disappearing beneath his shorts. Road burn from his racing days. Turning slightly, he looked at his back and took in the other marks, slight lumps and bumps that he'd garnered over the years. Some of them stood out more than the others, and each of them had a memory attached; a good rescue; a bad rescue; a childhood incident or an adult mistake. Each of them was a lesson learned, good or bad.
Sighing softly, still drifting through the memories the sight of them conjured, he put on his light-cotton shirt and buttoned it up, slipping his feet into his flip-flops. Outside, the sun was bright and high in the sky, and as he slipped on his shades, his face broke into a smile as he spotted a familiar ten year old sitting on the wall facing the entrance of the spa, licking an ice-cream cone and kicking the heels of his battered trainers against the brickwork. "Where'd you pop out of, Neil?" He asked, sitting down beside his son, and received a big grin from his eldest boy.
"Mama said that I was to surprise you, 'cos we don't get to spend too much time together since Eira and Jim were born. She gave me these." He held up two slightly sticky tickets and his smile grew when his father's arm went around him before he took the tickets. "They're for the theme park on the other side of the island."
Alan grinned widely and held out his hand for his son to hold as they began to walk towards the car. Neil continued to lick his ice-cream, and as Alan's arm twisted slightly, the sharp-eyed youngster caught sight of a pale line running down the outside of his father's arm that he'd never noticed before. "Dad, what's that from?" He asked, a frown creasing his small face.
Alan looked down at him fondly and squeezed his hand. "Well, one day son, a long time ago, your Uncle Gordy decided it would be a good idea to go up Wolf Rock with no equipment..."