I'm sorry!

Phew, I thought It'd be best to get the apologies over and done with. This is my first story and I'm sure there will be some mistakes. Nobody is perfect, but I have tried my best to weed out any errors spotted. As well as saying sorry, I would also like to thank all of you for taking the time to read my work. (The random musings of a mad girl). I would greatly appreciate any feedback as it means that I can improve my writing and possibly your future experiences.

- Love Thea x

Scott Tracy was not pleased.

It had all started four days ago; a small satellite had been knocked off course and needed assistance. As simple as that. Within minutes of the call, Alan and Scott had been strapped into Thunderbird 3, followed shortly after by the mighty roar of her powerful engines as they were launched into space. Once they had broken through Earth's atmosphere, the two rescuers quickly arrived at the coordinates John had sent through and identified the satellite in distress. Carefully assessing its slow and uncontrolled spin, as well as the dangerous new course projection, the two boys consulted with John and Brains to formulate a plan. Easily coming to an agreement over roles, despite Alan's initial objections about being stuck inside, sure enough, the rescue went off without a hitch.

Alan's precision flying, in addition to the spacecraft's advanced navigational technology, allowed him to utilise Three's thrusters and extendable arms to stop the spin and gently manoeuvre the satellite back on course.

Meanwhile, it was Scott's turn to take a trip outside in order to check on the satellite's crew and help repair any damage. It was only a short journey between TB3 and the satellite, and although Alan would argue he had drawn the short straw, Scott's role was far from the sunshine and rainbows the youngest Tracy thought it to be. In fact, for the majority of the mission, International Rescue's field commander was stuck in an enclosed space with two living Petri dishes.

Hindsight revealed that Scott's decision to take off his helmet had ultimately lead to his downfall. In his defence, with the environmental controls damaged, it was swelteringly hot inside the satellite. The headgear had become increasingly stuffy and claustrophobic, making it more of a hindrance than anything else. However, it also meant that Scott was left exposed to the virus that the two space monitors had been infected with just a few days prior. According to the sickly engineer onboard, the delivery driver of their monthly supply shipment was not the most hygienic of men, and just hours after his visit, the crew found themselves experiencing the symptoms of a cold.

Scott hadn't been worried then.

Therefore, waking up the next day with a sore throat and blocked nose was an unwelcome surprise. Dejectedly, Scott went into self-imposed isolation for the next 72 hours. Not only did he not want his brothers (let's face it, mainly Virgil) to worry about him, but, more importantly, he had to make sure the illness didn't spread across the island. It was bad enough that IR's field commander wasn't at 100%, having nearly the entire team off their game was just dangerous.

So, for the last three days, Scott worked himself into the ground managing Tracy Industries and reviewing the latest of Brains' experiments, on top of all the maintenance, upgrades and repairs to be completed for Thunderbird 1. Scott justified that it all needed to be done at some point anyway and it gave him the perfect excuse to avoid contact with his brothers without raising suspicion. Unfortunately, he wasn't able to do this alone, and during this period he was sure he had wiped out most of the islands tissue supply and probably taken more than the recommended amount of painkillers. Not without good reason though. The stacks of crucial paperwork concerning the future financial investments of Tracy Industries demanded his full attention, and being distracted by the jackhammer in his head wasn't an option. Luckily Brains' version of the off-the-shelf medication didn't come with the drowsy side effects; being alert at all times was a vital part of being a rescue organisation after all and Scott trusted Brains had included a wide safety margin when it came to the dosage.

Admittedly, the rational part of Scott knew that he should have been resting. His aching body was forever on the edge of throwing a temper tantrum like a toddler needing a nap, but it just wasn't in his nature. Due to his time in USAF and helping raise his four unruly brothers, 'Pyjama days' and sleeping late were things he had never experienced.

Of course, if the situation was flipped, Scott wouldn't hesitate to order his brothers to bed. He was a hypocrite like that. Scott knew it. His brothers most definitely knew it, taking pleasure in constantly reminding him of the fact. However, he had something that none of his siblings had. The 'Oldest Brother' card. Just muttering the phrase, 'I'm the oldest' would send his brothers spiralling into an exasperated rage. It could be both a gift and a curse, but in these situations, Scott often found it to be the former.

Interestingly, John had once told Scott that the oldest had a 'seriously messed up sense of duty', in that Scott believed he wasn't allowed to be anything less than invulnerable to his brothers.

John was 12 at the time...

And probably right...

He normally was.

It didn't stop Scott though, if a problem could be dealt with on his own, then it was. 'We don't need help' was a mantra drilled into him by their father after their mother passed. Even Lucille's parting words to her eldest son had been to protect his younger brothers. Was it healthy to keep everything bottled up? Unlikely. Despite this, Scott remained determined to never be a burden on his family. Especially after Jeff's unexpected disappearance which had thrown the family into turmoil, forcing the field commander to withdraw into himself further and hardened the eldest's resolve to stay tight-lipped about his new responsibilities and the problems they caused.

Additionally, It was obvious to Scott that Virgil was already unhappy and worried about the sudden increase of his workload. No doubt the team medic would have a fit if he was to learn that Scott was also sick and had knowingly kept it from him. In that case, there would undoubtedly be trouble with a capital V. Thankfully, the week was a quiet one, and Scott had managed to avoid being needed for any more rescues yet. So, at least when he finally gave into the ever-present exhaustion that seemed to hang from his bones, his sleep was peaceful and uninterrupted. Surely that had to count for something?

Of course, the peace wouldn't last forever.

"Scott we have a situation." John's voice echoed from Scott's watch, breaking the latter's train of thought,

"F.A.B. John, on the way." Scott confirmed, dragging himself out from under his duvet and heading out to the lounge.

Thunderbirds Are Go!

Let me know if I should carry on with this story :)

- Love Thea x