Crack in my chassis.

„Hey. You still have us." Virgil's eyes were so warm and affectionate when he said it. My beloved, rock – solid brother. My keeper.

„Yeah". I muttered with a smile, shifting my eyes from Virgil to the thermo-cube between us. That subdued, awkward smile slid out of my face as soon as Virgil couldn't see it. I still had my family. I still had him – and it was a huge part of the equation that threatened to rip me apart. How could i tell my favourite brother he was actually a part of the problem? Especially now, when his keen eyes of a trained engineer finally noticed the crack spreading across my facade?

Oh, who i was kidding here? Virgil probably noticed that something was wrong with me right away. Just after Dad gone missing – when i finally, truly realised what kind of gift just landed in my lap.

I felt another smile pulling at my lips. But this one was twisted. Bitter. Oh, how easy my life was before that pivotal moment. Sure. I had my duties and responsibilities. There was stress, fear and frustration. Sleepless nights aplenty, when „shouldas, couldas, wouldas" kept me awake and turning in the bed. But it was a cakewalk compared to today's state of things. It was still an adventure.

I had solid foundation then. Jeff Tracy's steady presence was everywhere – like a net spread below us all. A feling that no matter what, he was there for us – with a plan, encouraging word and a strong hand ready to catch anyone falling. With Dad around i could be...myself. Big brother. Ace pilot. Face of the International Rescue (John was always The Voice of course). Always the first one on the site of disaster – ready to flash that charismatic, reassuring smile, calm people down, make them move and coordinate and work with us.

At home i could relax. Be just Scott. A brother, son, grandson, friend. Joke around. Occassionally smooth someone's ruffled feathers. Sit for hours with Dad working on strategies, planning training drills, learning from Him. Make sure Gordon wouldn't get too enthusiastic with his pranks. Spend time with Brains and Virgil, thinking about new upgrades for Thunderbirds. Help Alan with homework. Distract Grandma, so the others could have a free reign of the kitchen and prepare something edible behind her back (Okay, so i was saddled with that duty because i too am a crappy cook. Sue me. At least i was still able to contribute to the noble goal of keeping my family fed and un-poisoned.).

Even the dreaded Business wasn't really that bad. Sure – i bitched, rolled my eyes a lot and pretended to be bored out of my mind with business meetings and being the Heir Apparent of Tracy Industries. But deep down...i liked it. As a member of the International Rescue i saved lives on daily basis – running through the smoke, digging through debris, cutting metal. But in the conference rooms of New York, London, Berlin, Delhi and Bejing i helped to make those lives better. I helped to make sure hundreds of thousands of people around the world got their paychecks in time. And hundreds of millions more got clean water, cheap energy and plentiful food. Cars, planes, electronics, tools, clothes. Hospitals, schools, roads, bridges. Homes. All thanks to Tracy Industries or one of dozens of its branches on every continent. It made me feel good. It was me making up for all the lives i couldn't save.

I was happy.

Now i am not.

I miss Dad. I want him back. Nothing is the same without him.

I went through this once already. When Mom died, and Dad...lost himself in the grief and anguish and loneliness. When he threw himself at his work with vengeance. When Tracy Industries was only a fledgeling company and International Rescue a hazy idea. Dad pushed himself and his co-workers forward then...and pushed us aside. I guess... No. I know it was necessary for him to stay at work – surround himself with people that were strangers. Stay away from the building that wasn't really a home anymore – not without Mom. But we were still there, and we needed things from him he simply couldn't give us. So he shifted that responsibility on best babysitters and private tutors his newly acquired money could buy – and hid his pain and shame behind even more work. And that left me alone on the proverbial battlefield. I didn't have the luxury of running away and hiding. Not when John stopped talking in full sentences. Not when Virgil threw all his paints and crayons away. When Gordon cried for hours under the kitchen table and refused to come out. And Alan...Not when i couldn't let go of Alan for more than couple of minutes at a time.

Mom told me to take care of my newest brother. Mom told me to take care of all of them. I was oldest. The only one who could understand what happened and what needed to be done. So i did it. I coaxed Gordon from under the table. I talked to John until my throat started to hurt – and until he started to talk to me again. I bought new drawing utensils for Virgil – and kept moping around all sad and dejected until he started drawing planes and birds for me again. And i kept feeding, changing, bathing and playing with Alan – giving him everything i could give.

I smiled brightly at anyone who asked how things were for my family. I lied to everyone that needed to be lied to. I learned how to fake Dad's signature so well, he never realised how many checks and documents regarding his sons and his house he never even got to see. I helped my brothers with their homework. I held them tight through countless nightmares. I organised all the chores that needed to be done. I made sure everyone were fed, clean, clothed and healthy. I got the movies, books and toys for my brothers and myself. I managed to get Dad or Grandma to actually do everything that needed to be done by an adult. I even managed to kept my own grades decent. And i kept my family afloat and together through the worst storm in our lives.

Our father finally came to his senses, and realised that staying away certainly did not help anyone with anything. He came back to us and our lives – he became our Dad again. We became a family again. But...it was too little, too late for me.

Because...somewhere along the way i cracked. Under the pressure, my chassis buckled and broke deep under the paintwork. Maybe it happened when Mom died. Maybe later – when Dad went to work leaving me with my three crying, traumatised brothers and a newborn in need of parental care. No one noticed. Our babysitters and even Grandma weren't familiar enough with me. My brothers were too young to understand...and of course Dad was...away. But i could feel it – that odd detachment when i was dealing with anyone who was not under my 'protection'. Compulsive need to make sure i knew where my brothers were at any given moment. Anger and agression towards any perceived threat to them. But i couldn't feel anything for myself. I did not cry. I never let anyone know about my nightmares. I never asked anyone for help. I've never shown weakness or fear to anyone. I never lost control. Without a second thought i sacrificed my own childhood, so my brothers could keep theirs.

Today, now that i'm sitting in this small, cold tent – with Virgil snoring softly and wind whistling mournfully around – i know it was combination of survivor's guilt and PTSD that brought me down. I never really became a person i was supposed to be. Something inside me is dark and ugly and still broken. I could hide it, even almost forget about it when the pressure was off of me – when Dad was there to shield me and be the support i always needed. A crutch for his crippled eldest i never let him realised he was. But he's gone now – and the weight of my world is on my back again.

I have to be head of my family again. I have to be CEO of one of the biggest companies in the world. I have to be leader of the International Rescue. And i'm not ready. I have to take Jeff Tracy's place without his wealth of knowledge, experience, cunning and worldwide net of connections and influence. Without his luxury of not needing to get up instantly at crazy o' clock, racing around the world and spending hours and hours in the field digging through crushed concrete and hot, twisted metal.

Virgil...can you see me breaking down? Can you hear the creaks coming from my damaged chassis? Part of me hopes...knows...you do. You've been...clingy lately. Keeping closer to me than ever before. Watching me. I know you are worried and confused and waiting for me to tell you what's wrong. I want to, really...But i can't. That break is still inside me – keeping me from showing a weakness. From calling for help. For my sake i hope you can work around it – that you can figure it out on your own. Then again...i'm broken. I can't leave it to chance. I can't risk you putting yourself in danger to save me again and again. Because i'm too crippled and weak and dumb to keep myself safe. But i always can be strong for my family. For your sake Virgil...for John and Gordon and Alan. For Grandma, Brains, Kayo...for Mom and Dad...i'll try. I will do my best to work around that broken part inside of me. I will keep us afloat and together – and i won't be like Dad. I won't leave you to fend for yourself.

It's what i do.

I'm your big brother.