The idea for this little ficlet has been rattling around my head for a while. Since we've reached the mid season break, I thought now was the perfect time to get it written and posted up.

I really hope we get to see a scene like this at some point in the second half of the series. I know I'm not the only one who's counting the days until it comes back! But in the meantime - enjoy!

The Gift

Chapter One - The Art Of Hope

Virgil Tracy loved to paint. He was damn good at it, too - as gifted an artist as he was a musician. And while the countless pieces that he'd composed could only be heard as and when he played them, his drawings, and sketches, and paintings were there all the time, for everyone to enjoy. He was too modest to say so himself, of course, but they were his legacies. Part of his family's heritage, to be passed on for generations to come.

Art that would have graced any gallery in the world adorned every wall in the villa - none more proudly than those in his brothers' bedrooms. And while they teased him mercilessly over his efforts, every one of them loved him all the more for it.

For Scott, it was planes. Everything from nostalgic Spitfires, the sleeker lines of fighter jets, to his state-of-the art 'bird, in all her glory. For John, of course, it was space. Galaxies, and comets, and nebulae, brought to the same breathtaking life as you'd see through the finest telescopes. For Gordon, it was seascapes, and the oceans around them that he loved so much. Beaches, and rugged coastlines, and every part of Tracy Island that artist and paintbrush could reach. And, for Alan, it was - well, anything his baby brother asked for. Racing cars, and rockets, and every other interest that ran through his ever expanding mind.

He could draw too, at astonishing speed. With a magician's sleight of hand, he'd whip out his sketchpad, and catch his brothers at their most candid, their most playful - and often just downright hilarious.

The first time they knew they'd been caught would be when they opened a perfectly wrapped frame on their birthday. Or, if he was in a more mischievous mood, when all sorts of blackmailable silliness popped up along the villa's walls. To this day, Scott still had no idea how his brother had managed to catch that less than stellar moment when he'd rushed up the steps to launch Thunderbird One - only to fall foul of his own traitorous shoelace, and faceplant himself across the floor.

And yes, he was still planning his revenge. At a time of his choosing, there'd be some serious payback.

Right now, though, he was trying to find his brother for a wholly different reason. Alan's latest history lesson required him to analyze the works of Beethoven. And who better to relate the story behind his most loved Sonata than their very own equivalent? Especially when that same piece of musical beauty filled Virgil's studio, while the softest moonlight streamed through its windows.

Except - hmm. No Virgil.

Taking in the familiar scene before him, Scott frowned. There was the usual plethora of canvasses, and palettes, and half finished works lying on their easels. There was even a pot of coffee, brewing gently on its stand by his workbench. But - nope, no artist in sight. And this now presented him with a bit of a problem. Because for reasons that still irked his older brothers, Virgil still preferred to express that side of himself in private.

It wasn't through arrogance, or any kind of conceit. That could never be the way of a Tracy. No, it stemmed from the childhood traumas that had left such devastating scars on such a senstive soul. For a then painfully shy boy to say how much he loved painting - yes, those fourth grade bullies had latched onto him with cruellest glee. While two had 'coloured him in' with even crueller fists, the others had left the leaving gift he'd done for his teacher in equally broken ruins.

Just the one time, though. The day after he'd come home, crying and shaking with shock and shame, two enraged older brothers had given Heldon Clay and his gang a taste of their own medicine. And, like bullies the world over, they'd fled for their cowardly lives.

Of course, things were different now. The love and support of his brothers had seen to that. But for those times when they saw his eyes change if they disturbed him, when he asked to be left alone, or if he was just working on a complex piece that needed his full attention, that same love for him ensured that he was left in both peace and privacy.

He'd been quiet, too, these last few days, spending every precious spare moment he had in this studio - hence Scott's concern that something was troubling him. But then, a muffled yelp from an adjoining storeroom solved the mystery, and Scott rolled his eyes at its likeliest cause. With all the stuff in there, there was barely room to swing a small cat, let alone a fully grown Virgil, and -

*CRR-AASH*

"...oww! Damn it!"

- yeah, nothing like that kind of noise to wipe the smile off your face.

Two strides through the door, Scott collided with the broad expanse of Virgil's back. Well, at least that meant he was still on his feet, not lying under a pile of easels, and picture frames, and God knew what else he kept in here. That startled reaction, though? Hmm, maybe not so good.

"Scott? What the hell are you doing here?"

"Well, I think the 'crash' and the 'oww' and the 'damn it' might have had something to do with it," Scott grinned, trying to keep the tone light, while more serious eyes swept his brother for damage. He looked okay, thank God, but... uh oh. A small patch of red on Virgil's hand connected straight to what his brothers dryly called the 'cluck alert.'

"Virg, please tell me that's paint."

To his relief, Virgil was already smiling as that same hand held up a tube of unnervingly blood-like acrylic.

"Yup. Tropical Dawn, to be exact, and... oooh, this'll be great for Hallowe'en. Yeah, Gordon's always saying he wants to be a real redhead!"

Oh, good grief. Yes, these were the times when the fearless commander of International Rescue was sure that having four little brothers was going to be the death of him.

Not today, though. With that moment of concern over - because Scott Tracy never panicked - Scott relaxed and grinned back at him. A smiling Virgil was a much better sign. But when he saw that 'no big deal' degree of innocence on this brother's face - noooo, he wasn't buying that for a second.

"So, then... that crash I heard?!"

Oookay, now he knew something was up. Virgil's face had now turned the deep red as his shirt. In Scott's eyes, that tube of paint had magically changed into their mother's old cookie jar, to perfectly match his brother's expression, and... oh, he had to be kidding!

"...hey, it was a big spider, okay? With reins and a saddle, you could have ridden the damn thing!"

Still laughing too much to answer him, Scott then froze as a fuzzy blob with just way too many legs scuttled past his left shoe, and disappeared under a pile of old picture frames. Ye-ah, that... um, definitely qualified for 'big.'

Virgil, too, looked less than thrilled at the thought of it lurking where he couldn't see it. Damn, he hated spiders! And Scott's next words of wisdom really hadn't helped.

"Hey, if you're freaked out, just think how he feels... seeing eight of you, looming over him."

Treating that with the contempt it deserved, Virgil then stepped gingerly over Spider Central so that he could reach a large frame that was resting against the opposite wall. He'd hoped to do this all so quietly, without any fuss, but... well, he'd reckoned without that damn arachnid crawling over his foot. Not to mention the curiosity of a humanised puppy who'd somehow attached itself to his heels.

"Hey, that thing's almost as big as you are... whatever's going in there must be pretty amazing!"

Still struggling to lift his load into a carryable position, Virgil threw a half amused, half exasperated glare towards the brother who, thankfully, now caught the hint, and grabbed hold of its nearest end. Any hope he had for that help to come without more pearls of wisdom, though, didn't last for long.

"I know you're a human carthorse, Virg, but... ooooof... don't tell me you were trying to... owww... get this thing out of here on your own? Why didn't you get me down here to help you?"

Answered with eloquent silence, Scott then looked up again - and saw its cause written through his brother's eyes. They were betraying a rueful dismay beyond gratitude, as if he'd spoiled a surprise that he wasn't meant to know about. It couldn't be for his birthday, though, that had been three months ago, and the next special occasion on the Tracy family calendar was -

- oh, dear God.

Scott was wincing now, and not from trying to support his share of his brother's load. Damn it, was he really so wrapped up in running International Rescue now, that he hadn't remembered such a significant date?

Question and its poignant answer seemed to pull all the life out of him. His end of the frame dropped to the floor as he leant against the wall - for all his height and strength suddenly needing its support.

"Damn it, Virg... how - how the hell could I have forgotten dad's birthday?"

Head bowed, he felt rather than saw the frame's weight being eased away from him. Felt himself being wrapped into a tight hug that gave him everything he needed in that moment. Comfort, and reassurance, and the understanding that, as always, gently calmed his conscience.

"It means you're learning to live with it, Scott... in our own ways, we all are, and... well, you haven't forgotten it either... dad's birthday is..."

"...tomorrow..." Scott finished for him, composed enough now to raise his head and re-meet his brother's eyes. The love and compassion within them wrapped around him like a blanket. If still a bit shakily, it drew out a grateful smile. Equally proud realization.

"That's why you've been holed up in here all week... you've been working on something real special for dad's birthday..."

"Yeah, you... uh, could say that," Virgil nodded, his turn now to find the state of the floor strangely interesting as he shrugged his shoulders. "I wasn't sure what to do for him, especially with... well, since he isn't here to..."

"Hey, we'll find him, Virg," Scott finished for him, his turn now to give a dejected brother a rallying hug. "Wherever he is out there, we will find him."

As he'd hoped, Virgil was already smiling again, finding new strength and belief from his brother's words. When he looked up again, his eyes had changed once more. Grown softer, younger... turning him back into that eight year old boy, shyly asking his eldest brother if -

"...you want to come see it?"

Just as they'd done then, Scott's eyes lit up with anticipation. Did he want to see it? Damn straight he wanted to see it! From the size of that frame alone, it promised to be something pretty spectacular. Not to mention big.

Following his brother back out into the main studio, he quickly scanned the various pictures that he'd seen earlier. And yes, several were pretty large pieces, but nothing that was going to fit that massive, beautifully ornate frame, and - aha!

Yes, he should have guessed. Such a special portrait just had to be composed and perfected in an equally special place. Another old, converted store room, where his brother produced his finest works.

His latest creation was still hidden behind a protective cover, but Scott was still almost bouncing with anticipation as Virgil reached to its highest corner and, with infinite care, brought his latest creation into full view.

"Okay, here it is... what do you think?"

For a clear thirty seconds, Scott just stood and stared. He was pretty sure his mouth was moving, but no words were coming out. The masterpiece in front of him had taken his breath, and his voice, clean away. Because that's what it was. No exaggeration, or any such obligation to praise his brother's skill. In every sense of the word, this was a masterpiece.

And it had brought tears to his eyes.

Reunited by the power of art, and love, and memories, Jeff and Lucy Tracy sat on one of the benches beside the pool. Lined up behind them, their three eldest sons stood with their arms around each other's shoulders, while their youngest perched on the bench's armrests. In any way possible, every one of them had some form of contact with another. A proudly embracing arm. Loving hands, either held tightly together, or resting protectively on the nearest shoulder.

And the detail! The longer Scott stared at it, the more he found. Those first strands of grey at his temples. The subtle differences between Virgil's eyes and the lighter, more amber shades in Gordon's. That same hint of copper in his brother's hair that linked him to the family's real redhead. Alan's freckles. The laughter lines around their father's face that had always made him look so much younger, and - mom.

Mom.

Brought so uniquely and poignantly back to them, she'd never looked more beautiful. Never happier, or more proud of her family. If she'd still been alive to see this day... yes, this is exactly how Scott would have pictured her to be.

Completely transfixed, he hadn't noticed that Virgil had come back to stand beside him. Hell, it took several pats on his arm just to get his attention. And for reasons that he couldn't quite understand, his brother also sounded... well, pretty emotional.

"What, you - you think it's too much, to... you know, have mom in there too?"

Pulled out of his memories, Scott took a few more moments to compose himself - just long enough to let him meet his brother's eyes again, so that he'd see the pride, and approval, and appreciation within them.

"No, Virgil... no, I don't think it's too much at all... it's just... well, it's just how I'd imagine this day for dad to be... and for us, too, it's... God, Virg, it's just perfect!""

Arm in arm, both of them stood together, each lost in thoughts of what might have been. For them both, it was a poignant moment that, unfortunately, didn't last for as long as they'd hoped.

"Hey, Scott? Did you ask Virgil to help me with my... whoa!"

Staring at the painting in front of him, Alan then shot back through the door before either Scott or Virgil could stop him. They could hear him, though. Hell, most of the Southern Hemisphere would have heard that yell.

"Hey, Gordon! Gordy, get in here, you - you just gotta see this!"

With all hopes to keep it a surprise now totally dashed, Virgil glanced across at Scott, and wryly returned the smile he found there. Before either of them could say anything, though, Alan came barrelling back in again, dragging his still feebly protesting brother behind him. And just as his oldest and youngest had done before him, Gordon Tracy found himself too stunned to speak. Alan, too, had been rendered equally speechless. For their long suffering elders, and for one in particular, it was a moment to savour.

"Way to go, Virg... I think you've finally found a way to keep 'em quiet."

Laughing too, Virgil draped his spare arm over Gordon's shoulders, while Scott did the same for Alan. United together, all four then stood to give this moment the more serious respect it deserved. And even if they didn't say it, the same thought passed through four, uniquely connected minds.

'Wherever you are, dad, we're thinking of you... remembering you... finding a way to bring you home.'