Oh, hey there everyone. I apologise for this horror - but it got to the 23rd December and I still had no ideas. So obviously, I gave in and wrote the first thing that came into my head. This is probably very bad, but hey! I have succeeded in publishing my Xmas Fic on time!
Anyway - references - some TAG episodes, etc. The usual. Not as many as last year's fic. And I mixed TAG with the original series as I usually do, so, yeah, I'd better publish this before it gets too late! I haven't had time to have this checked through properly so I did my best! I hope you enjoy!
Christmas. How did you describe it? It depended on where you lived, and whether or not you were religious, whether you had kids or lived alone. There were many different factors to take into account when thinking of the correct terminology to describe the festival. At the very best, all he could of think of say was that it was a festive occasion in which people gave gifts to each other and families tried to get along for one day a year. That, and put up an insane amount of fairy lights and tried not to think about the exuberant electricity bill soon to be headed their way.
Right now, Vigil was definitely not feeling the Christmas cheer or however it was described these days. To be fair, with the amount of rain water drenching his uniform, he felt he had good reason. It wasn't often that Thunderbird 2's size was more of a hindrance than a blessing but this was one such occasion when he secretly wished the aircraft could shrink to more of a Thunderbird 1 type diameter. Not that he would ever admit such a thing to Scott, who was already revelling in the fact he was still warm and as comfortable as it was possible to be in a silver rocket-plane being buffeted about a cliff-side by cross-winds. Turbulence was not fun on any day, let alone Christmas-Eve.
"What if I secure it with a grapple cable?" Scott was spending way too long thinking about this, Virgil thought in exasperation, pressing his back as close as possible to the dark rocks of the cliff-face behind him. The constant heavy downpour had turned the ground of the ledge he was standing on to a muddy hazard that was all too easy to slip off. Somehow, he had so far managed to ignore the sheer drop a mere metre away, but the raging waters of the river below were still audible even above the steady humming of 1's engines.
"Negative, the sudden increase in force, even that small, would push the car over the edge completely." John replied after a moment's radio silence. There was a soft rustling noise over the link as the blond reached for the nearest chocolate bar. Considering he'd managed his confectionary supplies as well as he could this month, he figured he could indulge a little bit. Besides, they hadn't been expecting this rescue to take over an hour, and he hadn't eaten since the night before. EOS had attempted to slide a bagel across to him at some point, where it had lain uneaten while he focussed on managing Gordon's progress through the evacuation of the cruise-liner that had run into trouble off the coast of Africa.
"Can we hurry this along a bit?" Alan's voice was tinged with annoyance as he leant forwards in his seat in Thunderbird 2. Relegated to the equivalent of what had used to be the role of whoever had been at Mobile Control before it had been scrapped following the systems' updates (curtesy of Brains' new designs) was possibly the most boring duty he could have been given. Although granted, it was better than being forced into trying out Grandma's latest attempts at mince-pies. He held back a shudder at that, propping up his feet on what he still nick-named the dashboard ('Thunderbird 2 is not a car, Allie, therefore it's not a dashboard.' 'Well what would you call it?') and activated the hologram link.
"Alan, get your feet down." Virgil gave him an unimpressed glare, before another splash of rainwater manged to trickle down his back. "It's official. This is my least-favourite rescue of the year so far."
"Nah, I'm pretty sure Fischler takes that record." John noted, taking another bite of his chocolate bar and ignoring the irritated flash of EOS' lights in his direction. "Although you've got to admit that we all want to murder Lemaire at this point."
"His name is not to be spoken." Scott announced, before the whine of Thunderbird 1's engines increased a notch as the aircraft swung around, her starboard wing lifting slightly to counteract the sudden gust of wind. "Dammit. We're running out of time."
"Or you could just give me the go-ahead to head down there myself and attach the cable?" Virgil let the statement trail into a question, glancing down at the hologram image of his brother illuminated from his watch. "What else am I doing right now?"
"Working on your latest fashion statement." Alan smirked from his end of the link, lifting his feet back onto the control panel again, and tapping his fingers absently mindedly against the leather of the chair. "It's known as 'the drowned rat.'"
"Le rat noyé." John pitched in with a light laugh at the mental image, shrugging at the raised eyebrows directed at him. "What? It sounds better in French."
"Allie's sounding way too English, he needs to stop taking driving lessons with Parker." An amused voice added with a hint of static.
"Oh, hey Gords. Come to laugh at me too?" Virgil huddled further into the relative shelter of the over-hanging rock and attempted to wipe the sulking five-year-old expression from his face.
"Me? Laugh at you? How could you think such a thing?" Gordon widened his eyes in mock innocence, reaching up to flick at the switch above him as he guided Thunderbird 4 into her hanger with well-practised ease. "Well would you look at that? For once I'm not on dish-washing duty."
"Gordon." Scott muttered, only half paying attention to the conversation as he gave a concerned look towards the fuel gage to his left, an amber glow flooding the immediate area. "Shut up." A loud laugh echoed through the radio link, before the aquanaut disappeared from the hologram projector, switching his watch off to disappear into the villa. If only he could avoid everyone still there to get to the shower before being coerced into trying one of Grandma's 'delicacies', then he should be safe.
"Okay. Fine." Scott ran a hand through his hair, fighting back a yawn and mentally cursing the rescue that took place at three am that morning. At this rate, he was going to be worshipping the coffee machine in the kitchen, if he was ever allowed in there following his reputation with culinary skills. Although the last time he'd set fire to the microwave he hadn't even been cooking anything.
"Okay, fine, what exactly?" Virgil replied in a questioning tone, sighing as he caught sight of Alan's trainers on the control panel again. The amount of times he'd gone into almost a full-blown lecture mode about the state muddied footwear left his beloved Thunderbird in – his face-palming moments were performed nowadays with as much well-practised ease as to rival Scott's. He mentally shrugged – hey, it was almost Christmas. He could let him off, just this once. Besides, he didn't think he had the energy at this point. Reaching up to lightly press one gloved finger to the ear-piece, he tugged his uniform sash further around his shoulder. Completely soaked with water, the fabric was heavier than usual. "Scott?"
There was a good-natured dramatic sigh from the other side of the radio link. "You know exactly what I mean, Virg." Thunderbird 1 tilted slightly to the side as another gust of the crosswinds smashed through the canyon, sending the silver aircraft alarmingly close towards the cliff-face. A shouted exclamation of colourful language sounded through the comms link as Scott fought back for control, increasing the engine thrust to compensate and attempting to gain further altitude. A high-pitched screech split the air as the metal of the right wing collided with the razor-sharp rocks, raking along before an ominous crack sounded.
"Oh son-of-a-" Virgil jolted back, acting on instinct to aim his grapple rope towards the opposite rocky outcrop and taking a running jump to gain the momentum required to make the distance across. He landed unsteadily as the soles of his shoes skidded against the squelching mud before he tilted forwards to catch his balance. Back in his previous position, a small cascade of rocks tumbled over and down to crash into the dirtied ground. Virgil scrambled forwards instantly to check on the trapped family. The once-silver car below was smothered in mud but didn't look too worse for wear, but the angle at which it was tilted sent a thrill of fear through him.
"Scott, you good?" He snapped into the radio, pressing his hand to his sash, while making his way down the rocky outcrop.
"Not really. Alan, over to you. Thunderbird 1 isn't stable enough to counteract crosswinds this strong. John, any change in the weather front headed our way?"
"In typical Tracy luck, no." John swiped the glowing green hologram to his left closer towards him, frowning at the readouts that flashed up. It was official – today sucked. And there were times, he reflected at the sight of the remainder of his chocolate bar floating away from him, that he really hated zero-gravity. "Scott, you've got damage to the right wing that could affect lift."
"And anti-icing systems are down." Scott swiped the flashing red alerts away from the centre of the hologram projector and leant forwards to get a closer glimpse through the glass at the car below. "Alright, I'm gonna head back to base. Virg, try and get the grapple rope secured manually and then use the magnetic claw from Thunderbird 2."
"We know," Virgil replied with a hint of amusement in his voice. "See you back at the ranch Thunderbird 1." He stayed where he was for a moment longer, keeping his gaze on the fast disappearing shape in the distance, before reaching up to rub the back of his neck where the rainwater was steadily dripping from his soaked hair. "Enjoy the tropical temperatures, you lucky bas-"
"Virgil." John was evidently attempting to hold back a laugh, as he swung away from the holograms to observe from the centre of the control centre for a moment. The flashing lights and alerts flashing up across the globe were always overwhelming if he didn't take a break to sit back for a few seconds every now and then, and it took a lot of effort to remind himself that most of them could be dealt with by the local rescue services. He kept an eye on the silver image of Thunderbird 1 as the aircraft's progress was tracked automatically across the globe before slightly changing course to head down across the Pacific. At least that was another brother home safely, he thought to himself, although Scott was not going to be impressed with the new paint-job that was going to be required now so soon after the previous one only a couple of weeks before.
Down on earth, Virgil relinquished his white-knuckle grip on the rock face to lightly drop down and catch hold of the opposite overhang, a soft snick sounding as the grapple rope swung taught under the sudden drop of his weight. The car in front of him was a relatively new model, with the silver paint barely visible but clearly glossy and recently touched up across the back curvature of the tail-gate. Inside, trapped but still warm, bundled up in thick winter clothing, and seemingly not too worse for wear other than a couple of pounding headaches and a few bruises, the family of four, with a young pair of brother and sister greeted him with wide-eyed fearful expressions and the usual thankful cries at the sight of International Rescue.
"Hey there." Virgil lifted his hand to give the kids a cheerful wave, leaning backwards and trusting the grapple cable to hold him in position to take in the sight. "How about we get you guys out of here?"
"Please." The tired chuckle that met his ears from the exhausted looking man in the driver's seat (the father? he supposed) reminded himself of his own feelings at the moment. The second he got back to Tracy Island he was going to crash for couple of hours on the couch. Alan and Gordon could have all the festive excitement for themselves – so long as Scott managed to save him some of the eggnog for later. Although, he figured as another shiver ran down his spine, he wouldn't turn down the offer of a warm shower first.
"Hey Thunderbird 5, are you still there?"
"No, I took a trip across to the new Mars base." John's sarcastic retort was yet another reminder that only the Terrible Two were properly rested, although this was mainly due to Alan's miraculous ability to sleep anywhere, and Gordon's seemingly never-ending energy. The older of the blonds drifted back into view of the hologram projector, yawning like a cat and wincing as his shoulder clicked. "Yeah," he answered again after a moment, feeling a dash of guilt at the slightly hurt look his immediate younger brother sent him. "I'm still here." He ducked his head to give another yawn. "Sorry Virg. You okay?"
"Just wondering if we can head straight home after this, or if we've got another stop to head to?"
"Um," John shot a questioning look over to EOS who was supposed to managing the rest of the rescue alerts coming in. The soft flashing of green lights allowed him to relax slightly, his shoulders slumping as he shook his head in reply. "No. You're good. Take a shower and keep Scooter out the kitchen. He's the only person worse than Grandma at cooking, and I don't want food-poisoning considering I get Christmas dirt-side this year."
"Huh. Someday we've got to tell Allie about the microwave incident." Virgil murmured back, swinging downwards along the rope and aiming a kick at the rock-face to his left to be able to slingshot underneath the car. The ropes attached with the other grapple cable with an audible snap and Virgil let out a long whistle as he climbed steadily upwards and onto the overhang next to the car, leaning down to give a mock salute to the young boy in the vehicle who was staring at him with a hero-worshiping expression. For some reason an image popped into his head of a young Alan and Scott shortly after their mother had died.
He leant back, fiddling with a loose thread on his uniform sleeve that hung down over his wrist, before tilting his head back to peer up at the cloudy skies above. "Thunderbird 2, take her away."
"FAB." Alan replied instantly, the thundering of engines sounding as the massive green aircraft rose into the air, blocking out the never-ceasing rain with a welcoming shadow. The yellow painted claw structure that descended down through the air swung wildly for a moment and Virgil fought the urge to wince, but held enough self-control to stop himself from darting for the radio link. Alan was a damn good pilot these days anyway, and although he would never admit it, Virgil had total confidence in his kid brother's flying skills.
The rescue appeared to go by in a blur of time as the car was transported across to the nearest hospital where the family were safely taken inside for medical checks, and Alan made quick work of piloting Thunderbird 2 back to the canyon, where Virgil was more than happy to leave his dripping uniform in the back in exchange for his much drier and warmer spare one. The youngest blond didn't question him, instead reaching across to turn up the heating with a concerned glance at his still shivering brother as Virgil sunk down into the co-pilot's seat. The middle Tracy had to be tired to not be demanding full control back of his Thunderbird.
"You alright?"
"Yeah." Virgil settled further back into the seat, closing his eyes and instead focussing on the familiar humming of Thunderbird 2 around him, and the quiet conversation between John and Alan. But seriously, he was getting sick of having to rescue people of cars. Just because it was Winter didn't mean that everyone had an excuse to mess up. Or, he considered with a grin, in Gordon's case it would be get-out-of-jail-free card, because seriously, the swimmer of the family sucked at Monopoly.
"How many is that now? Five? Six?" He spoke up finally, shifting forwards in his chair to take back control of Thunderbird 2 as the soft alert sounded to announce the final approach to Tracy Island. Alan didn't question him, secretly glad that he didn't have to make the landing in low visibility conditions. The last time that had been attempted had not ended well.
"Technically seven depending on whether or not you're counting the callout that turned out to be kids messing around anyway."
"People need to learn how to drive in winter conditions better, jeez. We're International Rescue, not a car repair service."
"Well, strictly speaking, Thunderbird 2 has been known to be called out to that race-track down south that time, so."
"Alan."
"Yes?"
"Shut up."
You knew it had been a tiring week when you could no longer come up with witty retorts to your younger brother's purposefully irritating comments, Virgil thought to himself. Tiring didn't even cover it, with the description of exhausting not weighing in too well either at this point. He leant back in his chair, fighting back a yawn before tapping on the nearest hologram to connect the call back to Tracy Island. To his left even Alan had fallen silent, his knees drawn up to his chest to support the weight of the tablet device rested there (he'd retrieved after '2 had switched onto auto-pilot), with the claims of it being homework, although given that the kid had to be forced into doing revision work most of the time, Virgil highly doubted. He didn't have the energy to reach across and find out exactly what was being carefully researched. Probably Christmas present delivery trackers. Last year's debacle was definitely not something to be repeated.
"Thunderbird 2, clearance to land granted. Let's wrap this one up and get Christmas started." There was a slight pause over the radio link for a moment, before a wry voice added, "Finally."
"Tell me about it." He fought back another yawn, picking at the loose thread of his uniform sleeve absently mindedly as the computers helped to automatically guide the large Thunderbird into a slower descent. A soft thump came from the left as Alan slid off his seat to stow away the tablet in one of the lockers, quiet footsteps displaying just how tired he really was. The usual hyper energy following the aftermath of a rescue gone well was certainly missing.
"Wow. You reckon we're winning the light pollution award or what?"
"Huh?" Virgil glanced across, and bit back his usual annoyance at the sight of Alan propping his feet up on the control unit (the third time today already, Sprout, seriously? Talk about Gords; you're the one who needs the get-out-of-jail-free card). The low hanging cloud made visibility conditions poor, much to the frustration of the mail plane earlier according to John (the blond still claimed that listening into random radio frequencies was not at all creepy) but the warm glow cast out from the villa was hard to miss, reflecting out across the darkened seas. From just above the clouds, Virgil still had a view of the sun setting, a warm paintwork dipping below the horizon to be replaced with a canopy of stars, the brightest just to the right evidently Thunderbird 5, but as the aircraft dipped further the cloud mass obscured any view of the skies.
"See, I told you they'd have put too many lights up." Alan folded his arms and glared at the illuminated island gradually growing larger in the windows. "We're only two hours after Scotty as well, dammit."
Virgil let out a chuckle, leaning across to ruffle the teenager's hair as Scott wasn't there to do it for him. "Hey Johnny, you joining us mortals here on Planet Tracy, or are you staying up there on Asgard for a time?"
"Considering EOS is technically Thunderbird 5's consciousness now, she says that she appreciates the compliment." John contemplated timings for a moment, swiping holographs out of the way to clear his view of earth. Below his feet, the soft blue glowing aura of the planet appeared to shimmer with an inviting scatter of sparkles across the landmasses where families were gathering for the next day. It was going to be a stark difference from his last Christmas experience, when he'd spent a pretty lonely twenty-four hour on Thunderbird 5. Hologram projectors were good, but nothing compared to actually being with family. "If Alan's not too busy attempting to call Tin-Tin on her flight home, then I'd appreciate a lift down dirt-side in about a couple of hours."
"Hey." Alan sent him a petulant glare upon hearing his name and tuning into the conversation, realising the light teasing tones that were familiar to when the older blond was relaxed, and not stressing out about any of them on rescue. Not that there were ever any visible signs of stress, but as the youngest he knew how to read his siblings well enough. "I do not call her every time she's flying home."
"Yes, you do." Virgil chimed in with a grin, setting the large aircraft down onto the tarmac of the runway, and drawing her to a gentle halt inside the darkness of the hanger. It took a couple of moments for the cliff face to draw shut completely, but when it had finally obscured all visible angles into the hanger, the spotlights flickered into action to illuminate the massive space. Giving the control panel a final affectionate pat, he kicked back in his chair to stretch, rotating his shoulder and grimacing at his reflection in the glass. "See you later kid, there's a shower with my name on it."
"Uh-huh." Alan didn't look up as he opened the locker door, the metal sending a high-pitched creak throughout the Thunderbird as he retrieved his tablet. "Does Scott still want us to have a debriefing, or are we good?"
Virgil raised an eyebrow at John's floating holograph image, and received a shrug as a response, before the link ended. "We're probably good. It's almost Christmas anyway."
"Tell me that you're calling to say that Penny and Parker are heading out here a few hours early, or that Tin-Tin's plane is no longer delayed. Or," Scott continued, leaning backwards further on the sofa and resting his feet on the armrest despite his grandmother's disapproving look from where she was carefully placing the final Christmas cards along the coffee table. "Pretty much anything other than a rescue call."
"Err…" John frowned at him, shooting EOS a glance. "I should probably stop talking then."
"So, it is a rescue call?" The nod Scott received was response enough, and he grabbed hold of the nearest pillow, dragging it closer towards him and burying his head underneath the dark fabric. A sudden weight next to his feet alerted him to the presence of a younger brother and the soft tapping sounds of a foot against the carpet meant there was only one hyperactive person in the house who could be quite that energetic after an early morning rescue. The towel that was draped over his ankles, still slightly damp, was also a clue before a hand reached across his chest to snatch at the pillow.
"What's the situation?" Gordon, feeling a lot more refreshed since his swim, ruffled his hair with one hand in an attempt to stop it drying in spikes, and shoving his brother's feet out of the way to allow himself to scramble back and sit down properly.
John looked relieved to have someone actually paying attention to him, before realising that off all the people it could have been it had to be Gordon and clicked his fingers towards EOS' camera eye to signal to her to turn down his already low volume music. "Earthquake, south-east Missouri, in a relatively unpopulated area although there was significant damage to one of the towns. The local services can deal with the others, but this one requires more specialised equipment to get the survivors out from the debris without dislodging it enough to send it crashing onto the pretty giant electricity plant next door."
"Let me guess, pretty big means Godzilla size? And Godzilla plus concrete normally equals…" Gordon waved his arms about for dramatic effect, almost losing his balance and having to grab hold of the arm-rest for support. "Boom!"
John attempted to hide his snigger with a cough. "Basically, yeah." He rolled his eyes at the still un-responsive Field Commander lying across the sofa. "Is he genuinely asleep or…?"
Gordon considered just shrugging, before remembering the most recent blackmail material John had on him and instead settled for tossing the pillow back into the pilot's face. "Hey Scotty, look alive."
"I am alive. I'm breathing. Now let me sleep." Came the muffled response, before the pillow was held in a tighter grip, allowing only ruffled dark hair to be seen.
"Touché." Gordon remarked, smirking as he leant back. "But…" He wriggled his fingers and John caught sight of the dangerously amused glint in his eyes.
"Yeah, Scooter, it's probably in your best interests to get up right now."
"Hey, I'm just saying, I'm sitting right next your feet right now, and I know for a fact that me and Alan aren't the only ones who are ticklish."
Scott scrambled upright with a start, glaring across at the impishly grinning younger sibling who gave him an innocent look before tossing his towel across to the youngest Tracy entering the room. Still in uniform, but with Virgil's hoodie left in the locker as well draped over his shoulders due to the stark temperature difference between Thunderbird 2 and the hanger, Alan caught the flying item with one hand on instinct after years of quick reflexes built up following escapes from vengeful older siblings.
Gordon let out an appreciative whistle. "Nice catch kiddo."
"You don't get to call me that. Three years Gords. Only three years' age gap."
"Hey Allie. You up to co-piloting for me?" Scott greeted him, raking his gaze up and down his younger sibling in typical smother-hen mode, mentally taking in any scratches and the mud still dirtying blond hair.
"Move." Alan muttered, dumping the towel at Gordon's feet. The red-head widened his eyes at him, crossing his arms and grinning.
"Make me."
"Jerk."
"Do you want a reply to that, or…?"
"Scotty."
"Gordon, move." Scott ordered, removing his feet from the aquanaut's lap to poke him in the back with one toe. "I cannot be bothered to make you right now, but Virgil should be down in a minute and he will."
"Because Virg is oh-so terrifying."
"Damn straight." Virgil twirled the spare access pass to Thunderbird 4's silo between his fingers, leaning against the doorway and motioned making to throw it across to Alan.
"You guys are bullying me." Gordon whined, before finally relenting and flopping down across the carpet instead, rolling onto his back to stare up at the Christmas tree. On the opposite sofa, Virgil sank down into the pillows, flicking one of many strands of Christmas lights draped along the ceiling that were beginning to fall down, the makeshift holdings of sellotape not proving very effective.
"Thunderbird 1 can carry some of the people out of the danger zone while the rescue services are still focussing on the other areas, and if Thunderbird 2 takes the DOMO and Excavator in a Pod then we could probably wrap this one up in about an hour, if that." John mentioned casually. "Hey, c'mon, don't act like I'm the bad guy here." He sent the Christmas tree visible just to the left of hologram image a longing look. In comparison, his own attempts at festive decorating seemed half-hearted, with a few measly pieces of silver tinsel and a couple of strands of multi-coloured lights (smuggled up from Grandma's Christmas supplies with Alan's help). "The sooner I get down dirt-side to join you mortals the better."
"Uh-huh." Scott was still attempting to wake himself up properly. Somehow, he doubted he was going to be allowed anywhere near the kitchen while the Christmas food was still on the table, waiting to be put away, even if it was just to get hold of his daily caffeine supply. "Okay. Who wants to say it?"
All pairs of eyes instantly turned to the youngest of them in the room. Alan wasn't paying too much attention, instead fiddling with a Santa hat in an attempt to light up the inbuilt LEDs. "Huh?" He glanced up, finally noticing the awkward silence. "Oh, um, Thunderbirds are go?"
The rescue was unusually simple given that most earthquakes required laser cutters and a lot more work from the pods. Not that any of them were complaining – an easy rescue was certainly something they needed after three days' worth of complicated work that was going to result in lot of paint in a couple of days' time.
"Have we got anything else, or can I finally head home?"
EOS considered John's inquiry for a moment, scanning through the radio wavelengths at lightning quick speeds before hesitating over a mention of International Rescue…are…are you there? Huh, maybe something. She listened in closer for a moment, considering, before at last mentioning it aloud. "We might have something," She admitted, before the next sentence caught her notice. "Oh, wait, never mind, it's just some kid who wants to see a Thunderbird for Christmas."
John, still floating in the middle of the room, shot a glance over towards the AI. "Play it through anyway," he mentioned after a moment, shrugging as the lights flashed in a silent question.
"Sure." The confusion was evident in her voice, but there was no audible inquiry as the radio call sparked into life through the speakers around the space station.
'Um…hi I guess. My name's Andy, and uh, International Rescue, are…are you there? I'm eight years old today, and my Mum says that she's really sorry, but I might not have as many presents as the other kids at school. She says it's 'cos Dad's not around anymore, and we haven't got much money, but all I want for Christmas is to see one of Thunderbirds. I know that you're really busy, but my little brother, Alfie, has a model of Thunderbird 1 and it would be really cool if you'd maybe visit him? You don't have to let me see if you don't want to. So, um, yeah. Bye!'
John didn't speak for a moment, instead watching the softly glowing planet beneath his feet, contemplating the radio call for a minute or two. He fiddled with the sleeve of his uniform before finally sighing, flipping over backwards thanks to the anti-gravity and reaching for the radio.
"EOS, can you trace the location?"
"Missouri." The AI spoke a couple of seconds later, her lights turning a pale green as watched him with fond exasperation. "And yes, it's not too far from where the rescue is taking place, but the village was not hit by the earthquake."
"Great." John didn't hesitate in calling, unable to hold back a laugh at the bedraggled looking older brother who answered. "Jeez Scotty, you know the mud usually ends up on the equipment, not us, right?"
"I'm regretting getting you Christmas presents already and I haven't even seen you in person yet." Scott grinned, reaching across to open the exit hatch to allow Alan to clamber back in, annoyingly mud-free. "What's up?"
"There's this kid, eight-years-old…" John trailed off, instead simply sending the clip across to the pilot. Scott listened intently before meeting the pleading blue gaze directed towards him. "I'm just saying. It's not too far. It's on the way back."
"What d'you say Allie?"
"Sounds like a good plan to me." The teenager replied, attempting to rub the dust off the shoulder of his uniform, licking one finger to try and help the process. John was reminded of a sparrow attempting to wash in a puddle when he last visited the UK, the ruffled blond hair of his younger sibling also helping the metaphor. For the second time in ten minutes he was hard pressed not to burst out laughing.
The flight across the darkened country-side took barely five minutes, with Thunderbird 2 taking off a couple of moments later. On Thunderbird 5, John had managed to get in touch with the mother, replying to the grateful voice with an equally pleased tone. Helping out those less fortunate than his own family was always just as rewarding as International Rescue, especially when it was for an innocent kid.
Alan was already snoring by the time they touched down, startling awake at the sudden jolt of the touch down, the Thunderbird still not perfectly balanced since the damage received earlier that day. Scott reached across to grab his youngest brother's shoulder, anticipating the inevitable jump upwards, and the crash of a head against the window. The grateful look was all that was needed as a reply.
"Hey Virg, how far out are you?"
The soft humming as Thunderbird 2's VTOLs cut out and the massive aircraft gently landed on the grass. Warm lights flooded from the cockpit, where two silhouettes could be seen fighting for the radio on the dashboard. Leaning back in his chair, Scott found himself questioning why he'd ever thought it would be a good idea to allow Gordon to be Virgil's co-pilot.
"Is this answer enough for you?" The gasped reply finally came through, before Gordon could be seen to drag him away from the control panel, making a snatch for the Jaffa Cake packet resting on top of it. "Dammit Gords, would you give me back the Jaffa Cakes?"
"Never!" Gordon yelled triumphantly, taking a bite of one of the Jaffa Cakes before making the mistake of catching his immediate older brother's eye. "I hate you." He muttered, before passing over the packet to the grinning sibling half-lying on the ground next to him.
"Okay guys." John's hologram image flickered into life. "Let's give Andy and Alfie the Christmas present they won't forget."
"FAB."
"Or, RAD."
In Thunderbird 1, Scott glared across at the green Thunderbird through the glass. "I don't know if you're trying to be kind to Brains, or if you're trying to remind me of a few weeks ago."
"You did look remarkably like a flying squirrel."
"Johnny! You're supposed to take my side."
The joking banter carried on a few more minutes as they made their way outside, Alan hopping from one foot to the other in an attempt to rid himself of the pins-and-needles feeling that was a result of sitting on his feet like a cat. Gordon was still munching on Jaffa Cakes, stuffing a couple into his mouth at a time that had the effect of several chipmunk jokes.
And then the front door opened.
Alfie's reaction was more audible than Andy's, as a joyful yell sounded through the air and an energetic six-year-old came careering across the grass towards them, wide eyes staring up at Thunderbird 1, before switching his gaze to Thunderbird 2.
"Wow," He whispered, twisting on the spot to fling himself at the team. An amused look from Virgil as Alan and Gordon jumped at the sudden reaction was directed towards Scott. All yours Scooter. You're the best at dealing with kids. It was a fair point, and while it was always down to Gordon to deal with kids on rescue, when inspiring a four-year-old with a Christmas memory they were all quite happy to let the eldest of the brothers take the lead.
A young brown-haired woman appeared in the doorway, only in her late twenties, or maybe her early thirties, smiling.
"Hey Andy. I think you called us?" Gordon knelt down to the kid's height, grinning at the star-struck expression. Behind him, Scott was attempting to keep Alfie from climbing completely onto his shoulders before giving up, the fond smile evidence that he secretly didn't mind. Alfie was a lot like Alan had been at his age.
"You're the Thunderbirds." The incredulous young voice whispered, before the eight-year-old started laughing, throwing his arms around Gordon in a fierce hug. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"
Gordon sent Virgil a startled look, before standing up. "Okay kiddo, how about you take a look at Thunderbird 2? I mean, obviously, Thunderbird 4 is way cooler, but hey."
"No, Thunderbird 2 is the best," Andy replied instantly, earning himself an approving look from Virgil.
"You're right there, Andy."
And on Thunderbird 5, John sat back, absently mindedly twisting a piece of tinsel around his finger, and watched through the watch links. There was something incredibly rewarding about making people's dreams and wishes come true, especially at Christmas.
"You know, I think I understand now." EOS murmured, suddenly appearing above him, twisting her camera slightly. "Why you made them all fly out there. These kids are going to remember this Christmas for the rest of their live as when something they really wanted to happen came true. That there are good people in the world."
He smiled, glancing up at her. "Close enough EOS. Close enough."
"So." Virgil reached out for another pillow, watching the Christmas tree lights softly fading in and out, and made a grab for the plate of mince-pies Penelope had brought across from England in place of Grandma's. John shot him a questioning look from where he was draped over the second sofa like a tabby cat, half chewing a candy-cane that he had snuck away from the decorations on the tree.
"So, what?"
"So, it's Christmas. And I don't know about you, but this year's been pretty crazy." Virgil kicked at the TV remote, pleasantly surprised when it worked and the screen went blank. Alan and Gordon had started off watching as many films as they possibly could manage in the annual Tracy movie marathon, but had soon fallen asleep on the carpet. Neither Virgil or John had commented when Scott had left his comfortable spot on the sofa to fetch the faux fur blanket from the kitchen where Alan had given it to Tin-Tin who had fallen asleep following jet-lag earlier.
"Yeah. You're right there." Scott murmured, taking care not to speak too loud as Penelope was asleep with her head resting on his shoulder. Managing to sneak his hand out from underneath the pile of cushions that had mysteriously been dumped next to him, he brushed a stray blond strand of hair away from her face, smiling fondly as she moved closer to him.
"But we're all still here. Despite…well, everything." Virgil took a bite of the mince-pie and made a quiet squeaking sound like a mouse. "Holy…John, you have got to try one of these."
"Oh, I am planning to. Throw one over, will you?"
"Sure."
"So." He took another bite of the mince-pie, before glancing up, burying his feet under the pillow heap. "What I'm trying to say is…"
"Happy Christmas?"
He clicked his fingers. "Exactly, Scooter. Exactly." They all took a moment to consider this, and then paused as the rest of the sleeping family appeared to almost wake, before returning back to the world of slumber. On the other side of the room, even Brains had finally given in, with one hand resting on MAX's back. The robot was softly vibrating as though purring.
"Happy Christmas you guys."
Okay, so, that's a wrap! I hope all of you have a great Christmas and a happy New Year! Hopefully 2017 will be a bit less...busy.
Please review? It would be a great Christmas gift! :) *hands out free Christmas cookies*
Kat x.