Well - WOW! Wasn't Up From The Depths an absolute doozie?! And that was just the first part!

I was going to wait until next week's concluding episode had aired before writing my usual tag, but - well, the bunnies couldn't wait that long! So as the dust settles from Gordon's battle against The Mechanic, here are my thoughts on what might have happened next.

I'm also assuming that Virgil would have retrieved the wreckage of Thunderbird Four from the sea bed, to prevent her technology from falling into the wrong hands.

Enjoy!

Critical Mass

If his patient had been human, he'd be bracing himself now. Trying to find the words to break the news that every doctor dreads.

The news that a sadly reverent surgeon had broken to a shell-shocked husband, who'd just become an equally shell-shocked, single father.

'I'm sorry, Mr Tracy... your boy's going to be fine, but your wife... I did everything I could to save her, but her injuries... the internal damage, there was... nothing I could do.'

Still wincing at the memory, Virgil glanced up again at the gantry in front of him, and his face tightened even more. Just weeks earlier, he'd stood here too, struggling to accept the sight of his cruelly broken 'bird. Compared to what his brother had gone through, though - God, he'd gotten away lightly.

For one thing, he'd managed to bring her home in one piece. Scorched and useless, true, but thankfully intact. Gordon's, though. What that bastard had done to her. What he'd so nearly done to his brother.

Gordon.

Gordon.

Closing his eyes against the unthinkable, he didn't see the new presence beside him. Then again, feeling it was all he needed to open his eyes again, and smile as he drew his younger brother into a comforting hug.

Yes, that brother was still shaken. Still quieter than usual too. But he was also warm.

Solid.

Alive.

Pale, though, and worryingly so to the family medic's eyes. Enough for his arm to tighten just a bit more around Gordon's shoulders. If ever his brother needed his comfort and support, it was now. Because the scene in front of them was as heartbreaking as it was horrific.

Ripped apart by The Mechanic's ruthless machinery, Thunderbird Four lay in pieces inside the gantries and gadgetry that would put her back together.

Thanks to Brains' engineering genius, those repairs were already well under way. By his ever cautious estimate, she'd be ready for action again within the next forty eight hours. Virgil just hoped that his brother would heal from his own, terrifyingly close call with the same, thankful speed.

This wasn't his first brush with death, of course. Long before their father's dream of creating International Rescue, his fourth born son had needed rescuing himself.

Hidden under his clothes, and his equally cheery character, the scars from that hydrofoil accident would still scar him for the rest of his life. Through courage, determination or, as their father had proudly put it, his sheer bloody-mindedness, he'd survived the injuries that should statistically have killed him.

Today, though - well, no. Virgil knew he couldn't apply the same reasoning for what his brother had faced today. There'd been nothing remotely 'accidental' to this new enemy's intentions. With his brothers powerless to help him, Gordon had faced the fight of his life, for his life. That he'd survived it was nothing short of a miracle.

But with that 'fight or flight' adrenalin gone now, so the enormity of what he'd been through had started to sink in. Even without his advanced medical training, Virgil could see the danger signs as clearly as Scott had done for him, when he'd been the one who'd come within seconds of dying at this ruthless new enemy's hands.

This wasn't about him, though. Even if his brother's presence, solid and real, and alive beside him, had brought him his own kind of psychological healing - no, his thoughts had to be for Gordon now. His little brother, the family joker. Their whirlwind of laughter and sunshine, whose face was now shrouded in cloud. Whose eyes now glittered with something that Virgil had never seen in them before.

Anger. Fury. Rage. A storm of hatred and bitterness, that was centering itself over just one single target. Beyond his concern that such emotions could cause his brother more harm than good, Virgil honestly couldn't blame him. From his own, still raw experience... yes, God knew, he felt the same way.

Glancing back at him, Virgil then felt himself smile. Some healthier colour had returned to Gordon's face. His eyes, too, were starting to clear. Small but precious improvements, but both still heartening to see. And both had come from the same, inspiring source.

Their father's hat. A simple but priceless symbol of memories and hope which, after passing through a round of reverent hands, had then found its way back to Gordon's. Held as gently now as it had been then. Comforting him, reassuring him. Anchoring him into its harbour, safe and protected from the storm that still raged outside it.

To eyes sharp enough to see it, and a soul sensitive enough to recognize it, Gordon Tracy Category Five had now lessened in force to... hmm, the lower levels of Category Four. Enough for grateful relief to start winning the fight against that counter-productive anger.

"Hey, she's looking better already."

An eyebrow rose this time, followed by a shrug of 'almost' agreement. Okay, so such optimism was still a touch premature, but - well, yes. As the crumpled hull in front of them started to regain its more familiar shape, Virgil had to admit he felt it too. From 'touch and go' to 'critical but stable', their patient was now battling her way 'out of the woods' towards a full recovery.

Just to be sure, though, Gordon then stepped into the nearest repair bay. Hesitating for a moment, as if dreading he'd somehow hurt her further, he gently ran his fingers along her freshly re-built nacelles.

Just as Virgil had done before, he didn't need to turn his head to know that his brother was back at his side. Nor did he feel at all self conscious for getting so mushy over this hulk of crumpled metal, because - well, this was Virgil. More than any of his brothers, Virgil would know what he was feeling right now. He'd understand the words of comfort that softly followed.

"Yeah, that's my girl."

Peering underneath her, a broadening smile was joined by an approving nod as Gordon all but disappeared into a mass of metalwork and machinery.

"Yeah, we'll have you all sub-shape in no time, and... whoa! Now, that's what I call firepower!"

A huff of laughter behind him quickly changed to a more diplomatic cough, and a grin of pure affection. Give him a new armoury of upgraded torpedoes, and - yes, the family's expert in all things that went 'bang' or 'ka-boom' was a truly happy camper.

Quite where he'd gotten such destructive tendencies was still up for debate - though in Lee Taylor's eyes, the answer was obvious.

"With your Dad and me, it was blowin' up asteroids... but with... um, now whatshisname..."

"...Gordon, sir..."

"...yeah, that's the one... hell, with him, it's just everythin' else..."

Still enjoying this far happier memory, Virgil almost missed the rest of his brother's observations as Gordon finished his inspection and came back to stand beside him.

"Yeah, if anything good's going to come out of this, it's going to be these upgrades. She's going to be stronger out of all this than ever, and those torpedoes could take out half a city! And the next time this Mechanic tries to take us out, he'll get everything that's coming to him."

Aah, just what his older brother wanted to hear. Well, almost.

"Not if I get to him first."

A pause then, while they glanced at each other, sharing the same wry smile. Voicing the same, proudly knowing thought.

"Not if Scott gets to him first."

Glancing down at the hat he still held in his hands, Gordon's smile then faded. If the loss of his 'bird had broken his heart, then the loss of his father's ship had been an even crueller twist of the knife, that he just couldn't bring himself to accept.

"But we will get her back... right? I mean, we can't just let him take her from us too."

As he'd hoped and expected, his brother was already doing what that brother did best - smiling that smile that could turn the darkest of nights into the brightest of mornings, while his arm slid back around his shoulders.

"Oh, you can count on it. That's why I'm handling your repairs, while Brains... uh... gives Three her own little refit."

Quite what that refit involved still remained to be soon. Gordon, though, had his own theories

"Whoa, she's getting torpedoes too?!"

Virgil's eyes went wide at that too, before they rolled against that irresistible grin. Okay, so he'd walked right into that one, but - damn, if that wasn't a thought to keep him awake at night.

More immediately, though, he had just the right way to keep this little bundle of trouble more usefully occupied.

"For the sake of my health and sanity, Gordo, don't even go there. Now, pass me that ion wrench, and let's see if we can't get her 'sub shape' a little bit faster."

Grinning too, Gordon did as told - drawing as much admiration at his brother's skill as he did fresh hope from the hat that he now placed gently on the workbench beside them. In mind if not in presence, their father's inspiring legacy was still there to spur them on.

Up in the den, Scott stood by its windows that looked out onto the pool below. Alone now, and feeling all the weight of that solitude as he stared out at the darkening sky.

Somewhere out there, the bastard who'd almost killed two of his brothers had stolen away an equally priceless part of his family's heritage. Worse still, he had no idea on how, or if, they'd ever get it back.

Reflected back at him, his eyes were a rage of glowering cobalt, while his voice held the same, barely suppressed fury.

"Whoever you are, whatever threat you are to me, or my family... I swear to God, I'm going to take you down."