He was the one that the world didn't know about. He was the one that was forgotten even if they did know him. It didn't bother him.

Not anymore.

He supposed that should be somewhat worrisome. Not minding that he was on his own for extended periods of time with limited contact with other human beings. But he couldn't bring himself to care anymore. He could remember when they had begun their crusade. The loneliness had almost been unbearable. Sure he managed to distract himself with his academic work, but that was all it was. A distraction. Nothing could really take the place of real flesh and blood to communicate with.

But somehow along the way the solitude became him. The extended tours because one little brother of his managed to come up with another excuse to stay dirtside. Some part of him was injured and he couldn't make the flight. He was participating in another one of his races and couldn't afford to miss it. He and Tin-Tin were going off the island for something that Tin-Tin wanted.

It only was a few times before he recognized the look on his little brother's face. He would sigh and wave his brother off to enjoy whatever it was he wanted. He didn't care anymore.

Thunderbird Five was beginning to feel more like home than Tracy Island.

He started to refer to the station as home internally after one particularly long stint. Four months was it? No, five. He had spent his allotted time on earth wishing he was back up in the stars. There was too much noise, too many stimuli stabbing at him. People were always near him and it was overwhelming.

Most of that month was spent in the library away from every else.

The return to the stars was like a breath of fresh air. The familiar whir of the electronics as they scanned every frequency for people in need of rescue. The slight vibrations that the artificial gravity gave off. It was home.

It was him.

The routine he developed over the many nights and days never strayed. Every morning he drank his coffee while looking at one of the four sunrises of the day. Then it was his morning workout, before he turned over to work on whatever data he was collecting for his next book. After lunch was usually when he did routine maintenance, just to ensure that his home was safe and secure. His evenings allowed him to relax, read one of the many books he had stashed up there and enjoy the quiet.

Days could go by like that. With no calls for rescue, and no calls from Tracy Island. No one bothered to call anymore and talk about what had happened that day. He didn't hear of the pranks pulled or the pieces of art published or the races won.

The tiniest sliver of his heart ached at the thought of all the things he was missing out on.

But he trudged on. He was a Tracy and that was what they did. It was a life of solitude. The life of a hermit. It was needed for what they were doing and he readily accepted his role without complaint.

But he was the forgotten Tracy. The one the world didn't know.

He was John.


A/N: Something that popped into my head last night. It's not very long, in fact it may be the shortest thing that I've written. Would you be so kind and leave a review? Thanks.