Yeah, Yeah, I know. I'm supposed to be working on the next chapter of "Head in the Clouds" but this little two shot demanded to be written first. So here is the first part and the second will be up in the next day or two. It is completed, I just need to do some tweaking. Special thank you to Red Hardy for beta'ing. And please let me know what you think!

Water Pressure

Sixteen-year-old Alan Tracy stood at the edge of the pool and stared down at the placid water in the larger of his family's outdoor pools. Home for a break from school, the young Thunderbird-in-training let out a heavy sigh and shook his head. He could hear his brothers joking and laughing behind him in the house and while he loved his family dearly, sometimes it just really sucked being a Tracy.

"Hey, Al," a very chipper voice called out from behind him and Alan grimaced. Okay so not all his brothers were inside. He should have known Gordon would be out here. After all there was water in the pool, wasn't there? "Want to go for a quick dip?"

"No," the word came out sharper then he intended as the teen turned towards the older red-head. It was the first time he'd seen Gordon since his father had dropped him off late last night. Normally Fermat would have been with them but Brains had picked his son up from Wharton Academy earlier the previous day so they could spend the week on Thunderbird Five, relieving a very appreciative John.

"You don't have to bite my head off," Gordon countered, dropping a thick terry towel into a poolside lounger and stretching his muscular arms out high over his head as he loosened up. "Just trying to be sociable." Then with the same grace and power that had won him an Olympic medal, the swimmer dove into the pool and quickly stroked across to the other side. "You sure you don't want to come in?" he shouted back at Alan, "Water's perfect and I promise not to kick your ass too badly if you want to race!"

Alan's face darkened, his hands curled into fists as his chest tightened. "I said no."

But Gordon wasn't taking no for an answer and seemed oblivious to his brother's increasing agitation.

"What are you? Chicken? Bwack, bwack, bwack!"

"What the hell is wrong with you? No, means NO! I don't want to swim – I hate water and-" Alan tried to stop himself but the words were spitting out before he could, "-and I hate you!" Horrified and embarrassed, the blond then took off from the pool before a stunned Gordon could do more than gape.

"Okay then," the swimmer finally exhaled, his troubled gaze puzzled as he looked in the direction of his retreating brother, "Guess that's a no…"

----

Alan bypassed the house and was running by the time he hit the beach but no matter how fast or hard he ran he couldn't escape the pain on Gordon's face when he'd hurled those nasty words at him. And I hate you! It wasn't fair or right. He knew it wasn't Gordon's fault. Not really. But in a way it was, in a very big way, and for that very reason the teen continued to run.

Maybe if he ran far enough, things would different.

------

"What the hell is wrong with Alan?" Gordon grumbled as he stalked into the kitchen. His three older brothers were all in various stages of breakfast and glanced up at him.

"What do you mean?" It was Virgil who asked as Scott had a mouthful of pancakes and John was drinking down a cold glass of apple juice.

"What I mean is that kid is absolutely surly," Gordon continued to gripe sitting down heavily across from Virgil and frowning. His hair was still wet from the water, the towel now slung around his shoulders. The normally chipper red-head was still stung by his younger brother's attitude just moments ago. "I asked him if he wanted to go for a swim before we ate and he just about took my frickin' head off!"

"Well, the kid never was a morning person," Scott reminded with a grin. "He probably just got up on the wrong side this morning."

Gordon considered that for a moment, then shook his head, "He said he hated me but more importantly that he hated swimming! Since when does anyone in this family hate water?"

"Oh yeah, that's the important part," John commented dryly, reaching for the carafe of juice and refilling his glass. "Did anyone ever tell you that your priorities are a bit messed up?"

"Sure," Gordon grinned, "all the time."

"If Sprout said he hated you," Virgil sized his younger brother up over a forkful of pancakes, "that leaves one to ask, what were you doing to torment him?"

"Hey! I'm the victim here!" the red-head protested snatching Virgil's fork and jamming the food into his mouth. "Sum smp'thy 'ere."

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Scott chastised with a light slap on the back of the head.

Gordon glared at him before John was cutting in. "Why don't you just go ask Al what the problem is? He seemed okay this morning when I saw him in the hall. A bit quieter than usual maybe but that's about it."

"Just ask him?" Gordon looked horrified. "Do you mean like talk to him? Contrary to big girls like you, Johnny, real guys don't talk. We belch, rub our bellies and deny everything. I can't talk to Alan! He's… he's… he's my brother!"

"Over dramatic much?" John rolled his eyes and finished off his second glass of juice.

"Pee like a racehorse much?" Gordon shot back, then swiped another pancake off Virgil's plate and danced out of slapping range as he left the table.

"Where are you going?" Scott demanded as Virgil cursed something quietly under his breath about ungrateful, food stealing little brothers.

"Duh! To talk to Alan of course!" And then Gordon was gone with John's sadly sighed words following him back outside,

"Doesn't act much like a twenty-year-old, does he?"

------

Gordon was pretty sure he'd find Alan on the beach. His younger brother loved to run when he was upset and it didn't take much to figure out that something was bothering the kid now. Yeah, Alan could be a brat at times - geez which brother couldn't? - but he wasn't prone to unprovoked surliness. In fact, one of Gordon and Virgils' favorite pastimes, when they were younger of course, was to see how quickly they could wind Alan up. The kid really was too easy sometimes. But this morning's attitude was really bugging Gordon and he knew his little brother well enough to know something was wrong. Now it was just a matter of finding out what.

Grabbing a cold bottle of water as he left the kitchen, Gordon trotted towards the ocean. It was another gorgeous day but he only had eyes for the forlorn figure standing just on the edge of the sand, cerulean blue water lapping at his feet. His arms folded across his chest, Alan stared out over the ocean, his mind a million miles of way.

Alan gave no indication that he heard Gordon until the red-head held out the bottle of water thankful for his foresight as he saw the sweat beaded on his brother's face. Alan's t-shirt hugged his lanky frame and blond hair plastered his tanned forehead, his chest still rising and falling quickly from his sprint.

"A bit too warm for running," Gordon commented mildly, pleased when Alan took the water and drank half the bottle down before pulling it away from his lips, wiping his mouth and offering Gordon an acknowledging but quiet thank you. "So you want to tell me what's crawled up your ass and died or am I going to have to wrestle it out of your first, 'cause I hate to tell you
this bro, even with all the extra training Dad and Scott have you doing, I can still take you." He mirrored Alan's pose, arms crossed loosely across his chest, gaze facing forward and over the water.

"Everything isn't a competition," Alan's voice was quiet and husky with fatigue. Gordon glanced across at his sibling taking in the darkness under Alan's eyes and paleness beneath the tan - the kid was exhausted.

"It is in our family," he countered.

Alan snorted and shook his head.

Gordon waited. The sound of the surf pounding on the shore sang to his love of the ocean and it was tempting to kick off his sandals and dive into the incoming waves but he didn't. Instead he inhaled the salt, felt the sun on his face and waited for his little brother to crack. He really didn't have to wait long…

"Look, it's nothing," Alan finally admitted. "Really. Nothing I can't handle."

Worry fisted in his stomach and the red-head looked at his brother again. "Doesn't sound like nothing to me."

"You don't even know what it is!"

"I don't have to. Alan, you've been sullen and sulky since Dad brought you home and while we give you shit about it all the time, that isn't you. Yeah, you've got all the teenage angst meets hormones thing going on but you're not mean or insensitive, so do you want to just tell me what's got you so pissed off that you're taking pot shots at me and then hiding out down here or should I just start guessing?"

Alan glared at him. Gordon shrugged. "Fine. Let me see," he pursed his lips in careful consideration. "You found that no matter how much you pull on it, it isn't going to get any bigger?"

"You're an ass."

"Gee, thank you," the older Tracy gave a graceful bow. He straightened and took another guess, "Oh I know, I know! How about-"

"They won't let me run."

Gordon paused mid-sentence. Whatever he'd been thinking it might be – and really it was too bad Alan didn't let him guess some more 'cause he had some very excellent ideas to try out – that wasn't it. The disbelief must have shown on his face because Alan snorted loudly, shook his head and started to walk away.

"Hey, wait!" the water Tracy called after his brother and hurried to catch up. "What do you mean they won't let you run? Who are they? And where aren't you allowed to run?" He was drawing a blank. Alan was fast and he had the stamina of a wolf, why couldn't he run?

"The coach, at Wharton's." Alan answered, not stopping. "Your coach."

"My coach?" Gordon paused and then comprehension had him hurrying to cover the distance between. "You mean Coach Manners? He's still there?"

"Well, duh," Alan picked up his pace. "Just let it go, Gordon. I got it."

"Alan, wait!" Fed up with trying to carry on a conversation at a sprint, Gordon reached out and grabbed Alan's arm, letting go instantly when the kid hissed in pain and yanked away. "Alan?"

"It's nothing," the teen was too quick to dismiss but rubbed at the arm anyway.

Moving to block his brother, Gordon was serious, all attempts at humor gone. Alan was hurt. Nothing funny about that. "Show me."

Alan looked mutinous but then huffed loudly. "Fine. But it's nothing," he repeated petulantly. "Really."

"Yeah so you keep saying," Gordon retorted distractedly, his attention on the large hand shaped bruise wrapped around his brother's bicep. It was dark purple and painful looking and even Gordon's basic medical training told him how hard his brother had to have been held to make that injury, and he fumed. Someone had hurt his little brother. His only little brother. That someone had made a huge mistake. If Gordon was this angry he could only imagine what Scott's reaction was going to be. The eldest Tracy sibling thought of his brothers as his own personal property and didn't take to lightly anyone messing with them. "Alan," he tried to keep his voice steady even as blood surged furiously through his veins, "Who did this to you?"

Alan opened his mouth and Gordon cut him off, "And don't you dare say it doesn't matter or that it isn't important." The blond's jaw snapped shut. "Alan…" this time it was a warning growl. "I want to know."

"He just got pissed when I told him 'no', okay?"

Gordon's stomach curdled, his thoughts dark, and as if Alan realized how it sounded, the kid hurried on, "I don't want to swim, he doesn't get it. He keeps wanting me to be just like you, but I can't, Gordon, and no offence but I don't want to be."

Coach Manners.

Gordon felt sick as things clicked into place. Manners had been a strong advocate for Gordon's journey to the Olympic podium. As the head of the athletics department and swim coach at the boarding school Gordon had attended during his senior year, he had seen Gordon's potential way beyond what the teen himself had seen and had orchestrated a swimmer into an Olympian. But as far he knew, Manners had only taken a job at Wharton Academy that fall, coincidentally putting him in the same school as the youngest Tracy, and Alan had only mentioned it in passing a couple of months ago but hadn't said anything since then.

"So he did that to you?" He glared at the mark on his brother's arm. Manners was a big hulk of a man and while he had never been aggressive with Gordon – he hadn't needed to be – the young man had been witness to the coach's eruptible temper on occasion. The red-head's anger burned as he thought of the coach turning that temper on his kid brother.

Alan shrugged dismissively.

"Jesus, Sprout," Gordon growled, "would you just spill?"

"Fine. You want to know what happened?" the blond spat, "You really want to know? I wanted to run on the track team. He wouldn't let me. Made me swim and then got pissed when I wasn't as good as you. Yeah, like anyone'd be as good as you," Alan huffed and Gordon wasn't sure if it was pride or resentment in that statement but he didn't say anything and his brother continued. "He pulled me aside after I came in second against another school and asked me what the hell was up. I reminded him that I didn't want to be here – I wanted on the track team. Guess he didn't like my answer 'cause next thing I knew he had me slammed against the lockers and-" Alan suddenly just stopped, took a breath and then lied, "and that's all."

Gordon knew Alan was lying. Something else happened and he needed to know. He needed to know just how far this had gone. "That's not all." He rebutted, "So out with it."

Alan glared at him – and thank God the kid wasn't Medusa or Gordon'd be stone by now – and actually growled, "And he warned me that if I didn't do better and start winning for him, he'd fail Fermat."

Fermat?

Gordon was so angry he started to shake and had to turn away from his brother. The coach was blackmailing Alan with Alan's best friend. It was no secret that the younger teen was a genius and got straight A+'s in everything… except physical education. The kid just wasn't an athlete but he always got by, in part because Alan really helped him and it was no stretch to know that it would hurt Fermat greatly to fail at anything. Even gym. So Manners had found Alan's Achilles heel.

"God-damnit," he hissed as he stalked down the water's edge and let the surf wash over his feet. That sonnvabitch.

"Gordon?" Alan sounded a bit nervous and the older Tracy quickly turned back to his brother to let Al know it wasn't him that Gordon was angry with.

"He had no right to do that to you. To put you in that position. Man, I'm so sorry, bro -"

"It's not your fault," Alan immediately absolved him.

"But it kinda is," Gordon refused to be let off so easily, "Manners only went after you because of me."

"Yeah, okay, but it's still not your fault. He just can't seem to get it through his head that I don't want to be on the swim team. I like swimming but I don't want to compete. That's your job," he offered Gordon a shy smile and then sighed sadly, "But I don't want him failing Fermat because of it either."

Gordon understood. "Did you talk to Dad about this?"

Alan shook his head. "No. He'd been in meetings all day yesterday before he picked me up and seemed pretty stressed… and I was kinda hoping to figure out what to do myself, you know?" He snorted derisively, "I really hate this."

The older Tracy understood. Jeff was heavily involved in a merger at this moment and while he had been determined to be the one to fly Alan home for the break, it was also the only time they'd gotten together before the man had to return to the mainland that morning. And Gordon also understood his brother's need to fix this himself; it was hard to ask for help with something especially when you were a Thunderbird.

However, another thing about being a member of International Rescue was remembering you were part of a team, and team members always had each other's backs. So while Alan himself might not be in any position to make the coach see common sense, there were other people who were.

"But," Alan found Gordon's gaze and burned electric blue into darker hazel, "I'm sorry for being such a dick earlier. I don't hate the water, and I really, really don't hate you."

Gordon huffed in fond exasperation. Of course he'd known his brother hadn't been serious when he'd spat those angry words at him but it was still nice to hear. However, in an attempt to avoid the hug he felt building between them, Gordon feigned indignation. "Well, duh. How could anyone hate water?"

Alan burst out laughing.

Playfully pushing at his sibling, Gordon shoved his brother towards the house. "C'mon, Squirt, breakfast is getting cold."

The younger Tracy allowed himself to be manhandled even as he asked. "You won't tell Dad will you?"

"Don't worry about it," Gordon promised. "Dad won't be hearing it from me."

"Thanks, bro," Alan smiled at him and then just as they reached the outside patio paused and looked at his brother seriously, "And I guess being on the swim team really won't be that bad, right? I mean I can still run, he can't stop me from doing that."

"Don't worry about it, Al," Gordon assured him, "a lot can happen in a week."

Alan didn't look convinced but didn't dwell on it either, just let himself be pushed the final few feet into the house and hurried towards the kitchen. The kid had to be starving if the hole in Gordon's own stomach was anything to go by.

John and Virgil were still at the table, John poring over a newspaper while he finished a slice of toast. Virgil had shoved his plate to the side and was sketching something on a napkin. They both looked up when Alan and Gordon came in.

"Uh oh, trouble's on deck," John teased lightly even as he pushed an empty glass towards Alan and poured the kid some juice.

"Bite me," Alan retorted amicably, then flashed a quick grin as he picked up the glass, "Thanks."

"You really are a very complex person," Virgil mused, affably, "all ass and attitude one moment, fluff and gratitude the next."

Alan flipped him the bird, then sat down and grabbed some toast from the middle of the table.

Gordon just rolled his eyes, then caught Scott's attention and gave a quick tip of the chin towards the living room. He'd promised Alan he wouldn't mention anything to Jeff about his situation, but he never said anything about Scott.

And ten minutes later when a furious Scott logged a flight plan to Massachusetts, Gordon knew he'd done the right thing.

And he had to admit, he was kind of looking forward to seeing his old coach again…

No one messed with Gordon's family.

No one.

Part two coming in the next day or two!