Thanks for the lovely reviews, favorites, and follows. I'm shocked and thrilled that I've gotten such a positive response to something I've written.
There is some mild cursing in this chapter. This chapter had a lot of ideas and not enough room to get them all developed, so the concepts I've left hanging WILL be addressed in the next chapter.
I don't own the Thunderbirds, and I never will. This is for fun, and not for profit.
Alone with his thoughts as he ran down the beach, Alan was in a dark mood.
Three days had passed since the near-disaster on Thunderbird Five, and Alan was having a hard time convincing himself that his family was still with him, alive. He was sure that at any moment he'd turn around and see the Hood standing in his father's office, bent over Onaha's dead body or forcing Brains to activate Command and Control.
The first two days after the attack had, for Alan, passed as blurs. There hadn't been time to really feel the impact of what had happened. He'd been walking around on autopilot, too filled with adrenaline to do anything but move, move, move, not bothering to stop and think. His brothers had been being nice to him and in his joy over finally being accepted as a real member of the family, he hadn't stopped to realize that his positive outlook was probably a bit unrealistic.
Now, though, things were different.
The entire Tracy family had been too relieved at being reunited to care about the many what-could-have-been scenarios. Now that the relief was starting to wear off and everyone was getting used to the idea of some semblance of safety, it was almost impossible not to doubt. Surely the outcome of the Hood's attack couldn't be this good. Life just didn't work like that. Where was the tragedy? Where was the grief? Why had fate decided to play nice with them? Though no one said it, the unspoken knowledge that Thunderbird Five should have by all rights burned up in the atmosphere, with not even the metaphorical black box surviving reentry, weighed heavily on everyone's mind.
When asked, Alan had answered his brothers and father that he was okay. Of course he was okay, he said; why wouldn't he be?
It was a lie.
To be fair, he hadn't known he was lying at the time. He was surrounded by family – a family where he finally, absolutely, unquestionably belonged. There was plenty of self-doubt; there was plenty of worry that his brothers would reject him. But surrounded by family as he was at the time, Alan had found it impossible to be anything but okay. The mutual love and respect that was a tangible, palpable thing far outweighed any pain or fear or doubts.
But then the novelty of his family's love for him wore off.
Oh, sure, he still felt it, and it still floored him to know that he wasn't a rejected nobody after all. But now that he'd started to get used to the idea, it wasn't weighing on the forefront of his thoughts. It had only been two days, but he'd already started taking it for granted. Meaning that it wasn't enough anymore to take his mind off of what could have been.
He hadn't been on Thunderbird Five, but he had a very good imagination. It wasn't a pleasant scene that played in his mind as he watched the missile hit the satellite. He envisioned John, helplessly trapped, with not enough warning to say so before the space station jolted, stuttered, broke, and began shutting down. He could see John being thrown across the control room, slamming into the opposite wall, being burned by sparks from his dying 'Bird. He could see his father and remaining brothers taking off in 'Three, not giving a second thought to him, alone on the island – and damn it, Alan, why do you always have to make it about you? – before getting their first look at the crippled spacecraft housing one of their own, surrounded by debris that was the station's lifeblood.
He could imagine the horror his father must be feeling in that moment: was John even alive? Did they race up here only to find that there was no one to rescue? He imagined that such thoughts must be stopped in their tracks before they could consume any desire, any need to go and find out and fix it. Alan could easily imagine the relief when John was indeed alive, but the relief didn't last long as Thunderbird Five, designed with redundant safety measures and reinforcements with the sole task of keeping its occupant alive, became a death trap.
Pushing his body to its limits, Alan ran as hard as he possibly could. He should have been faster. He should have been smarter. His family almost died, and it was his fault. He had almost died.
And no, he bloody well was not okay.
Catching him off guard, Alan felt his wrist vibrate. Stopping in confusion he felt his wrist vibrate again, looking down with mild surprise at the new watch resting there. After the Hood's invasion, Jeff had left nothing to chance. Though he wasn't a Thunderbird, Alan had been given an International Rescue watch, complete with GPS locator, communications device, and all the typical International Rescue bells and whistles.
The watch lit up and vibrated again, Scott's image flashing across the watch face. Pushing a button, Alan held his wrist up to the level of his eyes so that he could talk to his brother.
"Yeah, Scott?"
"Alan, where are you? We've been trying to contact you for the past five minutes," Scott's voice accused. Alan raised an eyebrow in surprise; he hadn't even noticed.
"Sorry, Scott," he explained. "I got sort of lost in my thoughts."
"Apparently," Scott agreed. "Look, Alan, we're tracking a storm that's heading our way. It looks bad. You'll want to get back here within the next half hour."
Already turning and heading back the way he'd come, Alan broke into a jog. He had plenty of time to get back even at a walk, but he really hated thunderstorms and didn't want to take any chances.
"Thanks for the head's up, Scott."
"Sure. Now, Sprout, what were you so busy thinking about that you didn't notice your watch going off every five seconds?"
"I don't want to talk about it," Alan growled. There was a pause.
"Okay, Alan, you don't have to tell me now." Scott's tone made it clear that he would be talking about it, though, and probably much sooner than he cared for. "Scott out." The face of the watch returned to normal and Alan dropped his arm to his side, picking up the pace of his run.
The problem with Scott, Alan decided, was that he just didn't understand. He had never had to watch his family respond to fires, earthquakes, or other catastrophes, knowing that he'd be left behind and that if anything happened he'd be unable to help. Scott had never spent long hours at boarding school watching the news, seeing a brother get injured, waiting for a reassuring phone call that would never come. Scott was always right there in the thick of the action, so he didn't know what it was like to be out of sight and out of mind, able to do nothing but pray that his brothers would come home safe.
Alan wondered whether his family would have even thought about him at all during the Hood fiasco if Fermat hadn't managed to establish contact with 'Five.
In his heart, he knew the answer was no. He was Alan Tracy, kid brother, not part of the team. Why should anyone think of him?
The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth as he approached the villa where Gordon and Virgil were outside covering the pool and tying down lounge chairs. Looking up, he saw Scott out on his veranda collecting the chair, beach towel, and various other items he kept there on calm days.
"Alan," Gordon called in relief when he spotted the blonde. Virgil looked up with a smile at his youngest brother.
"We were worried," he admitted. Alan resisted the urge to roll his eyes. It wasn't so much that he didn't believe Virgil; it was more that, four days ago, Virgil never would have said anything in the first place. Now that everything had happened with the Hood, it was as if everyone was treating Alan like glass.
"You guys need any help?" he offered, but the pair had already finished their work.
"We're all set, Al," Virgil smiled. "Thanks, though." Together the three made their way into the house, closing the patio doors behind them. The action was one that was so rarely taken that it made all three of the Tracys shiver as a feeling of claustrophobia instantly settled over the room. Alan cast a nervous look out at the rapidly darkening sky. The storm was still a good twenty minutes away, Alan could tell, but the clouds looked ominous. He caught Gordon looking at him, feeling a blush creep up on his face when his older brother followed his gaze and promptly drew the thick, never-before-used curtains. Well, Alan, at least, had never seen the curtains drawn. It made him feel stupid and childish that his brothers didn't even think he was capable of dealing with a thunderstorm on his own.
Jeff and Scott Tracy chose that moment to come down the stairs.
"Did Alan get back yet?" Jeff called, only to look up and smile. "Oh. Hey, kiddo. Good. You're back. We were worried." It was the second time that someone had said that to him in less than five minutes, and Alan felt a burst of anger which he quickly forced back.
"Hey, dad," Scott spoke up, causing Jeff to pause in the act of going to the kitchen.
"Yeah, Scott?"
"I was thinking, just because 'Five is down doesn't mean we can't keep going with International Rescue. Sure, it'll take another six months to get her back online, but in the meantime we can share other satellites and get rescue calls that way."
"That would make a lot of sense," Virgil agreed, but the Tracy patriarch was already shaking his head slowly.
"Boys," he began, and then sighed. "I was waiting to tell you all this, but I guess the time is now. I'm taking International Rescue offline indefinitely." There was dead silence for exactly five seconds.
"WHAT?!" all five sons exclaimed at once, John having made his way silently into the living room behind his father.
"Dad!" Scott argued.
"We can't do that!" Gordon argued at the same time as Virgil shook his head incredulously.
"You can't be serious."
"Boys," Jeff hollered, getting their attention and putting an end to their protests. "I will not put my sons in danger again." With that, he turned and disappeared back up the stairs, and his office door slammed shut. Less than thirty seconds later footsteps could be heard approaching the top of the stairs. "Alan, I need to see you in my office," Jeff called, before moving once again to the very room every Tracy son hated.
"But… I didn't do anything," Alan, wide-eyed, whispered his confusion into the silent room as his older brothers turned to him with equally confused looks.
"Well, whatever it is, you'd better not keep him waiting," Gordon advised with a grimace. Keeping an angry Jeff Tracy waiting was a huge mistake, as everyone who knew the man was fully aware.
"Wish me luck," Alan muttered rhetorically, dejectedly walking up the stairs and just barely catching the unexpected whispered chorus of "good luck" that came from his older siblings.
It would be just his luck if his father had found another reason to ream him out. On a normal day lectures from his father were hard enough to bear; they would usually end in a loud fight, Alan getting grounded, and Alan running out of the house. Today, a lecture would be even worse. Alan was… he hated to use the word 'depressed', because he wasn't sure if that's what it was, but it was the closest thing he could think of. Spring Break was almost over and he'd have to go back to school, away from his family, and their newly-formed bonds would surely break. Alan wasn't ready to be cast out again. He wasn't ready to be the forgotten, unplanned member of the family who no one called on the phone. With those thoughts running through his head, he wasn't sure if he could sit through one of his father's speeches. And if it came down to it and Alan and his father did end up fighting, the impending storm made it impossible for Alan to go outside to blow off steam.
Alan didn't realized he'd arrived at his father's office until the Tracy patriarch himself called to him.
"Don't just stand out in the hall, son; come on in."
Entering the room and shutting the door behind him, Alan walked nervously up to his father's large desk. Whatever he says, Alan told himself, I will not lose my temper. Jeff looked up at him, gesturing to the seat in front of it.
"Take a seat, Alan."
Well, that was… good? If Alan was in any trouble, he was almost a hundred percent sure that his father wouldn't have offered him a chair. He most certainly wouldn't have been polite about it, either, usually preferring just to get straight to the lecturing. Instead of saying anything, though, Jeff sat appraising his youngest son in silence.
"Dad," Alan asked, wincing when his voice shook. "What did I do?" Jeff's eyes widened at the question, and then he was shaking his head, holding his hands up in front of him, palms towards Alan, in a gesture that clearly negated Alan's statement.
"No, son, you're not in trouble," Jeff said firmly, and Alan instantly relaxed in his seat, letting out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "I guess it's been a long time since you've been in here just to talk, huh?" This was said with a rueful smile. Alan shrugged furtively, not trusting himself to speak without making a mess of the situation.
"The truth is, Alan," Jeff sighed, "I've been doing some thinking over the past few days. This thing with the Hood was tough. It was a new situation, something we've never dealt with before, and I'm really sorry you had to be in the middle of it." Alan tried to shake his head, but Jeff held up a hand. "Wait, let me finish. Alan, I may not like it, but you're growing up. But son, don't rush it. You'll get there in your own time, kiddo. Just be patient. I think there will be a lot of times over the next few years when you'll think you've grown up only to find out that you haven't. I don't think Scott's entirely there yet, and he's 25. Heck, Alan, sometimes I'm not even there yet, and I'm nearly twice Scott's age. There's no automatic age when you wake up one morning and say, 'Yeah, I'm an adult today.' It doesn't work like that. So don't try to rush it. In some ways, Alan, you're more mature than any of your brothers were at your age, but in others…"
"I just wish you all didn't see me as the baby of the family," Alan admitted before he could stop himself. "I wish you could see that I'm capable of taking care of myself."
Jeff's response was carefully worded. "When your mom died, you were the only thing we had left of her. You were her last gift to us. I think all of us, but I especially, wanted you to stay as your mom had left you. By protecting you, we were protecting your mother's last gift."
"But dad, I can't stay a kid forever," Alan said.
"No, son, you can't," Jeff agreed. "I think… until this thing with the Hood, none of us wanted to accept that reality. Now I can't help but wonder if we've realized it too late. I feel like I'm losing you, Alan."
Alan had to fight back tears. This was the closest his father had come to showing him any true love in a long time.
"You're not losing me, dad," Alan promised, though his voice cracked. "Not anymore."
"Not anymore," Jeff repeated with a self-deprecating sigh. "Maybe not. But I was. Alan… if the Hood hadn't attacked…" He didn't need to finish. Alan looked down at the floor self-consciously.
"I wish the answer to that was no," he murmured, "But to say that would be to tell a lie. If the Hood hadn't attacked this break would've gone like Christmas, and like last summer, and like last spring. And to be honest, it would've been the last time I tried. I was done after this."
Flinching at his son's answer, Jeff breathed out a quiet, "What have I done?"
"Dad…" Alan took a moment to collect himself, making sure his voice would stay even. "I'm not going to say everything's alright now. It's not. Far from it. But I forgive you, dad. I forgive all of you. I know you never meant to do any of the things you've done."
"That means a lot, Alan," Jeff said, though he still seemed dejected. "What would you have done, if this hadn't worked out?"
There was no hesitation in Alan's voice when he replied. "If Spring Break hadn't worked out like this, I would've gone back to school pretending everything was alright… and then I would have run away. It's too hard for the son of a billionaire to hide in this world, so… Dad, I don't know." But Alan did know, and he knew there was no way he could ever tell his father what he'd been planning.
Seeming to need a change of subject as much as Alan did, Jeff shot a look at his and Alan's matching watches.
"What took you so long to respond to Scott earlier?" Alan knew full well that his father had been in the room and had overheard that conversation; probably the whole family had.
"I was thinking about everything that happened," Alan sighed. "I was thinking about John and I was thinking about you… and I was thinking about always being the one who gets left behind."
"Oh, Alan," Jeff sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. "I'm sorry. I've never bothered to look at it from your perspective before. We never meant to leave you behind."
"And why not?" Alan was suddenly angry despite himself. "I was the mistake baby you never meant to have. I tied you all down. Why wouldn't you want to leave me behind?" He regretted speaking when his father's face fell into the most anguished expression Alan had ever seen.
"Is that what you think?" Jeff asked heavily. "Oh, kiddo… It's true that you weren't planned, but that doesn't make you a mistake."
"Yeah, right."
"Alan, listen to me," Jeff demanded gently. "I love you so much. We all do. We weren't expecting you, but nothing was complete until you arrived. You were like the one missing piece to the puzzle of our lives. You brightened everything up. You made us whole."
"Really?" Alan could hardly dare to believe it, but his father wasn't one for emotion-filled words, so it seemed more and more likely by the second that what he'd said was true.
Holding his son's gaze, Jeff smiled. "Really."
There was a pause in the conversation, in which both father and son were lost in thought.
"Do we have to tell Scott about this?" Alan asked after a moment.
"Hmm," Jeff thought. "Well, we don't have to, but you know he'll only bother you if you don't."
"Dad, can you tell him? Not everything. Just what he needs to know."
"Of course, Alan. Don't worry. I'll take care of it." Jeff winked, causing Alan to relax even more.
"I suppose this is us calling a truce?" Alan asked with a smile. Jeff nodded in agreement.
"I'm not saying we'll never fight," Jeff said. "I'm not saying I'll never yell at you or ground you. But you've proved yourself to me, Alan. You never should have had to, but..."
"I think I understand, dad," Alan said softly, and he meant it. No child should ever have to prove their worth to their parents, but Jeff had needed to have his eyes opened. Alan had done that. Now they could move on, and Alan would never have to prove himself again.
"I love you so much, son. I always have."
"I love you too, dad," Alan said.
"You asked me the other day what your mom was like."
"You said she was a lot like me."
"And she was," Jeff nodded. "But do you want to know why she was like you?"
Alan hesitated, thinking. The truth was he was itching to know the answer to that question, but he felt wrong asking his father to explain. Seeing his difficulty, Jeff smiled.
"She was always so stubborn," he said fondly. "But more than that, she was strong-willed and intelligent. She had a way of wrapping everyone around her finger. She was loving, thoughtful, and she had a heart of gold. There's nothing your mother wouldn't have done to help or protect you boys. Your mom was special, Alan, and you're exactly like her." Alan smiled, eyes coming to rest on a picture of his mother sitting on Jeff's desk. When he felt that he could safely look up without his father seeing the moisture in his eyes, the teen took a moment to look around the office. His gaze automatically sought out the mural of his brothers on the wall, and he knew that one day, when he was ready, he'd be pictured among them… if his father didn't shut down International Rescue.
As if he could read his son's mind, Jeff spoke up.
"What do you think?" There was no need for Jeff to clarify. Alan turned to face his father. Voice sounding a lot braver than he felt, he answered.
"Sir, respectfully… I think you're wrong. The Thunderbirds are part of you. My brothers have given up their lives and their careers in order to go out in dangerous situations and help others. I hate seeing them on rescues; the news cameras show everything in detail, and no one even bothers to call me afterwards, to tell me if everyone's okay. But… dad, International Rescue is who they are. I think if you take that away from them now, you're going to be taking away something that's become a major part of their personalities." Alan swallowed thickly, nervously, as his father surveyed him for a moment. Would Jeff take exception to his tone of voice? He needn't have worried; his father looked at the mural and spoke softly.
"I don't want them to feel like they don't have a choice," he said. "I want them to wear the uniform because they want to, not because of a grand vision I had."
"Why don't you let them choose, dad?" Alan proposed carefully. When his father looked at him questioningly, Alan pursed his lips in thought. "You do what you do because you want to. If my brothers don't want to, they should be able to choose not to do it. But if they do want to, no one should be able to take that away."
"You're saying I should ask them?" Jeff clarified. Alan nodded, and Jeff stared at the mural of his four oldest sons in silence. Leaving his father to his thoughts, Alan got up and left the office, and his footsteps were lighter than they'd been since the start of Spring Break.
"Everything okay, Sprout?" Scott asked hesitantly over the first rumbles of thunder as Alan made his way back down to where his brothers were still gathered. The four men watched him cautiously as if waiting for an outburst. Alan grinned.
"Yeah, Scott," he answered, flopping down on the sofa next to Gordon. The looks he received were comical, and Alan's grin grew wider.
"Okay," Scott answered, unsure what to say next. This was uncharted territory in the Tracy household. His brothers were clearly dying to know what had happened in the office, but Alan was curious to see how long they'd be able to stay silent. It took forty three seconds for Gordon to groan.
"Oh, come on, Al," he said. "You went into dad's office glum and you came out happy. No one ever comes out of dad's office happy. No one. Never. So, what happened?"
"Your brother and I came to an understanding," Jeff answered, coming down the stairs. "Didn't we, Alan?"
"That's right," Alan agreed smugly.
"Is your office still standing, dad?" Virgil asked, only half-joking. Jeff chuckled, and his chuckle turned into an all-out laugh. Alan snickered, too, causing Virgil, Scott, John, and Gordon to stare in wonder. Alan and their father had actually had a civil conversation.
"Ex-excuse me, Mr. Tracy," a young voice called, and the family turned to find Fermat standing in the hallway leading to the lab, the infirmary, and the Thunderbird silos.
"Yes, Fermat?" Jeff asked kindly. The boy took a step forward.
"M-my dad w-w-w-needs to s-s-talk to you."
"Is he in the lab?" Jeff asked.
"Yes," Fermat answered. Jeff nodded, smiling at Fermat and the others before heading off to find Brains. Alan waved Fermat over, and the loosely-formed circle of Tracy brothers expanded to include the honorary member of the family. Thunder cracked overhead, and the lights flickered off. The backup generator kicked in and soon the power was back on, but the storm was clearly a bad one.
"J-John," Fermat questioned, "Do you kn-know wh-wh-how long it will take to get Th-Thunderbird Five re-rep-fixed?" Fermat's question was innocent, but the effect it had was a negative one. Scott's face clouded over, John shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, and even Gordon looked disgusted.
"Dad's thinking about shutting down IR, Ferm," Alan told his best friend when none of his older brothers answered. Fermat's eyes widened.
"He can't!" the boy protested.
"I know, Fermat," Scott agreed with a sigh. "We'll just have to see where this goes from here."
If Alan knew his father (and it was entirely possible that he did not), he was pretty sure he knew where things were going to go from there. However, that would be up to his father to decide, and so he chose to keep his mouth shut for the time being.
The sudden brooding of the gathered family was put to an end when Jeff Tracy himself appeared in the living room.
"Boys," he said, and his tone wasn't that of a father. It was the tone of the Commander of International Rescue. All six boys reflexively stood up straighter. "We've got something that we need to talk about."
Author's note: I now know exactly where this is going, and you can definitely count on at least four more chapters after this one. I know this cut off rather suddenly, but I felt it was a good place to stop. Like I said at the top, I know I left a lot of threads hanging. I'll clear up any loose ends in the next chapter. The next update will be tentatively set for some time Monday or Tuesday. Please review if you want to, and thanks for reading!