The persistent buzzing of his communicator is what wakes John. It's been buzzing since Alan carefully unclipped it from John's wrist and stowed it in the bunk above. It's been buzzing since he's been asleep, and only wakes him now because he's been asleep for nearly ten hours, and apparently that's enough.

John fumbles blearily for the device and clips it onto his wrist, still only half awake. The memories of the day's events are rising to the surface of his brain, popping like bubbles. TB5 turning against him. EOS. Lady Penelope, his oxygen running out. That last fading glimpse of his family, a sight he would have dreamt anyway if he hadn't really gotten to see them. And then Alan.

Unexpected and almost overwhelming as John rubs at his eyes, there's a burst of warm gratitude for Alan. Good old Alan, with his earnest desire to help people and his heart of bright gold. John realizes that he'd never been prouder of his little brother than he was in the moment when Alan had pulled him into a tight hug and known he needed the whole world just to stop screaming at him for a little while.

By the eighteen unanswered messages left on his comm-fullytwelve of which are from Scott, a further three from Kayo, and Brains, Virgil and Gordon rounding out the rest-the world has clearly had plenty to scream at him for in his absence. John deliberates for a minute, and then clears the entire backlog, hard delete. He's had enough sleep, but he still doesn't have enough energy to be chewed out by his entire family in absentia.

He rolls over onto his stomach and sighs. His comm buzzes again and automatically he answers it, realizing too late that he's probably about to catch a tirade from Scott again. But instead it's the back of a silver-bobbed head and a familiar purple jumpsuit.

"Grandma Tracy?"

John talks to his grandmother a lot less often than he should, but she's never been a big fan of holograms. She never looks quite in the right place, and her posture in the full frame of the camera is always slightly stilted, but it's still good to see her when she turns around to face the actual camera. "Oh, it is on. Why a good old fashioned phone line isn't good enough for you boys, I'll never understand, but never mind that. Thought you might like to see a friendly face before your brothers woke up. How're you doing, Johnny-Cake?"

Her voice has never been what you'd call melodic, but her tone is still comforting and, having expected another dressing down from Scott, John's more than a little relieved to see her. He can't help a faint smile at her usual irritability with the level of tech that runs their lives. Even if the old nickname still makes him roll his eyes. "I'm okay, Grandma."

"Gave us all a bit of a scare down here," Grandma Tracy comments, but gently, not reprimanding him for the risk they all saw him take. The one he's technically still taking.

John manages an apologetic grin. "Yeah. Up here, too."

His grandmother nods sympathetically. "I'll bet, kiddo. Don't take it too hard, when Scott reads you the riot act," she advises. "It's mostly guilt talking. That robot thing had everybody fooled, he just wishes he'd caught on sooner."

Mindful of the low-ceilinged bunk, John eases himself up and stretches, sitting on the edge. "I'll admit I didn't see that one coming. But I'll make sure it doesn't happen again. EOS-well. I still don't really know what it's capable of, but I'll set some ground rules. At the end of the day, at her core, she's still mostly my code. I don't know if she trusts me enough yet to let me at her system parameters again, but until I can convince her to alter it herself, I might be able to introduce a hotfix or two for the more egregious-"

"John," Grandma Tracy cuts in, lifting a hand. John expects to be told to lay off the technobabble, but Grandma's face is solemn. "You were willing to let this thing kill you, and the boys tell me it's an 'it' not a 'she'. I don't know what any of your computer jargon means, but I do know that this EOS thing isn't a person. Saving it was different from what you and your brothers usually do. Just...convince your poor old grandma that it was worth that. Because that was a heck of a thing to have to listen to, Johnny."

Strong language, for Grandma. John bows his head, apologetic. "It's hard to explain," he starts, but can't find the words. It's not like fighting with Scott, who took such a hard line against John's actions that it was easy to go on the defensive. Knowing he made their grandmother worry, that rankles inside him, cold, unpleasant guilt. He tries again, "EOS wouldn't exist without me. The code at her core is mine, I wrote it, and part of the reason it behaves the way it does is because of functionality I gave it. I'm going to need to sit down with Brains and try to figure out just how this happened, but-Grandma, EOS is amazing. It's hard to explain just why and I know you don't like all the computer jargon. But the things about her-it-that are the most incredible have nothing to do with what I wrote. It's...it's like I planted a seed without knowing what it was, and I've come back to an entire garden. Have you ever-I don't know. Have you ever been proud of something, but-but more proud for what it became than what you made?"

There's a soft, sort of half-laugh, and she nods. "That's just the way I feel about you boys. And don't doubt for a second that I'm proud of you, but maybe now you know what it feels like, everytime I think I might lose one of you."

Grandma takes a beat of silence and sniffles, John realizes abruptly she's a bit choked up. It can be hard to tell over hologram, and he feels another stab of guilt. Her eyes are shining slightly, but she's still smiling at him. "I-it was selfish, Grandma. I know. I'm sorry. I'm still not sure I haven't made a mistake, but-I don't know. Alan talks about trusting your instincts on a thing like this, and I'm trying, but I'm not sure I have the same-"

Another big sniffle and Grandma clears her throat with a heartyahhem. Back to her old self, Grandma Tracy, pragmatic and unflappable. "Johnny, I'll stop you right there. If you went with your gut, then that's all I need to hear. Tracy guts are good, reliable guts. You boys are smart. Usually you do the right thing."

First Alan, now Grandma. John looks up, grateful that he's got the two bookends of the family-youngest and oldest-backing him up. That has to count for something. "Thanks, Grandma. It helps."

"Anytime, kid." Grandma smiles. "Now. When are you coming home?"

John's suddenly on auto-pilot, making all the excuses he always makes, the ones that have been hardwired into him by now. Usually the family knows better than to ask. John hasn't been home since Scott called off the search for their father, six months after the crash. He'd been home every Sunday before that, he spent his downtime helping with the search from the ground. Back then, TB5 still had background resources dedicated to a constant sweep for anything that might have been a sign of what had happened to Jeff Tracy. They'd all still been hopeful. But lacking the closure from finding him, Scott had made his first real decision, the one that cemented him as being in charge.

Grief hit all of them in different ways, and John had just sort of...opted out. He'd gone back up to TB5 and worked through things on his own, the way he'd always preferred to. Eventually, his brothers picked their work back up, redoubled their efforts on behalf of International Rescue and their absent father. John stayed in orbit. At first it was just burying himself in work. It had been hurricane season in the Atlantic, lots of calls, everyone but Gordon out of their element in rough weather in the stormy ocean. Scott still new to being in charge, Virgil more numb than stoic, Gordon over-compensating with madcap humor, and Alan all nerves and temperamental insecurity. John was separate. Distant and disconnected, slowly he became the one who kept them all on track. That, more than anything, helped with the loss of Jeff Tracy.

Weeks gave way to months, months to an entire year. It wasn't like no one mentioned John's absence, but they mentioned it less and less often. and there was always some reason not to come down. That diminishing return. The longer he spent in microgravity, the longer it would take him to re-acclimate to Earth. His immune system had altered, weakened. A cold could kill him, if he didn't take proper precautions before returning earthward. And there was work to do. John made himself part of his ship, opened up his head and closed off his heart, learned to live and thrive under the unremitting pressure of being aware of everything going wrong in the world.

And yet-

"John?" Grandma's voice interrupts, cuts off the things he hasn't quite realized he's been saying. Her tone is still gentle, patient. "It's time to come home, Johnny. I know there's a lot you need to do before you can get back on the ground. But start doing it, kiddo. It's time."

Alan's footsteps are audible, on his way up from the cargo hold. John can't remember the last time Alan asked if he would come home, but he knows it was Alan who asked him last. And today he owes Alan a lot. "...yeah. I will, Grandma. You're right. I...I'll be home soon."

"Atta boy. Time you stopped being alone."

John only nodds at this. He wishes Grandma Tracy were accountable for his sudden change of heart. But he's worried that maybe it's because he's not alone anymore. And Grandma Tracy puts a lot more faith in his instincts than he does.


Alan's gone, back earthward, and John's tentatively let him in on the promise he made Grandma Tracy. Alan, predictably, can barely contain himself and has to be sternly sworn to secrecy. This likely won't last, but maybe it'll appease Scott. At least enough to knock him off the warpath.

TB5's systems are on the tail end of an automated macro, hastily written and implemented remotely by Brains, EOS is occupied with recalibrating the solar array, but his essential comm channels are back online, and the sooner he gets back into his rythm, the sooner life can go back to normal. John makes it a priority to put in a call to Colonel Casey. GDF's emergency forces will have had to pick up the slack during IR's downtime, and he wants to allay any fears or suspicions she might have. Probably Scott's already given her a head's up, but John feels a certain obligation.

So.

"I wanted to personally issue a formal apology along with my incident report, Colonel Casey. I never intended to cause further strain to your forces and I apologize unreservedly. It won't happen again."

Colonel Casey has been the liaison between IR and the GDF since IR's inception. The Tracys have all known her from childhood, from back when she was still Lieutenant Casey, and the adjunct to a Major Dorchester. Major Dorchester had a mustache and a personal helicopter and shouting arguments with Jeff Tracy and nobody had liked him. Lieutenant Casey brought stickers and buttons and flags with the GDF logo emblazoned on them in bright gold. And she offered helicopter rides around the island. She even let an adolescent Scott take the controls, once. No one was supposed to tell their dad about that, but of course it had been a topic of extensive discussion among the five of them for years afterward. By the time she took over her superior's position, the Tracy boys had been firmly enamored with her. Her hologram aboard TB5 is life-sized, and she's sitting behind a desk in her office.

She's silent for a few moments before she clears her throat and speaks. "I appreciate that, John. I've got my secretary processing your report, but I'd appreciate a personal summary. Is everything all right up there?"

John's long been practiced at keeping his tone neutral, his cadence measured, and revealing only what's necessary for people to know. Lying, though, that's a little different. And he hasn't submitted a report. But maybe Brains has drawn up a draft, submitted it for him, to help take some of the pressure off. He'll need to get his hands on a copy.

John continues, glib, "A fault in the comm array resulted in a cascading series of errors. I had to shut down for a hard reset and wires got crossed. It was a mostly technical malfunction, I've altered my maintenance parameters to prevent it from happening again."

Equipment failures happen, and Casey seems to accept this without comment. "Unfortunate, but understandable. Thankfully there were no serious repercussions." She tents her fingers and even across thousands of miles of distance, her gaze is penetrating. "How long has this rotation been?"

Evasive, John pretends he needs to bring up a screen to check. "Nine hundred and thirty-four days." He can't help wincing as he says it, and he isn't sure why he thought it would sound better than two and a half years.

"Mmm. The allowed maximum for GDF personnel on orbital assignment is eighteen months, with a mandatory six months of downtime to follow. If you were one of my people you'd have been required to return to base and take some time off a year ago."

Scott's already up in arms about their reputation. John isn't about to tell her he's already considering some downtime, he wouldn't want it to sound as though the GDF exerts that kind of influence over their actions. "I'm fine, Colonel Casey. International Rescue needs me."

The Colonel's eyes are dark, critical. "You've turned Thunderbird 5 into a linchpin, John. International Rescue can and hasmanaged without you before. GDF Dispatchers will gladly forward assignments to IR during your downtime."

"With respect, Colonel, GDF Dispatchers don't know my brothers like I do. Our efficacy depends on a great deal of trust." He refrains from saying that the GDF's satellites are running software that's decades out of date, and their crews are glorified switchboard operators.

Apparently it doesn't need to be said, because Casey narrows her eyes slightly. "Your father and I butted heads on more than one occasion, but I always respected his work ethic. Even hewould agree that you're reaching a limit." Her voice grows gentle, taking on a maternal note. "If you were one of my sons, I'd have wanted you home well before now. I'm sure your family would be glad to have you back, John."

"I appreciate your concern, Colonel, but-"

Colonel Casey cuts him off, "I think my concern is more than warranted. Or do you really not remember that this is the second time you've called me?"

John doubts his own memory for just a few heart-stopping moments before he remembers about EOS and the ghost copy of himself she's projected before. He fumbles mentally for an excuse, the silence stretching uncomfortably. "I-uh. Colonel, that is-" There isn't anything to say, and John knows what this looks like, he's going to have to- "I apologize, Colonel Casey, I-"

"Don't apologize. Take a break. I've got no authority to issue you an order, but as a friend-as someone who's been close to your family for this long, John-I'd be lying if I said I weren't worried about you."

The rest of the call is awkward, and John disengages as soon as possible, but not before he's promised to take Colonel Casey's recommendation on advisement. The world is starting to light up around him again, distress calls filtering in as various comm channels come back online. Weightlessness feels dizzying, suddenly, and John propels himself outward, back to the gravity ring, to sink down and sit on the floor for a few minutes, with the words he's heard from people he loves and trusts echoing in his head.

Take a break. Go home. It's time.

When something goes wrong on TB5, it's only ever John's fault. Even EOS-and clearly this has been her doing, the report and the call to Casey, he's going to need to-to try and reason with her, to set some boundaries. Even if she was only trying to help.

"EOS," he calls, and then wonders if she's been listening to everything that's come over the channels so far. That's potentially going to be a problem.

But there's a whirr of a camera along the track that halos Thunderbird 5, and a ring of green lights flares up as it focuses. "John. Welcome back. I have completed my assigned tasks."

"Assigned tasks?" John echoes. "I didn't assign you any-"

"Thunderbird Three, Alan Tracy, has given me a designation. I am to render assistance." EOS' voice is piping, childlike as it rattles off a list of what its accomplished-and it's everything John had planned to do himself. John wonders in just how many ways it's similar to a child, if it's got the same dubious grasp of right and wrong. Still-she had only wanted to help.

"From now on let's make sure your...ah...appointed tasks are clear with me first, EOS." He pauses, and adds. "Thank you. I appreciate your help. But we're going to need to lay down some ground rules, and the first one is going to have to be no more imitating me, not my face, not my voice, not anything. That's-it's dangerous, EOS. If you get caught at it, if people find out you exist at all-"

"I will be hunted to deletion."

"-and I'll be in trouble for hiding you," John finishes, though as a consequence, this seems to pale in comparison to the fact that EOS risks non-existence if discovered, and he feels a little bad for mentioning it. "So we're going to need to be extra careful."

Another whirr of the camera, a nod of acknowledgment. Cute. "Of course, John."

"Good." For the first time since the whole ordeal's started, John feels a faint flutter of excitement-the same interest that had him pursuing EOS in the first place, the same feeling he had when he first wrote the primitive code that had become its prime directive. It had learned so much in the time since he'd written it. He can't remember the last time he's gotten excited about something. Maybe it really is time for a break. Maybe Alan's onto something. Maybe it'd be good to have the help.

And there's no time like the present. "So...EOS. How about you help me put together a series of protocols to prepare for a return to Earth?"

Another perky little whir, chipper and friendly. "It would be my genuine pleasure, John."

He grins, and wants to ask her if she actually means it, only it seems like a social faux pas. That is a whole new and uncharted branch of etiquette-how not to hurt an AI's feelings. Still, he can't help it. He wants to know what it means to make the AI happy, what he'd have to do to make her happy again. Wonders what the last thing she got excited for was. There'd been their first encounter, after the train in Japan, that first match of wits. She's a clever system, but she's fitful, easy to distract. Directed, she'll be a force to be reckoned with, and John's getting more excited by the minute, as he pulls up a series of medical regulations, basic protocol drafts from the World Council's committee for Aerospace Operations.

Before the first set of protocols has even been drafted, it's already too late for John Tracy. And returning to Earth will be the worst thing he could do.


At the close of the second call, Colonel Casey reviews the one that had come through first. She'd watches it once, twice, a third time. She plays it side by side with the second. Her secretary forwards her the report that was sent from Thunderbird 5, and she reads it in full. Then she requests a file opened in John Tracy's name, and all further communications from TB5 put under surveillance. She's known these boys for years, and she knows when something's up. Hopefully by the time she's gathered some data, she'll be able to talk to John in person.