10: A Quiet Departure

"Do you think he'll tell us?"

"Do I think who'll tell us what?"

Gordon gave a sigh of exasperation and looked at Virgil. "Where have you been? Do you think John'll tell us about Tracey?"

Virgil leant on the rail that circled the race circuit. "He'll have to, surely. She must have had the baby by now. Didn't he say anything when you saw him the other day?"

Gordon shook his head and gave a guilty grin. "And to be honest, I was that pleased to see him and had so much to tell him; I forgot to ask him."

Scott strode over to his brothers. "Hey, Guys."

"Any sign of him?" Virgil asked.

"No. Grandma's demanding that Father calls the space agency to make sure that he wasn't held up."

"Maybe he stopped off to see Tracey and the baby?" Virgil suggested.

"Do you know what I think?" Gordon asked. "I think that you've made this 'John got this woman pregnant' thing up. Come on," he nudged Virgil's newly healed ribs, "you can tell me. You're joking, right?"

Scott smirked. "Look who you're asking, Gordon."

Gordon laughed. "Oh, yeah. Mr 'I wouldn't know a joke if it jumped up and bit me'. Enough said."

Virgil ignored the assassination of his character. "Do you think Scott's joking?" he asked Gordon. "He saw her too. So did Alan, and Father, and Grandma."

"And under that weight of evidence, I suppose it is possible that you're not joking." Gordon admitted. "But, somehow, it just doesn't seem plausible. Not John! He's… He's…" He frowned as he tried to find the right word. "He's so quiet!"

"They're the ones you've got to watch," Scott said.

Gordon gave a cockeyed grin. "Does that mean you trust me?"

"Nope…"

Alan, clad in his racing overalls, jogged up the steps and over to his siblings. "Is he here yet?"

Scott shook his head. "No."

"Do you think he'll tell us about Tracey and the baby?"

Virgil shrugged. "We don't know."

"Do you think he'll tell us if he's made up his mind about joining the business?"

Alan's brothers looked at one another. This was something that they'd all wondered, but hadn't cared to mention.

Gordon gave another tiresome nudge in Virgil's ribcage. "You know why he's taking the time to think about it. Tell us!"

"I've told you before that I'm not going to tell you," Virgil reminded him.

"Why all these secrets all of a sudden?" Alan asked. "You still haven't told us about Grandma finding Lisa naked in your bed."

"That's because she didn't find her naked in my bed. She found her naked coming out of my shower."

"Come on, Virgil," Alan whined. "We promise that we won't tell anyone else. It'll help kill some time."

Virgil grinned, enjoying a feeling of superiority over his brothers. "Nope."

"Well, at least we know he'll never give us away," Gordon snorted. "He clams up tighter than a bivalve mollusc."

Alan looked at his watch. "How much longer is John going to be?"

"We don't know…" Gordon gestured behind them. "But I think we're close to finding out."

Jeff Tracy was striding towards his sons with a purposeful gait. "He's about a mile away," he announced. "He got held up in the traffic coming here to the racetrack. The authorities have given us permission to use one of the offices so we can have a bit of privacy. Come on." He led the way.

"I hope he's not too late in arriving," Alan said as they entered the building. "I've only got a ten minute break. Do you think he's changed at all?"

"He might glow green when you turn the lights off," Gordon suggested. "Or have an antenna growing out of the centre of his forehead."

Everyone ignored him.

"John's only been gone a month," Scott reminded his kid brother. "Look at Gordon. We haven't seen him in a year and he's still the same pain in the butt that he always was."

"Where's Grandma?" Virgil asked.

Jeff gave a wry grin. "She's elected herself in charge of traffic movements. She's going to direct him into here."

He'd no sooner spoken when they heard a familiar voice in the outer office. "John!"

"Hi, Grandma. You're looking wonderful."

"Mmmn." That sounded like a hug and a kiss. "I've missed you."

"And I've missed you. Have you made any apple pie for me?"

"Oh, you boys! You only think about your stomachs."

"Believe me; I've thought a lot about your cooking while I've been away… Where is the rest of the clan?"

"In here…" and Grandma stepped through the door closely followed by her grandson.

John looked fit and well. Living in a space station had obviously suited him.

Virgil, oblivious to the fact that his father had held his brothers back, or of the bewildered looks they shared, stepped forward to greet his elder brother. "It's good to see you, Johnny."

"Virg!" The two men shared a warm hug. "Boy, I'm glad to see you."

"Sorry I couldn't get to see you this week, but I had to sit my first aid exam. I'd already deferred it once and I couldn't ask them to do it again."

John smiled and Virgil, unaware that he'd been so tense, relaxed. "That's okay. I'm just happy to see you in one piece! How do you think you did?"

"I passed, of course."

"Of course." John looked across to his father. "Hi, Dad."

"Welcome back down to Earth, John," Jeff stepped forward and his sons took it as an indication that they were free to do the same. "I think you'd better say a quick hello to Alan first. He's got to get ready for the race."

"And I'm looking forward to seeing it, Kiddo," John grinned. "How do you think you're going to go?"

Alan was beaming. "It's going to be tricky on this track, but the car's running sweeter than it ever has and, now that I've seen you, I'm feeling great!"

John smiled at him. "Then get out there and show those old timers that you can foot it with the best of them."

"Right. See you after the race, John. Then we'll have a double celebration!"

"You can count on it, Alan."

Alan raced out the door and John turned back to the rest of the family. "Now… How hard is it going to be for me to guess who it was who thought that the first thing I'd want to do after being out in the clean silence of space, is spend an afternoon at a noisy, smelly racetrack?"

"Not hard at all," Scott said.

"Alan. I thought as much. How are you, Scotty…?"

When they'd finished their hellos they made their way to the shared corporate box that was to be their home for the afternoon.

Not that they made much use of the facilities. None of the Tracy boys listed watching motor sport as a hobby to be enjoyed. Virgil would have rather been in the pits tinkering with the engines than watching grown adults go round and round in circles. Gordon liked watching competitive sports on the television, but preferred those of an aquatic variety where he could shout insults at the competitors and criticise their technique. John had always enjoyed quieter, more intellectual pastimes, and Scott simply couldn't understand why anyone would feel the need to attach something to a vehicle to prevent it from flying off into the air.

But, as united as the brothers were in their apathy towards car racing, they all equally loved watching their youngest brother compete on the track.

The Tracys spent most of the time leading up to the headline race at the back of the box getting reacquainted, listening to Gordon's exploits, and, when he could get a word in, finding out about John's time in the space station. All to the background drone of cars speeding around the circuit and the intrusive squawking of the track announcer.

At last the tannoy announced the main event and the family crowded by the window, jostling for the best position.

Gordon pressed himself to the glass. "We've got a great view of the home straight. Look. There's Alan's car." The family watched as the red vehicle was precisely positioned in place on the third row of the grid.

"So he didn't manage pole position," John commented. "He won't be happy about that."

"He was too excited about having the family together again," Jeff said. "He'll have settled down now."

"And here comes the revelation of the year: rookie driver Alan Tracy," the tannoy burbled; and Alan, his helmet already on his head to frustrate photographers, walked out to his car, deep in conversation with his manager and coach. He slid into the cockpit, and the steering wheel was fixed into position.

"He's in serious mode," Scott approved. "If he can carry that attitude over to the family business he's going to be an asset to the team." He glanced towards his second youngest brother. "We're all going to have to learn to leave our egos at home and focus on what we're doing if we're going to succeed."

Already bored by the lack of action, the comment seemed to go straight over Gordon's head. "So… John? Anything 'interesting' happen while you were away that you think you should tell us about?" he asked in another unsubtle attempt to fish for information.

But John didn't take the bait. "Lots about stars, and nebulae, and quasars. But nothing that would interest a bozo like you. I'll tell you one thing though," he added, brightening. "I've thought of this brilliant idea for a communications device. One we can wear everywhere and no one will even know we've got it. One we won't need to tap into a public network to use."

"We could have done with that last year when Scott crashed his plane," Virgil remembered. "You said so at the time."

"That's what got me thinking about it; but it took being on a satellite to bring it to fruition. I'll start making us one each as soon I've got a spare moment. I've already asked Brains to order the parts."

"And the competitors are all ready for the start of the fifth race in the series," the tannoy announced. "The question in everyone's mind is can young Alan Tracy overtake Victor Gomez in the championship standings?"

"Of course he can," Gordon told the invisible speaker. "And if you'd hurry up and get this show on the road he'd show you!"

"Calm down, Gordon," Jeff admonished, mindful that they weren't the only group in the box awaiting the race.

The roar of the expectant crowd and the straining cars penetrating even their relatively sound-proof box, they had to wait a further two minutes before the green light was given.

"And they're off!" the tannoy announced, even though the cacophony of sound and flashing lightbulbs had heralded the start of the race. "Alan Tracy's already up to fourth position as Franseco Cameron gets caught up in a duel with Ajax Tunnicliffe."

The Tracys cheered.

The cars rounded the first corner, Alan hot on the tail of the third-placed car. It was another three laps before he overtook him, slotting easily into a podium-finish winning position. Now he only had two vehicles between him and victory. He took a corner too fast and fish-tailed out of it, losing precious fractions of a second.

"Take it easy, Kiddo," John advised. "You don't want to blow it."

The announcer was giving an in-depth account of the race and every time Alan's name was mentioned, the Tracys shouted their encouragement to the youngest member of their family.

"Young Alan Tracy might be only in his first year driving at this level, but he's driving like a seasoned pro…

"Tracy nearly had Quigly then. It was only the intervention of number 63 that held him back…

"And there's Alan Tracy, thundering down the home straight like a rocket launching for the stars."

"He's getting in some early practice," Gordon quipped and was shushed by his family.

It was a nail-biting race. Every time Alan seemed ready to pounce on the second-placed car a corner or a slower vehicle would hold him back. Finally, on the penultimate lap, he seized his chance and when number two took a corner wide, Alan slipped beneath him and emerged from the bend in second place.

"Go Alan!"

Now Alan's target was Victor Gomez. Slowly the young Tracy reeled in the more experienced driver.

They flashed past the finish line for the second-to-last time.

Alan was on Gomez's bumper, so close that from this distance the Tracys weren't sure that they weren't touching. Nose-to-tail the two cars chased each other around the track. Gomez doing all he could to keep the young man from overtaking.

"What's he doing!?" Scott exclaimed. "He'll kill himself!"

"Slipstreaming," Virgil replied. "He's using the region of reduced pressure behind Gomez's car to be pulled along at the same speed."

"I know what slipstreaming is," Scott retorted. "But that's not slipstreaming. That's suicide!"

Still maintaining his position glued to Gomez's tail, Alan was sliding closer to the wall. Now all that stood between the two competitors and the finish line was the final corner and the home straight.

Gomez rounded the corner and Alan, seeing the tiniest gap between his nemesis and the barrier at their side, nudged the rear of the leading car. Gomez, his momentum already moving at an angle to the final straight, spun out, lost control, and ended up inches from crashing into the opposing wall. Facing the wrong way, he could do nothing but watch as the cars that had been following him the entire race passed him with ease.

Alan, his quick reflexes avoiding the potential accident caused by Gomez's misadventure, slipped through the cloud of dust and into first place. Now, with no obstacle to his victory, he roared down the final few metres to the finish. Jubilant he punched the air.

Up in the corporate box his family were more subdued.

"Gomez made a mistake, didn't he?" Grandma asked. "I didn't just see Alan deliberately ram him off the track?"

"Was that legal?" John asked.

Jeff nodded. "Unfortunately it is in this class." He glared though the window to his youngest son. "Legal doesn't make it right though."

Virgil glanced at his father whose angry face was set like stone; then he looked back down to the pits. Triumphant with his win, Alan had clambered out of the cockpit and was standing on the bonnet celebrating with his pit crew.

But not everyone in the pits was celebrating. Victor Gomez stormed over to the Team Tracy enclosure and pulled Alan off the car. Alan managed to maintain his footing, pushed the older man back, and made a gesture that obviously challenged Gomez to a duel. Gomez, fist raised, rushed back at the younger man.

"Oh, boy: a fight!" Gordon enthused. "Wait for Virgil, Alan. He needs the practise."

"Shut up, Gordon," Virgil responded and watched as Gomez's and Alan's support crews hauled the two men apart.

---I-R---

---F-A-B---

Most of the anger and concern had dissipated from the Tracys when the seven of them gathered around the family dining table for a celebratory meal that evening. Alan, still on a high after his win, was talking excitedly, shooting questions at Gordon and John and barely giving them time to respond.

"Wasn't it disconcerting having all that water above you, Gordon? Knowing that it would only take one little crack in the bathyscaphe and you'd be history?"

Gordon laughed. "Don't be stupid, Alan. There was no way that bathyscaphe would 'crack'. It was designed to be indestructible."

"So was the Titanic," John reminded him.

"Yeah. But the Titanic didn't have me at the helm."

"Has Tracey had her baby yet?" Alan asked, changing course as quickly now, as he had on the racetrack earlier that day.

"Yes, she has: a little girl." John gave a delighted smile. "Tracey told me that you'd offered to help, Dad. Thanks for that. I really appreciate it."

Jeff's eyes had narrowed. "It seemed the least I could do under the circumstances."

"Does she have a name?" Grandma asked.

"Toni Jocey Cullen," John stated. "That way she's got a combination of her parents' names, without all the confusion." He grinned. "Tracey got her wish too. She was late going into labour. They were talking about inducing her but she managed to wait a week until 'Little Johnny' arrived."

"So now what?" Gordon asked.

John frowned. "Now what, what?"

"Now that little Johnny's home and her mother's got everything she wanted. What's her father going to do?"

"Oh!" The frown cleared. "He's applied for a position with the ground crew for the next few space missions. He's had his time in space and now it's time to settle down on Earth and be a family man. He's not planning on going anywhere far from home any time soon."

"Oh…" an air of despondency seemed to settle over the Tracy family.

John noticed the collective disappointment. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, John," his father replied. "We just want you to be happy."

"Well… Thanks." John frowned again, confused by the sentiment.

Grandma placed her hand on his arm. "When will we get to meet Toni?" she enquired.

"I suppose we can arrange that for any time you're in town," John said. "I popped in to see them the first day I had free, but apart from that I'm leaving them alone for a couple of weeks to get used to being a family. Tracey says that after not having Toni's father about for so long, it's taking her time to get used to having a man about the house again." He shrugged. "So I'm giving them some space."

"Do you think that's wise?" Jeff rumbled.

"They were quite grateful when I explained why I'm doing it," John responded. "But I did say that if they needed anything they only need to call me. Besides, they knew that my first priority was to see my family again." He spread his arms wide. "So here I am."

"What does Tracey's family think of this?" Scott asked.

"They're glad." Bemused, John's family looked at each other. "Tracey's got enough stress in her life at the moment, what with her father, the new baby and everything, and they've been worried about her."

"I'll bet they have," Alan said.

"Little Johnny was seriously considering applying for the next mission, but now he's decided to stay home and be a family man…" John looked around the sea of confused faces. "What?"

"John…" Scott cleared his throat and sat forward. "I know everyone here is dying to ask this question and that you're going to think that we're all mad, but… What is your relationship with Tracey?"

"Huh?" John looked at him incredulously. "She's a friend, of course."

"A friend...? You mean…" Virgil, like everyone else, was still trying to get his head around what he was being told. "She's not your…? You're not her…?"

"Not what?" John stared at him. Then realisation dawned. "You mean you all thought that I…" He threw his head back and laughed. "I don't believe it…" he chortled. "You thought I was Toni's father? Priceless!"

"You might think it's 'priceless', John," Jeff growled, "but I think you'd better go back and start from the beginning."

John leant forward. "Tracey is married to Little Johnny." He received blank stares. "You know... Little Johnny! Come on! You must have heard of him. John Cullen! Seven foot one inches in his stocking feet and so many muscles that they had to put an extra booster rocket on just to get it off the ground… Little Johnny!"

"But… But…" Alan stammered. "But she wasn't wearing a wedding ring."

John was still laughing. "Her hands had swollen up with the pregnancy. She was wearing her rings on a chain around her neck… I must have told you about her!"

"You certainly didn't tell me, John," his grandmother informed him.

"I didn't? Well…" John mused. "That's one of the problems of being part of a large family. You think you must have told someone, assume that you've probably told everyone, but don't actually tell anyone…" He leant on the table and began his explanation. "Tracey Cullen is married to John Cullen and they've just had a daughter, Toni Jocey Cullen. Do you remember now?" He gaped at the shaking heads. "You must have heard me talk about them! Little Johnny has been on a three-month tour-of-duty on the space station. He came back on the return flight of the one I went up on… Just in time too. Tracey had Toni the day after he got back... Understand...? Tracey is just a friend!"

Grandma humphed. "It didn't sound like she was 'just a friend' when you were saying goodbye."

"That was the hormones," John explained. "Don't you think that if I was going to be a father I would have told you?"

"You might have thought you told one of us, assumed you told all of us, but in reality told none of us."

"Me?" John raised his hands in surrender. "You know how shy I was when I joined the space agency. Grandma, you used to say I was as quiet as a church mouse…"

"True," Gordon agreed.

"But, as someone else recently said," John glanced at Virgil, "I've come out of my shell these last few years. That's partly because Tracey and Little Johnny kind of took me under their wing. Little Johnny showed me the ropes at work and Tracey made sure that I… what was her phrase…? 'Had the woman's touch.' She made sure I was eating properly, always had clean clothes, that kind of thing. I think they must have thought I was a hopeless male, despite the fact that I kept on telling her that I'd been well trained by my Grandma... Anyway, they became a kind of surrogate family to me. And when Little Johnny was on the space station I repaid the favour keeping an eye on her for him. Her father's got cancer and her mother can't leave him for any length of time, so I made it my job to make sure Tracey was okay, was looking after herself and the baby, and was getting to her obstetric appointments on time." He smiled. "It was the least I could do after all the help they'd been to me. Tracey even asked me to go with her to her antenatal classes and to support her during the birth if Little Johnny didn't make it home in time."

Alan stared at him. "She did what!?"

John chuckled. "I wasn't that keen on the idea at first, but then I thought, why not…?" he picked up his cup and toyed with it, watching what remained of his coffee roll around. "I went to the courses, hoping like mad that I'd never have to use what I learnt, but figured the knowledge might come in handy if I ever find myself on a rescue and have to help deliver a baby. Of course I missed out on the practical experience because I was on the space station at the time." He shrugged. "Oh well. C'est la vie."

Stunned silence had met his pronouncement and his father was the first to find his voice. "What did you say, John?"

John's reply was as emotionless as if he was discussing the weather. "C'est la vie. It's French. It means 'that's life'."

"We're aware of that," Scott remonstrated. "Did you say on a rescue? Does that mean you've decided you're going to join International Rescue?"

John gave a casual shrug. "I may have done." He grinned… And was pounced on by his brothers and found himself caught up in a headlock. "Hey! Get off!"

"Let him go, boys," Jeff instructed, but it was more of a fond request than a demand. "Why the change of heart, Son?"

"Lots of little things." John shrugged. "But I knew I'd made the right decision when I was on the space station. After spending all my life looking up towards the stars, this was the first opportunity I'd had to look back down onto the Earth. I suddenly found myself wishing that I had some way of protecting her from all her troubles. And then I realised that there was a way… a small way in the grander scale of things, but I knew that I could do something… And then I realised that I needed to be part of your dream, Dad. It became my dream too."

Jeff, taken aback by the speech, smiled. "Thank you, John."

"And if you idiots," John indicated his brothers, "hadn't simply assumed that I'd go along with whatever you said, and had actually asked me my opinion during that phone conference, I would have told you that I intended to be a member of International Rescue. But you all… all except Virgil," he favoured his younger brother with a warm smile, "blithely carried on as if I didn't have a mind of my own. So I thought: Right! If that's the way you want it, you can stew until Thanksgiving...!"

"Stew! I think we stirred ourselves into a full casserole," Gordon exclaimed.

"You've given us a good lesson," Scott admitted. "And it's one we shouldn't have needed to be taught… Sorry, John."

"I'm sorry too," John added. "I'm sorry that I left you wondering too, Dad."

"If… what's his name…? John Cullen's 'Little Johnny'," Alan began, looking askance at his svelte brother, "does that make you 'Big' Johnny?"

John chuckled. "No. There're four Johns in the astronaut programme and we've got nicknames to differentiate between us all. John Cullen's 'Little Johnny', Jon Egan's 'Egg', and John Galloway's 'Steer."

"And John Tracy?" Gordon asked.

"Arnie." John reddened and looked down. "Arnold Junior." He said quietly.

Arnold. Jeff Tracy's nickname when he was in the astronaut corps. Virgil suddenly had a clearer understanding of John's frustrations at being 'forced' to toe the family line. For the first time in months he was glad of his own deception at work. John, even when he'd made the break on his own into the world and followed his own career choice, was constantly reminded that he was still regarded as Jefferson Tracy's son.

---I-R---

---F-A-B---

The following afternoon Virgil was in his childhood bedroom, listening to his stereo as he threw his things into his bag in preparation for his flight back 'home'. He was interrupted by John. "I thought I'd better warn you."

Virgil stared at his brother. "Warn me? Warn me what?"

"We're back in Kansas!"

"Kansas?! Who's in trouble this time?"

"Alan."

"Alan? What's he done?"

"Dad hit him up about that stupid stunt he pulled on the racetrack yesterday and Alan's none too pleased at being told how to drive a race car. They're shooting at each other with both barrels."

"Oh, heck." A hot-tempered younger brother and an equally determined father did not always make for an easy combination. "Where are they?"

"Dad's study. I guess he thought they'd have some privacy in there, but you can hear their shouting from the other side of the house."

Virgil switched off his stereo and in the ensuing silence could hear what definitely sounded like a heated altercation. "Where're Scott and Gordon?"

"In the hall. Gordon's enjoying the free entertainment and Scott's trying to decide if he should intervene."

"Intervene!? I don't think even he's brave enough to do that," Virgil commented, following John out of the room.

As they drew closer to the study the angry voices became clearer. "What were you thinking, Alan!?"

"I was thinking that the sunflowers are going to be flowering early this year! What do you think I was thinking? I was thinking of the best way to ensure that I was going to win that race! And I did it!"

"At what cost, Alan? You endangered Victor Gomez's life! Not to mention your own!" The dreaded Kansas accent had not only crept back into Jeff's voice, it had overpowered it.

"I knew what I was doing!"

"Did you? Did you stop and think about what danger you were in? You could have been killed!"

"It may have escaped your notice, Dad, but I was nearing the end of a race! I didn't have time to stop and think!"

As John had stated, Scott was hovering just outside the study door and Gordon was slouched against the opposite wall. The latter greeted his two brothers with a cheery grin. "You're not too late to catch the side show."

"How long has this been going on?" Virgil whispered.

Scott examined his watch. "They went in about ten minutes ago. They've been fired up for at least the last five…"

Alan was still shouting. "I can make my own decisions!"

"You might be able to make your own decisions," Jeff responded, "but based on what I saw yesterday they're not always wise ones."

"What do you think I am? A little kid who has to run to Daddy every time he wants permission to do something? It may have escaped your notice but I'm an adult! I have a mind of my own!"

"Yes, you do have a mind of your own. But I have my doubts that you have the maturity to use it!"

"Maturity? I'm older than Scott was when he left home! I'm older than Gordon was when he joined WASP! I'm older than…"

"Older does not equate to being more mature! Maturity means the ability to see the consequences before you do something and act accordingly."

An angry laugh. "This from a man who still lives with his mother!"

Alan's brothers cringed when they heard that accusation and Virgil glanced at his grandmother who was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, listening as intently as her grandsons.

"Alan!"

"Can't you take the truth?" Alan snarled at his father. "I'm not a little kid any more."

"Then stop behaving like one! I'm telling you now, Alan. If you don't modify your behaviour on the track I'm going to have to talk to Karl Richards and tell him to get another driver."

Karl Richards was Team Tracy's manager and the man who had the ultimate say in the running of the organisation. The threat clearly rocked Alan. "You'd stop me? I've finally found something that I'm good at and you're going to stop me from doing it?"

John groaned. "This has a familiar ring to it."

"Yes. If necessary I would," Jeff continued. "When it comes down your safety and the safety of others I'll do anything."

"But there was nothing wrong with what I did!"

"It was dangerous!"

"It was legal!"

"It was stupid and it was immature!"

"Immature!? They don't hand over the controls of a 1000hp car to any kid. You've got to have the talent and the experience…"

"Or a father that controls the team's purse strings! Do you honestly believe that any team at that level would give a man of your age a chance if they didn't think they could get what they could out of me?"

"Do you know what I think!? I think that you can't handle it that I'm able to make it in the world without your assistance."

"If it wasn't for my sponsoring Team Tracy, it wouldn't be in existence!"

"Then I'd get a ride with another team! I'm good! I'm the best! I've proved myself! I'm second in the rankings and going higher; and that's through my driving, not your money! Any team would want me!"

"After yesterday Victor Gomez's team wouldn't!"

"Victor Gomez is a has-been!"

"Victor Gomez has more experience than you! I am not going to let you risk your life, Alan!"

There was a bitter laugh. "Oh, that's rich coming from you! It's all right when you're going to be the one who's going to be telling us to go out into fires and floods and meteor showers, while you sit back on your island paradise in complete safety..."

"That is different!"

"The difference is that when I'm in my car I'm the one who is in control, not you or your clone, and your ego can't stand that fact…"

Scott stared at the closed door. "Clone?"

"That's why you started International Rescue, isn't it? So that you can feel self important without actually being in any danger yourself? International Rescue is just a giant ego-trip for the great Jefferson Tracy! You don't care that it's going to be your own kids you're going to be sending into danger!"

"Alan…" Jeff's voice was quiet now and those in the hallway stepped closer to the door, straining to hear what was being said. "In light of your actions yesterday and your attitude now, I'm going to have to seriously reconsider your place in International Rescue."

"Fine!" Alan wasn't using the same vocal restraint. "That suits me just fine. All my life you've told me what to do. You made me become an astronaut! You decided that I was going to be stuck up in Thunderbird Five for months on end! You told me that I wasn't to give interviews. You told me that I wasn't to have my photo taken. You told me that I've got to wear that stupid helmet to the car so that no one will be able to recognise me as Alan Tracy! And now you're trying to tell me how to do what I do best! Something I might add, which you know nothing about!"

"I've always let you boys make your own decisions."

"Then let me make this one! This is my life and I'm going to do what I want with it…! If you don't want me to be part of International Rescue, then great! I'm going to live my life without your interference! I quit…!"

The audience in the hall shifted uneasily.

"I'm past the age of consent and I can do what I like! I don't need you and I don't need them! I'd be better off without you all! And if Team Tracy decides that it doesn't need me then I'll simply find another team!"

There was a quiet, "think about what you're saying, Alan."

"There you go, telling me what to do again. Well, that's the last time you're going to do that. As of this moment you no longer have any control over me! You are no longer my father! I'm outta here! And I hope I never see you again!"

"Alan…"

The door was slammed open and the red-faced blonde stormed out of the study, crashing through the eavesdroppers as if they weren't there. In the hasty scramble to get clear, Grandma was pushed over, falling against Virgil who managed to catch her before she landed on the ground.

"Alan!" Scott admonished. "Be careful."

Alan didn't break his stride.

"Alan!"

Alan stopped and turned back. "What, Scott? Did the baby ignore you?" he taunted. "Well get used to it! Because I'm not going to be around to push about any more."

"Alan! Stop and think for a moment…" Scott pleaded. "He's only looking out for you…"

"Man, you sound just like him!" Alan sneered, pointing an accusing finger in the direction of the study. "The only difference is that you're younger and that he managed to avoid being shot down when he was in the Air Force. Another thing that you have in common is that I don't need either of you. Well, so long, 'Junior'," he flapped an ironic salute, "because you're not going to be ordering me about again!" He slammed his way into his room and shut the door behind him.

Virgil glanced at Scott, who looked almost devastated, and then he turned his attention to the study door. It was shut and there was no sign of their father.

There was an amused tutting sound. "You've got no idea how to deal with him, Scott." Gordon pushed himself off the wall. "Let me talk to him."

"Sure, Gordon," Scott sighed. "Maybe you'll have more luck."

Gordon tapped lightly on the door. "Alan? It's me, Gor…" The door burst open and Alan, holding a case like a battering ram, charged through. He said nothing to his startled family and headed outside with Gordon on his tail.

Virgil looked at John before, without a word, they followed their two youngest brethren, leaving Scott to care for their grandmother, or vice versa.

They stopped under the cover of the front porch so they could observe without being seen.

Gordon was trying unsuccessfully to talk Alan around. "Look, you're all overreacting. Go for a drive for a couple of hours and both you and he will have forgotten about it by the time you get back."

Alan stared at him as if he were mad. "Do you think a 'couple of hours' is all that's needed to resolve this? You can't resolve twenty years worth of oppression in 'a couple of hours'."

"Oppression?" Gordon gave a laugh that didn't quite ring true. "Go and have your drive, calm down, and we'll talk after you get back."

Alan stared him in the eye. "I'm not 'getting back', Gordon. This is the last time you'll see me." He threw his case into the boot of the car. "Except for in the news: on top of the podium."

Now Gordon showed some signs of genuine alarm. "You don't mean that, Alan."

Alan snorted. "See! Even you try to tell me what I'm thinking." He strode around to the driver's side of the car; Gordon hot on his heels. Alan pulled at the door and realised that it was being held shut. "Let me go, Gordon!"

"No! Let's talk."

"I'm warning you!"

"Just give me ten minutes!"

"Ten minutes?! You've had my whole life to talk. You don't care. You only care about yourself!"

"That's not true."

"Not true? Face it, Gordon, you can't bear the idea that someone else in this family may be able to make a name for himself on the world stage!"

"No…"

"And now that I'm this close," Alan held his two fingers so they were only inches away from Gordon's nose, "you are trying to stop me!"

"I wouldn't do that. Just talk to me, Alan."

"Like I'd take the advice of a has-been swimmer who's had his day in the sun…"

Gordon looked he'd been slapped. "Has-been?"

"You go around telling people how great you are; how privileged they are to are to be in your presence; but in reality you're a nothing, Gordon. Just some flashy guy living in the past; expecting everyone to be in awe of something that you did so long ago that most people can't even remember what it was! Gordon Tracy? Who's he? Isn't he one of Jeff Tracy's sons? Well, I'm not going to be just 'one of Jeff Tracy's sons'. I'm going to be a name in my own right! I'm going to be known as Alan Tracy…!"

"Has-been?" Gordon repeated, still stunned.

Caught up in his rant, Alan ignored his brother's hurt expression. "It's a pity it's too late to change my name." He tried to open the car door.

"But, but…" Gordon spluttered and then pulled himself together. "But what about our plans?"

"Plans?"

"Yes… You know…" Gordon looked about them furtively. "'Plans!'" he hissed.

"If you're talking about International Rescue, I don't care. Besides I don't know why you're worried about his great plan anyway! It's not like he's going to let you be part of it..."

This rocked Gordon even more than the 'has-been' comment. "What...?"

"Face it, Gordon. You're not a team player. They don't want anyone like you. They need someone they can trust!"

"They don't trust me?"

"Yeah. They don't trust you. HE…" Alan pointed in the direction of an upstairs room, "doesn't trust you. And you know what else, Gordon? I don't care that he doesn't trust you. Just like I don't care about him or any of them…" he indicated the house.

"You don't…"

"… And – I – don't – care – about – you!" Alan punctuated each word by stabbing Gordon in the chest with his finger; before finally pushing his brother hard, forcing Gordon to take two steps backwards. Taking advantage of the distraction, Alan jumped into his car. "I hope I never see you again!"

"Alan!"

There was the roar of an engine, the squeal of tyres, and the pitter-patter of falling pebbles that had been kicked up by spinning wheels.

"Alan…!" Despite knowing how useless his chase would be, Gordon ran after the car.

But Alan was gone, leaving his elder brother standing forlornly in the middle of a deserted driveway.

John and Virgil stepped out of their hiding place and walked over to where Gordon still watched the dust cloud disappearing down the road.

Virgil looked back to the house, glancing up to the window that opened into his father's study. Jeff Tracy was standing there, following his departing son's progress and talking on his mobile phone.

Gordon barely reacted when John placed an arm about his shoulders. "Gordon?"

"He's gone?"

"Yes."

"Did you hear what he said?"

"Yes."

"He says he's gone for good."

"Yes." The blonde sighed. "Welcome home, John," he said.

To be continued…