Author's Note: Thanks a million to Samantha Winchester for a quick read-through that kept me honest. :)
WAY 19
"Say "I love you" to your significant other and to your children."
How many times had he heard those words while on a rescue? They bring a twelve-year old girl out of a hole deep in the Earth, and her mother's first words upon seeing her alive are, "I love you."
The man who'd just gotten married, trapped beneath half a ton of debris when a building collapsed. They bring him out and his new wife cries, "I love you!" when she sees him.
Friends. Family members. Those who maybe didn't think to convey their feelings that morning before their husband or wife, girlfriend or boyfriend, went out the door to start their day. The children who didn't tell their parents they loved them before heading off to school. The parents who neglected to do the same.
You never knew, Scott mused as he sipped his cup of black coffee and looked out over the tranquil waters of the Pacific, when you'd run out of opportunities to tell someone you loved them. Yesterday's rescue had brought that sad fact home with nothing less than the force of a herd of elephants. Twenty-four children dead, only six saved. All because of an unexpected mudslide that buried most of them as they explored a four-foot deep exposed area of the San Andreas Fault in Southern California.
A field trip the parents signed permission slips for, not knowing many of them were sending their kids to their deaths.
Scott took another sip of coffee, hearing his father join him on the balcony, smelling that his mug was filled with the same brew. Umpteen rescues under his belt, Scott mused, plus his time in the Air Force, piloting during the Bereznik War...and yet still rescues like yesterday's stuck with him as though he'd never before experienced death on a massive scale.
He felt his dad's hand on his shoulder. When Jeff squeezed, Scott turned to look at him. Was that sadness he saw in his father's eyes? Regret? Recognition? Remembrance? Whatever it was, Jeff looked him in the eye. "Love you, son," he rumbled, his voice vibrating right through Scott's body.
He gave his dad a small smile and a nod. "Love you too, Dad."
One more squeeze of his shoulder, and Jeff moved back into the Lounge, seating himself behind his desk to get on with the day's work.
Yeah, rescues like that one remind you of what's important in life, Scott thought as he drank down his lukewarm coffee and moved back into the Lounge to join his father. And hearing from your dad that he loves you, no matter how old you are, reminds you that you're one of them.
WAY 20
"For just one day, imagine everyone's intentions are good because most people's are."
The past year had been rough for John Tracy. He'd been training for it for years, but his first year of running the entire umbrella of companies under Tracy Corporation had been, to put it mildly, hell. Surprisingly, most of the hell hadn't come from within the companies themselves, but from those outside who, when a change of guard moved Tracy Corp's president's name from Jefferson to John, smelled blood.
Millionaires and owners of conglomerates the world round came at Tracy Corporation – and John – with proverbial guns blazing. The Tracy legal team had exploded into the size of a small city to handle all the litigation. Accusations of stolen patents, ideas and money covered the internet news pages. Lawsuits claiming monopolies of trade and the legitimacy of contracts clogged the New York court system. Every day the entire Tracy family was front page news, even though no one actually used paper newspapers anymore.
And in spite of the fact that they were strong, and that each and every instance of wrongdoing had been proven to be just the opposite, the constant war had taken its toll. In his seventies, now, Jeff was still going strong, but shocked at how vehement the hatred of his success became when he stepped down from the helm.
International Rescue, expanded and still very much a secret, provided one of the only few distractions of the public's attention whenever they went out under Scott's full command. Virgil remained the silent anchor in the storm, while Alan's top blew on more than one occasion over the things he read about his family's business. Gordon helped John on occasion when things got extra dicey, Tin-Tin continued her work with both Tracy Engineering and International Rescue...and being the best distraction for Alan, of course.
But they were all older now, and all but Gordon and John had actually started their own families, much to Jeff's delight. Tracy Island fairly burst at the seams with activity day in and day out, and life went on, as normal as they could all make it.
It was on a New Year's Eve when those who'd always remained friends of the Tracys, alongside those who'd begrudgingly accepted the family had never been involved in any wrongdoings, gathered together in Manhattan to celebrate. They toasted the coming year, sharing John's hope that his second year at the head of the company would be far less eventful than the first. They shared in good food, good company, polite talk and plenty of champagne. They shared in the continuing revenue Tracy Corporation generated thanks to buyers who cared less about corporate politics, for wont of the amazing things the companies manufactured, developed, invented and shared.
And round about quarter-to-midnight, while the partygoers yelled and whispered and shouted and stated to one another than the new year was almost upon them, nobody noticed that the man at the center of past controversies, loyalties and the party they were all attending, was nowhere in sight.
John took in a long, slow breath and breathed it back out just as slowly. He sank back into the couch in the penthouse on the top floor of Tracy Tower while the party continued fifty floors below in the grand ballroom. He was tired. Not because it was almost midnight, but because of the past year. Things were getting under control now. People were dropping suits and attacks were waning. But he was just. Fucking. Tired.
It would get better, his father assured him. And John knew in his heart that it would. But that didn't help when you felt more weary than you did in the old days at the tail end of a two-week long rescue call. He heard the front penthouse door slide open, but with his head resting on the back of the couch, couldn't be bothered to open his eyes. There was only one person who had the lock code, who was anywhere near Manhattan right now.
"Hey, Brains."
John didn't know what the hell he would've done without two things this past year: his father's staunch support, and Brains' unwavering friendship. They'd gone from working side-by-side in Brains' laboratory on Tracy Island, to working side-by-side in corporate offices, Brains' mind attacking every problem that arose with unfailing logic and brilliant solutions. Both men still dabbled with inventions and their first loves – engineering for Brains and astronomy for John – but there simply hadn't been time to focus on those things recently.
"Hey," Brains said softly as he sat down on the couch next to John.
John opened his eyes, turned his head, and smiled at his friend as Brains offered him a flute of champagne. He remembered how grateful he'd been when Brains had first offered to come help Tracy Corp out of a major legal jam when the entire country of France had sued them. The genius found he had a knack for cutting right to the chase, solving the problem, and setting the lawyers on the right track for success.
So Brains, rather than returning to Tracy Island, had stayed. He conducted IR affairs remotely, liaising with Scott and the others as needed, but for the most part, he'd become John's right-hand man. But the need for newer, more updated Thunderbirds and rescue equipment loomed, and John knew as well as Brains did, that the genius was needed back at Tracy Island if IR was going to have any kind of future.
This was to be Brains' last night in Manhattan, leaving John without a man he'd come to rely on for everything from business expertise to quiet personal support. His smile faded as Brains checked his watch. "Just, ah, four minutes to go, John." The scientist blinked and cocked his head as he took in the look on John's face. "What is it?"
John sighed and pulled himself upright, contemplating the champagne bubbles as they popped. "Feel like I'm losing my best friend," he admitted, color tinging his cheekbones out of mild embarrassment. When no answer was forthcoming, John chanced a look at Brains, and was surprised to find his face flushed red.
"I've never been anyone's best friend before," the scientist whispered.
John's smile returned. "Well, you're mine. Now, what are we going to drink to?"
"I thought you wanted to drink to a, ah, better year."
"I do. But it won't be better with you thousands of miles away," John pouted, purposely exaggerating the moment more than was necessary.
"It will," Brains said, the color of his face returning to normal. "We'll get everyone going on new Bird designs and get the corporation back on, ah, an even keel."
John's unspoken And me? hung silently between them. He was feeling unapologetically selfish on this introspective night. The grandfather clock in the living room chimed, signaling the beginning of the midnight hour. He was startled when Brains clinked their glasses together, and looked up to find him grinning.
"To best friends," is what the scientist decided the toast would be.
John supposed that the physical separation didn't mean they'd be communicating any less. After all, they had the most sophisticated communications array in existence. And he supposed that as brilliant as Brains was, he'd still be able to help if some really sticky situation arose over the coming year. And, he supposed, one or both of them could take trips every now and again back and forth to wherever the other one was. After all, John had nieces and nephews as well as his brothers and father to visit on Tracy Island, too.
"To best friends," he finally agreed, returning the toast and downing the entire flute of champagne in one go.
"We've beat them," Brains reminded him. "Now, it's simply a matter of, ah, maintenance."
The glasses found their way to the end table next to the couch as the best friends settled back into the plush cushions. Fireworks were heard through the open sliding-glass door nearby. The grandfather cluck struck its twelfth note and then went silent.
"Happy New Year, Brains."
He felt a hand on his shoulder, closed his eyes and sighed in contentment as Brains replied, "Happy New Year, John."
A moment passed.
"Any resolutions?" Brains asked.
John looked at him. "I don't think I've made those since I was ten," he replied.
"I never made any. But maybe this year I, ah, should."
Intrigued, John sat upright again. "Like what?"
Brains half-shrugged, his hand falling from John's shoulder. "Like, ah, trying to stop believing that it seems everyone's, ah, against you."
The meaningful tone of voice and look that accompanied the words, weren't lost on John. "That's awfully hard to do when largely, they are."
"You could try pretending they aren't."
"Pretending? What, so I can get my ass bit when I'm not looking?" John countered with a frown.
"No," Brains shook his head. "So you can continue to get what you expect."
John's frown deepened for a moment until Brains' meaning sunk in. He'd gotten to the point where he expected peoples' intentions to be contrary to his and Tracy Corp's well-being because of what had been happening. And that's what he'd continued to get no matter how much he fought, no matter how many battles were won.
"By expecting that people mean well, they just magically will, huh?" John asked with much skepticism.
"That's what Kyrano says," Brains replied. "Try it for one day."
John considered this for a moment. Well, the day that was upon them was a corporate holiday, so there wouldn't be any business conducted at all, which meant anyone he encountered would not be after ruining the company his dad had built. Hopefully.
He stopped short, realizing the bit of truth in what Brains was saying. That added word at the end of his thought, hopefully, showed John that he was expecting the worst of everyone. Part of him fumed that he had every right to, after attacks from each and every corner.
But another part of him recognized that being protective of yourself and being cynical were two entirely different things. In addition to expecting the best from others, he recalled hearing Kyrano say once or twice that you often attract what you're broadcasting. If he was putting out into the ether that everyone was still going to come after the Tracys and the businesses, Kyrano's beliefs held, then they would indeed continue to do so.
"Huh," he said out loud, rising to his feet and picking up the two empty flutes as he did.
"What?"
"Let's go get more champagne," John suggested, heading for the front door.
"I thought you were tired," Brains protested, scrambling to his feet to follow.
"I am. But I'm also a little more hopeful. Let's celebrate."
They exited the penthouse and entered the elevator just beyond.
"What are we celebrating?" Brains asked, taking one of the empty flutes from John's hand.
"Peoples' intentions," he replied with a wink.
Brains grinned. "Well, then, Happy New Year."
"It will be a happy new year," John confirmed with an attitude that said he meant it. "It will."