Disclaimer: The Thunderbirds do not belong to me. They are the intellectual and actual property of Gerry Anderson and his affiliates. Any original characters are a product of my imagination.

AN: Thank you, thank you for everyone who's still sticking with this story, with reading and taking a few moments to leave a word or two behind :)

This chapter, to be completely and utterly honest, would not have been what it is without the help from the wonderful Xenitha. Your help and guidance has been so valuable, and you are always willing to clarify points of Californian law for me, especially answering the inane questions I have. Thank you so much for all the help and support you've given me, and for pointing out the bits that don't work.

Chapter 11

Box of sentimental treasures tucked under his arm, Jefferson Tracy made his way back to the hospital room, face of thunder carved into stone. Mood just as tumultuous, it was something his mother picked up on immediately, despite his best efforts to mask it.

"Jefferson?" The tone was sharp, biting, almost acidic in nature.

"Yes, Mother?"

"What's eating you?"

He should have known. He should have been aware that he couldn't pull a fast one over his own mother. With a sigh, he placed the box down on a table and sat in a vacant chair near the hospital bed.

"There is no easy way to say this," Jeff began, grasping his mother's hand, knowing that she would need some form of emotional support. "So I'm just going to say it. Scott's been arrested and charged with murdering the Hood."

A muffled gasp from Josie, stunned that her sweet, sweet grandson could be charged with such a heinous crime. Murder was not something Scott was capable of; she knew that as well as she knew her own name. How anyone could even suspect that her eldest grandchild could do such a terrible thing was beyond her.

Mind made up, Josie pushed down on her call button. As soon as the nurse responded to her call, she stated her request.

"I would like to be discharged."

"Mother!" Jeff exclaimed, flabbergasted. He was no doctor, but he had enough sense to know that her discharging herself was not a good idea.

"My family needs me, and I will be damned if I am to stay in this… this infernal bed any longer!"

Communicating through eyes, the nurse informed Jeff that she would notify the doctor to talk to Josie about her decision. With the door to her room closing softly, Josie turned imploring eyes onto her son.

"Jefferson, you asked me a long time ago to look after your son. I did, and I've never stopped. Scotty needs us there."

Seeing the resolute expression on his mother's face, Jeff sighed in resignation. Nothing he said would convince her to stop this madness. He would have to settle for a second option. Luckily for him, a plan was forming in his mind, one that would hopefully satisfy Josie as well as ensure that she would not discharge herself before the doctors deemed it safe.

"Mom, if I can arrange for you to be transferred to a hospital in San Francisco, will you please, please not discharge yourself against medical advice? The family will need you over the next stretch." Jeff took a deep breath before confessing all. "I'll need you."

For the matriarch of the Tracy family, it was something to consider. She would be close to her boys when they needed her the most, but she would not be close enough.

"Mom," Jeff pleaded, eyes downcast, shrouded in worry. "Please do this for me. I can't help Scotty if I'm worried about you too. I don't want to have to choose between the two of you. I can't."

Throat tightening, Josie nodded her acquiescence. If that was the best thing she could do for her family, she was going to do it.

"Jeff?"

"Yes, Mom?"

"Scott's…"

"I've taken care of it," Jeff cut her off, soothing her worries. "I'll also ask Penny to investigate as well, make sure she picks up on little facts that may have been overlooked. I will do whatever it takes to get Scott out of jail."

"Good."

With that, Josie closed her eyes and dozed off, with Jeff beside her, knowing that while they could not do much to help Scott from their current location, at least they were doing something to rectify the situation.


News had travelled back to Tracy Island fast, and for the first time in a long time, the three brothers had set aside their disagreement and collaborated on how they could best help their eldest brother.

"Gordon, prep the plane," Virgil ordered, seniority over Gordon and Alan entitling him to make decisions. "Alan, send out a notification that International Rescue has suspended operations indefinitely."

There was a definite clang as the metal bowl Alan was eating leftovers out of fell from his slack grip and clattered onto the ground, food flying everywhere.

"What did you just say, Virg?"

"You can't be serious!" Gordon seconded. While he knew the motivation behind Virgil's order, he could also see one very serious flaw in the plan Virgil was executing. With the arrest of Scott Tracy hitting global headlines, and the subsequent suspension of International Rescue, it wouldn't take a genius to conclude that the two incidences were related.

"Does this look like the face of a man who's kidding, Gordon?" Virgil growled, sounding as deadly as a bear that had been poked out of hibernation with a stick.

"But what about…?"

"I don't care about International Rescue at this current point in time!" Virgil roared, cutting Alan's question off as he gesticulated wildly, grabbing the blond by the arm. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tin-Tin flinch slightly at his rage. "I don't care about a forest fire burning in Australia! I could care less about floods in Timbuktu! Right now, all I care about is one person, probably being beaten to a pulp, in cell in San Francisco! If that makes me selfish, then so be it. If we don't get Scott back, then I want no part with International Rescue!"

And then, Virgil delivered the ace.

"If you care about Scott as much as you claim to, you would see things my way. Scott has given up so much for us over the years; it's time for us to pay him in kind."

It sealed the deal, but it also pushed Alan's temper past boiling point. He was sick of Virgil playing them that way, fed up with constantly feeling cornered in a decision he disagreed with. What Virgil was doing, Alan thought, was almost akin to bullying. Frustration rising to the surface, Alan flung Virgil's hand off his arm.

"Don't you ever use that kind of emotional manipulation against us again!" Alan spat the words out as though he was spitting poison from his mouth. "Scott's our brother too, and we do care about him! To be quite honest, I care about him a lot more than I care about you right now!"

Whatever outburst Virgil was expecting, it wasn't that one. A myriad of emotion flashed through his honey-burnt eyes. Shock, outrage, eventually melding into disbelief and hurt. It was over in a flash, but Alan still caught the look in Virgil's eye. Chewing on the bottom of his lip, preventing him from saying something he would later regret, Alan stormed out of the room, grabbing Tin-Tin and taking her with him.

Once they were in the confines of their own suite, and the door had slid shut behind them, Alan rounded on his wife, grasping her hands in his, as though this would ground him to reality.

"I have to ask this; where does your loyalty lie?"

"Excuse me?" Not a question she had been expecting, least of all from her husband.

"My brother has been charged with murdering your half uncle," Alan stated bluntly. "I need to know where your loyalties lie."

Incensed that Alan had to ask her such a question, Tin-Tin snatched her hands out of his grip.

"How dare you ask me that?" she hissed, face contorting into a scowl as fire burned in her eyes. "How dare you! You should know by now who I support!"

Realising his mistake, Alan tried to backpedal, but it was too late. Tin-Tin was unstoppable, a tornado decimating everyone who had foolishly crossed her path.

"I have spent years devoting my life to ensure the smooth running of International Rescue! I have spent many sleepless nights performing maintenance on each Thunderbird! I have helped Brains and Virg restore you to full fitness after you get injured on a rescue, and you have the audacity to challenge me over my loyalties?"

Feeling very much like a mouse instead of a man, Alan had to stammer out his reasoning, the main one being that the Hood had been her half uncle. Some people would consider that a familial tie.

"He is no uncle of mine," Tin-Tin snarled out, corrosive tone rivalling battery acid. "He is just my father's half-brother."

Her eyes flicked up to his, brown eyes meeting blue, but there was no moment of understanding between them. They were too headstrong, fired up and stubborn to recognise and understand the other person's point of view.

Pointing to the door, she issued out her final order.

"Get out. And don't come back until you're sure of what my priorities are, and have no need to question where my loyalties lie!"


Scott Tracy was devoid of emotion as he was escorted to the county jail. He felt nothing, no anger, resentment or fear as each thumb and digit was printed, scanned into a database and uploaded onto his newly acquired rap sheet. He obediently followed instructions as he was ordered to hold a placard up for his mug shots, one face forward shot and one side profile shot.

For Scott, it was as though he had stepped out of his skin, and was watching the proceedings from afar, knowing that no matter how hard he tried, how hard he protested against it, the outcome remained the same; he would still have been subjected to the process.

The devolution of Man, he thought bitterly, as he surrendered his wallet, and more painfully, his watch and other personal effects. Surrendered all the little items that defined him as a person with an identity. Now, he was nothing more than a prisoner number, few fingerprints, two photos and an alleged crime.

Fudging the buttons through the holes in his shirt, Scott mentally prepared himself for the weapon and drug search he was about to undergo. Words from his Commanding Officer during his time with the USAF came back to him.

You do what you gotta do. Then you just have to put it behind you and move on. Can't mope about it forever.

Scott supposed that he shouldn't have been surprised by the need for a full body cavity search; there were rules and regulations that the authorities had to follow as well. Really, if Scott was completely honest with himself, he should have been used to this. After all, it wasn't the first time he had been taken prisoner.

But there's a huge difference between being a prisoner of war and a prisoner of the state.

Robotically, he shoved each leg through the bright orange jumpsuit once the search was over. A stark contrast to the blue uniform he was used; this was the new uniform he would have to get used to wearing. Once he was suitably attired, he was led through reinforced steel, bar doors.

The advice from Scott's defence lawyer flitted through his head, a repeating mantra, as she had outlined the immediate procedure he would undergo over the next few days. His Preliminary Hearing had been set for Monday, after being arrested on a Friday afternoon, which meant that he would be spending the weekend in jail.

Not a prospect he was looking forward to, especially without visitors, but he supposed that it was for the best. He would willingly spend two days in jail and post bail, if it was granted, to gain some sense of liberty.

It went without saying, as Scott was a man with common sense, but his lawyer had also advised him to keep to himself. The less interaction he had with the other prisoners, the better.

They came to a stop outside a cell. Scott took one look at it and instantly loathed it. He hated small spaces, and he hated being confined; the only exception to the rule was him being confined in a cockpit of a plane. Growing up on a farm, and then moving out to Tracy Island, Scott was well used to having room to move around. The six-by-three cell was the complete opposite.

Home, sweet home.

The door to the cell swung shut as the officer moved away swiftly, a definitive sound separating Scott from freedom. Dull, blue eyes trained on the ground as he moved to an empty bunk. He saw movement in his peripheral vision, a vicious orange flash sneaking behind him. He registered the movement, but it was too late.

A well-aimed punch to his back, shock going straight to his kidney. Scott let out a muffled grunt against the pain. Unprovoked attacks were something he had expected, but not his early into his jail stint.

Another punch, this time higher up on his torso. High enough to paralyse his lungs momentarily. Gasping slightly as he struggled to get some air into his lungs, Scott missed the fist that swung down onto the side of his skull. Scott tried to fight against the blackness that threatened to overwhelm him, but in the end, it won out. Struggling onto a vacant bottom bunk-bed, Scott gave in and let the darkness swallow him whole.