Chapter 21: Reunions

1 September 2079

Wearing his team's official jacket and carrying a periodical, Alan got out of his convertible and handed his keys to the valet. "Don't take it too far," he advised. "I'm only here to pick up my wife."

The valet nodded his understanding, and as the car was driven clear Alan spied a familiar walk heading into the hotel. He followed the individual inside only to discover that the lift door had already closed behind them. He wasn't perturbed. Lady Penelope had given him his instructions and he knew that she was expecting him to follow them to the letter.

He marched up to the reception desk. "Hello." He smiled at the receptionist. "I'm Alan Tracy. My wife Tin-Tin Tracy and her friend are staying here. They've been out shopping together. Could you tell me their room number, please?"

"Certainly, Mr Tracy. Just one moment."

Alan waited, feeling exposed without his hat and sunglasses to conceal his features. This was precisely what Lady Penelope had wanted to allay suspicion; people to know that he was meeting his wife after her week's shopping, while keeping their activities out of the direct public gaze. Brave as he was, there was no way that Alan was willing to go against her wishes.

A myriad of CCTV cameras were staring in his direction, recording his every move and glance and he hoped there were no paparazzi hanging about. He didn't have too many problems with the in-house cameras recording him, but didn't want his face plastered over the world's media by some nosey journalist.

The receptionist smiled at him. "Mrs Tracy and Lady Penelope are in room 1424, Mr Tracy. The elevators are over there."

"Thanks." Alan stepped into the lift, pushed the button for level fourteen and endured the inane 'elevator muzak' as well as several stops on intermediary floors. Beside him two females with too much make-up and not enough decorum cackled over a "score" that one of them had made the night before and eyed him up as if they were hoping that the night wasn't over. He was glad when the lift announced his floor and he was able to escape.

Following the discreet arrows that pointed the way he found room 24 and knocked. There was a brief pause before the door opened and a man in mauve uniform stepped aside. "Come h-in, Mister Alan."

"Thanks, Parker."

Alan stepped into the lounge area and was confronted by the sight of three women. He gave them all a general hello before stepping up to the Tin-Tin on the left and pulling her into a warm embrace. "I've missed you, Honey," he admitted and kissed her. "How are you?"

He was delighted to see the woman in his arms wrinkle her nose as she laughed. "The sun is shining and the flowers are blooming," Tin-Tin teased. "So you knew it was me and not Jen-Ling?"

"Never any doubts," he replied. "I'd know you anywhere. Plus I followed you into the hotel and recognised your walk."

"Did you do as I asked, Alan?" Lady Penelope enquired.

"Yep. Reception knows that I'm meeting Tin-Tin and that you and she have been shopping. Plus…" he tossed his magazine onto the bed next to the floppy hat that Tin-Tin had been wearing when she entered the building, "there's a photo of you and 'my wife' out shopping. One of the mechanic's wives brought that copy in for me."

"Good." Lady Penelope approved. "Then, if you wouldn't mind excusing us, dear boy, the two ladies can exchange clothes and then you and Tin-Tin may depart for the race track."

Jen-Ling pulled at the mask that was stuck to her face. "No offence, Tin-Tin, but I'm glad I don't have to be you any longer. This thing was starting to drive me crazy!"

"I am sorry that you were uncomfortable for so long," Tin-Tin sympathised.

"Don't worry about it, I'm glad to help. My only disappointment is that I've bought all these wonderful clothes and none of them fit me!"

"I'm afraid that you will have to keep the padding on for a short time longer, Jen-Ling," Lady Penelope advised. "You must look exactly like the woman who entered the hotel ten minutes ago."

Jen-Ling sighed. "Yes, Lady Penelope."

"Do not worry yourself, my dear girl," Lady Penelope reassured her. "Now that your work is done we can retrace our steps and you can treat yourself to items that suit you. And I am sure that Tin-Tin will enjoy discovering what she has bought herself."

Tin-Tin gave Alan a quick kiss. "I'll be out soon," she promised.

She was as good as her word, but emerged wearing one of her own free-flowing dresses instead of a garment that Jen-Ling had purchased. Jen-Ling had to make do with the less than flattering gown that Tin-Tin had worn as a disguise into the hotel.

Alan kissed his real wife again. "Ready to go?"

Tin-Tin started picking up 'her' shopping. "I am ready."

Jen-Ling put on Tin-Tin's hat. "Good luck with today's race, Alan, and thank you for letting me be a part of your rescue." Then she became sombre. "And wish everyone at International Rescue good luck from me too... For all our sakes..."

-I-R-

-F-A-B-

The saloon with the number plate TBFIVE pulled up outside a house that showed signs of being cared about without being cared for. Both men stared at the home.

Unwilling to escape the sanctuary of the car, Scott glanced over at his brother. "Do you think Gordon and Virgil bought the we've got important work to do for Tracy Industries story?"

"I think so," John replied. "They were too happy at the prospect of visiting Dad for an hour to worry about what we're up to." He reached behind him and withdrew an embossed satchel from the back seat. He held it in his hands. "How are you feeling?"

Scott hesitated. "If I'm honest, the thought of meeting that family scares me more than most of the situations we got ourselves into when we were International Rescue." He looked at the neatly mown lawn, which was in stark contrast to the peeling paintwork and the water dripping from the rusted guttering. "They don't have a lot of money, do they?"

"No. That's another reason why I've wanted to make this as easy for them as possible. I've made sure that they haven't had to worry about paying Howard's medical bills. I'd offer to help them further, but I don't think their pride would let them accept it."

Scott looked at his brother. "Thanks."

"What for?"

"Looking after them. I'm the one who's ruined their lives. I should have been doing that."

John shrugged. "It's my job."

"As you said, Tracy Aviation is completely autonomous. You could have kept out of it."

"Tracy Aviation still has the Tracy name and you know as well as I do the Tracy name means that it's impossible for one of us to stand aside and do nothing when someone needs assistance…" John placed his hand on his brother's shoulder. "Especially when it's one of our own who needs it."

Scott looked away, preferring not to acknowledge the fact that he did need help.

"The crash wasn't your fault, Scott."

"You're just saying that to make me feel better."

John smiled. "Is it working?"

Scott gave a wry chuckle. "Yes."

"Good." John covered a yawn and then nodded towards the house. "Are you ready to go in?"

Scott gritted his teeth and opened the car door. "Let's get this over and done with."

Trying not to give in to the impulse to run, Scott followed John two paces behind, noting that not all the house was old and shabby. Recent additions had been made like the wheelchair ramp that led up to the entrance. Feeling sick, he trailed after John who strode confidently up the ramp and gave the door a smart rap.

It was opened a minute later by a petite woman with a drawn, lined face that made her seem older than her years. That was until she saw who was standing on the step and her face lit up, banishing the majority of her wrinkles with the exception of the laughter lines about her eyes. "John! It's so good to see you again!"

"Hello, India." John responded with a broad smile of his own, which Scott felt unable to imitate. "How are you?"

"We're well now that it's starting to get cooler," she replied. "Howard finds the heat such a strain… Noel!" she called over her shoulder. "John's here!" She stepped back.

"I thought it might be him when I heard knocking," a man joked, coming to stand at India's shoulder. Without any other evidence to hand, Scott assumed that this had to be Noel, Howard's father. "Don't stand out there, come in."

Scott followed John inside and looked around, seeing evidence of widened doorways and other alterations to the building to help ease the life of a wheelchair-bound invalid and his family. Apart from this there was no sign of the injured boy.

"You're looking well, John," India commented. "A little tired, but well. Whatever you've been doing since we last saw you obviously suits you."

John yawned. "Sorry," he apologised. "I've been working late the last few nights." Scott shot him a concerned look, which didn't go unnoticed by the O'Neils.

John was about to introduce his brother, when Noel called out "Howard… John's here."

"Coming…" A door was pushed open and the thirteen-year-old came into the room.

Scott stared at him in shock. It wasn't the fact that the boy was walking with the assistance of a frame that had stunned him; rather that a scarred and freckly face was grinning at the adults from under a thatch of jet-black hair.

John had been watching his brother to see his reaction, but now he turned back to the boy. "Howard!" he exclaimed. "What happened to the wheels?"

"Don't need them any more," Howard boasted, shuffling to a stop beside his mother.

"Well, not until he gets tired," India amended fondly, pushing a stray lock behind her son's ear.

John was grinning. "That's great. Literally another step in the right direction…"

"I know," Noel agreed. "We're so proud of him," and Howard seemed to swell at the compliment.

John decided that it was time to acknowledge his companion. "Let me introduce you to my brother: Scott."

Noel stepped forward, with his hand extended. "Pleased to meet you, Scott."

"Ah… Likewise," Scott mumbled, shaking the other's hand.

"Would you both sit down?" Noel indicated the worn seats that lined the edge of the lounge.

"Thanks, but no," John responded. "We can't stay for long. Our little brother's competing today and we want to catch his race."

"What type of racing?" Noel asked.

"Typhoon class cars," John explained. "They're getting down to the business end of the world series so we want to be there to support him."

India had been staring at Scott. "Have we met before?"

"I… er…" Normally confident and sure of himself, Scott suddenly discovered that he was lost for words. "I was the pilot!" he blurted out. "I'm sorry."

Now everyone was staring at him, including a bemused John. "I wasn't going to release that bit of information just yet," he admitted.

"The pilot?" Noel switched his attention from Scott to John. "As in the pilot of the plane that put Howard in the hospital?"

John nodded. "It's one of the many reasons why I'm involved."

Noel fixed him with a faintly accusing stare. "You said if it was pilot error you'd hand us the head of the pilot on a plate."

John held his gaze. "And if Scott was found guilty of pilot error, then I would," he confirmed. "Despite the fact that I can't believe that he would have done anything careless."

"He would," Scott agreed. "You won't find a more honest man than John. He wouldn't let me hide behind the Tracy name or the Tracy money, and I don't expect to."

"Do you think the accident was your fault?" India asked.

Scott made a helpless gesture. "I honestly don't know. I've replayed the incident over and over again in my mind, trying to work out what happened. So many times that I've become confused over what did occur and what didn't. I don't know if I could have done anything differently, but then I don't know of any other reason why the plane should crash."

"It was a test craft," Noel remarked.

"And she was performing flawlessly up till that point," Scott told him.

He was startled when India suddenly exclaimed: "You've been here before!"

"Uh…Yeah… I mean, yes." Scott looked embarrassed. "Tracy Aviation's legal team said I should keep away from you until after the investigation's been finalised…"

"Really…?" Noel glanced sideways at John.

"That wasn't my call," John responded. "I'm no legal expert."

"But," Scott continued, "I wanted to find out how Howard was… You answered the door, Mrs O'Neil… I think…?"

India nodded. "That's right. I thought you seemed a bit flustered… You said that you were looking for the… the Wright Brothers, wasn't it?"

"Yes." Scott turned pink as John chuckled. "I'd just decided to leave when you answered the door. I said the first thing that came to mind."

John chuckled again. "Trust you, Scott. You've got a one track mind."

"No…" Scott protested. "I've been thinking about other things lately." He turned his attention back to Howard who was staring at him as if he didn't know whether to blame him for all his woes or to offer forgiveness. "I'm sorry you were hurt, Howard. If there'd been any way I could have diverted that plane, I would have."

The young man looked at his parents as if asking for advice and Scott saw a patch on the back of his head where his hair wasn't growing.

"Did you know Howard was in the barn during the crash?" India asked.

Scott glanced at John and saw his brother's blue eyes fixed on him. "No. I didn't see him."

"Then you had no reason to steer the plane away from him." As Scott was about to protest she raised her hand. "John hasn't told us anything about you, but I get the feeling that you've been blaming yourself, even though we don't know the cause of the accident yet."

Scott gave a shameful nod. "That's true."

"If the accident was your fault, Mr Tracy…"

"Please," Scott interrupted. "Mr Tracy's my father. Call me Scott."

He found it disconcerting when both adult O'Neils laughed. "That's what John said when we first met him," Noel explained.

"Very well, Scott… If the accident was your fault," India repeated, "then you should know that both Noel and I want to see you prosecuted to the full extent of the law."

Scott squared his shoulders and looked her in the eye. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

"However if it was a shortcoming in the plane's design which caused it to crash, then I think you should be aware that this accident has in some respects been a blessing in disguise."

Scott stared at the 13-year-old who'd grown tired of standing and had sat down. "It has?!"

"Howard…" India took a step closer to her son and stood next to him with a protective arm about his shoulders, "as much as we both love him, hasn't always been the easiest child to deal with. He was frequently in trouble at school... when he bothered to attend…" Howard looked up at his mother and then back down as if he were ashamed at his actions. "We weren't always aware of his activities, but we did all we could to try and understand why he behaved the way he did and we tried to work out ways to help him."

"That was why he was at the camp for troubled youth when the crash happened," Noel explained.

Scott looked at Howard. He didn't look like a 'troubled youth'; just one who'd been lucky to survive a disaster. "I didn't know that there was a camp nearby. The test flight path was supposed to be over unoccupied farmland."

Howard continued to stare at the floor. "I'd run away from camp."

"Which is why he was in that barn when he should have been in supervised accommodation ten miles away." India's voice was scolding, but she kissed her son on the top of his head.

Scott couldn't as yet see why the whole mess was a blessing in disguise.

"That day was the worst in our lives," India admitted. "You've no idea what it's like to have a policeman appear on your doorstep and tell you that your son has been critically injured. I've never been so scared before or since." Her voice shook, and Howard looked up and took his mother's hand. She smiled down at him and caressed his cheek. "There are times when I can't believe that we've still got him and that he should make a full recovery."

Noel took up the story. "But the recovery has been a long, hard road. I don't need to remind you, Scott, of how many months ago the nightmare started and you can see how far Howard still has to go."

Scott knew full well the date of the nightmare. The events of that day were seared into his brain.

"But, thanks to John, since the accident Howard's had more opportunities than we could have ever hoped to give him," Noel explained.

"I told them to contact me directly if Howard needed anything," John interjected. "If, say, Howard needed a 50 inch TV set in his bedroom so that he could access the Internet, then I didn't want some anonymous accountant saying that he could make do with a 21 inch one."

Howard looked at him hopefully. "Can I have a 50 inch TV?"

"No, you can't," India told her son. "We are not going to take advantage of John's generosity." Howard pouted, but didn't offer up a complaint.

"Because Howard hasn't been able to go to school John has arranged for someone to come here and tutor him," Noel continued. "Howard's come on in leaps and bounds now that he's got a teacher who is able to work one-on-one with him and tailor his schooling to suit his needs. We've also learned that he's got an above average IQ, which is why school wasn't stimulating enough to hold his attention and he kept on running away. Now that we're aware of this, once Howard goes back to school, we'll be able to ensure that he attends a facility that will continue to challenge him."

"So you won't be playing truant again, will you, Howard?" John asked.

"Nope." Howard shook his head. "I never knew learning could be fun until Ms McCully started teaching me. She's showed me all sorts of good stuff."

John grinned. "Good man." He looked at his watch. "We'll have to get moving soon, but the reason why we've come here is because I had to give you this." He opened his satchel and pulled out a thick document. "This is the investigators' final report into the accident." He handed it to the O'Neils.

Scott stared at his brother. John had never mentioned that the independent investigators had finished their work.

"I'd advise you to read it," John was saying. "Also get an expert to go through the report so that you can reassure yourselves that Tracy Aviation," he paused, "or I haven't swept any of the facts under the carpet." He reached back into the satchel and pulled out a single sheet of paper. "There's the confirmation of the deposit I've made into your account. There should be enough there to enable you to get representation to ensure that you get fair compensation for all your pain and suffering."

Noel took the page without comment, as if he was unsurprised to receive the payment.

India was staring at Scott. "And what were the investigators' findings?"

Scott braced himself for the worst.

John's face remained impassive as he withdrew a two page document. "I've spent the last few nights summarising the report," he said, giving his final document to India. "I've paraphrased it in parts and some of it I've cut and pasted. You'll note that I've written the pilot instead of Scott's name as I wasn't going to reveal his identity until after you'd had a chance to read the summary… But Scott's made that precaution unnecessary."

"Do you know what's in here, Scott?" India asked.

"No," Scott admitted, amazed at how steady his voice was sounding. He felt like he was shaking like a leaf. "I wasn't even aware that John had received it."

"Read it out loud, India," Noel prompted. "Let us all know what's in it."

India read John's summary, which was brief and concise. It detailed how one of Tracy Aviation's sub-contractors had manufactured a single component designed to flex during certain manoeuvres out of a material that was a millimetre thicker than that specified in the blueprints. This error had not been picked up during Tracy Aviation's assembly of the aeroplane. The more rigid component had exerted a continual strain on the bolts that held that section of the aeroplane together, eventually causing them to shear through. This led to the catastrophic failure that resulted in the total loss of control of the aircraft, the destruction of a barn of winter feed, and critical injuries to 13-year-old Howard O'Neil.

"Having interviewed the pilot," India read, "viewed all available footage, and observed the data obtained from the aircraft's various flight recorders, we can find no evidence of pilot error. The pilot executed all manoeuvres as stipulated by the test flight plans for this particular craft, and when he became aware that that he had lost control of the plane continued to do all he could to land it in a controlled manner. The pilot's ejection from the plane's cockpit was performed at a stage when he knew that he no longer had any control over the plane's flight path or descent, and that to remain in the cockpit would have been fatal."

There was silence in the lounge.

"So it was a manufacturing error," Noel eventually said.

"Yes," John confirmed. "Tracy Aviation has severed all ties with the sub-contractor concerned, at least until they can reassure the company that adequate quality control systems have been put in place. For our part, Tracy Aviation has already begun the process of re-reviewing its own quality control systems to ensure that such an error won't slip through again. At this point I can only offer Tracy Industries' apologies that so many innocent people got caught up in the tragic event, and I will remind you to make sure that you have adequate representation when the question of compensation is discussed."

"So it wasn't your fault?" Howard clarified, staring at Scott.

"No…" Scott couldn't quite believe it. "It looks like I've been cleared."

"And you look like you need to sit down," Noel pointed out. "There's a chair behind you."

Scott considered saying he was all right, but decided that his legs were feeling as numb with relief as the rest of him, and that he'd better get his weight off them. He sat down as India took the seat next to Howard and Noel claimed the comfortable chair that was clearly his habitual throne. Only John remained standing and he glanced at his expensive corporate watch as if he were aware that they didn't have much time.

Scott ran his hands through his hair and let out a lungful of air.

"Has it been a tough few months for you, Scott?" India asked. Now she was showing none of the guarded wariness that had been directed towards him and instead looked genuinely concerned. "Not knowing if the findings would be against you?"

Scott nodded looking down at his hands. "I thought I'd hurt someone doing something I loved… I guess I kinda lost faith in myself."

"I never lost faith in you." John placed a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"Yes…" Scott breathed. Then he looked up at his younger brother. "You knew and you never told me!"

"Actually," John grinned, "if you remember, I did tell you. Out in the car before we came in."

"But I thought you only said that to make me feel better!"

"Yes, I did. But I also said it because it was the truth." John looked up. "I've known for a couple of days, but I thought it was fairest if all four victims," there was a slight emphasis on the number four, "were told at the same time."

India nodded. "Thank you, John. We appreciate that."

"So what happens now?" Noel asked.

"Now we address the issue of compensation," John explained. "I've left instructions that you are to be fully compensated. If you feel that anyone is trying to backtrack on that I want you to contact my secretary, Emma. She will ensure that you are not penalised in any way."

"Your secretary?" Noel enquired. "Not you?"

"No…" John hesitated. "I'm on extended leave from Tracy Industries. My father… Our father," he indicated Scott, "has resumed control of the company, but he knows nothing about the crash or Scott's involvement, and if possible I'd like to keep it that way. He hasn't been well and we don't want to do anything to upset him."

The O'Neils nodded. "We understand."

"Scott…" Surprised, everyone looked at the boy who'd spoken. "Do you like planes?"

"Do I like planes?" Scott echoed. "Yes. Well…" He glanced at his brother. "I used to." Then his face brightened as if he'd come to the realisation that that he'd awoken from a nightmare. "And I think I'm going to start liking them again."

Howard edged forward in his seat. "Ms McCully showed me how to make models and Dad bought me a big kitset of a Spitfire. Would you like to see them?"

Delighted by the invitation, Scott smiled at the teenager. "I'd love to!"

"C'mon." Eager to show off his new toys, Howard pulled himself upright into his walking frame. Chatting excitedly, he led Scott out of the room.

"So much for not being able to stay for long." John gave a dramatic sigh and sat down. "He'll be in there for hours."

"In that case," India chuckled, "would you like a cup of coffee while you wait?"

John treated her to a grateful smile. "Thanks, but no thanks. I'll give them ten minutes and then I'll go in and drag him out of there. We can't miss Alan's race."

"Howard has always loved planes," India admitted. "And even this experience hasn't knocked that out of him. But we've never been able to afford to take him for a flight; not even for one of those five minute ones at an air show… And you are not going to pay for one," she added quickly when she saw John reach for his wallet. "This is nothing to do with Howard's accident or rehabilitation. We don't want him thinking that he's entitled to everything that he wants just because of one moment of misfortune."

"I understand," John withdrew his hand from his pocket.

Noel indicated the full report. "I take it you're relieved that the investigators' findings were in Scott's favour?"

"I am," John admitted. "But now that I can speak freely I will say that I never believed that he could be at fault. He's the best, most conscientious pilot I know. Unfortunately I've only just realised how badly the suspicion that he was to blame has been eating him up … If you're willing, once he's had a few months to get his confidence back I'm sure he'd love to take Howard for a ride in his plane…" He hesitated. "Once Doomsday's passed."

"If we're still here," Noel growled.

"Noel!" India scolded. "We've got to keep positive!"

"And the World President and everyone else seem positive that we're all going to die."

"You never know what's going to happen," John started to say when the door opened.

Howard shuffled back into the room, but this time he seemed unsure of himself.

Scott was following him closely. "You want to see Howard's room, John. It's full of planes, and books on aviation, and International Rescue…"

John looked intrigued. "International Rescue? But they were in action before your time, weren't they, Howard? I'm surprised you've even heard about them."

"I remember some of their rescues." Howard traced his fingers along the rough wire edge of the basket that adorned his walking frame. "I'd love to see a Thunderbird."

"Wouldn't we all," Scott agreed. "But what you really should see, John, is the telescope he's got set up in there."

John sat up. "Telescope?"

Howard gave a shy nod. "I like looking at the stars. Ms McCully says that there's too much light here in the city to see them properly, but she's going to take me to an observatory now that I can walk."

Scott nudged the boy gently. "Go on, show him."

"Show me what?" John asked.

Howard shuffled forward.

"Pick up your feet like your physiotherapist told you, Howard," India instructed.

Making a conscious effort to lift his feet above the level of the worn carpet, Howard pushed the frame towards John, stopping a few steps short of him. "Scott says that you'd like to see this book." He held out a tatted volume. Dog-eared, and with its cover and several pages missing, it didn't look anything special.

"He does?" Mystified, John took the book and examined it. Even the title page was missing, but that didn't stop him from recognising the book's theme… or realising who the author was.

"That's Howard's favourite book," Noel explained. "He found it in a second-hand bookshop. The store owner didn't know anything about who wrote it, but as it was on astronomy Howard thought he might find it interesting. Little did we know…" He chuckled and shared an indulgent glance with his wife.

"John knows who wrote it," Scott announced.

Howard looked awestruck. "You do?"

"Yeah… Ah, yes…" John was staring at his own words. "A lifetime ago."

Howard saddened. "Is he dead?"

"He was close to it…" Scott stated before John could reply. "But he's on life support and his family are confident that he's going to make a full recovery." He gave John a knowing smile and laid a hand on Howard's shoulder. "Just like you."

John handed the book back. "I think I can get you a better copy of that…" He held up his hand to stop Howard's parents' protests, "and a couple of others by the same author."

Howard's face lit up. "You can!?"

"Yes," John looked over Howard's shoulder. "You'll remind me when we get home?"

Scott nodded. "Not a problem." He looked at his watch. "We'd better be going, John. We've got to pick up Virgil and Gordon before we head over to the track."

"Two of our younger brothers," John explained as he checked his own watch and got to his feet. "You'll have to show me your telescope next time, Howard. I'll make sure I visit when it's dark so you can show me the stars."

"Maybe I can take him for a spin in my plane beforehand?" Scott suggested. "Would you like that, Howard?"

"Yeah!" the 13-year-old enthused. "When?"

Scott locked eyes with John and saw a weary recognition at the number of months that would have to pass before they were both free to do something so trivial, and yet so important. He sighed. "I'm sorry, Howard, but it won't be until after Doomsday."

"It won't?" Howard's disappointment was palpable. "But we might be all dead then."

"I hope not," Scott said.

"But John said that he wasn't working anymore," Howard protested. "Haven't you got time to come back soon, John?"

"I'm sure both Scott and John have more important things to do than worry about us," India told him.

Noel raised an eyebrow in John's direction. "Much more interesting anyway."

Something in the way he'd said that rang alarm bells in John's mind. "Don't believe everything you hear in the media," he warned. "They have a habit of getting the wrong end of the stick."

"Yes," Scott agreed. He held out his hand. "A pleasure to meet you at last, Howard. I just wish it had been because of better circumstances." He shook the teenager's hand.

Once back out in John's car both men took a moment to reflect. "How do you feel now?" John asked.

Scott closed his eyes and allowed his head to relax back on the headrest. "Like I've been drowning and someone's given me oxygen." He looked over at John. "Thanks for the CPR."

"I'm glad I could help, but if you'd only confided in me I could have supported you a lot earlier. Maybe made the last few months easier for you."

"I know, but you've been busy running Tracy Industries. You didn't need me adding to your burden."

"I'm not the only one in the family. You know that any one of us would be more than willing to be there for you, even if it had only been to act as a sounding board or to be at your side during the interviews. You didn't have to go through all that alone. You're not Superman, Scott. And no one expects you to be."

"No one except me…" Scott stared through the windscreen. "In the traditional scheme of things, it was the eldest son who was expected to take over the family business…"

John chuckled. "While the second son went into the clergy."

"Huh?"

"It's a tradition that used to be upheld by the English upper classes. What were you saying?"

"That, according to tradition, I should have been the one to take over Tracy Industries, and I haven't… I guess that in the back of my mind I've had to live with the idea that I failed somehow."

"You haven't failed. You couldn't, because no one expected you to take over Tracy Industries. We knew and Dad knew that you'd go loco within a week if you were stuck behind a desk…" John grinned. "Well, more loco than you are."

"Hey!" Scott took a playful swing at his brother.

John's response was to laugh, before he became serious again. "Are you going to talk to Virgil and Gordon? I think they both need reassurance that whatever happened between you and Gordon wasn't the catalyst for your behaviour the last couple of months. You've seen how they've been snapping at each other over the last week."

Scott paused a moment, debating how much to reveal. "John, I'm not saying that what happened with Gordon wasn't the catalyst, but it was a factor: one of many."

"How many? What things? Things like Virgil changing his appearance?"

Scott shrugged. "I hadn't thought about it, but I suppose that hasn't helped. How could I trust him when it was as if I didn't know him anymore?"

"But now you know that it's all a facade, right?"

"Yes... But for a long time he seemed to be a stranger."

"You've said that before."

"I've said a lot of things," Scott admitted, "some of which I regret, so right now I'm going to plead the fifth."

"Okay, I understand. But if you want to talk, you know where I am." John started the car's motor. "Where to now?" he asked as he checked that the street was free of traffic and edged out into the road.

Scott checked his watch's GPS. "Gordon and Virgil are already at your place." He let his arm drop into his lap. "That means we won't get the chance to see Father… I wish we had more time available today. I'd like to go and see Stewie."

"I'd like to see what Howard can see through his telescope. Does it look like a good one?"

"Not really. I think it's second-hand." Then Scott chuckled. "Of all the millions of astronomy books available to him, Howard has to pick one that you wrote."

John glanced across to his brother. "What did you mean when you said the author was on life support?"

"Look at you, John," Scott exclaimed. "Anyone can see that you're fitter, you're healthier, and you're happier. You'd let work take over your life and dictate who you are."

"I know," John admitted.

"Now you're taking back control," Scott continued. "But you've got to remember that you're not Superman either…"

"I could never have fitted into his tights."

Instead of laughing at the joke, Scott remained serious. "Once we've beaten Doomsday and you're back on Terra Firma you're going to have to make decisions about what you want to do with your life, and I hope those decisions don't include being glued to an executive desk."

John didn't want to think that far into the future. "Do you think we can beat Doomsday?"

Scott watched the scenery pass by, "All of a sudden I'm feeling hopeful; as if the wall that was stopping me from seeing our goal has been knocked down." He looked back over at John. "Thanks for wielding the sledgehammer."

"You're welcome."

"How far into his recovery is Howard?"

John pursed his lips. "He's got a long way to go. He still needs more procedures like plastic surgery. But after the last time I saw him I never guessed that when we went through that door today he'd be up and walking."

"And you didn't know that he had that interest in International Rescue?"

"No. I've wanted to help them as much as possible, but I knew I couldn't get too close. I couldn't risk any accusations of a conflict of interest... And if the unthinkable happened I needed to be able to step out of their lives so I could support you."

"Having served up my head on a plate," Scott said. "With all the trimmings I suppose?"

"Yep." John laughed. "Including the apple in your mouth."

Scott checked his watch again. "We've got a little bit of time available to us. Do you want to head to the shop?"

"It's Saturday, Scott," John reminded him. "Not everyone works 24/7 like us, especially when the world's going to end in two months… Besides, I've been away for too long. If I were to go poking my nose in now I'd only disrupt things."

"Don't you want to report on your meeting with the O'Neils?"

"I was there in a private capacity."

"But you gave them the report and what I assume was a reasonable amount of money."

"I asked to be allowed to give them, and you, the results of the inquiry as a personal favour," John explained. "And I wanted any monies given to be separate from any of Tracy Industries' companies so that no one could think that I had a conflict of interest."

"I saw the alterations to the house. You must have spent a small fortune!"

John shrugged and then flipped the indicator. "Like you said I've been earning a reasonable salary and glued to my desk. It's not like I've had anything else to spend my money on."

"Can I pay you some of it back?"

"No."

"No!?" Scott stared. "Why not?"

"Like I said, Scott, the accident wasn't your fault. You were as much a victim as the O'Neils. You don't owe anybody anything. If anything the company owes you compensation."

"Give my share to the O'Neils... and the farmer."

John chuckled. "Now how come I knew you were going to say that?" He guided the car onto the freeway and the two brothers travelled the rest of the way in silence.

When they got to John's they opened the door to the sound of piano playing. It stopped when Virgil saw them. "About time you two got back. Business all done?"

"Did you say something?" Gordon entered the room with one towel about his waist and another towelling his hair. "Oh! You're back! How'd it go?"

"Fine," John replied. "Did you see Dad?"

"No." Gordon made a face. "No one answered the door, so we rang his mobile and got his nurse. She said that Dad had gone to see a specialist."

"Specialist?!" Scott stared at him. "What kind of specialist makes an appointment on a Saturday?"

"And why did Dad go to him?" John added. "He's always expected any medical staff to visit him at home."

"We don't know," Virgil replied. "She was cagey. We got the impression that she hasn't forgiven us for deserting Father. All that she said was that he was fine and that it was nothing that we needed to worry about."

"So we came back here, broke into your place, and decided to entertain ourselves until you two showed your faces again." Gordon dropped his hair towel onto one of the easy chairs.

John picked it up and threw it back at him. "The laundry's through there. I see you've both made yourselves at home."

Gordon had caught the towel, but didn't move. "Well, we had nothing else to do, so we thought we'd make use of your stuff. We didn't want it to deteriorate due to lack of use."

"I appreciate you thinking of me like that," John drawled, not bothering to hide his sarcasm.

Gordon grinned. "Any time."

John looked around his apartment. "Actually, I wouldn't care if it did deteriorate. This place is a sterile mausoleum. I could quite happily walk out of here and never come back. The only things I'd want to keep are the presents from you guys. Like this chair Dad gave me." He sank into the comfortable recliner. "Ah, bliss..." He closed his eyes.

Scott let him relax. "So what have you been doing this last hour?" he asked the other two.

"Can't you guess?" Gordon sneered. "Virgil played a set of scales, complained that the piano was out of tune and he was out of practise, and then has been belting away at the keyboard for the last hour."

Virgil snorted. "You're a fine one to talk. You complained that you didn't have your swimming gear and that the water wasn't fresh, and yet you've only just emerged from the pool!"

"I needed the exercise…"

"You look like a prune…"

"Relax, Guys," Scott soothed. "We're having some time out so make the most of it. Be yourselves. Let your hair down if you want." Grinning, he grabbed Virgil's hat, whipped it off his brother's head sending long hair free, and tossed it Frisbee-like across the room to Gordon who caught it.

Both brothers shared mystified glances as Gordon returned the cap to Virgil, who piled his ponytail back onto his head and jammed his cap back on. "You're in a good mood."

"I'm in a good mood because I'm alive, we're going to beat Doomsday, and we've got one day off to enjoy ourselves. Now..." Scott rubbed his hands together. "Let's go get ready. Come on, John..."

John, totally relaxed in his easy chair, didn't stir.

"John?"

Virgil vacated the piano stool. "Is he asleep?"

"Wakey, wakey, John," Gordon teased.

Scott frowned down on his slumbering brother. "He said he'd been awake the last few nights working on that Tracy Aviation thing."

"Why don't we leave him there?" Gordon suggested. "I'm sure he'd rather sleep than watch a smelly old car race."

"I would, except the world knows that he's an astronaut," Scott reminded him. "If he's not there today the rumours we're trying to extinguish could continue." Regretfully he reached out. "John..." He gave his brother a gentle shake. "John... Wake up, Johnny."

"Wha...?" John blinked. "Where..." He looked about the room and stared bleary-eyed at his brothers. "Did I doze off?" He rubbed his eyes.

"Sorry we had to wake you," Scott apologised, "but we've got to get ready."

John got to his feet. "That chair's dangerous. I never sit in if I've got to work."

"Why don't you take it to Thunderbird Five?" Gordon asked. "If you're going to be stuck up there for four months, you've got to be comfortable."

John shook his head, clearly disappointed. "We're not coming back here after the race and I haven't got a vehicle capable of transporting it."

"I don't have to get ready," Virgil pointed out. "I'll hire something suitable that we can use. Something that'll keep your chair safe while we're at the track."

"Now, that's a plan!" Scott enthused. "What do you say, John?"

John brightened. "I say that's a good idea, Virgil."

"Good." Scott clapped his hands. "Now that that's settled, we've got to get ready. Get moving, fellas..."

To be continued...