Isolation On Tracy Island

by WillowDragonCat

A collection of stories written and published during the first and second UK Covid Lockdown. Featuring the Tracy Family (TAG) my OC Selene Tempest from my series Opposites Attract and characters from other Gerry Anderson Shows. Uploaded in chunks of ten days worth of stories over a few days.

8. Days 71-80

Day 71

Chapter Text

Day 71 of Isolation on Tracy Island.

"Hey, Grandma, you OK?" I asked as I walked into the kitchen, finding her slumped at the table, her chin propped up on her hand, miserably swiping through pages on her tablet.

"Yes," she sighed.

"That didn't sound convincing," I said gently, sitting down opposite her. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, it's nothing, not really. I'm just getting a little tired of all of this lockdown business."

"I think we all are," I sighed in agreement.

"I know I should be grateful that we have such a nice place to spend it, but I just want a chance to see more than these four walls, to go out somewhere with the family, maybe for dinner, you know? Somewhere nice where I don't have to cook and can relax a bit."

I didn't mention that it would be nice for all of us if she didn't feel the need to cook.

"I know, I just need to stop complaining and get on with it," she huffed, clearly annoyed with herself as she got up to fetch another cup of coffee.

"Don't be silly, you're allowed to have a little moan now and then, it makes you human. The boys have been complaining non stop since this started. We're all restless and moody."

"There are people a lot worse off than us," she sniffed. "We aren't struggling, we live on a paradise island that many would kill to even spend a day on. We should count our blessings."

"Yeah, we should," I agreed softly, but my mind was whirling. There had to be something we could do to make her feel better, she did so much for us all and I didnt like to see her this way. It wasn't like I could conjure up a restaurant right here… or could I? Not a full restaurant, but maybe a nice meal for her, a chance to dress up and have a good night? That I could do. I pulled out my phone and sent a group text to everyone but Grandma, invoking the summoning that no one was allowed to ignore. "Council of war!"

We all assembled in the lounge, leaving Grandma to bang around in the kitchen in a foul mood.

"Guys, I have a plan," I announced.

They all groaned.

"No! Be nice! Seriously, this is a good plan, it's important. Grandma is having a bad day, she's feeling a bit restless and down right now. She said that what she really wants is to be able to go out somewhere for a nice family meal."

"She's always loved going to nice places," Jeff agreed.

"That'll be a little hard right now unless she wants to sit in a street somewhere with a burger," Scott said, scratching his chin vigorously. Yes, the beard beginnings were still there and apparently still annoying them.

" I don't think that's quite what she had in mind," Virgil laughed.

"So, here's my plan," I continued before they could go off on one of their tangents. "I think we should make her favourite dishes and then all dress up nicely, I'm talking suited and booted, eat in the dining room and be all fancy. But keep it a secret for her."

They didn't look too convinced at first, but slowly they saw the merit of my brilliant idea.

"If we handle the cooking and the table, can you and Kayo distract Grandma for the afternoon?" Virgil asked.

"Sure, I'm sure we can think of something, but are you sure we can trust you all to cook?"

John rolled his eyes. "We are perfectly capable of cooking for ourselves, you know, we are grown men."

Now it was my turn to not believe what I was hearing.

"Seriously, you can trust us," Alan promised me.

"Really? Usually you all need wrangling just to get through the day. You honestly think you can do this without arguing?"

"It's for Grandma," Gordon shrugged. "We'll do it for her."

That was a statement I couldn't argue, they would do anything for her.

"OK. Kay, this is going to be tough on both of us, but we're gonna have to be brave."

"Why?" she asked, immediately suspicious.

"Because we're going to let her dress us up."

Leaving the boys with recipes and strict instructions to behave and follow the plan to the letter, we tracked down Grandma.

"Grandma, wanna join us? We're having a girly pampering day," I asked.

"Both of you?" she clearly didn't believe that Kayo had been involved with the planning of said day. Time for plan B.

"Kayo lost a bet to me, and I said that, in payment, she has to allow me to put makeup on her and make her wear a pretty dress." There, that sounded more believable, the glare Kayo was throwing in my direction certainly went a long way towards making it look more convincing.

"To make it fairer I said I'd dress up to, want to help?"

"I get to dress you two up?"

Kayo and I glanced at each other, in my case for moral support and strength, in hers to shoot me another death glare that promised retribution.

"Sure, as long as you dress up too, we'll make an afternoon of it and have fun." I nudged Kayo.

"Yeah, great fun," she agreed. "So, are you in?"

"Heck yeah I'm in. When do we start?"

I spotted Scott peeking around the door and making shooing gestures at me.

"How about now?"

"Now? But I'm not done cooking yet."

"Don't worry about that now, there's stuff in the freezer, I'm sure we can throw something in later," I soothed.

"Alright, that sounds like a solid plan, let's do it!"

"Kay, hold still!"

"You just poked me in the eye with a tiny spindly brush covered in black gunk and you're telling me to hold still? What, so you can blind me a second time?"

"It's mascara, you sarcastic moo, and it's your own fault you got poked. If you kept still and only blinked when I told you to it wouldn't have happened."

"You can't tell me how to blink."

I gave her a look that said I'd smack her the second her back was turned. She, as always, was unphased.

"I saw what you did to Scott, you're not making me look like a clown are you?"

"Lies!" I hissed. "I did no such thing! He looked beautiful, his eyes were blended to perfection and his cheekbones could have cut glass. It was Gordon that looked like he'd been drinking while playing with paint and that was down to Virgil, not me."

"You both look beautiful," Grandma smiled. "This is what I missed out on having only boys to look after, doing girls hair." She continued to manhandle Kayo's hair, brushing out her perpetual pony tail and attempting to twist it up at the back of her head into some kind of chignon that honestly was looking more like a deflated balloon had mated with a dead squirrel. "Why won't this thing stay put?"

"I'll fix it in a minute," I promised as I brushed a little bronzer over the apples of Kayo's cheeks, giving her already gorgeous tawny skin a little more depth. She had the nicest skin to work on, seeming to be unhindered by even the slightest of pores or blemishes, just perfect, the cow. Here's me, I look at sugar or fat and I put on six pounds and have a breakout.

We had started by letting her do her own makeup while following my instructions as I did mine but Kayo is not the most delicate of creatures and when I spotted her stabbing a brush into the eyeshadow pallet, swirling it around like she was casting a Wingardium Leviosa and proceeding to scrub the colour (a startling shade of neon green) over her eyelid I'd called time. I ordered her to wash it all off and had taken over.

She didn't actually need much makeup, a little sweep of a dusky rose and darker brown over her eyelids, mascara to make her already long eyelashes stand out, a subtle dusting of bronzer, some loose powder to set it all and some burgundy lipstick and she was done. I took a lot more work to look that good.

Grandma had taken my makeup kit and helped herself, going for the classic blue eyeshadow, bright pink cheeks and vibrant red lips that had last been popular in the 1980's. It didn't flatter her in the slightest but she was having a great time telling us all about how she had pictures of her mother with that look and she had thought that she looked so beautiful that she hadn't been able to resist trying it out. I couldn't talk, my habitual mashup of goth punk rocker with a side of geek wasn't exactly in keeping with the rest of the world either.

We dug through our wardrobes and selected possible outfits that we thought would do and held a mini fashion parade, allowing Grandma to make the final choices for what we would wear. Kayo's evening wear selections seemed to mostly be made up of jumpsuits and Grandma eventually settled on one in black that had a sari style drape going over one shoulder that was accented in gold. I immediately made Kayo sit back down so I could accent her eyes with a little gold glitter eyeshadow powder to match.

Grandma seemed to be incapable of purchasing anything that wasn't purple, not that I could talk, it was one of my favorite colours too. She had chosen a nice, if slightly boxy looking, dress that stopped below the knee, with a rounded neck and no sleeves. She borrowed a black lace wrap from me and called it good.

Her hair had been growing out too and was a little too long to stay in its trademark flicked up end curls, so she allowed me to whip out the curling wand and give her a few waves that bounced happily around her face.

I fixed Kayo's hair disaster at the same time, twisting it up from the nape of her neck, pinning it in place and then curling the ends which I'd left loose.

"You both look amazing, now wasn't this fun?"

Kayo mumbled something that didn't sound quite like a yes but wasn't entirely negative either.

"Just for fun, shall we keep this on for dinner and surprise the boys?" I asked innocently.

Grandma grinned. "Oh yes, that would be great. You girls have really cheered me up today. We might not be going out for a nice meal, but this has been a close second."

"When all this is over we'll have a night out in London, we'll drag the boys along, it'll be great," I promised as we made our way down to the kitchen.

"I thought you said the boys were handling dinner tonight?" she accused, looking at the table, currently bare of its usually after dinner debris of dirty plates and charred cooking dishes.

"Maybe they haven't started yet?" Kayo suggested.

"You have so little faith in us," Scott announced from the doorway where he, Jeff and John stood. They had actually scrubbed up well, each foregoing their usual casual wear for a nice shirt -Scott and Jeff's were both white while John had chosen a midnight blue one- ties and smart trousers (we live on an island, it's far too hot for jackets unless they wanted to sweat all night). they had even made an effort to try to neaten up their unruly hair. Their chins were still a disaster, the scruffy buggers, but at least they tried, it seemed that even a posh dinner wasn't a good enough reason to give up on an active competition.

"What are you boys up to?" Grandma asked suspiciously.

"We came to escort our guest of honour," Jeff answered, offering her his arm and leading the way to the dining room.

The other boys looked just as well turned out, even Brains with his tufty regrowth on his head had dressed for the occasion, although his suit was a complete eyesore, a powder blue monstrosity with a ruffled shirt that looked as up to date as Grandma's makeup, but bless him he tried.

Gordon was still wearing a hawaian print top, but it was a full shirt, with a real collar, and was tucked in to his trousers, which actually reached his ankles so I'd call that a win.

Alan was wearing a shirt that was just a little too large for him, obviously borrowed from one of the others but his trousers fit well. He had a properly knotted tie and looked so much older than he usually did, so smartly turned out, although he still managed to look adorable.

Virgil had on a mint green silk shirt and black suit trousers combo that should have made him look like a cheesy Vegas magician but he somehow managed to pull it off.

They had made the dining room look amazing, laying out the fancy china and real wine glasses, even lighting candles and piped through some soft classical music (I'm pretty sure I know who was responsible for that). The table held covered dishes that actually smelt edible and they had even hunted out some cloth napkins instead of the usual paper towel we used on a daily basis.

"You boys did all this?" Grandma gasped, seeing everything for the first time.

"We thought you could do with a night off from taking care of us," Jeff told her, helping her into her chair.

"This all looks so nice and you boys look so handsome, although you'd look better without the face fuzz."

"Small victories, Grandma, we got them to dress nice, we can't ask for miracles," I smiled.

She nodded, her eyes looking a little moist in the candle light but none of us dared to comment on it.

"We all thought you deserved some special treatment for looking after us all so well," Virgil told her as he poured her a glass of wine and we took our seats.

Dinner was actually quite nice, it appeared that the boys had managed to cook without killing each other and follow the recipes, maybe finally realising that following instructions isn't always a bad thing had stuck with them.

They had stuck to simple but delicious dishes, a simple soup to start, followed by a nice italian style carbonara, garlic bread and crisp green salad, and apple pie with ice cream for dessert. Yeah, it probably wasn't something we'd have in a posh restaurant, but it had been made with love and I knew that that would mean more to her than anything.

Grandma was treated like the queen she was all night, being served first, her glass kept topped up and not allowed to lift a finger.

We refused to let her help clean up, insisting that she retire outside with Jeff to enjoy the beautiful night. We joined them after we finished taking everything to the kitchen, loading the dishwashers and hand washing a few delicate items.

We finished the evening with some of Virgil's fancy coffee while they all reminisced and told stories of other family dinners.

She made sure to hug each and every one of us extra tight as she said goodnight, leaving us to finish the coffee and put ourselves to bed.

It had been a lot of work, but the smile on her face and the joy in her laughter had made it all worth it. That's what you have to do in times like these, make a special effort to look after those that look after you so selflessly, to show you care and that you appreciate them. These unusual times are hard on everyone, but we all know that if we stick together and do our best to think of others before we think of ourselves (something the International Rescue boys do everyday of their lives) then we can get through anything.

Chapter Management

Day 72

Chapter Text

Day 72 of Isolation on Tracy Island.

After yesterday's posh day we were all feeling the need to be sloppy and just slob around the house but unfortunately Jeff had other ideas.

"You kids are not going to spend another day laying around the house in your pyjamas, I refuse to allow it. I know that the chance of us getting a call out is remote, but we have to be professional, we can't let our standards slip...are you listening to me?"

Alan was snoring on my shoulder, Gordon was playing a game on his phone, Virgil was lounging on Scott and John hadn't even looked up from his book. None of us were dressed. The three older boys were wearing nothing but pyjama bottoms, only Alan was wearing a T-shirt with his.

"I'll take that as a no," Jeff muttered, giving up and walking away, no doubt to call one of his buddies and complain about us. Again.

I reached out a foot and nudged Gordon who was only wearing a pair of swim shorts. "Oi, Squidward, he wants us all to get dressed." I couldn't talk, I was one of the people still in PJ bottoms (stolen) and a vest top and I had planned on staying that way all day too.

None of them made a move to get up, in fact Virgil stretched out further, draping his legs over his brother's.

"Come on, guys, let's not annoy him too much today." I nudged Gordon again, I wasn't picking on him specifically, he was just the only one I could reach sandwiched between John and Alan as I was, I'd have to over stretch to reach the other two.

"Stop kicking me! Fine, I'll get dressed, but I'm not making any effort with it," Gordon huffed. "In fact, I'm going to find the oldest, scruffiest things I own and I'm going to wear them all day."

"That's actually a funny idea," Scott laughed, "he'd hate that, but you'd be doing exactly what he asked."

"Wanna do it too?" he asked.

"Maybe. Virg?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I suppose we could join in," Virgil agreed slowly.

"Excellent! John, you in?" Gordon asked.

"John?" Scott called when John, as usual, tuned Gordon out quite effectively.

"Yeah?" John didn't look up. I always admire his ability to just be completely in the zone and ignore everything else.

"Are you in?" Gordon asked him.

"In where? When was I out?"

"These numpties seem to think that the best response to your dad wanting us to get dressed is to wear the oldest, grungiest things they own. They want to know if you want to play too," I explained.

"Oh," he scratched his chin as he paused to think about it. "I guess so."

"What about Alan?" Virgil asked.

I nudged him gently. "Allie?" He didn't stir.

"Alan?" I jiggled my shoulder. Didn't work.

John reached over and flicked his forehead.

"Huh? Wah?" he jerked awake, a thin string of drool stretching from my shoulder to his mouth. He scrubbed at his cheek with one hand and rubbed his eyes with the other looking so disoriented I couldn't help but smile even though I did have a soggy shoulder. John passed us kleenex from under the coffee table.

"Eww, sorry," Alan groaned, horrified.

"It's fine, boo," I assured him as I wiped off my shoulder. I'd had worse and probably not for the last time. "Sorry to wake you after you had such a strenuous night killing zombies, but you need to get dressed."

"We're gonna wear the worst clothes we own," Gordon told him.

"OK," Alan agreed, not even bothering to ask why they were doing such a thing. That was one thing that always made me laugh about him, he just went along with anything without needing an explanation.

"I guess we're going to look awful today," I sighed, following them out the door.

I didn't have a lot to choose from since my staying at the Island had been a gradual thing and I still had my own place, so most of the clothes I had shoehorned into an already pretty full wardrobe consisted of things I'd worn while there for one reason or another, a few bits that I'd obviously packed at some point and left there and things I'd left behind because I'd stolen something of someone elses to wear to go home. There were a few things I'd picked up on shopping trips with Grandma but all my truly hideous old stuff was at home.

"I don't have anything to wear," I complained to John who had his head buried inside his wardrobe and was digging around at the back.

"You always say that and it's always a lie," he answered.

"I mean it this time, this isn't just that there's nothing that I want to wear, I truly don't have anything to wear, I only had the dress I wore last night because I wore it to Penny's party and didn't go home. I've only got stuff here that I actually like, nothing hideous or old."

"I beg to differ, that T-shirt you wear to bed is both old and hideous."

"How dare you attack my muppets shirt, he of the disgusting dressing gown! That shirt happens to be my favorite and it's vintage."

He didn't say anything in defense of his silk monstrosity, continuing to rummage for another minute before he backed out, dragging a box with him.

"What have you found?" I asked, genuinely interested. John wasn't one to keep a lot of things that were no longer useful to him, he had the same sentimental streak as the others but he was more practical with it and everyday items didn't seem to warrant the same loyalty as they did to me. I'm the type that won't throw out a broken pencil because I once wrote a shopping list with it. I'm a just in case type of person, it might be useful one day. If it's not useful straight away, John doesn't want it. Serve a purpose or get out.

"My college things," he flipped open the lid and I got down on the floor to nose through with him. There were sweatshirts, T-shirts, sweatpants, athletic shorts, tank tops and a few T-shirts with witty slogans on them including "I was taught to think before I act, so if I smack you, rest assured I've thought about it and I am confident in my decision", "I wasn't listening, so I'm going to smile and hope for the best" and "I'm not superman, but I am a communications engineer, so close enough."

"These are absolute gold!" I laughed, dragging them out. "Why don't you wear these?"

"They were all gifts," he shrugged. He selected one at random ( "I may be wrong...but it's highly unlikely") and a pair of Harvard sweatpants and pulled them on.

"I've still got nothing to wear," I groused. "Help me!"

He gave me a look that said he'd done all he could already and now I was on my own, there was just no helping some people.

"Why don't you just ask everyone to donate one item and see what you end up with?" he suggested.

"No, that's ridic-" I paused. "Actually not a bad idea," I finished and started drafting a text.

Jeff walked into the lounge an hour later and stopped dead in the doorway, his eyes tracking from one to the other and then back again, as if he couldn't quite take it all in to start with.

Scott was wearing an old Air Force hoodie and a pair of sweatpants so old that they were skin tight on him and only reached to just below his knees and the T-shirt he wore underneath was so faded it was almost see through.

Alan had emerged in a very short and tight Batman playsuit he apparently had when he was eight to go to a birthday party.

Gordon had donned an old shirt that said "I kiss dolphins on porpoise" with a very faded, too short and too tight shirt that looked like it might have once had waves and a surfboard on it but now I couldn't be sure, and he'd finished it off with a pair of olympic speedos. It was a look, I'd give him that.

Virgil just looked a mess, a grungy, disgusting mess, not helped by the fact that his standard look this week had been homeless lumberjack. His jeans, which I 'think' were once blue, had so many grease stains and paint splatters on them it was hard to tell, they were so stiffly encrusted with grot, especially on the thighs were he had a habit of wiping his hands, they looked like they could stand up on their own. His T-shirt was in a similar state as Scott's, it had been white but had worn so thin you could see through it and it too was covered in paint splotches and had grease stain hand prints on it. What did that boy do to his damned clothes?

I looked the worst of the bunch. They had come through for me in spectacular fashion. I was wearing a T-shirt of Alan's that had some computer game logo on it and was ripped half way up one seam, a pair of Hawaiian board shorts from Gordon, an old flannel shirt of Virgil's (yep, it was dirty too and had little holes in it where he'd been grinding something and sparks had flown everywhere) and for some reason Scott had presented me with a very strangely patterned bandanna he's picked up in Egypt, which was tied around my head.

"Hey, Dad, we got dressed!" Gordon called out cherrily, waving from his spot on the couch.

"Don't bother to tell me what is going on, I don't even want to know," he sighed, shaking his head in disbelief. Without another word he turned around and walked straight back out again.

Poor Jeff, when he told us to be professionals he should have realised that he was asking the impossible.

Chapter Management

Day 73

Chapter Text

Day 73 of Isolation on Tracy Island

"Scott?"

"Yeah?" he looked over from the movie he was half watching, caught somewhere between wakefulness and sleep.

"Can we go out?"

"Huh?" he frowned, clearly not following me at all. Can't say I blame him, I hadn't said a word for twenty minutes, a minor miracle for me, and then announced that.

"Don't fall for it," John advised.

"Can we go out?" I repeated.

"Where? It's not like there's anywhere to go," Scott asked.

I waved my phone at him. "England has just eased the lockdown and has said you can have up to six people in a garden at one time and I want to visit my mum."

"Sure, I mean, I guess so. When do you want to go?" He's such a good boy, this one.

"Now."

"Now? You do realise it's almost midnight, don't you?"

"Yeah, but we're on the other side of the world, it's daytime there. If we go in the morning it'll be too late. Come on, please? I've not seen them in over two months."

"Why me?" he groaned. "It's this supposed to be John's job?"

"You have the craft that can get anywhere in the world in under twenty minutes. And he's refused to ever go to her's for a barbecue again."

"Too right I have," he muttered. I nudged him with my elbow and he nudged me back. We got into a little nudge fight until Scott cleared his throat.

"I'm probably going to regret asking this since I already said yes, but why won't John go again?"

"Mum has a habit of inviting everyone she knows and then she forces us to socialise. Last time she towed him around and introduced him to everyone and forced him to eat three burgers because he is too skinny."

"It was horrendous," he shuddered. "I felt like I was on parade, I half expected someone to check my teeth and smack my rump."

"She can't do it this time because of the six people limit, but apparently this brave, heroic rescuer isn't prepared to risk it."

"Because I'm not stupid," he snorted. "I'll stay here and just be happy when you get back, OK?"

"That is somewhat acceptable," I allowed. "But you had better be bloody ecstatic when I return."

"Can I take back my agreement to go?" Scott asked.

"No, but you can bring a few more brothers if you want to, choose wisely."

"Virgil, everyone loves him," Scott decided. "The other two can't be trusted anywhere. Hey, Virg?"

"Yeah?" he called back from the kitchen where he was making his ninth cup of coffee (and then wonders why he's still awake at 3am).

"You wanna go to a barbecue?"

"Food? Sure! When?"

"Now!"

"Sure!"

"I notice you didn't tell him where," John grinned, receiving a soft smack on the knee for the comment.

"It won't be that bad," I insisted, but honestly I'm not sure who I was trying to convince. "She'll ask where you are, you know that, right?"

"Tell her that I fell into a black hole and you're expecting it to spit me out sometime before Christmas."

"Yeah, like she's going to believe that one again."

There was a crowd of children outside as Scott lowered One down onto the grassy green outside Mum's house, managing to avoid the trees. Skilled, that one. I can't even park straight most days.

"There you are!" Mum called from the door, refusing to step one foot outside while the rest of the world of out was around. "Go round the back, you can't come inside the house, your brother's already out there! Have you got a toilet in that fancy machine? Because you can't come inside the house! Did you bring your own plates? Because you-"

"Can't come inside the house," we choroused.

"We know, Mum, don't worry."

"Alright," she answered. "Oh, did you bring your own drinks? Because you can't come inside the house. No cuppa for you today, sorry, because you can't come in and you know I won't have my good mugs out in the garden."

"It's fine, Mum, we can only stay for an hour anyway, it's getting late."

"It's only just gone one!"

"Yeah, but it's one in the morning for us, you know that."

"Oh, I'll never get used to that nonsense," she muttered dismissively as she shut the door on us.

"Should I be scared?" Virgil asked.

"No, don't be silly, she loves you," I assured him, silently crossing my fingers in the hope that I wasn't lying to him.

We'll just stay an hour turned into three and it was growing light by the time we touched back down Tracy Island side. John was dozing on the couch when we got back. I waved one of the leftover burgers under his nose that Scott had ended up cooking because Mum had decided that drinking copious amounts of gin was a better use of her time than actually cooking the food she'd invited us to eat. My brother, being a vegetarian, refused to touch anything meat related and wouldn't cook either.

John grabbed at the burger without even opening his eyes, catching my wrist and directing it towards his mouth while I held it for him, only sitting up to take it once he'd taken a bite.

"Lazy," I accused, but he knew I didn't mean it.

"How bad was it?" he asked Scott and Virgil, who flopped wearily down on the couch opposite.

"I had a great time," Virgil grinned.

"Only because of the dog," Scott grumbled.

"Mum's dog fell in love with him," I explained. "Fat, soppy staffie that insisted on climbing on his lap and refused to move."

"He was cute," Virgil cooed. "And he loved me."

"That dog loves everyone," John told him. "You aren't special."

"Apparently Scott is," I grinned. "Mum thinks he's the most handsome thing ever to have walked this earth, she is obsessed with him. She kept checking him out, I'm sure of it."

"I feel slightly violated," Scott confessed. "She wouldn't leave me alone, she kept asking me questions."

"She did that to me too," John told him. "Did she call all her neighbours to come to meet you?"

"Yes, one even got a ladder out to wave over the fence"

"Did she tell you all that she loves you because she was tipsy?"

"Many times, we got a lot of attention."

"Did you end up cooking because she forgot to and burnt the first batch?" John continued his interrogation.

"No, I ended up cooking because the first batch were only cooked on one side," Scott answered.

"I played with the puppy," Virgil smiled.

"He's hardly a puppy, he's eleven," I laughed.

"They are puppies forever," he insisted.

"So you regret taking her?"John asked Scott.

"No, of course not. She's been here for more than two months with our family, she needed to see her's," he answered. "But I do regret forgetting to set the alarm on One and now we have to scrub off a rude depiction of a piece of male anatomy that's been spray painted on one of her tail fins." Scott yawned and got up. "I'm going to get a few hours sleep before we give my baby a bath."

"Scott!" Virgil yelled, jumping up and following after him. "Can we get a puppy?"

"And you wondered why I didn't want to go," John finished his burger and grabbed my hand, hauling me to my feet. "Bed for you, it's late and you know full well you'll be helping him clean tomorrow."

Chapter Management

Day 74

Chapter Text

Day 74 of Isolation on Tracy Island

"What on earth are you two doing?" Gordon asked, popping up out of nowhere like a tropical jack-in-the-box, his shirt flapping in the breeze, making us both jump.

We were doing nothing more exciting than stretching out on the couch, where I had forced John to settle by laying on him and then demanded he read to me. And since that was actually a pretty normal occurrence, I was at a loss as to what he was referring to. Knowing him he'd just declared today to be "eat with your toes day" or something equally ridiculous and was annoyed we weren't playing along.

John stopped reading to glare at him. I lifted my head off his shoulder to join in with the glaring.

"We were trying to have a quiet moment without constant interruptions," I told him. Why did he have to have so many brothers?

"I told you we should have gone up to Five for a few days," John sighed, picking up the book again and continuing to read from where he had left off. I snuggled closer to listen.

"This supernatural soliciting
Cannot be ill, cannot be good. If ill,
Why hath it given me earnest of success,
Commencing in a truth? I am Thane of Cawdor.
If good, why do I yield to that suggestion
Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair
And make my seated heart knock at my ribs,
Against the use of nature? Present fears
Are less than-"

"That! That's what I meant. What are you doing?" Gordon interrupted again.

"Trying to read Macbeth, obviously," I grumbled.

"Why? It's rubbish. No one reads that sort of thing any more."

"Sure they do. Did you not read Shakespear in highschool?" I asked.

"Only when I had to, not for fun," he sneered that last word like in the same tone people use when they have just trodden in something disgusting or realised there is no milk left in the house.

"You don't know what you're missing," I told him.

"You two are so weird, there are billions of books out there and you are reading one so old that hardly anyone can even understand it any more."

"We understand it, or we wouldn't be reading it," John sighed. "It's not our fault that it's too intellectual for you."

"I could understand it just fine if I wanted to!" Gordon protested. We snorted in disbelief. "Hey! I can be an intellectual too, I can be smart. Move over!"

He shoved out legs out of the way, forcing us to sit up and dropped down next to me on the couch.

"Do you have to be here?" John asked.

"Yes. I'm going to prove that I'm smart, keep reading."

John sighed but continued where he had left off, obviously knowing that there is very little point arguing with him.

"Are less than horrible imaginings.
My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical.
Shakes so my single state of man.
That function is smothered in-"

"Nope! I can't do it! It's just so boring!" Gordon wailed.

"Heathen!" I smacked him with a cushion.

"Out of my sight! Thou doth infect my eyes!" John flicked his forehead.

"What was that?" Gordon asked, beginning to laugh. "Did you just insult me in your weird Shakespear language?"

"Yes, because we invented old English," I sighed.

"Thou art a dull and muddy-mettled rascal."

"Did you just call me stupid in old english?"

"Yep," I grinned. "He did. It isn't boring, Shakespear is a total G."

"Yeah, right, still sounds boring to me."

"Macbeth is a masterpiece, it's about a Scottish dude and his mate who meet these three witches and they, out of the goodness of their hearts, give him a prophecy telling him that he'll become king of Scotland but that his mate will father a whole line of Scottish kings but won't be king himself. Feeling like this is totally his destiny he isn't prepared to wait it out and see what happens, he wants to be king now, so, with the urging of his wife, he kills the king and his mate. He is crowned but he becomes overwhelmed with guilt and paranoia. He goes back to the witches and they tell him that he must beware of some other dude named Macduff but that Macbeth is incapable of being harmed by any man born of a woman. So Maccy B, he gets a bit cocky and thinks it's all good for a while, even though Macbeth's wife is going a little cray cray and taking the whole handwashing thing a wee bit too seriously. But then Macduff gets in on the action and brings an army with him, they storm the castle and Macduff tells old Bethy that he was born by cesarean-"

"Untimely ripped from his mother's womb," John added.

"And Duffy beheads Macbeth and this other dude named Malcom that I forgot to mention, becomes king. See? It's great!"

"Love, you just butchered Shakespear so badly that even I didn't understand half of what you just said."

"It's my gift to the world," I shrugged. "My ability to sum up a plot so badly that even I'm not sure if it makes sense. But I thought I did OK with that one."

"Yeahhh, not so much," Gordon teased. "I tuned you out three words in."

"John, insult your brother for me, I am no longer talking to him."

"Thou yeasty folly-fallen bladder."

"How dare you, sir! I have no idea what that means but it sounds bad."

"That's kind of the point."

"What's the point?" Scott chose that moment to walk in, catching the tail end of the conversation.

"John is insulting me!"

"What did you do?"

"Insulted him."

"I was asking Gordon."

I cracked up laughing, Scott always has our backs.

"He said that Shakespeare was boring and then was mean to me after I took the time to explain the plot to him. Now I'm not talking to him."

"Did you explain it the same way you explained The Witches of Eastwick to Virgil? Because I'd seen it and I didn't understand that either."

"My talents are wasted on you all," I nudged John and quirked an eyebrow in Scott's direction. He rolled his eyes but dutifully dragged out a premium insult.

"Sense sure you haven else could not have motion; but sure that sense is apoplex'd. "

"Oh my god, you can still do that?" Scott laughed in amazement.

"Do what, insult people?" Gordon asked, clearly confused.

"John was in a Shakespearean insult team in highschool, they actually took part in competitions, he was obviously the champion, won them the league and a bust of Shakespeare's head as a trophy."

"Obviously," I agreed, patting his hand proudly. "Dude got mad skills."

Gordon's eyes flicked up to the bookshelf on the balcony above our heads where a small gold bust sat.

"You are so weird."

"So you frequently tell me. Now, will you two kindly go away and leave us in peace?"

"Oh no, no way," Scott laughed. "I want to hear more, in fact, I'm calling the others."

And that's the story of how John spent more than three hours blowing their minds and damaging their egos with a never ending volley of insults as they goaded him into more and more outlandish attacks. Here are some of the best.

Thou hath not so much brain as ear wax - to Gordon because he's not intelligent enough to appreciate old english.

Thou qualling ill-nurtured lout - to Alan who kept chanting "me next, me next".

Most shallow man! Thou worms-meat in respect of a good piece of flesh indeed- to Virgil because he was in the middle of trying to tame his hair when he was summoned.

Go, prick thy face, and over-red thy fear, Thou lily-liver'd boy - to Scott because he was brave enough to attempt to insult him back.

Thou fawning spur-galled harpy!- at me when I stole his coffee

You should be women, and yet your beards forbid me to interpret that you are so- to all of them.

Your face is a book, where men may read strange matters- to me, because I'm a strange, strange lady and asked for another insult.

Thou fusty onion-eyed nut-hook! - at Virgil, no reason at all.

Draw thy tool. My naked weapon is out- after flipping a certain finger at Scott.

Thou wimpled bat-fowling puttock- at Gordon because it was his fault that John was stuck insulting people when he had just wanted a quiet afternoon.

Thou currish bade-court hedge-pig- at Alan while examining his chin growth.

What, you egg! Young fry of treachery! - at Alan when he sided with Gordon.

Assume a virtue if you have it not- at Gordon when he protested his innocence.

Thou artless tickle-brained haggard! - at Virgil when he compared John's nose to Shakespeare's massive hooter.

Thou villainous weather-brained barnacle!- at Gordon, just because, and now everyone is calling him a weather-brained barnacle.

Get thee to a nunnery- to me when I said his Shakespearean accent was strangely hot.

Thou puny rampallian baggage- at Gordon, for no reason other than he's short.

Thou art some fool, I am loath to beat thee- at Scott when he attempted to start a Shakespearean rap battle (don't ask, it didn't last long)

Thine face is not worth sunburning- to Virgil who thinks he's too cool for sunscreen and has a red nose because he fell asleep in the sun again.

You yourself, sir, shall grow old as I am if like a crab you could go backwards- at Jeff who wanted to know just what the heck was happening in his lounge and why we were all screaming with hysterical laughter.

I scorn you, scurvy companion. What, you poor, base, rascally, cheating, lack-linen mate! Away, you moldy rogue away!- at Alan when he tried to steal one of John's cookies while he was distracted.

Away, you bottle-ale rascal, you filthy bung, away!- At Gordon when he also attempted cookie theft.

The insult lashes came to a halt when Grandma called us for dinner.

"Hey, John?" Gordon whispered as we bundled down the stairs to the kitchen

"Yeah?"

"I dare you to insult Grandma's cooking."

"No, my love, it's not worth it, think of the children!" I gasped.

"What children?" he asked, genuinely perplexed.

I shrugged. "Our non-existent children, I just thought I'd go full movie heroine for dramatic effect. You do what you want, you're all crazy."
He narrowed his eyes as he thought about it, then nodded. I should have known, no Tracy can resist a dare.

Grandma plonked down plates of something that might have been chicken, but also might have been sausages in a gravy for gruel straight out of a Dickensean nightmare.

I watched John out of the corner of my eye. Would he actually do it? He took a deep breath, as if psyching himself up for it. I couldn't blame him. He pushed the plate away and opened his mouth.

"Away, you starvelling, you elf-skin, you dried neat's-tongue, bull's-pizzle, you stock-fish! Tis an ill cook that cannot lick his own fingers."

I think John's grounded now, but the boys still haven't stopped laughing...

Chapter Management

Day 75

Chapter Text

Day 75 of Isolation on Tracy Island.

"Come on, chop chop, time to wash my baby!" Scott yodled down the stairs to us. The cleaning of Thunderbird One had been pushed back by the impromptu brother bashing that took place in the form of Shakespeare. Since it was kinda my fault that his precious one had acquired it's new decoration and I had promised to help but, that didn't mean that I had to go quietly or that I couldn't rope in extra hands to help.

"Come on, you promised!" I pouted, dragging John and Alan by their hands.

"No fair, we have to do our chores and yours?" Alan whined.

"No, you help us so that we can be done quicker and then get to that movie you are forcing me to watch with you," I retorted.

"Fine," he huffed. "But I can still complain while doing it, right?"

"Sure, kiddo, knock yourself out."

Scott was waiting for us with buckets of water, a special cleaner that Virgil had mixed up for them that was gentle on the paint jobs but tough on the stains that always seemed to stick to their crafts like glue.

We were given our orders the moment we appeared and John and I got to work on the top part of the graffiti anatomy while Scott and Alan tackled the…bottom bulges.

"This is so boring!" Alan moaned, rubbing at the paint.

"Where's Virg and Gordo?" Scott asked, growing a little red in the face as he scrubbed like crazy at the paint that had marred his crafts perfection.

"Have no fear, the squid is here!" Gordon glided past us. And when I say glided, I mean he zoomed past quite gracefully on his roller skates.

"Gordon..." Scott sighed, he didn't need to say anything else, the tone said it all.

"Hey, I said I'd help, I didn't say I wouldn't do it with style!"

He tapped a few buttons on his comm and music began to pound through the hangar. It was awful music, but it had a beat that you just couldn't help but vibe to.

Music always makes things better, no matter how bad it is and I was soon having myself a nice little boogie time as I worked on a particularly stubborn line of paint.

We worked our way through three increasingly terrible songs, scrubba-dub-dubbing at One and by working together we had cleaned off all the graffiti that had so offended Scott.

"Phew, nearly done," I huffed, wiping my sweating forehead with the back of my hand. "How is it so hot down here?"

"It was an active volcano…" John started but Gordon jumped in.

"I'll help!"

"No, Gordon it's fine I- gahhhhhh!" I spluttered as a jet of water hit me full in the face.

"Gordon," John sighed. "If I was you, I'd run."

"I'll kill him!" I screamed, grabbing a bucket of dirty water and hurling it at his rapidly retreating back. I missed, obviously, as I am both a terrible shot and not as strong as the boys, which meant that my projectile missed it's mark by a good few feet and hit Virgil who had at that very moment, chosen to walk around the nose cone and appear as if by magic.

"Hey, what the heck?" he yelped as the bucket crashed to earth at his feet, soaking his shoes and his jeans up to the knee.

"I'm sorry, I was aiming for Gordon!"

"Understandable," he agreed, shaking his foot like a dog with sticky tape on his toe. "I have a water cannon on Two."

"I don't think this warrants anything that drastic," I told him, "but thank you for the offer."

"We have a lot of sponges here," Alan pointed out, lifting one up and dropping it on the floor with a wet splat.

"Do I take it that you're all done cleaning then?" Scott asked, but I suspect he already knew the answer. One was half clean, the graffiti was gone and now we were just cleaning the rest of it, it could wait.

"Yep!" Alan grabbed his bucked and emptied it out, filling it with fresh water and dumped in a few sponges before taking off for the door. We all did the same and followed close behind him.

We caught up with Gordon out on Two's runway where he was happily skating. We took aim and let the missiles fly, pelting him with wet sponges taking him by surprise.

He retaliated by trying to catch the sponges that flew his way and tossing them back. One hit me square in the chest and I flailed, stumbling backwards. Virgil swooped in and caught me like a true superhero and set me back on my feet.

Alan, little legend that he is, somehow located a big water pistol from parts unknown and loaded up, squirting a long stream at Gordon.

Gordon, soaking wet, zig-zagged madly here and there on his skates, trying to avoid the onslaught.

John emerged from the hangar with the same hose that Gordon had attacked me with and turned it on Gordon, who shrieked in horror as the water smacked him straight in the crotch.

"Why does everyone aim there on me?!" he bellowed, sending Alan into hysterics.

I grabbed another sponge and aimed at Gordon but, once again, I missed. It was a combination of my aim letting me down and the wind intervening to send the sponge hurtling at John to smack him square in the chest.

"You got me!" he accused, having previously remained dry and unscathed.

"I'm sorry!" He looked so put out that I had to hold in a giggle. I failed.

"Are you laughing at me?"

"No?"

He raised an eyebrow.

"OK, I am, but just a tiny bit. Forgive me?"

He opened his arms and I shuffled over for a hug. He wrapped his arms around me and hugged me tight…too tight.

"Get her!" he yelled, spinning me around and lifting me off my feet.

I screamed and kicked as I was pelted from all sides.

"Oh, it's on!" I yelled, managing to catch a sponge that was aimed at my chest and slapping it into John's face. He spluttered and dropped me.

I was up in seconds and grabbed a bucket, throwing the entire contents at Scott who had just turned the hose on me.

"You beast!"

"You got me!"

"Take that!"

"Noooo, not down my shirt!"

"That was so cold!"

"I'll get you for that!"

"Duck!"

Chaos, screams, yelled insults and threats filled the air. Water, sponges and buckets were flying in all directions, someone had even managed to find a towel and John had soaked it and was using it to whip anyone that came to close.

"Back! Away, thou loathsome toad!" he whirled the towel like a lion tamer, whipping at the air in warning.

Virgil had hold of Alan's water pistol and was aiming at people, getting many of us directly between the eyes or in our mouths.

Gordon had kicked off his skates, needing more stability and was capering around like a drunk monkey, dodging streams of water and retaliating with his own.

I ducked behind Virgil, using him as a shield when I spotted Scott sneaking to the side and diving into the hangar.

"Where did he go?" Alan demanded to know.

"I don't know!" Gordon yelled back.

Something moved to the side of me, catching my eye, then it happened again. Poles rose out of the ground, evenly spaced along the runway.

"Scott, no!" John yelled but he was too late.

"Scott yes!" Scott yelled back.

The fire hoses burst into life, raining water down all around us, soaking us to the skin.

"Ha! I win! Scott whooped in triumph as we all screamed.

We were a soaked to the skin, dripping wet mess by the time we finally called it a day and headed inside to get dry. The boys hair was sticking up all over the place where they had rubbed it dry with towels and their beards were still damp and they would never win any beauty contests. Honestly, if their fans could see them now they would abandon them in disgust, but you know what, it's good that they have had this time to let their hair down (literally) and to take some much needed time off. We don't know how long lockdown is going to last, but for now we are all treating it like an enforced vacation and making the most of it. Even if they do all look like castaways on their own island.

Chapter Management

Day 76

Chapter Text

Day 76 of Isolation on Tracy Island

"Scott?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you know anything about this?" I held up my headphones, which had been previously missing for maybe the last eight months and that I had just found in the cutlery drawer.

"Yeah, they're headphones."

"Thank you Captain Obvious, I meant why are they in with the knives and forks?"

He shrugged. "Why are you asking me?"

"Because you were hiding socks around the place for over three weeks."

"Only because it took you so long to give them back to me. I started after we watched Half Blood Prince, I thought it would make you laugh but you just kept ignoring them."

"Oh, I'm so sorry I didn't realise you needed to be freed!"

"Of course I did! I was your house elf!"

"House elves do chores! They don't sit around being fed and demanding attention!"

"I'm a progressive house elf that is fighting for elf rights!"

"No you aren't, you're a lazy bum!"

"Lazy? Me?"

"Yes, you!"

"I will never understand the conversations you two have," John muttered as he pushed past us to fill his mug with the coffee I had just brewed.

"It's affectionate arguing," Scott laughed, sliding his mug over to John for a top up.

"So no one knows why my headphones have just suddenly turned up from wherever they vanished to and magicked themselves into the kitchen?"

"Nope," Scott gave up waiting for John to pour him a drink and stole mine. I narrowed my eyes in his general direction. John slid a fresh cup over to me. Such a great guy.

"You know," John mused. "I found one of my world geography books in the bathroom cupboard."

"I found my utility knife in the piano stool," Virgil added, wandering over to snag some toast that had just popped up.

"I just made that," I told him.

"Thank you," he continued to butter it. I stared at his plaid clad back for a few seconds but when he failed to burst into flames I gave up and dropped some more bread into the toaster.

"Now that I think about it," Scott mused, "I found my guitar pick in the fruit bowl, the one that I got from that little shop in Texas. I thought I lost it for good years ago but it just appeared out of nowhere."

"Something strange is going on," Virgil declared. "If stuff we lost is returning there has to be a reason for it."

"Parallel universe," I answered confidently.

"I don't think that's a thing," Scott said gently.

"Apports then?" I offered.

"No, I don't think...what's an apport?" Virgil asked.

"An object conjured out of nothing by a ghost, obviously."

"I don't think this is the work of a ghost, love," John said, squeezing my shoulder as he passed by to take a seat. "There's only one person that borrows things without asking and that's Gordon."

"That was going to be my next guess," I admitted.

"Yet you went straight for ghosts and different universes?" Scott asked, clearly bemused.

"Well, maybe, just for once, I wanted something interesting to happen around here that I could actually deal with," I huffed. "Sue me."

"Only you could think ghosts and different realms were something that's easy to deal with when you were the one that screamed and climbed me like a monkey because a crab ran over your foot on the beach last night," John laughed.

"Crabs have pincers, any sane person would get away from one of them," I pouted, reaching for some toast off Virgil's plate. Honestly I don't know why we don't just have communal plates in this house, no one seems to eat their own food.

"So what are we going to do about Gordon being a kleptomaniac?" I asked.

"We'll deal with him after breakfast," Scott decided, leaning over and biting the corner off my toast. See? No boundaries whatsoever.

The klepto in question was sneaking suspiciously around the lounge when we tracked him down and we caught him in the act of leaving a magnifying glass behind a book on the bookcase.

"Busted," Scott yelled, making Gordon jump about a foot in the air.

"So it was you that's been leaving our belongings scattered around the house," Virgil sighed.

"Why are you doing this?" John asked, although his tone said he was debating the wiseness of even posing the question and was unsure he actually wanted an answer.

"Can't a guy do something nice for his family?"

"He can when he's not the one thats been stealing things in the first place," I shot back, arms folded, foot tapping.

"I'm offended!" Gordon gasped dramatically. "A Tracy doesn't steal unless its Virgil and a bell takes his fancy-"

"That was one time and it was an accident!"

"I may borrow things," Gordon continued.

"For three years?" Scott snorted.

"I borrow on extended loan-"

"Without permission," John added.

"But you always get them back eventually," Gordon finished triumphantly. "I got bored and cleaned my room and it was like unearthing buried treasure. I may have forgotten that I borrowed a few things but you've got them back now, so no harm no foul."

"Is that all you needed to return?" Virgil sighed.

"There might be a few other things scattered around," Gordon admitted.

"Go and get them," Scott ordered.

Gordon staggered in half an hour later weighed down by a massive box overflowing with his plundered loot.

"Seriously?" Scott gaped as the box thumped down on the table.

"All of that?" Virgil couldn't believe his eyes.

"Not surprised," John muttered.

"How did you manage to borrow all that?" Alan asked in awe, having been summoned from his pit to claim any lost items that may have fallen into Gordons possession. "I'm not even allowed to borrow a pen."

"It's because he doesn't bother asking," John told him.

"That's where I've been going wrong!"

Gordon shooty finger winked at him.

"No!" I yelped, intervening for the first time and grabbing Alan, pulling him into my arms. "Do not corrupt this precious bean."

"Too...late," Alan wheezed, trying to escape my python like grasp.

"Oh, sorry," I let go and Alan took a dramatically deep breath.

"What's in the box, Squid?" Scott asked.

Gordon tipped the box up and out tumbled a mass of things that shocked even me.

"That's my baseball cap," Scott snagged it.

"My gloves," Virgil claimed them.

"That's my camera," John snatched it up. "I thought I left that behind on the beach and the sea took it."

"Well, technically the sea's representative did," I giggled, then noticed something in the middle of the pile. "Why do you have my headscarf? You know that I use that when you guys force me to get in a boat, it makes me feel fancy."

"Are those my sunglasses?"

"Yes, I broke mine and was going fishing."

"Is that my lipstick?"

"Yeah, I used it to draw blood on my neck so I could be a zombie at halloween."

"There's my ocarina."

"It was so weird I had to try it."

"Is that my belt?"

"Yeah, remember that date I went on with Penny? It went really well with those navy pants."

"I thought I lost that harmonica."

"I was going through a depressed week and wanted to play the blues."

"Is that my cologne?"

"Same date."

"Why do you have my toothbrush?"

"I used it to clean the sand out of one of Four's filters."

"My playing cards!"

"Yeah, I wanted to learn card tricks."

"My travel chess set!"

"Four of the pawns are missing now, sorry."

"Seriously, my drill?"

"I wanted to put up a picture."

"Why did you need my tie?"

"That's classified."

"That's my favorite pen."

"Yeah, I've got no excuse for that, I used it, put it in my pocket and forgot about it."

"Gordon, why do you have my flip flops?"

"Mine broke and your's were nearest."

An endless stream of lost objects had suddenly returned home and it was a tad overwhelming but along with his more recent acquisitions were items that hadn't been seen in forever.

"I remember this game!" Alan exclaimed, grabbing the box. "John and I used to play it all the time when I was little. You had to be astronauts and fly through the meteor showers and land on different planets and fight aliens. It was great. We had the best scores, no one could beat us."

"Actually, I had the best scores," John corrected him.

"No way, it was a team effort, we played that together every night after I got home from school."

Virgil chuckled.

"What?" Alan looked confused. "Why are you laughing?"

"I may have taken the batteries out of your controller and just let you think you were playing." John admitted.

"What! That was one of my greatest achievements in life!"

"Alan, you went into space when you were thirteen," John pointed out.

"Oh yeah!"

Virgil spotted a book and picked it up. "I haven't seen this since we were little."

"Oh, I remember that one," Scott smiled. "Mom had it when she was small and she used to read it to us every thanksgiving."

John was busy sifting through the pile. "Hey, my first star globe, why do you have this?"

"Remember when I used to get upset when Dad went away? Well you used to point out all the different stars to me on it and where the moon was near them."

"Oh yeah," John smiled, "I remember that, I let you borrow it to keep beside your bed so you could see where Dad was every night."

"That's my old teddy bear," Scott smiled, picking it up and sitting it on his lap. "I left him with you when I went to college."

"I know, I told you that I was too old to have a plushie in my room but you insisted. I passed him on to Alan and when we moved I guess he got packed up with my things."

"That's the children's guitar that Mom taught us to play," Virgil picked it up and strummed a few cords but the tuning was terrible.

"I've never seen that before," Alan said quietly. "In fact, I don't remember much of any of this stuff." He gestured to the pile of things that still remained scattered on the table top. "I don't know that pencil sharpener, that snow globe or those shell bracelets, I don't know any of it."

"Neither do I," I reminded him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

"I don't have any memories of them so they don't mean anything to me."

"But that's what's so great about things and why I keep telling your brother that not everything has to have a use all the time. Things are there to remind us of the good times, just the sight of them can conjure up images, but they are also there to encourage us to share those memories. I used to love looking through my Nan and Grandad's cupboards because I discovered so many things that were interesting," I told him. "I'd ask them about them and they would tell me where they got them or who they belonged to before they got them and it was so nice to see the joy that the memories brought them. Pick something and ask about them, let's share memories."

Slowly Alan reached out to touch the small pile of shell bracelets.

"Where did these come from?"

"We were on a trip to the beach," Scott started.

"Gordon was running all over picking up little shells and bringing them back to Mom," Virgil continued.

"She ended up with a huge pile of them," John laughed. "But Gordon didn't want her to put them back."

"She ended up asking Dad to drill a tiny hole through each of them and she made them into bracelets for us as a reminder of the vacation," Scott picked up the story.

"We wore them for a few days but Gordon kept stealing them because he loved the shells," Virgil added.

"I remember that," Gordon smiled. "There's a picture in the album of me wearing them all, I don't look any older than five."

Alan picked them up, rubbing one of the shells between thumb and finger. "Why are there five of them?"

"Because Mom was pregnant with you at the time and said that you were there too so you should have a bracelet," Scott smiled, reaching over to take one. "This was mine."

One by one the others each claimed a bracelet, leaving Alan with just one.

"You're right, that's a nice story to hear," he admitted, slipping the bracelet over his hand.

"Hey, here's an idea," I suggested. "This has been a mad few months, how about we start a new memory box and in ten years time we'll look back in it and remember the longest vacation ever."

"Yeah," Alan nodded. "That could be cool."

The box slowly filled up with bits and pieces.

Here are some of them.

-Some of our finished colouring pages.
-Gordon's tablet that hadn't recovered from its unscheduled dip in the bath.
-Brains's broken glasses and a broken piece of his microscope that fell off of Alan when we played human buckaroo
-A small pile of post-it's which Scott had used on April fools day to label everything in the lounge.
-The rubber spider John had pranked me with.
-A pair of the bunny ears the boys wore to deliver Easter eggs.
-The empty bottle of 'Chill Pills' Scott got for his birthday.
-A selection of our pictionary artwork.
-The beauty blender Virgil ruined on Gordon's face.
-An empty popcorn bag Alan found stuffed between the couch cushions from one of our many movie nights.
-One of Scott's socks that hadn't been found before.
-A gaudy necklace from our lip sync battle
-A clue list from our scavenger hunt
-A shell I picked up on the beach the day they taught me to surf.
-The evil Furby
-The purple wig we made John wear (he was very glad to donate it to the memory box)

"OK, so, we don't take anything out but we can add more for as long as isolation goes on?" Alan confirmed.

"Yep," I nodded. "Who's going to be in charge of keeping it safe?"

"Gordon should," Alan said. "Since he seems to be the keeper of everyone's things."

"Even without permission," John muttered, tucking his pen into his pocket in case it went walkies again.

"Actually," Gordon said, "I think Alan should look after it for us."

"Really? You mean that?" Alan grinned.

"Sure, kiddo," Scott agreed. "After all, they're your memories too."

Chapter Management

Day 77

Chapter Text

Day 77 of Isolation on Tracy Island and Alan wanted hotdogs. Not so crazy a thing you might say, but apparently the hotdogs came with a request for beach time, bonfire and spooky story telling before camping on the beach for the night. I was unaware of this little ritual, I had simply wandered along with them in the quest for food.

I like beach time, being a city girl as I am, I'm used to going to the seaside being a strictly once or twice a year event, a day out, a big deal, so to just be able to walk out of the house and down some stairs and find yourself on the beach is pretty magical.

Hearing the constant sound of waves took some getting used to, they kept me awake at first, but now it's just part of the normal ambience of the island. Quiet evenings curled up on the couch with a book or some other hobby and soft music courtesy of one of the boys, usually Virgil but sometimes Scott or Gordon, were the norm now. Or a movie night where we all piled on the couches together. Everything we did was accompanied by the sound of the sea. Of all the things I'd had to get used to in regards to living on the island, that was by far one of the easiest and most pleasant.

Blankets and pillows were dragged down to the sand, logs and kindling was taken from storage, hotdogs and buns were collected along with long metal toasting forks on which we'd spear the sausages and toast them over the flames, apparently we were going full on rustic.

Someone had brought along beers and flasks full of cocoa for those of us who weren't in the mood for a drink and tents had been pitched on the sand, although Jeff and Grandma were refusing to camp out. I debated doing the same because I am not a dude and I do not possess the same equipment that they had which allowed them to not need to sit down to use the bathroom, but I was beaten down and made to promise I'd last the entire night.

"OK, I'll camp, but there had better not be any crabs that will invade the tent in the middle of the night and if I need to pee one of you has to come with me. Promise you'll come to protect me from creepy crawlies and things that might attack me."

"We promise we'll come with you to the bathroom," Scott assured me.

"And you promise that the toilet in the hangar still has toilet paper?"

"Yes, there is toilet paper," Virgil promised.

"And you promise that we'll be camped far enough away from the water that we won't get washed out to sea?"

"Seriously? You actually think we'd let that happen?" Gordon asked.

"Well, I don't know, you might be sick of me by now," I shrugged.

They all looked at me.

"Well don't all deny it at once," I grumbled. "I might start to think that you like me!"

"We didn't answer because we weren't prepared to dignify your blatant need for validation and attention with an answer," John informed me.

"And frankly we're slightly insulted that you'd even say it," Scott sniffed.

"Good try," Alan hugged me, "but you're sleeping on the beach with us tonight."

"Joy," I muttered. "A night on hard, cold, damp sand when I could be in a soft bed, however will I contain my excitement?"

Alan choked on his hotdog, his eyes wide as Jeff finished up his spooky story about the ghost of a cowboy who haunted the back roads of Kansas who had a habit of stealing horses and running them until they collapsed and he could keep them for himself.

Jeff lowered the torch from under his chin and held it out handle first, slowly revolving it around the circle until someone claimed it.

John nudged me. "Go on, you're good at telling stories."

I shook my head. "No, I don't think so, ghost stories don't really scare me, humans do."

"Then tell us a scary story about a human then," Gordon pushed.

"Fiiiiine," I groaned, "but don't blame me if it's pants."

I took the torch and flipped it around, almost blinding myself in the process.

"Emily squinted through what little the windscreen wipers managed to clear, peering at the road ahead. Her headlights barely made a dent in the oppressive blackness that was all around her. No light from the moon spilled through the trees that surrounded the road on both sides, no streetlights to ease the darkness. Just herself, her car and the radio playing quietly in the background. She had always hated travelling alone at night, hated that she was forced to drive from one town to the next, never knowing when it would all end," I began.

"Is this a boring chick story?" Gordon groaned. I smacked him lightly with the torch.

"Shut up, I'm talking here, do you want a story or not?"

"Continue," Jeff insisted, "I apologise in advance for my rude children." I nodded and carried on telling the story.

"She just wanted to get home, having been away for far too long. Circumstances were always getting in the way and preventing her from completing her return journey. But this time she would make it, this time she was determined to get home, no hick-ups, no disasters, nothing. At least, not if she had her way."

Scott snorted. "That never happens, the second you think that all the disasters are over another one comes along to wreck your plans." The others nodded sagely.

"Peering through the arches in the rain splattered windscreen she tried to look ahead to the bend in the road, checking for oncoming traffic. There shouldn't be anything at this hour, she glanced at the clock on the dashboard, at almost eleven on a quiet Sunday night. Flicking her eyes back at the road she screamed in shock as a figure emerged from the darkness and stepped out in front of her car. Slamming her foot on the brakes, knuckles white on the steering wheel, she wrenched it this way and that in a total panic trying to swerve away from the figure."

"That's how she dies," Kayo commented. "Her complete lack of ability to drive." I ignored her and continued.

"With a squeal of rubber on the wet, slick road she came to a stop no more than a foot away from the figure, her heart pounding in her ears, breath coming out in sharp pants as she struggled to regain her composure."

"She'd never be good during a real situation," John muttered.

"Guys, I'm trying to set a scene here," I sighed.

"Sorry," they all choroused.

"Needing something to focus on she looked ahead at the figure, her windscreen wipers still battling the heavy rain. All she could make out was that the person was tall, he, she guessed it was a he, was wearing a rain soaked parker, the hood pulled up obscuring his face with a beaten up rucksack over one shoulder.

She closed her eyes as her breathing finally began to return to a semi-normal state only to jump out of her skin, giving a little yelp of shock when there was a rap on the passenger side window. She dived for the door lock but her reaction was too slow. The man opened the door and climbed straight into the car, dumping his bag in the foot well."

"Oh, hell no!" Kayo huffed. "Kick his butt out, don't stand for that! You're a woman, you are powerful!"

" 'What the hell do you think you are doing?' Emily gasped.

The man shook off his hood and ran his fingers through his wet hair.

'You almost ran me over, I figured the least you could do was give me a ride into the nearest town. I've been trying to get a lift for three hours and not one person stopped. People these days never stop to help someone in need anymore'

Spluttering with indignation, Emily managed to choke out.

'Well you won't be getting a lift from me. Get out. I don't pick up strange men at the side of the road.'

The man shook his head splattering rain drops in her direction and turned to look at her, his deep brown eyes boring into hers, making her shiver slightly.

'Not gonna happen, I'm not moving. You almost killed me out there, it's not safe' He turned in his seat and brazenly pulled the safety belt over his upper body and clicked it into place."

"How dare he?" Alan gasped. "That's not how you ask for a ride."

"Yeah, he wasn't very polite."

I lowered the torch and levelled a glare at them all. They shut up.

"She stared at him, dumbfounded. He just grinned back at her. Almost egging her on, daring her to argue or just drive. Never one to show her fear she growled under her breath, gnashing her teeth, before turning the keys in the ignition and starting the car, jamming it into gear and peeling away down the road.

Refusing to make the journey a pleasant one she barked out. 'Just to the nearest town.' Not wanting to have to make conversation or invite him to start one, she turned up the radio, refusing to talk anymore. 'Don't worry Emily,' she told herself. 'Just get to the next town and you can drop him off, no big. Then you will be home before you know it.' Feeling a little calmer after her inner pep talk she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, studying him.

He was handsome enough in that rough and ready kind of way. His hair was a little too long and his nose a little big for her tastes but he was pleasant enough to look at, not that she would be doing much of that, she wasn't that kind of a girl. An air of danger seemed to roll off of him as he casually leaned back in the seat, his gaze travelling up her body, taking in her legs, up to her chest and finally coming to rest on her face."

"She shouldn't trust him," Gordon said wisely. "I wouldn't trust him."

"Don't tell me she fancies him," Kayo groaned.

"He's a creep," Virgil agreed.

"Women always go for the bad boys," Scott nodded. "They like a man with a wild streak."

"Emily tried to ignore his scrutiny, blocking out how uncomfortable it made her feel, like a prized piece of meat in the butchers shop window. She tried to concentrate on her driving, focusing on the music coming from the radio, singing along softly to the song that was playing.

The music ended and she heard the familiar jingle of the station's news program start to play. Always one for keeping up with current affairs she turned the volume up a notch more and listened intently, one never knew what might come up in conversation and she liked to be prepared, especially if she did make it home tonight, as was her plan.

She listened through the usual football results, political scandals and celebrity breakups and was just reaching out to change the channel when the next bulletin, this time national news, stopped her short.

'The backroads killer has struck again, leaving another mutilated body to be found abandoned on the side of the road, this time in the county of Essex. Police are urging all road users to be aware of the potential danger of driving alone at this …'

The man reached over and flicked the radio off plunging them into silence. His hand was large, yet his fingers were surprisingly slim, it was a strong looking hand. 'I hate the news, it always depresses me. I would much rather talk to you.' He swivelled sideways in the seat to look at her again."

"Noooo," Gordon yelled. "He's going to kill her!"

"Get out of the car, get out of the car!" Virgil yelped.

"I'd kick his butt," Grandma proclaimed, folding her arms.

"Emily barely heard him, paying his words no attention, her mind was racing, going over and over the news report, they had found another body, drivers had been warned, she felt a wave of panic wash over her. She was jolted out of her thoughts by his hand landing on her thigh and squeezing.

'How about you and me go for a little drink when we get to town humm?' She slapped at his hand and spun round to face him.

"Don't get a drink with him!" Grandma ordered, like it would do any good.

"Get off! What the hell do you think you are doing? How dare you. You have no right to put your hands on me." For the second time that night she slammed the breaks on and skidded to a halt, stopped again on the deserted country road.

'Oh come now, you know you want it. You keep looking at me with that look in your eye. I bet you pick up all kinds of men for a quick romp in the back seat.'

"Boy, he's a nasty one," Jeff commented. "She's not done anything wrong, she was just driving home."

"Emily glared at him, seeing red. Here was yet another man who thought the worst of her, who thought that all they had to do was cock an eyebrow at her and she would come running, putty in their arms. Well he could think again.

Reaching down the side of her seat, her hand closed around the handle. Giving him no indication as to her intentions she lunged at him. She had taken him completely by surprise, he never had a chance to react, to defend himself.

Slashing at him in a blind rage, she stabbed him twice in the stomach before he doubled over in pain and shock, her blade cutting his hands as he lifted them to protect his face."

"Oh, snap!" Kayo yelped.

"She un-clipped her belt and slipped out of her seat, climbing astride his lap, she entwined her fingers in his hair and wrenched his head back, slicing his throat in one swift move. Panting, she shifted back into her own seat and looked at him. His eyes were glassy, staring at nothing. Blood was beginning to pool in the foot well, soaking into his bag, running down to stain the seat covers.

'Well crap,' Emily started the car again and drove on a little further, talking to him the whole time.

'Just had to do it didn't you? You were just like the others. Couldn't just let me get home like I wanted to. Oh no, you had to try it on. You took one look at me and just saw nothing but an attractive body. You didn't care about my feelings, my brain,' she sighed deeply. 'And now I have to steal yet another car and find somewhere to leave you. Bloody fantastic, I'll never get home at this rate.' She leaned over and playfully smacked his cheek. Pulling over to the side of the road she stopped the car.

'You my friend should have left the radio on,' She pocketed her trusty knife and began to walk. One day, she was sure, things would go right, things would go her way, she would find her way home."

I sat up straighter, clicking off the torch, looking round at the shocked faces staring back at me.

"So she was the killer?"

"No way!"

"She's the one that was going around murdering people and dumping them on the side of the road?"

"Never underestimate a woman," I shrugged, accepting the high five that first Kayo then Grandma offered up.

"That wasn't scary at all," Alan huffed. I stuck my tongue out at him.

"I think that's enough for me tonight," Jeff declared, getting to his feet. "I'm going to bed, don't you kids stay up too late."

"I'm going to head back too," Grandma added, getting up to follow after Jeff.

We all broke out more beers and hot chocolate and told a few more stories before bed, each trying to outdo the other in the scary stakes until we gave up and called it a night, Gordon and Alan declaring that they hadn't been scared at all and that we had all failed.

As predicted, I'd only been asleep about an hour before I was woken by my protesting bladder. I extracted myself from the mass of sleeping bag, blankets and long Tracy limbs in the form of John who is not the most compact of sleepers and crawled out of the tent.

I had taken the torch with me to bed, knowing I'd need it. Soft snores rang out from the ring of tents, everyone was asleep. I wouldn't bother waking anyone, I could be brave. The moon was glowing quite brighty and the fire hadn't completely died out so there was enough light to see by. The hangar was just there, not a three minute walk, I could do this. Its not like anyone or anything could get onto the island without anyone knowing and any creepy crawlies would be more scared of me than I should be of them. That's what I told myself anyway but I still felt uncomfortable.

Determined to do this alone, my need growing quite desperate, I pointed my torch beam at the ground, looking out for crabs that might be lying in wait to nip at my toes as I made my way across the sand.

Everything was quiet, the only sound was that of the sea and the insects in the greenery around us. It was actually quite eerie, I wasn't used to such silence, almost always surrounded by Tracys that came in two volumes, noisy or deafening. John was the only quiet one of the bunch and that was debatable when he got annoyed by them.

I shivered, wrapping my arms around myself. It had actually grown quite chilly, especially since I'd just left the warmth of the tent. I was definitely wishing I'd dragged a blanket with me to use as a shawl.

I made it to the hangar and did my business and was soon on my way back.

I quickened my pace, wanting to hurry and get back to bed to warm up and I didn't hear the noise at first. Not until a shadow separated itself from the darkness and stepped out in front of me.

"Gahhh,"I screamed, immediately dropping into the defensive pose that Kayo had drummed into me.

"Well, at least you learnt something," she muttered.

"You crazy moo! What are you doing out here creeping around in the dark? You almost gave me a heart attack!" I hissed, beyond annoyed.

"What was that?" I heard Alan yelp in the distance.

"Ghost?" Gordon answered. "Do you think the island is actually haunted?"

"No, maybe some prehistoric monster is roaming the caves?"

Kayo slapped her hand over my mouth when I went to call out to tell them it was OK, an evil glint in her eyes.

"I thought they weren't scared?" she whispered. "Maybe we could have a little fun?"

Oooh, fun sounded good. I nodded. They had pranked me enough times that I was more than ready to turn the tables on them.

Diving into the undergrowth we dragged out some ferns, branches and big palm leaves that had fallen and, with much suppressed giggling, managed a rough and ready monster costume each.

We crept up to their tent, seeing a light on inside and the two boys sitting up in their blankets.

She took one side, I took the other and using a branch we scratched lightly on the canvas. They froze. A light shined out at us. I moved closer so they could see the outline of my disguise.

Kayo did the same on the other side. She looked at me and nodded, holding up three fingers, she slowly counted down. When she got to one we both screamed at the top of our lungs and drummed our hands on the tent.

The boys screamed too and scrambled. We ducked down behind the tent as they burst through the flap and took off like a rocket towards the house.

Scott stuck his head out of his tent just in time to witness us popping back up and our high five. He grinned, gave us a thumbs up and vanished back inside.

We stripped off our adornments and hid them back in the undergrowth, kicking sand over our footprints before we retired for the night.

I crawled back inside my tent, still giggling to be met by John's best 'I'm judging you' face.

"What did you do?"

"Nothing," I answered innocently, dropping down beside him.

He reached out, plucking a leaf from my hair.

"Evidence begs to differ."

"I blame Kayo."

"Unfortunately that's so believable that I can't think of a valid argument right now," he yawned, flopping back down. "I knew you'd be nothing but trouble."

I shrugged and got back under the blankets. "Admit it, without me life would be so much more boring."

"I admit nothing," he grumbled, but I could hear the smile in his voice. "Shut up and go back to sleep."

Chapter Management

Day 78

Chapter Text

It's...what day is it now, John? It's day 78?! How is that even possible?

Day 78 of Isolation on our Island and today she has a headache. We're all done our best to look after her but it's not going too well.

John informed us that she was feeling delicate, I didn't think she was capable of being delicate but I guess you learn something new every day.

He helped her out of the tent and back to the house after she whined and complained that she was too wobbly to make it on her own and after waiting outside the bathroom to make sure she didn't drown in the bath (she insisted that she needed to be clean while John was telling her to get to bed) he tucked her in and was sent on a mission of mercy.

"You all need to try to be quiet today, she's got a headache," he informed us.

"You might as well ask Gordon not to breathe," I told him. It wasn't going to happen.

"Just try your best," he sighed and returned to the demanding one to dispense hair strokes and comforting cuddles.

The problems started when Alan took it upon himself to be the overseer of silence, but that took the form of shouting at people to be quiet whenever they dared to make a sound, being louder than they were.

How does she type so much on this tiny screen? I'm going to have to get John to spell check this...

Gordon tried to help by making her a healthy smoothie that would give her lots of vitamins and make her feel better. It made her throw up, making her headache worse.

Virgil did his best to help by playing soothing music through the villa's intercom but that just stopped her sleeping. All in all it wasn't a good day.

Alan told her that she hadn't done her update and she tossed her phone at him and told him to get me to do it. So I am…I have no idea what to say.

Oh, Grandma made soup for her. John tipped it out of the window fearing that that would be the thing to finish her off for good, but he forgot that his window is above the glass roof of the villa and Grandma saw the soup land. Virgil jumped in to help and said that he must have left it on the windowsill to cool down and it fell, even though the bowl didn't fall with it. I don't know if she believed him, but she didn't complain, just took another bowl up to them. This time he flushed it.

I have helped by writing her update for her. I'm not sure I've done a good job of it, but it's the best you're going to get today as I've just had my orders to go and fetch Alan because he's trying to sing her to sleep...

Chapter Management

Day 79

Chapter Text

Day 79 of Isolation on Tracy Island and I've finally got my phone back from Scott, he forgot to give it to John and then took it to bed and then slept really late and it was all a bit of a panic. Because you know what it's like when you can't find your phone, right? Yeah, that was me. Coming out of headache delirium at around 4am, mostly because John accidentally kicked me and woke me up, I reached for my phone to check the time and couldnt find it. Instant fear, instant terro , how would I stay connected to the world of out? How could I survive being stuck here with these idiots without being able to talk to sane people that don't think that having a pie eating contest as a midnight snack is a fine thing to do (Yes, Scott, I'm looking at you).

Phone was nowhere to be seen. I snuck out of bed, headache almost gone and totally unable to sleep any longer after napping almost constantly all day yesterday, and searched John's side of the bed. No phone. His was there but mine wasn't. I checked his pockets, unearthing two hairbands, a box of tic tacs, a random piece of something that had a microchip in it, his favorite pen, a comb, a fish hook(?) and a screwed up piece of paper that said 'Kick me' on it. No phone.

"Coffee, I need coffee," I muttered.

"Huh? Wha?" John half sat up, paused and then flopped back down, going straight back to sleep. I guess he wasn't getting up any time soon. Being back on the Island for so long had actually gotten him into something that was vaguely like a normal person's sleep pattern, in the fact that he was actually getting more than three hours a night. It was like his body was thoroughly enjoying the rest and was making the most of it meaning that when he was asleep he stayed that way, a rarity for him since he was so used to listening out for alerts and was usually an extremely light sleeper. We just left him to sleep for as long as he needed.

I tiptoed out of the bedroom, shutting the door behind me and made my way to the kitchen to grab myself some apple juice and a cup of coffee, taking it with me to the lounge.

I stopped in the doorway and actually had to ask myself if I was still asleep, was I dreaming? Why was there an extremely large pizza on the couch? I sniffed the coffee then sipped it. Hot, strong, wet...yep, I was definitely awake and this was definitely coffee. I took a few steps closer and almost jumped out of my skin when the pizza moved, unrolling itself to reveal Gordon.

"Why the heck are you even here?" I had to ask.

He sat up and lifted the corner of his pizza blanket, moving his legs so I could sit beside him.

"You OK?" I settled in next to him, allowing him to steal some of my apple juice while I tucked the blanket over us.

He shrugged, going for my coffee next.

"Did I wake you up?" I asked.

"No, I couldn't sleep so I got up."

"And brought a pizza with you?" I stroked the soft blanket. "Where did you even get this, anyway?"

"I saw it advertised on holobook and thought it might be fun."

I nodded, it was certainly that. I gently bumped his shoulder with my own.

"Why couldn't you sleep?"

"Just had a lot on my mind I guess. None of us thought that this whole lockdown thing would last so long and it's starting to get to me."

"Want to talk about it? Is there anything I can do to help?"

"No, not really."

I frowned, this wasn't like our Gordon, he was usually so cheerful, being this quiet and withdrawn wasn't like him. I nudged him again.

"How about we do something together today, whatever you want."

"Seriously?" he didn't look like he believed me. "Anything I want?"

"Yep, anything and I promise I won't say no."

He grinned evilly and I suddenly had the worst feeling that I was going to regret this.

"OK, you're on."

"She's gonna die out there," Scott told John a few hours later as they all sat in a row on the beach, watching as Gordon tried to explain to me the basics of how to water ski and I was seriously debating if I needed to take out a life insurance policy to makes sure my house plants were taken care of.

"All you have to do is relax back on your heels, bum on the board, arms down low and let the boat do most of the work. I'm gonna go first so you can see how it's done."

"And I'm just supposed to trust Scott not to gun the boat and drown me?"

"Hey! I resent that! I can go slowly if I want to!" he yelled back, overhearing my question.

"Maybe I should drive," Virgil suggested.

"Yeah, maybe he should," I agreed. I was seriously regretting this decision. Of all the stupid choices I'd made recently this had to top the list.

"No, I got this," Scott initiated, climbing into the boat.

"He don't got this," Alan muttered, but I tried hard to ignore him.

Gordon made it look easy, as all of them did with 98.7% of everything they did. They did things effortlessly, like it was as natural as breathing. They all had the poise, the balance, the confidence and the upper body strength to do almost anything. Me...not so much.

I tried to follow his instructions, I tried to sit back, relax and keep leaning back as the boat took off, letting it take me, but those instructions didn't count on the speed freak that was Scott being at the wheel.

"You said you'd go slowly!" I yelled as I struggled to lift my head out of the water, having been yanked forward and deposited face first in the sea.

"That was slow!" he yelled back.

"I meant normal people slow! My kind of slow, not Tracy slow!"

"Is there actually another kind of slow?" Alan asked Virgil, who shrugged, wise boy wasn't getting involved.

I tried four more times, each more disastrous than the others. I went backwards, I tipped sideways, I did what amounted to a summersault and almost knocked myself out with the edge of my board. Headache, welcome back , I can't lie and say I missed you.

"No! I give up! I am not here for your entertainment!" I screamed at them as they all fell about laughing, Alan almost toppling out of the boat to join me.

I flapped my way over to them, towing myself in on the line, hand over hand as I inched my way closer.

"When I eventually get there you had better all be ready to apologise for laughing at me!" I warned them.

I got closer, slowly but surely and reached for the boat. It shot forward a few paces.

"Very funny, numb nut!" I yelled at Scott who was obviously in one of his evil moods.

John reached out a hand for me and I grabbed on tight. I had a split second to make my decision. I yanked hard, pulling him out of the boat and into the water with an almighty splash.

He spluttered and flailed as he hit the water and vanished for a second before he bobbed back up.

Gordon burst out laughing, finally smiling properly for the first time that day.

John got back in the boat with minimal scowling for him, though he did flick water in my face again, which I deserved.

"Plan B," Gordon decided, finally sobering enough to talk. His Plan B took the form of a jet ski that he rode beside the boat while he yelled instructions at me.

It took us a few more goes but I eventually managed to get to my feet and stay upright for more than thirty seconds, which we were counting as a win. I gave up my board to Alan and Gordon and dragged myself into the boat, wrapped myself up in a massive towel and called it a day.

I can't say that I had fun, but I hadn't done it for me. Sometimes even the most cheerful and happy of us need a little helping hand, they need someone to check on them, to care about them and go out of their way to make them smile. And that's what you do for family.

Chapter Management

Day 80

Chapter Text

Day 80 of Isolation on Tracy Island and it started with Alan breaking into the bedroom while we were still asleep. I woke to him rummaging around in the bedside drawer.

"Dude? Whatcha doin'?" I mumbled, it was far too early, I was far too snuggly warm and getting up was in no way on my radar for at least another few hours.

"Oh, I just wanted to borrow your contact lens solution."

"Huh?" I groaned, having kinda half dozed off again while he had continued to search through the drawer. "What lens solution?"

"That stuff you got with those coloured lenses you wore at halloween."

I prised one eye open again and poked the sleepy hamster in my brain that had fallen off the wheel and was far too lazy to get up again.

"Oh...that…" where was it? Where did I even put it? I tried to mentally rewind more than eight months… it wasn't easy. Hell, without this diary I wouldn't even know what day of the week we were on or what I did two days ago…come to think of it, what did I do two days ago?

Fingers snapped in front of my face, making me jump.

"Did you drift?"

"Yeah, sorry...lens stuff...it's in the…" where was it? I could picture it…"drinks cabinet in the lounge!" I finished triumphantly, that was it. We'd had a small party and I'd taken the lenses out half way through as they had made my eyes itch and I'd stashed them in the first place I had come across, which just so happened to be the place where I was returning to the most that night. I blame Scott, I always blame Scott, if there is ever a drinking game happening or karaoke is started, he'll be there.

"Alan, I…where did he go?" The drawer was still open and the bedroom door was ajar, but at least it was quiet again. I yawned so wide I almost turned my face inside out and curled back up against the warm body next to me and closed my eyes…

Coffee...I smell...delicious black gold...I sat up a little without even opening my eyes and reached for the mug, taking a sip before I felt able to face the world.

Perfect. Milky, silky, smooth, sweet perfection in a mug. I opened my eyes to see that he'd put it in one of my favourite mugs, the black one shaped like a cauldron that said "witch's brew" on the side. The paleness of the milky latte was broken up by a swirl of coffee and caramel syrup that floated peacefully on the surface like a miniature galaxy. Top ten reason to marry a guy, he makes the most amazing coffee, even if he doesn't do it very often.

"Gods that's good, thank you, I so needed this." I sipped again then put the mug down on the bedside table, I wanted to savour this...why was that drawer open and all my stuff messed up? Not that I was the tidiest person in the world but I know it wasn't that bad. My sluggish brain managed to kick up an image of the blond baby… "Did I dream Alan coming in at stupid o'clock this morning looking for something?"

"Hmm?" John stopped rummaging in the wardrobe to look at me. "I don't know, I don't remember anything after we started watching that film with the puppets in it."

"They are Muppets, you heathen and I have no idea how you could fall asleep watching that, it's amazing."

"Because it was after two and I was tired?"

"Pathetic excuse. Anyway, back to the original question, did I dream Alan? What did he want?"

"Again, I don't know, you'll have to find him and ask."

"Mm," I agreed, picking up my coffee again. "I'll go in a minute, it can't be that urgent."

An hour later I was actually up, showered, dressed and had even had breakfast, that's how organized I was. OK, so it was technically after lunchtime but that's beside the point. I tracked the small one down to Virgil's studio, which is never, ever a good thing. No one is allowed in there without permission on pain of death. I caught him just as he came out with a bottle of glue in his hands.

"What are you up to, Squirt?"

"Nothing!" Unfortunately he said that at the same time as he hastily tucked the glue behind his back.

"Nope, not falling for it. What's going on?"

"Nothing!" he insisted again.

"I can see you hiding something behind your back."

"OK," he sighed. " But promise you won't get mad?"

"What did you break? Because that's only craft glue for paper, it won't fix broken things."

"I know that! And I didn't break anything, you always think the worst of me."

"Sweetie, I don't think that, I just know you."

He opened his mouth to argue but then shut it again.

"OK, that's fair," he admitted

"So why would I get mad if you didn't break anything? Not that I'd get mad if you had broken anything as I'm sure it would have been an accident."

"Thank you for your faith in me."

"So, what are you doing?"

"Well, I was bored-"

"Understandable."

"And I started looking around the internet and I kinda fell into a search hole-"

"Also understandable, I've been there myself far too many times to count."

"Anyways, I found this post about things that kids did in the early two thousands and one of them was to make slime. Apparently everyone was obsessed with it."

"Really? Slime?" I found that quite hard to believe.

"Yeah, there were even whole video channels dedicated to making it and playing with it."

"People actually wanted to watch videos of people playing with slime? That's disgusting."

"No, it's not like, super sticky slime, but more of a cool slime."

"That makes zero sense, little dude."

"I don't understand it either, but it seemed too cool to not at least try, you know?"

I nodded. "Yeah, I get that, I've done many things that seemed too cool not to."

"Really? Like what?"

"I'll tell you when you're older."

"It's not anything gross with my brother, is it?"

I gave him that look that says all and nothing, it's always fun to keep them wondering just what the heck I even meant, the puzzlement on their faces is priceless.

"Wanna make slime with me?"

"Sure," I shrugged. "How bad can it be?"

"So you pour the glue in the bowl," Alan instructed.

"Done that, what's next?"

"Then you add a… what does that symbol mean?"

I glanced at his phone. "Tablespoon."

"One tablespoon of baking soda." We both dumped that in the glue.

"A couple of drops of food colouring." We both added green, him because he wanted to make fake snot, me because I wanted it to look like Slimer had been visiting.

"Now we add one or two tablespoons of the contact lens solution and mix."

"Better add just one first," I suggested, "if it's anything like baking it's always better to start with less and add more."

"Yeah, it says the more you add the sloppier it gets."

We dumped in a spoonful each and mixed...and mixed...and mixed. I added a little more but wanted more of a thick consistency, he added a whole tablespoon more as he wanted 'the whole slime experience'.

"No we have to knead it," he instructed me.

"O...K" I didn't like the sound of that. I thought I'd just be mixing, not getting my hands in it. I poked the goo with a finger. "It's cold!"

Alan, being Alan, just dived right in, sticking both hands in the bowl.

"Coool," he grinned, squishing the gooey mixture so that it oozed out from between his fingers. "This is so weird."

I was a little more delicate. I pushed my finger in knuckle deep and felt around. I don't know what for or what I hoped to achieve. It was like poking barely set jelly, it left a bit of a dent and closed over my finger like it was sucking it in. "Ewwww."

"This is great!"

"I don't like it." I wiggled my finger around in the slop then withdrew it, feeling the stringy strands stick to my skin. "Ewwww."

"I love it!"

"You would, you gross little munchkin."

"You gotta get your whole hand in there, don't be shy." He slapped his sticky hand down on top of mine, smaming it into the ick. I screamed. It was disgusting.

"You horrible little worm!"

"Wiggle your fingers!"

"No!"

"Do it!"

"No!"

"Dare you."

"Dammit." I wiggled and shuddered in revulsion. "It's horrible."

Alan was kneading his like he was making bread, putting in far more effort than he had that time we made pizza dough. I glanced into his bowl and yes, it was looking far better than mine was.

"Urghh I'm gonna have to do it, aren't I?" I took a deep breath and stuck both hands into the bowl. "Yuck, yuck yuck, yuck, yuck," I chanted as I smacked and punched at the mess. Slowly but surely, it came together, becoming far less sticky and turning into a silky smooth substance that, I hated to admit, was actually quite satisfying to play with.

"You're having fun, aren't you?" Alan grinned.

"I admit nothing," I sniffed, though he was right and he knew it. I picked up the mess and pushed the bowl aside.

If he was treating it like dough, so would I. I dumped it on the counter and began to knuckle it, pulling and stretching with my hands, just as I would to add air to bread. Suddenly seized by the unholy urge to whip I, I grabbed hold of one end and flung my hand back, whipping it forwards to stretch out the slime and splat against the counter. OK, that was actually pretty cool.

"I wonder if this bounces?" I balled it up again and dropped it onto the counter top where it landed with a wet splat, flattening into a puddle.

"Coooool," Alan whistled, doing the same to his, although his was a lot sloppier and spread across the counter. Mine looked more like a fried egg, his was like spilt juice.

"Oops," he tried to pick it up but it was far too slippery, sliding between his fingers and plopping out of his hand.

I helped by grabbing a spatula from the utensils pot and trying to pick it up like it was a pancake. It didn't work. Strings of goo slid between the slats of the spatula and dripped downwards.

"Grab the bowl!" I yelped and he held it underneath to catch the run off. I scraped the spatula against the side of the bowl and peeled the last, stubborn bits off and flicked them into the bowl along with the rest.

"What are we actually going to do with this stuff?" I asked him.

"Oh, don't worry, I've got plans," he grinned.

"I don't like the sound of that," I groaned. "Just please, keep me and John out of it, he doesn't need the extra stress, he already has to put up with me."

I was sensible with my weird goo, I added a few drops of essential oil having found, much to my amazement, that it actually was quite relaxing to squish it and play with it. I found myself taking it out of it's tub frequently that evening while we watched a movie, smoothing out the cool jelly, kneading it in my palm and squeezing it until it smushed in between my fingers. The soothing scent of lavender wafting up to fill my nose.

"OK," John said after watching me for quarter of an hour. "I'll bite, what do you have there?"

"Slime, I made it with Alan," I held out my hand and dropped the ball of eww into his palm.

The look of disgust on his face was everything.

"Squish it," I instructed.

"Squish it?"

"Yeah, like this," I plonked my hand down on top of his and mashed the goo between our fingers.

"That is the most revolting thing I've ever felt in my life."

I pulled my hand away from his, the slime clinging desperately for a few seconds, stretching between our hands before it gave way and boinged back into one mass in his palm.

"I don't like it," he poked it with one finger.

"It's not that bad, it's actually quite ni-"

A pained yelp and then a bellow that sounded like an enraged bull echoed around the villa.

"That sounded like Scott," I gasped, sitting up.

Scott skidded into the lounge, face like thunder, naked apart from a towel wrapped around his waist.

"What the hell happened?" I asked in shock. "What happened to your head?" I got up to look closer, seeing that a red bump was rapidly forming between his eyebrows.

"I was going to take a shower, but no water came out. I turned the water up higher and something green oozed out of the holes and then the whole shower head popped off and clonked me on the head."

I bit my lip, trying hard not to laugh.

"What do you have there?" Scotts eyes narrowed, zeroing in on John's hand where he still held the slime.

"Run!" I yelped and John, pulling on his old track and field days, leapt off the couch and ran for the door, grabbing my hand as he went and towing me after him. It was safer to hide in the bedroom.

Apparently Scott wasn't the only victim of the slime pranks. Alan had gotten rather creative. He had sneezed goo on Gordon and had mixed up a new batch that included peas and chopped up carrots and was a lovely yellow colour which he had dropped on the floor of Two's cockpit at Virgil's feet after making a series of increasingly violent retching noises. Jeff has yet to discover that there is blue slime in the soap dispenser in his bathroom. I dread to think where else it's going to turn up. But what I do know is that Alan had better avoid Scott for the next few days, because that's going to leave a bruise.