Chapter 8.
Gordon flipped onto his stomach and rolled over for what felt like the billionth time that night.
He'd soaked his tired muscles and inhaled one of the takeaway pizzas that Virgil had ordered, leaving brothers two and five to share one between them. Served them right for only ordering two when they knew there was literally no limit to the amount of food his body could consume.
Cheapskates.
After trying, and failing, to convince Alan to sleep on the floor, he'd surrendered at just gone midnight and crawled under the covers, the elation at having won his race down from a raging fire to a flickering ember.
His dad still hadn't called. He'd casually asked Virgil to ask Scott whether Tracy Island had an uninterrupted signal with Shadow Alpha shortly before his brothers had finished their phone call, however had been rewarded with a 'no' sandwiched between two apologies.
Gordon knew his dad adored him, however sometimes had a hard time reminding his head of what his heart knew. He'd been raised in a mostly single-parent household, and while he understood his dad's devotion to his career, the amount of time he spent on the job made International Rescue almost feel like an extra, unwanted, sibling.
He tried his hardest to be good. Really, he did. He never guilted his father over his absences, and worked hard to act as if things were completely normal during the brief spells when he was home.
But playacting could only get you so far.
Gordon could vividly recall the occasion when Jeff had rung in and, after one of the most heartfelt apologies any of the family had ever heard, announced that he wouldn't be home from whatever the hell he was doing in time to attend John's high school graduation. The announcement had hit the middle brother hard. He'd graduated two years ahead of schedule, courtesy of the four point zero grade average he'd maintained since his freshman year, and had been valedictorian of his class. Most other parents would have moved land and sky to attend an event their child was the epicentre of, but the two week post-spaceflight quarantine period had meant that Jeff had been forced to watch his third son ascend and descend his school's stage via a video feed in his isolation dorm.
Jeff had argued that the entire process had been no easier for him than it had been for John, but Gordon had secretly taken John's side. Jeff had had plenty of interstellar missions on the horizon at the time, however John would only don his high school cap and gown once.
Gordon knew that most, if not all, of his frustration with Jeff came from his inability to have the same kind of relationship with his dad as he'd had with his mom. He and Lucy had been close, inseparable even, and multiple sources had cited his flamboyant and lovable nature to all the time he'd spent with her. Scott, Virgil, and John had all been infected with the aeronautical bug at a young age, which had provided Jeff with a natural cue to step forward and bond with them over a shared interest.
Then he, Gordon, had come along, and he'd been different. Right from the get-go he'd turned his nose up at the silly rockets and planes his brothers played with, his attention instead preoccupied with all things wet and watery. Every weekend he'd armed himself with a bucket and net and toddled off to catch tadpoles, leaving the others with their boring model rocket kits. Christmas shopping became a less monotonous task with the inclusion of aquatic plushies and colourful swimming trunks on the list, and his Uncle Lee had even gone so far as to install a separate sink in the kitchen to accommodate all of the 'homeless' frogs, newts, crabs, and whelks he inevitably ended up carting home in his trusty bucket.
Lucy had been very encouraging of such practises. Jeff had been as well, however had had his hands full with the three eldest and had left the majority of Gordon's supervision to his wife. He'd made all of the appropriate noises of interest whenever Gordon regaled him with tales of his various rockpool adventures, but had never fostered the same kind of relationship with his fourth son that Lucy had. That wasn't to say that he and Gordon didn't have a very loving bond. It was just different to the kind of bond he shared with his other boys.
Gordon growled as Alan fused himself to the nearest available object, which happened to be his rather achy arm, and yanked his phone out. He'd resigned himself to a sleepless night, and was contemplating dropping a quick email to the twenty-four hour athlete support department to ask if coffee was still under review by the Anti-Doping Panel. He was six words in when an incoming call overrode his screen.
Papa Tracy - incoming video call…
-x-
Scott quirked an eyebrow as John secured his suitcase in one of Thunderbird One's storage lockers and collapsed into the passenger seat with a distinct lack of grace.
"You good?" Scott asked, still dubious over his brother's decision to pack anything and everything Gordon could possibly be short of.
John nodded breathlessly and secured his safety belt in place, pausing to wipe a stray bead of sweat away with the side of his hand. He knew Scott was secretly deriving great enjoyment from watching him fret and fuss like an overly attentive mother hen, but his eldest brother wasn't the only member of the family with smothering instincts ingrained into him.
"ETA to Nairobi, forty seven and a half minutes," Scott announced as Thunderbird One began to taxi underneath the pool, "Virgil said to meet him and Alan at the same airfield at Jomo Kenyatta that we used the other day. Air traffic controllers are expecting us, and Virgil's tasked Alan with collecting our visitor passes."
A snort, "I hope they're saliva proof."
Scott twitched slightly. The memory of handing a half-chewed report over to Captain Casey was unlikely to stop haunting him any time soon. Still, a spit encrusted visitor pass was a small price to pay for the chance to cheer Gordon through his next race. He'd requested one week's leave from the Air Force for the express purpose of spending some time with his aquatic brother, since their respective work and training schedules had meant they'd seen precious little of each other for the best part of a year.
Up in the lounge, Sally smiled as Thunderbird One rose out of the patio and blasted off into the sky, accompanied a short while later by a radio transmission from Scott confirming that that great silver rocket 'was go'.
The call she'd just gotten off had been brief, but incredibly welcome. After six failed attempts, Jeff had reported that he'd finally managed to make contact with a rather sleep-deprived Gordon. Instinctively, he'd rung the island to log the update, cracking up ever so slightly when the timeworn yet soothing voice of his mother had reminded him that, in spite of his physical absence, he'd done his fatherly duty.
Though he'd been fortunate enough to have both his mother and father around for the entirety of his childhood and a good number of years beyond, Jeff was no stranger to the unease that came with having only one parent remaining. Safe in the knowledge that Lee was in the depths of off-duty dreamland and that his mother's ear was the only company he had, he'd allowed the veil of professional resilience he operated behind to drop slightly, admitting in a hushed tone that he would have struggled at the tender age of fifteen to do what Gordon was in the middle of doing.
Sally was softer in her analysis of the situation, opting instead to focus on the positive.
"He's following his dream, son. Who do you think taught him to do that?"
-x-
Virgil was jolted out of a dreamless sleep by the sound of someone crying.
Instinctively assuming that it was Alan surfacing from a nightmare, he sat up and dragged a hand through his unstyled hair, mentally steeling himself for a detailed rundown of the zombies that had been chasing his little brother through the corridors of dreamland.
Much to his shock, it turned out to be not Alan, but Gordon who'd woken him up. His brother was sitting up in bed and clutching his phone with both hands, tear stained eyes staring at the screen as a familiar voice floated out of the speakers.
'Lee thought you were a goner at the end of the first length, but I knew you'd beat 'em.'
"Daddy?" Alan's own eyes illuminated when he realised that the dimly lit figure inhabiting his brother's phone screen was none other than their father. Scrambling into Gordon's lap like an oversized squirrel, he thrust his face up against the camera and began babbling excitedly, his sticky fingers leaving marks on the otherwise clean screen.
The cobwebs of fatigue were abruptly blasted away when Virgil heard the word 'Dad'. Excitement overtaking any lingering drowsiness, he leant over Gordon's shoulder and managed to catch a glimpse of the familiar backdrop of the O.D.D.M's console around Alan's head.
Jeff smiled as the slightly grainy forms of two more of his boys materialised. The signal between Shadow Alpha and Earth was usually crisp and clear, however another lunar storm had temporarily taken the edge off the quality of video transmissions.
"You look tired," Virgil observed, bullying the majority of his elation back in order to make room for Alan's excited squeals, "Have you been sleeping okay?"
"Just fine and dandy," Jeff replied, the lines around his mouth creasing to form a smile, "Space travel is wonderful for the soul, but hard on the body. Always remember to pack moisturiser, boys."
A chuckle climbed up Virgil's throat and grated on Gordon's ears. He'd been so happy to finally have his dad all to himself, but had known deep down that it was probably too good to last.
"What's it like up in space?" Alan gushed, kneeing Gordon in the stomach, "Are there aliens? What's moon food like? Is Uncle Taylor still with you? Are there aliens?"
Jeff opened his mouth to reply, however was robbed of the opportunity by Virgil wading in with a rundown of Thunderbird Two's latest engine upgrade and subsequent flight results. Unhappy that their father's attention had been momentarily rerouted, Alan retaliated by repeating his original questions, albeit in a slightly shriller tone.
Gordon felt a combination of sleep-deprivation, frustration, jealousy, and self-pity engulf him. This was supposed to be his time.
His time to be the centre of attention.
His time to prove himself in his chosen field.
His time to finally stand toe-to-toe with his ridiculously successful brothers.
His time to shine.
But instead, here he was. Sat up in bed at one o'clock in the morning on no sleep, with another race in just over ten hours, muscles that ached like a bitch, a fidgeting brother in his lap, another brother burping up altitude performance data in his ear, a churning stomach courtesy of the pizza he'd eaten too fast, and a father who seemed torn over which one of his three children to direct his attention towards first.
Anger completely overtaking logical thinking, Gordon tightened his grip on his phone and ejected Alan from his lap, his feet charting a course towards the door. Without giving Virgil a chance to ask what was wrong, or Alan a chance to recover from his upturned ladybird position, he wrenched the door open, realising for one awkward second that he'd forgotten to lock it, and steamrolled his way down the corridor, intent on finding somewhere quiet where he could have an uninterrupted talk with his one remaining parent.
As luck would have it, Jess was shuffling out of her own room several doors down, the water container in her hand hinting that she was en route to the kitchen to get a drink. The water from the bathroom taps was safe for showering and teeth brushing, however the organisers had advised against using it for drinking as a safety precaution.
"Gordo?" Jess blinked and squinted, "Are you okay? What's the matter?"
Gordon didn't have the brainpower or energy to respond. Instead, he focussed his directionless crosshairs on Jess's half-open door and bulldozed his way into the safety of the showjumper's bedroom, his erratic behaviour fuelled by the two brothers now hurrying down the hall after him.
"Shut the door," Gordon pleaded, backing himself into a corner and cradling his phone against his chest, "Please. I'll explain later."
Jess looked at a complete loss as she watched Gordon turn his tear stained face towards his phone screen, the ensuing apologies that tumbled from his mouth making her wonder if he was in trouble with the law. Or his mother.
Mouthing an apology to the equally confused faces of Alan and Virgil, who had both screeched to a halt and seemed uncertain of how to proceed now that Gordon had taken refuge in a girl's bedroom, Jess slipped into the hallway and gently shut the door behind her.
"Why isn't he letting me talk to Daddy?" Alan demanded, his hand lunging for the door handle, "I want to know if there are aliens on the moon!"
Virgil hastily grabbed Alan's arm and yanked him away from the door, hoping that the curious expression that had come to rest on Jess's face at the word 'moon' wouldn't be followed up with a round of questions.
"We should have given him some privacy to talk to Dad on his own first," Virgil lamented, more to himself than to Alan, "He's been looking forward to this all evening. It was rude of us to butt in like that."
Alan seemed completely indifferent to Virgil's take on the situation, opting instead to fall back on the whining he always employed when things didn't go his way.
The truth of the matter was that they all missed Jeff terribly. Alan in particular seemed unable to fully comprehend why their dad kept jetting away for weeks or sometimes months at a time. Granted, his confusion was always extinguished by the souvenirs Jeff made sure to return with, but Virgil knew, perhaps better than anyone, that the material value of such objects would diminish as Alan got older.
"It looks worse than it actually is," Virgil confessed as Jess stared longingly at her closed door, no doubt thinking of the bed that lay beyond, "Our mom died a few years ago and our dad works away from home. He was supposed to come back for Gordon's races, but ended up being unable to. Gordon's never been away from home before and sometimes misinterprets dad's inability to check in at set times as failure on his part. Personally, I think it's just his insecurities talking. He puts himself under a lot of pressure to live up to the expectations of others, even though we've made it clear that he's already plenty good enough."
Jess felt her heart break a little as she digested Virgil's very honest synopsis of what she'd somehow got caught in the middle of. She'd sniffed Gordon out as an emotionally sensitive person within the first hour of meeting him. Being one herself, she'd taken care to pay attention whenever he'd dropped nuggets of information about his family background to her. She knew he had four brothers and a grandmother, however had just assumed that he also had both parents under the same roof. He hadn't told her to the contrary, and she hadn't asked.
Virgil felt guilt nibble at him as Jess stifled a yawn into her elbow, "Do you want me to organise a hotel room for you for the night? I'd offer you Gordon's room, but he's got a nasty habit of not keeping his living spaces particularly neat. I'm afraid I can't say for certain how long he'll be holed up in yours, I'm afraid."
A dark blond head whipped back and forth as Jess began to shuffle in the direction of the kitchen, "Nah, it's fine. To be honest, I was having trouble getting to sleep anyway. My first competition is tomorrow, or today rather, and I'm properly terrified. I need to be up at six for a vet check, so would have only got a few hours anyway."
Alan grumbled in self-indulged annoyance as Virgil steered him away from the door he was trying to will open with his mind. Jess motioned for the pair to follow her as she made a beeline for the fridge and began spooning some coffee grinds into two mugs.
"Dark or light?" she asked, "And what would he like?"
Virgil glanced sideways at Alan, who was crunching angrily on a Glu-Chew sweet he'd pillaged from Gordon's bag, "Just water will be fine. I can't be bothered to get him to brush his teeth again."
A hum of understanding was offered as Jess filled two mugs, splashed a tiny bit of milk in each, grabbed an unopened bottle of water from the fridge, and dumped herself down at the table in the middle of the kitchenette. Virgil followed a few seconds behind, firstly out of politeness, secondly out of curiosity. Gordon had religiously evaded coffee ever since submitting his first blood test, however Jess was guzzling the stuff without an ounce of guilt.
"The review was inconclusive," she yawned, as if somehow reading Virgil's mind, "Which means the java is safe for another year."
Virgil paused in the middle of unscrewing the cap on Alan's water, one eyebrow raised. Jess shrugged and took a defiant slurp.
"If they insist on denying us steroids, they have to at least allow us caffeine."
-x-
Jeff felt fatherly affection flood his veins as he watched Gordon fall victim to a series of epic sniffs.
It appeared that the distress his fourth son was experiencing was nothing more than a toxic combination of sleep-deprivation, sibling jealousy, good old fashioned nerves, and a tiny smattering of imposter syndrome. Alan and Virgil trying to muscle in on what had been intended as a private call hadn't helped matters either, and it looked as if Gordon had been forced to take refuge in a bedroom different to his own in order to escape the prying eyes of his big and little brothers.
Jeff was sympathetic towards the behaviour of his second and fifth sons. Like Gordon, they hadn't had a chance to speak properly to him since he'd departed from the GDF's Dallas Space Base several months ago. The situation was far from what most people would consider ideal or normal, but they were the Tracys. They didn't do ideal, and they certainly didn't do normal.
Where was the fun in that?
Forty-five minutes into their talk and Gordon had managed to pull himself together. He'd sobbed his heart out for the first fifteen minutes, sniffed for the next five, gotten a second wind for the following ten, then steadily calmed down for the remaining fifteen. Jeff had remained silent, not wanting to put any communicative pressure on him. Gordon was still a teenager with all of the associated emotional needs, and right now he needed the quiet, reassuring presence of a parent, physical or not.
"Son, you did amazing. I watched every second of that race and dang it, you nearly reduced your old man to tears. I might not always be able to check in straight away, but I promise you that no amount of lunar storms, solar flares, or meteor showers will ever keep me from watching one of my boys do the thing he loves most. No matter what happens tomorrow, whether you win, lose, or come somewhere in-between, I'm proud of you. And that will never change. Tracy's honour."
Gordon felt what little composure he'd managed to regain slip as a third wind threatened to overtake him.