Day thirty: Major Character Death.

Trigger warning for suicide.

This story has been inspired by: That Which Tears Us Apart, Ties Us Together by WinterSwallow, an unfinished fic.

And also from KatZan, I like the relationship between Scott and Jeff portrayed in their fics.

'Hello?'

'Hello? Who is this please, and how did you get hold of this number?'

'My name is Dave Morgan, Mr Tracy. I am the Sheriff of Rockland, Maine.'

'Ok, Sheriff Morgan, how did you get this number?'

'I was given it by your son, Scott Tracy.'

'Scott? What's going on?'

'Mr Tracy, your son was here yesterday. He, er, he stayed the night with me, but when I got up he was gone he'd gone. He's left three letters, one addressed to you, one to John and one to Virgil. And one for me.'

'Ok, Sheriff Morgan, I'll arrange to get someone to pick them up. In the me…'

'No, I'm sorry, Mr Tracy. Scott's wishes were very precise. You are to come and pick them up in person.

'His wishes? Where is my son, Mr Morgan?'

'I'm very sorry, Mr Tracy.'

Landing on the tropical island his father called home should have filled Scott with joy. Instead, it caused a feeling of dread to well up and a feeling of lethargy washed over him. He shook himself.

He was 24 years old, for goodness' sake! He had flown missions over some of the worst countries in the world, been shot at, been shot down and fought his way back to fitness. He'd survived months as a POW.

But the thought of facing his father…

Scott sighed and rubbed his eyes. Landing on the tiny airstrip took all his concentration, but as the plane taxied into the hangar the sight of one of the two planes there lifted his heart. The old green plane his brother always flew. But the soar didn't last long.

He hadn't seen his family for five years. Not since the day he'd ran away from home when he was nineteen. Nineteen. He scoffed to himself. At the age most teens were finishing university, Scott had felt he'd had no other choice after his father had time and time and time again refused to let him go with the promise of teaching him the family business only for nothing to happen except being used as a babysitter as always.

Scott sat in the cockpit and wondered, not for the first time, what the hell he was doing here.

He'd ran to get away from his father, now at one word he'd come running back.

A knock on the plane door started him from his thoughts, and he got up and opened the door to see both his immediate brothers standing there. Before he'd even got to the bottom of the stairs Virgil had pulled him into a bear hug, melting the worries he'd been harbouring since his commander had summoned him to the office and gave him his marching orders, curtesy of one General Jefferson Grant Tracy.

Curse his father. He thought that changing his name and running away would be enough to…to not be the eldest son of the great Jefferson Tracy. He should have known better.

Virgil and John walked with Scott to the bedroom he'd never seen, painted a light blue, no doubt by Virgil, and his brothers sat on the bed and chatted as if they had seen him last weekend before heading down for dinner.

Dinner was nice and quiet, just the three of them. Their father was around, but he hadn't put in an appearance at all since Scott had touched down – and he didn't really know how he felt about that – so they just chatted. Neither brother would tell him what was going on, but he didn't mind, he'd find out tomorrow and it gave him opportunity to prepare himself.

Scott didn't have to wait long the next morning. Straight after breakfast the three were summoned by some kind of alarm system that Virgil was obviously used to and John had expected.

The three men stood before their father, John and Virgil at ease and Scott to attention. Jeff scowled irritably.

'For god's sake, Scott, relax. This isn't the Air Force, this is your home.'

Scott's stance didn't change at all. If anything, he stood straighter. Jeff sighed. This was not looking promising at all.

'Son, please. I just want to talk to you.'

'You just want to talk. Right.'

'What's that supposed to mean?'

'You bought me out. My commission was for seven years. Imagine my surprise to be summoned by my commanding officer only to be given my marching orders and coordinates to this place.'

'It's not like you left a forwarding address when you ran away like a child!'

This was getting nowhere, and John and Virgil grimaced as the pair seemed to be competing as to who could shout the loudest. John nodded and Virgil stood up, placing a hand on Scott's shoulder. The tension was evident in the strain of his brother's neck, and he squeezed, hoping to get the man to relax even just a little.

'Wait, Dad, what does Scott mean you bought him out?'

'What I mean, John, is that I no longer have a career in the Air Force.'

'Dad, tell me you didn't!'

'Of course I did, John! What choice did your brother leave me?'

'Hello! I'm right here!'

'Scott, I had a good reason…'

'I don't want to know! I had a job I loved and you ruined it, like you ruin everything for me if it doesn't involve YOU!'

Scott spun around and stormed out. Virgil made to follow before his Dad stopped him.

'Leave him, Virgil. We can talk when he's calmed down.'

'I'm not so sure that's going to happen, Dad.'

'Did you really quit his job for him?'

'I did, John. You know how important this is going to be once it takes off. He's the best pilot I know, and his out-of-the-box thinking will be just the thing for the first responder role I have for him. And Virgil, tell me he isn't going to love Thunderbird One.'

'Maybe you should have led with that, Dad.'

'It's not like he gave me a choice!'

'Oh, you had a choice, Dad. You could have done all of that without quitting his job. When are you going to stop riding him?

'When he starts acting like my son should act!'

Both his boys started at the shout, staring at him open-mouthed. But Jeff stared back, challenging them to say anything, before bending his head and carrying on with the work on his desk. He didn't look up until the door closed, then Jeff threw his pen down and sighed. He'd hoped that the idea of International Rescue could start to be a reconciliation between the two of them. John was right, he hadn't needed to buy Scott out, but five years was a long time, and he had missed his eldest son.

When Scott had ran away Jeff had thought that he'd be back within the week. When almost a month had gone and there was no sign of him Jeff had set people to find him. It hadn't taken long, not with the kind of money and power he commanded, to find that Scott had changed his name and signed up for a seven-year stint in the USAF.

The first thing he had done was to talk to Scott's commanding officer. He could have taken Scott out right then, certainly the man had offered, but just maybe this would be the making of his son into a man. Jeff had decided to leave him there, but he was kept informed of Scott's progress. He'd been secretly proud of the man his son had turned into.

Then he had met Brains, and the rest, they say, was history. Now he had this opportunity, and he had deliberately made sure that One had been designed with Scott in mind. Jeff got up and pace his study.

Why did he need to be so in control? Jeff growled to himself. He needed to sort this mess out. The longer he left it the harder it would be, he knew that from experience. With a final mutter he strode from the study to the balcony, trying to work out how he was going to fix this.

He was just in time to see Scott's jet take off and shoot away.

Jeff rushed back into the lounge, grabbing the radio and hailing his son. 'Scott! Scott! Scott, get back here!' But there was no answer and Jeff pounded the desk in frustration. Then he sat back.

'Dad, what's going on?'

'Looks like your brother has run away again, Virgil.'

'Can you really blame him, Dad?'

Jeff didn't dignify John with an answer.

'Leave him to cool down.'

'But Dad…'

'I SAID LEAVE HIM.'

John spun on his heel and stormed out, and Virgil, with one glance at him, followed. Jeff shook his head, he hated yelling at his children, but he'd done a lot of that today. And it wasn't even lunch time. He made his way back to his study and carried on with the work he had to do.

Virgil found John in Scott's room. Scott's now empty room. He was sitting on the bed, biting his lip hard. Virgil sat down beside him, nudging his brother's shoulder. John sighed and gave a small smile back.

'He's never going to let Scott be himself, will he.'

It wasn't a question. The two of them had watched their dad rule Scott with an iron fist, never letting him do anything other than what Jeff wanted him to do. Neither brother had been surprised to hear that Scott had run away. They had both been away at college when the news came, and both had discussed how much they hoped Scott would finally get his own life.

'What worries me more is how this action will affect Scott.'

'Yeah, I don't know what was worse, the anger or the heartbreak.'

'Next move is Dad's, I think.'

'What do you think Scott will do now?'

'I dread to think.'

They only had 30 hours to find out, but it took 40 hours until they could get to Rockland, Maine, due to the tail end of Hurricane Bettina. The winds were still reasonably high when Sheriff Morgan ushered them into his tiny cottage by the sea.

On the table were three letters and Scott's watch.

They sat and had coffee. The atmosphere was heavy, and no one seemed to want to be the one who spoke first. In the end their host did.

'I am the Sheriff, but I'm also the harbourmaster. Um, I guess you want to know what happened?' They all nodded as the man ran his hand through his hair. It was obviously difficult for him to talk about it.

'Um, I found him trying to jump off the pier in the hurricane Monday evening, but I did manage to pull him back to safety.'

If John and Virgil thought that their brother was desperate to get away from their father, they had no idea that he'd go that far. Virgil put a hand on his dad's shoulder. Jeff seemed to have shrunk in on himself, and it occurred to John that their father really hadn't realised how far he'd pushed Scott.

'I brought him in here to warm up.'

'Was he drunk?'

'Dad!'

'No, he was crying.'

That stopped Jeff dead.

'We talked. He asked for paper and envelopes and I showed him to the spare room. When I woke up the next morning the three envelopes were as you see them with a note thanking me and giving your name and contact number and instruction that you had to come out and pick them up yourself.'

'And Scott?'

'I'm sorry.'

Virgil squeezed as John moved the other side of their dad and also lay a hand on Jeff's other arm. He didn't seem to notice, staring at the sheriff as if he didn't understand what he was saying.

'Where is my son, Sheriff!'

'He walked off the pier into the hurricane in the early hours of Tuesday morning.'

'You're lying. Scott's paid you to hide him from me.'

The man sighed, as if he knew this would be their dad's reaction, and he moved over to the equipment sitting on one of the small tables in the room. A holograph flickered into existence, grainy and that green glow of night-vision. They watched in silence as a figure walked the length of the pier and didn't stop when the pier did.

'I'm so sorry, Mr Tracy. I really am.'