Chapter Four - Nobody's Perfect...

"Kyrano!"

It was unusual for Jeff to bellow quite so loudly, especially when summoning his friend and faithful servant, but these were unusual times. The Tracylimpics, so fondly recalled by the doting father when a revival had first been mooted, were proving something of an irritant now. Jeff had all too quickly realised that the intervening years must have wiped away all memory of the pouting, the whining - even the fighting - which had accompanied the family's holiday competitions.

Well, those memories had been well and truly brought back over the last few days. Why on earth had he agreed to this? A brief moment of insanity, perhaps? Of course, he'd wanted to cheer Gordon up - he'd felt as badly as any of his sons over the loss of that Olympic record - but in hindsight, surely there would have been better ways...

"Yes, Mr Tracy?"

Kyrano's soft voice made Jeff start.

"Where's Scott? Didn't you ask him to come to my office?"

"Of course, Mr Tracy. But Mr Scott was... busy."

"Not another gym session?" Jeff felt exhausted just looking at Scott's training schedule.

"No, Sir. He is in the lounge."

"The lounge?" Jeff was genuinely surprised. If not the gym, he'd have bet money on Scott being in the pool or pounding out a leisurely couple of miles along the beach. The idea of his son taking a rest definitely came as a surprise.

"Yes, Mr Tracy. All the boys are there. Should l remind Mr Scott that you wish to see him?"

"That's alright, Kyrano. I'll find him myself."

Jeff was braced for the sound of more bickering, but when he reached the lounge all seemed quiet. He peered through the half-open door to see Alan balanced precariously on a stool, pinning some kind of chart to the wall.

"Is it straight?" the youngest blond asked.

"Yep." Gordon, Scott and John were quick to respond.

Only Virgil was silent, narrowing his eyes as he surveyed his brother's efforts. "It needs to go up on the left," he finally announced.

Well, in matters like this, Virgil's artistic eye reigned supreme, so Alan naturally ignored the other three. "How much?"

"About... two millimetres."

"Two millimetres?" Alan turned to glare at his brother, nearly toppling off his stool. "Seriously, Virg?"

"Yes." Virgil glared back. "No point doing it unless you do it properly."

Alan did as he was told, though he muttered an insult he'd never have dared use if he'd known his father was in close proximity. Virgil would probably have responded in kind, but he'd spotted Jeff at the door so said nothing, just smiled smugly as his father made his presence known.

"What is that, anyway?" Jeff asked, once Alan had finished apologising.

"Scoreboard," Alan told him, pressing the final pin into place and jumping down from the stool.

Jeff studied the chart then turned to his son. "Are you sure you've spelt that right? There's a 'y' in Olympics."

"That's what I said," John told him.

"So did I," Scott chipped in.

"Me, too." said Virgil.

Jeff waited for Gordon to add his agreement, then remembered that spelling wasn't his fourth-born's strongest suit. Nor Alan's, it appeared.

Alan's cheeks reddened, but he still tried to brazen it out. "It's how I spell it," he informed them. "And it's written that way on the medals, too. Of course, you don't have to accept any of them if you're so offended by the spelling. If you actually win any, of course..."

Ignoring John's suggestion that one of the challenges should be a spelling bee, he reached over to the desk and grabbed a marker pen. "Okay, now for the names. Alphabetical order, I think..." He started to write his own name on the top row, only for Scott to object.

"Hey! I should be first."

"Nah, let him alone, Scott," Gordon drawled. "It's the only time the kid's going to be in first place."

"Kid?" Alan snorted. "You're only a year older than me, Gords. Anyway, I thought you said one of us was bound to win given the advantage we had over the oldies."

"Who are you calling old?" Virgil asked, advancing on his brother and flexing his - now even more impressive - muscles as he towered over Alan.

"Not you, Virg," Alan said quickly. "But Scott and Johnny, well..."

"It won't be age that lets me down," John told him. "I'm at a disadvantage because I can't train up on Five. Scotty on the other hand..."

Scott refused to rise to the bait. "With age comes experience," he informed them. "I won't just outperform you guys, I'll out-think you, too."

"In the pool?" John asked. "You don't need brains to swim. Do you, Gords?"

Gordon raised an unamused eyebrow. "Is that why you're so hopeless, John? All those brains weighing you down?"

"That's enough!" Jeff moved over to where Scott was lounging on a sofa. "Son, that meeting's not going to go our way if you're not fully prepared. You were supposed to be in the office half an hour ago."

"Sorry, Dad." Scott jumped to his feet.

"Off you go, Scott." Alan waved him away before turning to the others. "Okay, guys, how about a bit more practice on the go-karts?"

"Sure."

In just a few seconds the others were gone. Scott stared after them in frustration before turning back to his father. "Thanks, Dad. The one event I need to work on. Couldn't we do this later? What about tomorrow morning? No, wait, I've got a ten mile run scheduled then. Tuesday's my rest day, we could... Dad?"

"My office. Now!"

Scott knew when he was beaten. Muttering under his breath, he left the room.

Jeff moved to follow his son, only to be distracted once again by Alan's scoreboard. "It's definitely a 'y'," he murmured.

"Did you say something, Mr Tracy?" Kyrano had reappeared.

"It doesn't matter, Kyrano." Jeff sighed. "Would you get me a drink, please?"

"I have just made a fresh pot of coffee."

Jeff fought against temptation for all of two seconds, before giving in. "Forget the coffee. Get me a scotch."

Kyrano bowed and moved across to the bar, too polite to mention that he was more than half-expecting that request. As much as he loved the Tracy family, he had to agree with his employer that the revived Tracylimpics were proving somewhat trying as the brothers strove to prove their superiority. He'd stayed neutral, of course, smiling enigmatically as his daughter expressed her wish that Alan emerge triumphant. If truth be told, he'd rather Virgil or John won - both were such quiet, modest boys - but he knew better than to say so in front of Tin-Tin. Besides, he was to be a judge, and as such he needed to preserve an air of neutrality.

Still, he couldn't help but smile as he considered the tasks the boys would be facing over the coming weeks, many of which they were still blissfully unaware of...


Later that evening, with the five Tracy brothers fast asleep, exhausted from a hard day's training, Jeff, Grandma and Tin-Tin sat on the terrace.

"I can't believe Penny's so insistent on visiting us now," Jeff said. "I tried to put her off, but she says she'll be tied up with MI5 business after this week. Well, she can't say I didn't warn her. I just hope she knows what she's letting herself in for."

"Oh, I'm sure she does," Tin-Tin smiled.

"She's even issuing her own challenge," Jeff continued. "But at least we'll have another completely neutral judge. The boys used to drive Mom and I crazy with all the whining and complaints about favouritism. They won't be able to do that with Penny."

Tin-Tin's smile grew even wider. The others might not have noticed, but she had a feeling that Penny had something of a soft spot for the eldest brother. Not that she expected the aristocrat to be anything other than scrupulously fair, but it would be fun to watch her try to keep her feelings for Scott under control. "Parker seems quite enthusiastic about it all, too," she said.

"When are they arriving?" Grandma asked.

"In just a few hours," Jeff told her. "I was going to send one of the boys to pick them up but I'd rather let them sleep - if nothing else it gives us all a bit of peace. I'll go myself. It'll be good to give the jet a-"

The shrill beeping of an alarm startled them.

"Brains is calling from Thunderbird Five," Jeff said, hurriedly getting out of his chair and heading for the lounge. "Looks like International Rescue is needed."

They certainly were. A serious fire in an eighty-five story apartment complex in California required the organisation's assistance, so it was Kyrano who was dispatched to collect Penny and Parker when they landed on the mainland. When they finally arrived on Tracy Island, Parker immediately headed off to the kitchen to prepare tea for his mistress, whilst Tin-Tin pulled Penny to one side to assure her that the boys were in peak physical condition following all their extra training so they'd be fine. Maybe they wouldn't be up for a heavy workout tomorrow, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. After all, those tired and aching muscles were surely going to be in need of a little massage...

Penny suddenly found herself in need of a lie-down...

Her excuse of jet-lag hadn't been entirely falsified. No, the journey from London, though considerably shorter than it had been even a few years ago, always took it out of her. She'd fallen asleep immediately, but then woken early, fully alert and somewhat frustrated to find that it wasn't yet 5am.

Well, there would be no more sleep for her that night, she knew that for certain. What she needed right now was some tea. Not wanting to disturb Parker, who she knew would still be fast asleep, she made her way to the dark and deserted kitchen, enjoying the somewhat rare experience of making the drink herself. Whilst it didn't taste as good as it did when Parker was in charge of proceedings, it was still more than welcome, and she decided to drink it out on the terrace, where the faint rays of sunshine were just beginning to make themselves visible.

It was a beautiful sunrise and Penny stared at the horizon, almost hypnotised by the slowly brightening sky and the gentle chirping of the island birds.

It came as quite a shock when a loud splash of water shattered the tranquillity.

She drew in a sharp breath and crept closer to the terrace wall. Could it be...? Yes, it was! A Tracy brother getting in a little extra training. But which one? She hoped for Scott but steeled herself for the disappointment of seeing Gordon. Oh, he was a nice enough boy, but that's what he was in her eyes: a boy - and Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward didn't waste her time on boys, however well-built they might be...

"Really, Penelope!", she admonished herself. Millions of women would kill to be in her position now, watching Gordon Tracy power through the water -

No, not Gordon. The hair, though darkened by the water, was undeniably blond. Alan, then. Oh well...

But no, now that she studied the swimmer's build, he was clearly taller and skinnier than the youngest brother. Penny smiled, holding the second-oldest brother in high esteem, though more for his intellect and good counsel than his physical presence. Now she thought about it, it didn't surprise her that John was getting in a bit of extra practice. There were no swimming pools up in space. Though weren't they supposed to be doing the butterfly? John was performing a perfectly acceptable, if rather leisurely, front crawl.

Penny watched idly, hoping that the other brothers - ie, Scott - would join in. But it seemed that John was destined to be lonely that morning. She'd started to turn away, thinking it was probably about time for some breakfast, when a loud splashing caught her attention and she looked back at the pool.

She froze. John's easy stroke had gone. Now he would disappear under the water for several seconds at a time, re-emerging with a wild flail of arms and legs, audibly sucking in what was clearly a desperately-needed breath, before sinking down again. He wasn't moving forwards any more, either. It was clear that he was in trouble. Cramp, maybe, Penny surmised. Or perhaps exhaustion following the strains of the previous night's rescue. Well, whatever the problem was, it was a big one. As she watched, he sank beneath the surface once again - and this time he didn't re-appear.

Penny ran down the steps, pulling off her robe as she went. Without a thought for the damage the water would do to her pink silk negligee, she dived in, strong strokes taking her to the middle of the pool, where John had finally breached the surface. But this time there was no frantic gasp for breath, no clumsy attempt to get arms and legs working together. This time, John simply floated on the surface, eyes closed, totally motionless.

Penny wasn't a member of International Rescue for nothing. Slipping a hand behind John's head to steady him, she pinched his nose with her other hand, fastened her lips onto his and blew into his mouth.

The response was gratifyingly quick. John's whole body jerked and he struggled to free himself from Penny's grasp.

"Relax, John," she murmured soothingly, pulling him close once again to support him. "It's alright."

"Relax?" John squeaked, in a most un-Tracy-like way. "Penny, what are you doing?"

"What am I doing?" Penny asked, "I'm saving your life."

"Saving my life?" John spluttered. "You nearly gave me a heart-attack."

"Well, you were drowning..."

"No I wasn't! I was having a rest. The butterfly's hard work and - well, I'm not very good."

Not very good? Penny had to bite back a most unlady-like response, the gist of which was that 'not very good' was something of an understatement. Who could blame her for getting the wrong end of the stick?

"Penny?"

"Yes, John?"

"You're still holding on to me."

"Oh. Sorry."

"It's just that if anyone was to see us..."

'Anyone' really could have meant any of the inhabitants of the island, but both knew - without sharing that idea or the very different reasons behind it - that the one person they wouldn't want seeing them in what could easily look like a compromising position, was Scott.

Penny let go of John so suddenly that he sank down once again, this time swallowing so much water that when he finally surfaced, he was coughing and spluttering so hard that Penny's life-saving skills might have really been needed. But by that point she was out of the pool and anxiously scanning the surrounding area for any watching eyes.

"Penny?" John had finally recovered his breath, if not his pride.

"Yes, John?"

"Let's not mention this to anyone."

And this time, 'anyone' meant exactly that.