Title: We'll be home for Christmas
Day Three - If not for the courage of the fearless crew – Part 2
Author: Gumnut
23 - 27 Dec 2019
Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS
Rating: Teen
Summary: The boys can't fly home for Christmas, so they have to find another way.
Word count: 2909
Spoilers & warnings: language and so, so much fluff. Science!Gordon. Artist!Virgil, Minor various ships, mostly background.
Timeline: Christmas Season 3, I have also kinda ignored the main storyline of Season 3. The boys needed a break, so I gave them one. Post season 3B, before Season 3C cos we haven't seen it yet.
Author's note: For scattergraph. This is my 2019 TAG Secret Santa fic :D I hope you enjoy it.
Okay, you've almost caught up with me and I go back to work tomorrow So, unfortunately updates are going to slow as work takes over my life for the next five days – it is my double weekend where I work both Saturday and Sunday and I will whinge appropriately. I have been fortunate to be off work from Christmas to New Years and have churned out somewhere around 15,000 words in an attempt to finish this fic…and I failed (It is currently at 32,000 words and climbing). Getting there though, but my writing speed will drop dramatically as RL takes over ::pouts::
Happy New Year to all you wonderful Thunderbirds peeps. Thank you for all your support on this fic and all the others I've played with throughout the year.
Many thanks to vegetacide and scribbles97 for cheering me on and their wonderful support through this craziness. And to onereyofstarlight for geeking out with me over the setting.
Disclaimer: Mine? You've got to be kidding. Money? Don't have any, don't bother.
-o-o-o-
"You're going to be talking gibberish. We don't speak whale. You could do more harm than good."
"I have to try."
"This isn't about you."
"I know that, John." A harsh indrawn breath. "Please. It might be just enough to cause a distraction to draw the mother away so Gordon can do what needs to be done."
John glared at his brother. It wasn't an angry glare, but a worried one. Virgil was acting odd. His attention kept focussing elsewhere, his expression troubled.
But John trusted Virgil, so he set up the audio interface with the buoy, giving both his brother's mic and his keyboard access to the amplifier and transmitter currently hanging in the water column. He looped in full control over the frequency and amplitude and duplicated the buoy's holographic feed onto Virgil's tablet so his brother could see what was happening.
Gordon appeared to be in a glaring contest with the mother whale.
Virgil played the first note.
John held his breath.
And his brother began to sing.
-o-o-o-
Virgil recited the notes of the distant whales' answer to the mother's distress call in his head as his fingers touched the keyboard. It had a pattern in both the math and the music bouncing around in his brain. He couldn't duplicate it, but he could harmonise with it.
At first he echoed it a little, getting a feel for the extra dimension of the lower frequencies and the fact he couldn't hear it when the computer calculated it below human range. Then he improvised.
The mother's call still echoed through his body, its pulses sharp and poignant. Whales were mammals. Humans shared a relatively recent ancestor and if there was one constant amongst all the mammals on this planet, it was emotion. It might not be quite the same, but if he could feel that mother's anguish, perhaps she could feel his reassurance, his hope, his need to help.
He wasn't one to sing often, but in this case he felt the need to connect beyond the electronic and create the sounds only his voice could communicate.
So after a few initial attempts to align his music with the language of the great whale, he let himself go.
-o-o-o-
Mamma whale continued to stare at Gordon.
His brother's voice echoed through the water around him, the melody fractured by the parts Gordon could not hear.
"C'mon, beautiful, you gotta like that. Virgil is a great musician." Please.
She moaned again.
Virgil's melody acknowledged her even though Gordon knew his brother had no idea what she was saying.
The music pleaded and even Gordon felt its draw.
Mamma muttered and drifted a little closer to her calf, nuzzling her as the little girl whimpered.
Calming notes and his brother's voice slipped into a fragmented resemblance of a familiar lullaby their mother had sung when they were children. No words, just notes, his tone softer, his voice deepening.
Gordon edged closer to Mamma.
She didn't move.
Still staring, her beautiful eye fixated on him.
Closer.
A little more.
He reached out and touched her.
Still she stared.
He brushed his gloved hand across the folds above her eye. "That's it, beautiful. I'm from International Rescue. We're here to help."
The water vibrated around him as she punctuated his statement with her voice.
Moving slowly, he took off his right glove, removing the barrier between them.
Her skin was wrinkled, yet smooth to touch.
Her eye kept staring at him.
He kept stroking.
Virgil kept singing.
They stayed that way for a period of time Gordon wasn't quite sure he could measure, when Mamma suddenly let off a grunt and a whine before backing off a little, opening the distance between her and her calf.
Oh, thank god.
"Thank you, Mamma."
She didn't answer, but also didn't stop staring at him.
Gordon edged closer to the calf and when she didn't intervene, he moved even closer, approaching the little one where she could see him, her frantic eye darting between him and her mother.
Net was snagged up half her face and wrapped around her pectoral fin.
Gordon swallowed and approached, reaching gently up in a parrot of the movements he had made with her mother.
"Hey, sweetheart. Who did this to you? Hey?" He reached out and touched her eyebrow ever so gently. "I'm so sorry. We'll make it better. I promise."
His bare fingers brushed such soft skin.
She didn't pull away.
"Hey, Scott. You and Alan, in the water, quietly. Either side of this little one. Let's get her free."
His brothers' FABs were ever so quiet.
Gordon stroked the little girl's eyebrow, muttering reassurances as his brothers materialised quietly beside her. It was no surprise when it was Scott who took his side between calf and mother.
Mamma moved a little, but didn't protest.
Keep eye contact.
Keep stroking.
Keeping his voice low. "It is wrapped around her fin and caught in her mouth. Scott, see if you can free her fin. Alan, cut away the netting on that side and I will manage it on this side. She is very tired. Who knows how long she's been stuck here." His stomach roiled with anger again.
"FAB, bro."
Scott's hand landed gently on his shoulder and squeezed.
Virgil was still singing.
Gordon kept stroking.
Scott made short work of the net on her fin, cutting the cursed nylon rigging away with a very sharp knife. Alan signalled that he had cut the netting on her left side.
"She's looking at me." Alan's voice was quiet.
"Al, she's scared. Show her you care."
Gordon was still stroking her eye ridges.
"How?"
"Reassure her. She's a rescuee like any other."
As Gordon turned to the net caught in her mouth, his little brother started murmuring reassurances.
"Okay, sweetheart, let's get you free." He put his glove back on and with a final brush of her brow, he set to work cutting netting away from her throat folds.
In places it had gouged deep into her skin.
His heart flickered between sorrow and anger.
Scott moved in to assist and between them the majority of the snag was cut away.
That only left the tangle in her mouth. She was actually free to move now, but she stayed where she was, perhaps unaware of her freedom, perhaps because she still had net in her mouth.
Bubbles danced on her skin as she stared at him.
He brushed his hand across her eye ridge again, ever so gentle.
Scott settled beside him and tentatively reached out and touched her flank. "She's beautiful."
Gordon sighed. "That she is." A pause. "Stay here. Keep her calm as much as you can. I need to look at her other side. Removing that last piece will probably hurt." He swallowed. Ignoring the emotion roiling in his gut, he turned away and dove under her.
Alan was splayed across her left flank, still murmuring reassurances, his arms wrapped around her as much as he could.
Gordon bit his lip, not sure whether to laugh or cry at the sight of his little brother hugging a whale.
Ultimately, he did neither and simply approached her other eye beside Alan and gave her a reassuring stroke.
The net had worn into the corners of her mouth as she struggled against the snag. He could only pray it wasn't caught in her baleen.
Gritting his teeth, he nudged the net a little, testing it to see if he could pull it out. Once slipped from the groove it had cut into the poor calf's skin, it did move...just enough to give him hope.
"Okay, guys, be wary. This might hurt." He reached over and caressed her eye ridge again. "Sweetheart, I'm sorry, but this has to come out. We're almost done." Another caress.
Her eye fixated on him.
He tugged on the net.
To his surprise it slid easily, the majority of it just thin nylon rope.
Then it snagged.
The calf let out a sharp groan, her pectoral fins flailing.
Shit.
Alan narrowly missed getting tossed.
"Woah!" Scott yelped from her other side.
"Scott, you okay?"
"I'm good. That must have hurt. Have you got it all out?"
"No." It was a rush of exhaled air.
Mamma moaned, then clicked at her daughter, but she stayed where she was.
Gordon returned to her eye. "I'm sorry, sweetheart." His hand stroked her again. God, he wished he could communicate with her. Ask her to open her mouth so he could take the blasted net out safely.
As if the thought was a magic wand, she did exactly that, slowly opening her mouth just a crack.
"Oh, that's it, sweetheart, yes." His hand brushed over her rostrum, gently encouraging her to open just that little bit wider. Her sheets of baleen emerged and Gordon refused to acknowledge his awe of this moment, knowing if he did, he would get lost in it.
Reaching in, he gently slid his fingers between the brush-like filaments of her feeding filters, ever aware he was probably either the first or one of very few to have ever reached into a live whale's mouth. His fingers followed the netting until he could feel what it had caught on. And yes, it was caught in her baleen.
He swore silently and, as gently as he could, he fiddled with the rope, desperate to get it loose.
The calf shifted in the water, agitated. Mamma called out again and Virgil, still playing, still singing, answered best he could with a gentle note echoing through the water.
"Almost there, sweetheart." He said it more to reassure himself than the calf. He wanted to swear. Unable to see the snag and relying on touch, he failed to locate the tangle. Frustrated he removed his hand and then removed his glove. He needed more information.
Placing his bare hand into a whale's mouth was an experience. But it gave him the information he needed to unhook the netting from her plates. Something soft and squishy brushed against his palm and he had the distinct impression that he had just been licked.
In any case, he was able to remove his hand and the netting along with it.
The relief was a physical thing, his whole body wilting.
He handed the net fragment to Alan and with a brush of his bare fingers across her rostrum again, he returned to her eye.
She stared at him.
"You're free, sweetheart." His fingers touched her eye ridge and to his astonishment, his vision blurred.
Aw, shit. Crying underwater was not a good idea.
He blinked madly and straightened himself out. "John, Virgil can stop playing now. She's safe." Scott swam up beside Gordon and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.
The calf's eye flickered to his brother and back to Gordon.
Virgil sung one more note, long and plaintive, then faded into silence.
Water lapped at the calf's flanks.
A quiet click.
A moan.
And Mamma was moving in.
Gordon grabbed Scott and Alan and dragged them backwards, out of range as Mamma took her place beside her offspring. There were several more clicks and moans.
She draped a pectoral fin over her baby.
Nudged her gently.
A flick of a tail and they were both moving. The calf was still exhausted, but she was no longer snared and the injuries should heal, though likely scar. Gordon thought briefly back to the sunfish he had seen yesterday. One of the lucky ones. His anger surfaced again.
Mamma groaned loudly and a wave of something washed over them. Gordon felt it in his gut. It was as if she had reached out and touched him with her voice.
They stayed there until the blue of distance swallowed the pair.
As the last of the adrenalin left his system, Gordon found himself shaking. But it wasn't over yet. He turned towards the inflatable. "John, I need Four out here, now."
-o-o-o-
It took John to snap him out of it.
Soft words.
A hand on his shoulder.
An end to the music.
Virgil found his throat aching, his abdomen complaining and his whole musculature system pissed at him for holding his position so long, wired with so much tension.
He let his shoulders drop and groaned. "God." His hands on his face and he bent over the keyboard.
"Virgil?"
"I'm fine." It was automatic and muffled by his palms.
John's hand was back on his shoulder anyway.
Virgil sighed and pushed himself upright, looking up at his brother. "I'm okay, John, honest."
That earned him a copper frown. But John was forced to turn back to his controls as WASP called in.
Virgil rubbed his face.
His holographic display showed the mother and her daughter turning back onto the south-easterly migration route. His eyes latched onto them.
The mother let off a groan and a wave of intensity washed over him. His bones sung with it and he gasped out loud.
Then it was gone.
"Goodbye." It was a parched whisper falling from his lips.
John was shooting more worried looks at him.
Virgil pushed away his keyboard and struggled to his feet. Yes, he was going to pay for this little jamming session. His abdomen complained extensively.
But his head was so...full.
"Vir-"
"I'm fine!" Okay, it came out sharper than it should have. Another sigh. "Sorry. I'm..." He waved a hand in the direction of the back of the boat. "I'm just going to see if Gordon is okay." His brothers were making for the inflatable on his display.
"Take it easy." John's expression was still annoyingly worried.
"I'm good. I promise." He just needed a moment to think.
Gordon called for Four and John turned to action the request. Virgil took the chance for what it was and slipped out of the room, one arm wrapped around his middle.
-o-o-o-
By the time Gordon made it to the inflatable and dragged himself and his brothers out of the water, Two was on approach.
He glanced at their yacht and sure enough, his second eldest brother could be seen climbing the steps to the bow of the boat. He was hunched over just a little more than Gordon was comfortable with.
He nudged Scott and gestured in Virgil's direction.
His big brother's lips thinned.
Two's VTOL fired as she braked mid-air and levelled herself out. Tin was brusque, keeping conversation to procedure, no doubt as unhappy with the reason for this callout as the rest of them.
Virgil straightened on the bow of the yacht and stared up at his 'bird.
"I'm going to fish that net off the ocean floor before it can hurt anyone else. You want to field our musician?"
"FAB." It was muttered as Scott eyed his artist brother across the water.
Okay, it wasn't fighting fair to target Virgil with smother-brother number one, but there had been something in that music that even Gordon and his tin ear could pick up. He would check on the man himself, but that net had to be removed immediately.
Two dropped her module with a splash and Alan engaged the inflatable's engine to dart them over to it. Gordon jumped off onto the open module ramp, the sight of his 'bird, as always, lifting his spirits.
He rolled his shoulders as Alan turned the inflatable around and bee-lined for the yacht.
"Okay. Let's do this."
-o-o-o-
"I'm fine."
Virgil said it loud enough to be heard above the roar of Two's VTOL the moment Scott set foot on the top step leading up to the bow. His wetsuit was still dripping, blue neoprene leaving puddles in his footprints.
He raised his hands defensively. "I didn't say a thing."
"You thought it, though."
Scott shrugged and took the remaining steps to reach his brother's side. He eyed him sideways, noting the tension knotting the muscles in Virgil's shoulders through the light shirt he was wearing.
An arched eyebrow and Scott reached out, letting his arm drape across those tight shoulders. As expected they flinched the moment he touched them. He pushed the matter and pulled his brother into a damp one armed hug, regardless.
Some of the tension slipped away.
Target result achieved.
"That was some performance."
"Hmm." It was distracted and barely acknowledged, Virgil's eyes still on his 'bird.
"John says WASP was able to grab a good percentage of the onsite perpetrators. Penny reports she has some good leads on the financial sources. We will find those responsible and they will pay."
"They can rot in hell." The hate and acid in Virgil's voice was so uncharacteristic, Scott had to stop himself from taking a step back.
"Virg?"
He turned away, pulling himself out from under Scott's arm. "I'm going to go lie down. And before you ask, yes, I'm fine, okay and completely dandy. Just...a little tired." Virgil ran a hand across his face.
Scott eyed him, completely unconvinced, but knowing if he said anything it would be either brushed off or his brother would explode. "Okay."
Virgil looked up at him and Scott was taken aback by the anguish in those dark eyes. But Virgil reached out and squeezed his arm before brushing past and heading back towards the steps off the bow.
Scott's eyes followed him as his brother braced his side and made his way down.
Yes, they could rot in hell.
-o-o-o-
End Day Three, Part Two