Chapter 57.

Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward was a lady of many talents.

Unfortunately, cooking was not one of them.

International Rescue's London agent was in the middle of a very dignified tizzy. It was nearing dinnertime, and she had a herd of bedbound patients who needed feeding. They'd all managed to sleep off the worst of their stomach aches, however were in no shape to come downstairs and dine as normal.

Cue dinner in bed.

Penelope bit her lip as she studied the contents of the fridge and larder. There was plenty of food, both fresh and frozen, however one tiny problem was preventing any of it from actually getting made.

Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward had never cooked before.

Okay, that was a slight exaggeration. She'd learnt some culinary skills at finishing school and had had the privilege of meeting some of the most talented chefs the twenty-first century had to offer. Theoretically, her knowledge was pretty sound, but practically, she lacked even the most basic experience.

Her socialite schedule didn't help much. Considering she and Parker had engagements almost every night of the week, they were both used to handing responsibility for their food intake over to whoever was hosting them. On the rare occasions where they had a night at home, cheeky takeaways were often their first choice. After all, one could not survive on caviar and truffles alone.

Penelope sighed and ran a hand through her hair. The boys were counting on her, and she wasn't about to tarnish her flawless reputation by abandoning them in their hour of need. She needed options, and she needed them fast.

It was no good. She wasn't a proficient cook at the best of times, but even less so when anxious. Stressed Penelope could barely tell dog poop from applesauce.

A loud creak snapped her out of her internal monologue. The creak was closely followed by a groan, then another creak, then another groan, then another creak, then another groan.

Virgil. Still in his dressing gown. Coming down the stairs.

Penelope frowned. She'd half expected it to be Scott, since she knew he'd been having difficulty sleeping with his sling and was positively itching to get out of bed and do something productive.

But nope, it was Virgil. Good old Virgil in his trusty tartan dressing gown that had temporarily taken the place of his trusty tartan shirt.

"Virgil!" Penelope admonished, gliding over to meet him at the bottom of the stairs, "Whatever are you doing up? Is everything quite alright?"

"Just fine," Virgil grunted, descending the last three steps with a small wince of discomfort, "My room's too cold, so I thought I'd come down for a change of scenery. Plus, I thought you might appreciate some company. I know you've been on your own all day, what with Kayo and Grandma both gone."

Penelope felt herself blush. Virgil really was a big sweetheart.

"I am most grateful for your kindness, but I assure you that I am quite alright by myself," Penelope assured, "Right now, my priority is taking care of all of you. Do you need some more painkillers, or perhaps a glass of water? Also, I'd feel much happier if you stopped standing there shivering and went and curled up somewhere comfy."

Virgil shook his head, "Nope, I think I'm good. And no to the curling up as well, I'm afraid. Gordon hasn't been conscious for the last ten and a half hours and poor Celery needs a walk."

"No matter," Penelope seized Virgil by the shoulders and began to guide him in the direction of a lounge chair, "I walked her with Bertie this morning. I also took the liberty of giving her some dinner, which brings me nicely on to the subject of what you and your brothers would like for yours?"

Virgil shrugged and closed his eyes as the heat from the setting sun began to soak into his bones, "Oh, probably nothing. Best not poke the bear while it's sleeping, if you get what I mean."

Penelope wasn't satisfied, "I still want you all to at least try something. A glass of milk will suffice if you don't fancy any food."

'Milk. Hmmm...'

After checking that Virgil's backside was glued to a lounger and not trying to sneak off for an unauthorised visit to Thunderbird Two's hangar, Penelope strode back into the kitchen and wrenched open the fridge.

So much food, so little knowledge on how to prepare it.

"Oh buggeration," Penelope muttered. She swore the bunch of mint sticking out of the vegetable drawer was eyeing her up disapprovingly, as if somehow aware of her culinary incompetence.

"Um, Virgil?" Penelope called, trying desperately to keep her tone offhand and casual, "Where do you keep the cereal?"

Virgil sat up with a frown, "Cereal? Second shelf on the left in the larder."

Penelope followed Virgil's directions and was rewarded with cereal pay dirt. The boxes staring back at her ranged from the high-fibre, gastrointestinal blowout type right down to the high-sugar, diabetic disaster variety.

Perfect for five sick men and one sick teenager.

Cereal was, in itself, an art form. It came in such a variety of shapes, sizes, flavours, and colours, plus it was one of the few dishes that sat across the entire health spectrum, ranging from amazingly healthy to ridiculously unhealthy.

Penelope sighed as she grabbed six bowls out of the cupboard. It might not be Michelin standard nosh, but it would give the boy's stomachs something harmless to work on at least.

"We're almost out of milk," Penelope reported, shaking what little remained in the carton in her hand, "Do you think Kayo would mind if I used some of her soy milk to make up the difference?"

Virgil, who was busy reclining like a particularly handsome garden gnome, grunted and motioned vaguely with one of his hands, "There are some spares in the freezer. Leave them in the sink for a few minutes to thaw out."

Penelope's eyes fluttered in relief as she went to yank the freezer open, only to be met with resistance, "Um, I think the door might be broken."

"Other side," Virgil yelled, not even bothering to glance up.

Penelope hummed in intrigue as she inspected the section she was tugging on. A quick try of Virgil's suggestion and the door swung open easily, "Oh, fixed it!"

A good-natured snort climbed out of Virgil's throat.

As Penelope filled the sink with warm water and left two frozen cartons to defrost, she set about deciding which cereal to assign to which brother. Froot Loops, Cheerios, Shredded Wheat, Honey Nut Flakes, Marshmallow Hoops, Corn Flakes, Apple Jacks, Cocoa Puffs, Rice Krispies, Shreddies, Frosted Flakes, Granola, Raisin Bran…she felt her jaw go slack.

Seriously? Had Brains somehow predicted the apocalypse and recommended to the boys that they hoard the world's supply of cereal?

Cereal. Anyone willing to collect and catalogue all the types available to consumers worldwide deserved a PhD. A possible job for Gordon and Alan if rescues didn't start picking up again.

After approximately nine seconds of deliberation, Penelope opted for Cheerios. Relatively low in sugar, reasonably high in fibre, and very nice tasting. Plus, they were one of her childhood favourites.

She hoped the boys felt the same way.

"Uh, which goes first?" Penelope asked, suddenly unsure, "The milk or the cereal?"

Over on the lounger, Virgil sighed and draped an arm across his eyes.

"Doesn't matter. As long as you remember the bowl."

-x-

Thankfully, the Cheerio campaign was as well received as Penelope had hoped it would be. She'd taken the liberty of slicing some bananas and strawberries across some of the bowls in an attempt to up the vitamin content and increase palatability. She'd been careful to give Gordon soy milk with his serving, and had dutifully consulted John's allergy list before adding any extra toppings to his portion.

In any case, bowls had been seized, Cheerios crunched, and milk guzzled. It was five significantly happier Tracys and one Parker that descended downstairs for breakfast the following morning.

Well, technically only three Tracys and one Parker. Gordon and Alan were sleeping in, but Scott had given the affirmative that they were both feeling significantly better.

Unfortunately, the same couldn't be said for poor Kayo.

Shadow's pilot had been deployed on a recon mission to Greenland not five minutes after arriving home with Grandma the previous day. The mission had been a success, but had come at the cost of an entire night's sleep.

"Why don't you head upstairs for a nap?" Scott suggested, sighing as Kayo stared lifelessly into space, "I'll take you off the roster for a few hours."

Kayo grunted and began to slurp loudly from a mug of coffee, "Wouldn't work. I can't sleep during the day. I'm just going to have to soldier through and wait until tonight. Does anyone have any paracetamol? My head feels like I've stuck it in a vacuum."

John was just about to start digging through the medicine cabinet when Gordon sashayed into the kitchen, freshly showered and whistling like the peppy blond train that he was.

Of course, Kayo took immediate offense.

"Shut it, Gordon. Not all of us were treated to dinner in bed and a return flight to dreamland last night," Kayo growled, her puffy eyes practically on stalks.

Sensing possible bloodshed, Scott intervened.

"Hey, Gordo? Kayo had a rough night, so maybe tone the whistling down a bit," Scott suggested, motioning frantically with his eyes towards the steaming pile of human that was their Head of Security.

Gordon's eyes widened apologetically, "Oh, sorry! I promise, you won't even know I'm here."

Kayo's rage meter decreased ever so slightly.

Scott however, wasn't quite finished with his brother, "Hey, Gords? Remember Virgil drew up that new chore list so that everyone can pitch in while my arm's healing?"

"Absolutely," Gordon mouthed, dramatically tip-toeing his way over to the sink.

"Tell me, what are you now responsible for?" Scott asked, his expression bypassing all possible emotions and jumping straight to disappointed.

"Waking Alan up and bringing him down for breakfast," Gordon replied, a proud smile plastered across his face which faltered when his eyes locked onto Alan's empty chair, "Oh. Whoops."

The peace of the kitchen was promptly shattered as Gordon hurtled back towards the staircase, knocking a frying pan off it's hook and several plates onto the floor in the process.

Kayo outright whined. She swore she could feel death cradling her skull.

Scott coughed and busied himself with refilling everyone's drinks. At least the damage Gordon could inflict was minimal once he left a room.

"ALAN! ALAN! YOU NEED TO WAKE UP NOW, YOU PIECE OF SPACE TRASH!"

'Interesting. He's found a way to broaden his radius of impact.'

Kayo's head disappeared into her hands.

A high-pitched scream in Alan's distinctive helium tone practically shook the foundation of the house, "Ah, Gordon! No! No! Get off me!"

"QUIET! KAYO'S TRYING TO RELAX!"

Scott felt his heart leap out of his chest and make a run for it. The amount of steam Kayo was giving off was sufficient to perm his hair.

Not three minutes later, Gordon returned downstairs, dragging a half-dressed and slightly traumatised looking Alan behind him.

"There, that's me done," Gordon announced, helping himself to a bagel before sauntering off in the direction of the pool.

While Scott and Penelope tried frantically to extinguish Kayo's mood with small talk about a cybersecurity summit taking place in Kuala Lumpur, Parker took the opportunity to rise from the table and nod in Gordon's direction, "That one wants to watch 'imself, or 'e won't live to see 'is next birthday."

Virgil snorted and shared a knowing look with John, "You should know, Parker. Didn't you teach him to drive?"

Parker visibly shuddered, "Yes, but someone like 'im should 'ave been referred to a professional."

John frowned, munching distractedly on a banana, "Aren't you a professional? Driving is the main part of your job."

The withering look Parker shot the redhead nearly killed the vase of flowers in the middle of the table.

"I meant a professional with experience crashing through things. An 'Ollywood stuntman or a former marine, for example."