Disclaimer: Thunderbirds are not mine (sadly) they belong to Gerry Anderson & Co. I make no money out of my fiction. It is merely for my enjoyment and that of my readers.
Author's Note: Thank you for your lovely reviews. Reading them makes my writing feel worthwhile! Here's chapter nine. I hope it's not too over the top. I tried my best. Reviews please, (gentle) criticisms and compliments alike. ;-)
.........................................................................................................................................................
More Than What Meets The Eye
Chapter Nine
The bright early morning sun shone through the window of the motel room. The sky was cornflower blue, not a cloud on the horizon as the bright sun came up.
Scott shook his head.
This wasn't the type of day for a funeral! Funerals were grey, dark, dreary...why should the sun be shining so brightly? Why, when he'd just lost everything? He looked across the room at the clock. 5.30am. All night long he'd been awake. How could he sleep with this day lurking ahead? His eyes moved right to see his father, who was sleeping in the adjacent bed, before turning back to the window.
The streets were already beginning to fill with the bustle of early morning workers. It seemed weird to Scott that so many other people had not a care in the world, while he...
He had nothing.
Well, that wasn't strictly true. He had his father, who'd been a mountain of support over the last week. Without Jeff, Scott wouldn't have coped. He had his brothers and friends.
But that was different.
He needed her.
Yes, yes, he needed them too, but Megan had been...
What? What had Megan been? After all they'd only been reunited for one day before her death. He'd only seen her a few hours a week when he'd been in hospital.
But he still loved her. How much or how often he'd seen her didn't matter. He loved her, and that was that.
Scott coughed a little, his voice croaky from barely speaking for a week. He thought over the past seven days. He'd barely eaten anything, just drank water from the tap. He'd attacked the whisky too, but even that hadn't knocked him out enough to forget. He'd barely slept. Every time he began to drift and dream he saw that hospital room and her, lying on the bed covered in tubes. The scene was very much like the one he'd seen almost twenty years before when he was nine years old, but at that time the woman lying on the bed had been his mother.
.............................................................................................................................................................
Jeff Tracy was lying on the bed, pretending to be asleep.
He'd been thinking, as he had over the last seven days, about Scott.
Jeff had lost Lucy.
He'd hoped and prayed that none of his children would ever have to suffer that same pain. His prayer had gone unanswered. Here was Scott, going through almost exactly the same thing, yet he hadn't even had the chance to be married to the woman he loved.
Now Jeff had to accompany his son to the local church in Megan's hometown for the wrong reason.
No.
It wasn't meant to be this way.
Scott was meant to be in a tuxedo with a carnation on his lapel. Jeff was supposed to be at the church with his son, assuring him that his bride would turn up. The rest of the family were supposed to be fussing round, Penelope taking strict control over the last-minute arrangements. SHE was meant to be travelling in a limousine, wearing a white flowing dress, flowers gathered in her arms, bridesmaids at her side.
She wasn't meant to be in a wooden box, stiffly dressed in her favourite clothes. Jeff wasn't supposed to have to get up and put on the stiff black suit that had been hanging in his wardrobe for twenty years. Scott wasn't meant to be standing at the altar to make a goodbye speech. Penelope and the others weren't meant to be at their homes, worrying about him and Scott.
Jeff wanted to put his head in his hands, but continued to lie still.
It just wasn't fair.
It wasn't fair at all.
.............................................................................................................................................................
"It's not fair."
"I know it isn't fair, Alan. What can we do, though? At least you're back safe though. If we'd lost you too, I don't know how Scott would have coped."
"I know. But I feel terrible about the whole situation, Virgil."
"Alan. Scott's already told you to stop blaming yourself. He knows you're not to blame."
"I don't know how he's coping, Virg. I don't think I could stand it if anything ever happened to..."
His voice trailed off and his eyes wandered to the Malaysian girl who sat quietly talking to her father.
Virgil followed his gaze and continued to speak.
"Well, I've told you before Alan, and I'll tell you again. If you keep wasting time like this – and this is especially true for us, given our job – there won't be any time left to waste."
Josephine Tracy appeared on the balcony next to them, carrying two glasses of lemonade.
"Hello boys." She said softly.
"Hi Grandma. Are you alright?"
"Not really, Virgil. I keep thinking of your brother. This is so difficult for him I remember when your father..."
She stopped suddenly, remembering how much it hurt the others every time they spoke about Lucille Tracy's death.
"Oh, never mind, boys." She said. "No point dwelling on the past. What's happened has happened, and what's done is done."
She returned to the kitchen after having a few words with Kyrano.
Virgil turned back to Alan.
"I hope Dad and Scott are alright, Al. Well, as 'alright' as they can be."
"They'll get through it Virg. I know they will."
............................................................................................................................................................
Scott picked up the piece of paper for the hundredth time. He was supposed to be reading the hymn as a speech at Megan's funeral. He'd practiced it once, and it had broken him into shards.
"Day is done, but Love unfailing dwells ever here; - "
Then his eyes misted over and he couldn't read anymore. Yet it was no good putting off the inevitable. He would just have to hope for the best.
He stared himself in the mirror.
Black jacket.
Black shirt.
Black tie.
Black trousers.
He'd never liked black much. It didn't suit him. The last time he'd worn a full black outfit like this...was....when...
He didn't want to think back to then. This was about the here and now.
A hand on his shoulder made him jump, though he knew who it belonged to.
"Dad. I don't think I can do this."
Jeff squeezed harder.
"Yes, you can son. I'll be there. You'll be OK."
"Thanks, Father."
There was a pause.
"The car's outside, son."
"OK Dad. I'll be down in a minute."
Jeff closed the door and Scott turned back to the mirror. Putting the paper into his pocket, he turned and walked out the door.
............................................................................................................................................................
The stretched Mercedes was parked just outside the drive up to the motel. As he climbed into the car, all Scott could do was stare ahead at the hearse at the front.
It seemed impossible to him that the woman he loved was in there.
He could see the flowers he'd bought were on the coffin.
The name, "MEGAN" was spelt in chrysanthemums and carnations and lay on the right side.
The car released it's brakes and slowly edged forward, to begin the slow two mile journey to the church. As they drove, families stopped in the street. A few of the older men took off their hats as a mark of respect. A teenage boy, with hair dyed green and many a body piercing, stopped and made the sign of the cross.
Scott barely took in the surroundings. He kept staring at the church steeple which was just ahead, then at the coffin. Jeff saw him do this and laid a hand on his arm. He barely responded. The sun was still shining. It was a perfectly normal-looking day; but it wasn't a normal day. It was one of the worst days of Scott Tracy's life.
The church was packed with the many friends that Megan had made in her short life. Her family stood around in crowds, her mother and father together. Her mother was holding out very well. Her father was crying. Her grandmother had to take him outside for a while.
Jeff and Scott stood together awkwardly, not knowing where to look until Megan's family approached.
"Are you Scott Tracy?" Megan's mother addressed him, her tone gentle.
"Yes ma'am."
"Sir, we're grateful for all you did for our Megan. We couldn't be with her while she was dying; we want to thank you for being there for her."
Scott nodded stiffly, unable to answer.
The priest appeared at the altar and asked everyone to take their seats. They sang a hymn a few minutes later; if you'd have asked Scott which hymn it was he would never have remembered. He stared at the open casket.
Surely, surely she couldn't really be dead?
She didn't look dead.
Her face was perfect, and a smile seemingly played about her mouth.
She was too beautiful to be dead.
It was like going back in time.
.............................................................................................................................................
They'd got to the church at eleven in the morning. The sun had been lurking behind the clouds, a mid-March fog still leaving it's traces behind.
It had been cold, though. Scott hadn't known if it was cold weather, or it was just him, feeling the coldness of loss.
His father sat next to him in the car, stone-faced. He looked a little different than now, his face less careworn, his hair dark. Scott felt his pain, but in a different way. Scott had just lost his mother, the centre of their world. His father had lost his wife.
His best friend.
His other half.
It was a pain that nine-year-old Scott Tracy had not yet witnessed. It was a pain that his father hoped none of his sons would have to endure.
The church at Lucille Tracy's funeral had been packed too. Her open casket had been in the centre of the altar. She'd looked beautiful too.
Jeff hadn't quite been able to grasp the fact that she was dead.
Young Scott Tracy sat next to his father, brave and quiet throughout the sermon.
..........................................................................................................................................................
"...Ladies and gentlemen, Scott Tracy would like to read a hymn on behalf of himself and his family, in tribute to our sister departed."
Scott stood up on shaky legs, and headed for the altar.
His legs almost buckled.
His heart nearly stopped.
But he made it.
Standing at the altar, looking into a crowd of two hundred people, he took out the paper and read the words that were already swimming in front of him.
"Day is done, but Love unfailing
dwells ever here;
shadows fall, but hope prevailing,
calms every fear.
Loving Father, none forsaking,
take our hearts, of love's own making,
watch our sleeping, guard our waking, be always near.
Dark descends, but light unending
Shines through our night;
You are with us, ever lending
New strength to sight;
One in love, your truth confessing,
One in hope of heaven's blessing,
May we see, in love's possessing,
Love's endless light.
Eyes will close, but you unsleeping,
Watch by our side;
Death – death..."
Scott paused a moment to regain his control as the words began to swarm together on the paper. He looked in the direction of Jeff, and seeing him there gave him the strength to carry on.
"Death may come: in Love's safe keeping
still we abide.
God of Love, all evil quelling,
Sin forgiving, fear dispelling,
Stay with us, our hearts indwelling,
This eventide."
You could have heard a pin drop on the stone floor of the church at that moment.
"Thank you, Scott."
The priest's words of thanks signalled Scott to get down from the altar and he did so, calmly and quietly, despite the tears that threatened to spill over. He sat down quietly next to Jeff, who put an arm around him.
The first step was over.
.............................................................................................................................................................
They'd stepped out of the church doors and followed the priest to the gravesite. The whole crowd had that terrible, sombre feeling that always hung over a funeral, like a storm cloud.
They'd stood around the gravesite as she was lowered into it. A nine-year- old boy who desperately wanted to help his father, a young Virgil clinging to his father's free hand, John standing quietly holding onto the hem of his grandmother's black dress. Josephine Tracy, standing tall and brave, holding a young Gordon and a crying week-old Alan in her arms.
The priest said a few words and they all bowed their heads in prayer.
Lucille Tracy was gone forever.
.........................................................................................................................................................
They stood around the coffin, now closed, that lay poised above the deep hole in the ground.
Megan's parents threw a few flowers on the top of the coffin.
Scott carefully lay a red rose on the lid as it was lowered into the ground and earth was cast upon it.
"For as much as it hath pleased our Almighty God of his great mercy to take unto himself the soul of our dear sister here departed, we therefore commit her body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust; in sure and certain hope of the Resurrection to eternal life, through our Lord Jesus Christ ; who shall change our vile body, that it may be like unto His glorious body, according to the mighty working whereby he is able to subdue all things to himself.
I now ask you to join me in the Lord's Prayer before we depart today."
"Our Father
Who art in heaven,
Hallowed be thy name,
Thy kingdom come
Thy will be done
On earth as it is in Heaven.
Give us this day,
Our daily bread
And forgive us our trespasses
As we forgive those
Who trespass against us
And lead us not into temptation
But deliver us from evil.
For thine is the kingdom,
The power,
And the glory forever,
Amen."
.........................................................................................................................................................
Author's Note: Thank you for your lovely reviews. Reading them makes my writing feel worthwhile! Here's chapter nine. I hope it's not too over the top. I tried my best. Reviews please, (gentle) criticisms and compliments alike. ;-)
.........................................................................................................................................................
More Than What Meets The Eye
Chapter Nine
The bright early morning sun shone through the window of the motel room. The sky was cornflower blue, not a cloud on the horizon as the bright sun came up.
Scott shook his head.
This wasn't the type of day for a funeral! Funerals were grey, dark, dreary...why should the sun be shining so brightly? Why, when he'd just lost everything? He looked across the room at the clock. 5.30am. All night long he'd been awake. How could he sleep with this day lurking ahead? His eyes moved right to see his father, who was sleeping in the adjacent bed, before turning back to the window.
The streets were already beginning to fill with the bustle of early morning workers. It seemed weird to Scott that so many other people had not a care in the world, while he...
He had nothing.
Well, that wasn't strictly true. He had his father, who'd been a mountain of support over the last week. Without Jeff, Scott wouldn't have coped. He had his brothers and friends.
But that was different.
He needed her.
Yes, yes, he needed them too, but Megan had been...
What? What had Megan been? After all they'd only been reunited for one day before her death. He'd only seen her a few hours a week when he'd been in hospital.
But he still loved her. How much or how often he'd seen her didn't matter. He loved her, and that was that.
Scott coughed a little, his voice croaky from barely speaking for a week. He thought over the past seven days. He'd barely eaten anything, just drank water from the tap. He'd attacked the whisky too, but even that hadn't knocked him out enough to forget. He'd barely slept. Every time he began to drift and dream he saw that hospital room and her, lying on the bed covered in tubes. The scene was very much like the one he'd seen almost twenty years before when he was nine years old, but at that time the woman lying on the bed had been his mother.
.............................................................................................................................................................
Jeff Tracy was lying on the bed, pretending to be asleep.
He'd been thinking, as he had over the last seven days, about Scott.
Jeff had lost Lucy.
He'd hoped and prayed that none of his children would ever have to suffer that same pain. His prayer had gone unanswered. Here was Scott, going through almost exactly the same thing, yet he hadn't even had the chance to be married to the woman he loved.
Now Jeff had to accompany his son to the local church in Megan's hometown for the wrong reason.
No.
It wasn't meant to be this way.
Scott was meant to be in a tuxedo with a carnation on his lapel. Jeff was supposed to be at the church with his son, assuring him that his bride would turn up. The rest of the family were supposed to be fussing round, Penelope taking strict control over the last-minute arrangements. SHE was meant to be travelling in a limousine, wearing a white flowing dress, flowers gathered in her arms, bridesmaids at her side.
She wasn't meant to be in a wooden box, stiffly dressed in her favourite clothes. Jeff wasn't supposed to have to get up and put on the stiff black suit that had been hanging in his wardrobe for twenty years. Scott wasn't meant to be standing at the altar to make a goodbye speech. Penelope and the others weren't meant to be at their homes, worrying about him and Scott.
Jeff wanted to put his head in his hands, but continued to lie still.
It just wasn't fair.
It wasn't fair at all.
.............................................................................................................................................................
"It's not fair."
"I know it isn't fair, Alan. What can we do, though? At least you're back safe though. If we'd lost you too, I don't know how Scott would have coped."
"I know. But I feel terrible about the whole situation, Virgil."
"Alan. Scott's already told you to stop blaming yourself. He knows you're not to blame."
"I don't know how he's coping, Virg. I don't think I could stand it if anything ever happened to..."
His voice trailed off and his eyes wandered to the Malaysian girl who sat quietly talking to her father.
Virgil followed his gaze and continued to speak.
"Well, I've told you before Alan, and I'll tell you again. If you keep wasting time like this – and this is especially true for us, given our job – there won't be any time left to waste."
Josephine Tracy appeared on the balcony next to them, carrying two glasses of lemonade.
"Hello boys." She said softly.
"Hi Grandma. Are you alright?"
"Not really, Virgil. I keep thinking of your brother. This is so difficult for him I remember when your father..."
She stopped suddenly, remembering how much it hurt the others every time they spoke about Lucille Tracy's death.
"Oh, never mind, boys." She said. "No point dwelling on the past. What's happened has happened, and what's done is done."
She returned to the kitchen after having a few words with Kyrano.
Virgil turned back to Alan.
"I hope Dad and Scott are alright, Al. Well, as 'alright' as they can be."
"They'll get through it Virg. I know they will."
............................................................................................................................................................
Scott picked up the piece of paper for the hundredth time. He was supposed to be reading the hymn as a speech at Megan's funeral. He'd practiced it once, and it had broken him into shards.
"Day is done, but Love unfailing dwells ever here; - "
Then his eyes misted over and he couldn't read anymore. Yet it was no good putting off the inevitable. He would just have to hope for the best.
He stared himself in the mirror.
Black jacket.
Black shirt.
Black tie.
Black trousers.
He'd never liked black much. It didn't suit him. The last time he'd worn a full black outfit like this...was....when...
He didn't want to think back to then. This was about the here and now.
A hand on his shoulder made him jump, though he knew who it belonged to.
"Dad. I don't think I can do this."
Jeff squeezed harder.
"Yes, you can son. I'll be there. You'll be OK."
"Thanks, Father."
There was a pause.
"The car's outside, son."
"OK Dad. I'll be down in a minute."
Jeff closed the door and Scott turned back to the mirror. Putting the paper into his pocket, he turned and walked out the door.
............................................................................................................................................................
The stretched Mercedes was parked just outside the drive up to the motel. As he climbed into the car, all Scott could do was stare ahead at the hearse at the front.
It seemed impossible to him that the woman he loved was in there.
He could see the flowers he'd bought were on the coffin.
The name, "MEGAN" was spelt in chrysanthemums and carnations and lay on the right side.
The car released it's brakes and slowly edged forward, to begin the slow two mile journey to the church. As they drove, families stopped in the street. A few of the older men took off their hats as a mark of respect. A teenage boy, with hair dyed green and many a body piercing, stopped and made the sign of the cross.
Scott barely took in the surroundings. He kept staring at the church steeple which was just ahead, then at the coffin. Jeff saw him do this and laid a hand on his arm. He barely responded. The sun was still shining. It was a perfectly normal-looking day; but it wasn't a normal day. It was one of the worst days of Scott Tracy's life.
The church was packed with the many friends that Megan had made in her short life. Her family stood around in crowds, her mother and father together. Her mother was holding out very well. Her father was crying. Her grandmother had to take him outside for a while.
Jeff and Scott stood together awkwardly, not knowing where to look until Megan's family approached.
"Are you Scott Tracy?" Megan's mother addressed him, her tone gentle.
"Yes ma'am."
"Sir, we're grateful for all you did for our Megan. We couldn't be with her while she was dying; we want to thank you for being there for her."
Scott nodded stiffly, unable to answer.
The priest appeared at the altar and asked everyone to take their seats. They sang a hymn a few minutes later; if you'd have asked Scott which hymn it was he would never have remembered. He stared at the open casket.
Surely, surely she couldn't really be dead?
She didn't look dead.
Her face was perfect, and a smile seemingly played about her mouth.
She was too beautiful to be dead.
It was like going back in time.
.............................................................................................................................................
They'd got to the church at eleven in the morning. The sun had been lurking behind the clouds, a mid-March fog still leaving it's traces behind.
It had been cold, though. Scott hadn't known if it was cold weather, or it was just him, feeling the coldness of loss.
His father sat next to him in the car, stone-faced. He looked a little different than now, his face less careworn, his hair dark. Scott felt his pain, but in a different way. Scott had just lost his mother, the centre of their world. His father had lost his wife.
His best friend.
His other half.
It was a pain that nine-year-old Scott Tracy had not yet witnessed. It was a pain that his father hoped none of his sons would have to endure.
The church at Lucille Tracy's funeral had been packed too. Her open casket had been in the centre of the altar. She'd looked beautiful too.
Jeff hadn't quite been able to grasp the fact that she was dead.
Young Scott Tracy sat next to his father, brave and quiet throughout the sermon.
..........................................................................................................................................................
"...Ladies and gentlemen, Scott Tracy would like to read a hymn on behalf of himself and his family, in tribute to our sister departed."
Scott stood up on shaky legs, and headed for the altar.
His legs almost buckled.
His heart nearly stopped.
But he made it.
Standing at the altar, looking into a crowd of two hundred people, he took out the paper and read the words that were already swimming in front of him.
"Day is done, but Love unfailing
dwells ever here;
shadows fall, but hope prevailing,
calms every fear.
Loving Father, none forsaking,
take our hearts, of love's own making,
watch our sleeping, guard our waking, be always near.
Dark descends, but light unending
Shines through our night;
You are with us, ever lending
New strength to sight;
One in love, your truth confessing,
One in hope of heaven's blessing,
May we see, in love's possessing,
Love's endless light.
Eyes will close, but you unsleeping,
Watch by our side;
Death – death..."
Scott paused a moment to regain his control as the words began to swarm together on the paper. He looked in the direction of Jeff, and seeing him there gave him the strength to carry on.
"Death may come: in Love's safe keeping
still we abide.
God of Love, all evil quelling,
Sin forgiving, fear dispelling,
Stay with us, our hearts indwelling,
This eventide."
You could have heard a pin drop on the stone floor of the church at that moment.
"Thank you, Scott."
The priest's words of thanks signalled Scott to get down from the altar and he did so, calmly and quietly, despite the tears that threatened to spill over. He sat down quietly next to Jeff, who put an arm around him.
The first step was over.
.............................................................................................................................................................
They'd stepped out of the church doors and followed the priest to the gravesite. The whole crowd had that terrible, sombre feeling that always hung over a funeral, like a storm cloud.
They'd stood around the gravesite as she was lowered into it. A nine-year- old boy who desperately wanted to help his father, a young Virgil clinging to his father's free hand, John standing quietly holding onto the hem of his grandmother's black dress. Josephine Tracy, standing tall and brave, holding a young Gordon and a crying week-old Alan in her arms.
The priest said a few words and they all bowed their heads in prayer.
Lucille Tracy was gone forever.
.........................................................................................................................................................
They stood around the coffin, now closed, that lay poised above the deep hole in the ground.
Megan's parents threw a few flowers on the top of the coffin.
Scott carefully lay a red rose on the lid as it was lowered into the ground and earth was cast upon it.
"For as much as it hath pleased our Almighty God of his great mercy to take unto himself the soul of our dear sister here departed, we therefore commit her body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust; in sure and certain hope of the Resurrection to eternal life, through our Lord Jesus Christ ; who shall change our vile body, that it may be like unto His glorious body, according to the mighty working whereby he is able to subdue all things to himself.
I now ask you to join me in the Lord's Prayer before we depart today."
"Our Father
Who art in heaven,
Hallowed be thy name,
Thy kingdom come
Thy will be done
On earth as it is in Heaven.
Give us this day,
Our daily bread
And forgive us our trespasses
As we forgive those
Who trespass against us
And lead us not into temptation
But deliver us from evil.
For thine is the kingdom,
The power,
And the glory forever,
Amen."
.........................................................................................................................................................