Well, as I had suspected the DVD arrived after posting the last chapter. I just got it after coming home from work, so after posting this part I'll go watching the movie with subtitels. ;) Beware, you mumblers, I'll find out what you said!
Have fun with part 3!
The flight home was as blurry as the rescue. He knew he was guiding his 'bird with the same precision and care as usual, but he just couldn't catch a normal thought.
They had come out of it unscathed.
No one had shot at them, had tried to kill them...
They were all fine.
A-okay.
John was okay. He wasn't close to suffocated, bleeding, burned and semi-conscious.
Thunderbird 2 separated from him as they approached the tiny island in the middle of the South Pacific and headed over to her hangar, and Scott readjusted the engines, slowing down to land his own ship with the usual precision and care. For a moment it hung above the hangar, held aloft by engines far superior to anything the world had to offer, then gracefully descended.
Scott trembled as he let his 'bird settle down on the landing pad. He stared out of the canopy, his breathing too loud in his ears, his heart thundering, and then he finally detached himself from the seat.
°
Standing in the silo of Thunderbird 1, Scott just couldn't bring himself to walk the last few meters to the exit, into the bright sunshine of the South Pacific afternoon. His brothers would most likely be taking a dip in the pool, tease Alan who would return to school in two days, talk with Onaha and Kyrano, tell Tin-Tin and Fermat about the rescue, and his father would be telling Brains about the performance of the 'birds. There would be flight checks, diagnostics, reports to do, and more tests to run.
Normalcy after a mission.
Everything was so normal.
But not for Scott Tracy.
He knew he had to go there, too, or he would be missed.
So he did.
One step after another.
His mind was both a complete blank and then again wildly resolving around how John could have been there with them. It was something he held onto, something to occupy his racing thoughts, to keep him from flashing back to those terrible hours of hoping against hope, of praying that Alan might do the impossible.
Alan had fought The Hood, had done more than he would ever have thought his youngest brother capable of doing, but then again, he was a Tracy. Scott saw a lot of himself in Alan, the same temper and energy and adventurous streak. Ten years apart and still so much alike. It was frightening sometimes, like looking into a mirror. Alan was a teenager, as they all had been. To be exact, Gordon was still somewhere in that area age-wise, even with nearly twenty, but it was so easy to tease and pick on the youngest.
Scott loved Alan. He loved all his brothers. Just thinking that he might have lost him to The Hood without being able to help... because he had been too far away, had taken care of the accident scene while his little brother was fighting the bad guy.. it gave him nightmares. He hadn't been able to help John either, who had come away with physical wounds and a twenty-four-hours observation stay in the hospital.
It had left marks.
On all of them.
Some more visible than others, but Scott had to admit to himself that he wasn't putting all of this as easily behind himself as he had hoped. The first rescue had shown that.
"Hey, Scott. I was starting to think I had to forcefully remove you from the pilot seat."
He almost jumped at the unexpected voice. John, dressed in a light blue shirt and white shorts, smiled openly at him. Scott did a quick visual check, something he had taken a habit of doing in the last few days. There was a bandage covering the deep cut on John's arm and Scott knew there was an equal bandage on his back, hiding a much more serious injury.
It had taken John three days after coming home to recover from the blows his body had taken and while pain medication helped stem the pain signals from the burn and the cut, it influenced his performance. He had slept a lot, had been of little entertainment value when he had been awake, but now things were going back to... normal.
Hopefully.
"Hey, John," he managed.
"The rescue went well," his brother went on conversationally, falling in step with him as they went to the locker room where the uniforms were dumped. "Considering how rigged-up the whole system is. But Brains did a marvelous job."
Scott shot him a questioning look. "Just how did you manage to monitor us?" he wanted to know, curious.
John grinned. "Brains thought that since Thunderbird 5 is out of commission at the moment, we need a kind of emergency monitor station. So he did his magic and the control room was rigged as a surveillance station. I had access to the satellites in orbit over the area. Don't ask me how he did it, Scott. I'm still in awe. I did some minor hacking myself and bounced our signal across a few relay stations without them knowing it, and we could communicate. All the other data was taken from ground and air stations, from science outposts and geo probes. It's not very sophisticated and a lot of it was kinda sketchy, but I think I can do the job from here for the time being."
Scott just stared at him. John was so casually talking about it as if he did it every day. As if being attacked, nearly killed, and having his 'bird scrapped to almost non-functional hadn't left a mark on him.
Sure, John was close to unflappable. He was their anchor when it came to rescues, he was guidance and information and control and a lifeline if things went wrong. He was the heart of International Rescue. Scott and Virgil and Gordon were the pilots, but John was the one who had control of operations. Officially their father was in charge on field missions, but without the voice from up above, giving them a heads-up on the territory they were embarking upon, things might sometimes really end in a mess.
Scott had never really realized how important his brother's voice was to him until it had been silenced.
Wordlessly peeling off his uniform, Scott changed into the more leisurely shorts and t-shirt. John sat on the bench of the locker room, elbows resting on his knees. It wasn't usual for him to wait, but also not really so out of the ordinary.
"You did okay, Scott," he broke the silence.
Scott stopped in the middle of pulling on his shirt. "What?"
Serious blue eyes regarded him calmly. "You did okay," John repeated.
The first emotion was indignation. Of course he had done okay! He was a Thunderbird and he did his jobs well!
The second was confusion, quickly followed by embarrassment. John had witnessed his black-out.
Shit.
God no...
Please, no... He didn't want anyone to see him like this, to find out that Scott Tracy had freaked. He was supposed to be cool and in control, not lose it over something menial as that...
Refusing to fall for the bait, Scott just shrugged and smoothed his t-shirt.
"It was an okay mission. No trouble, nothing bad. Routine."
"You know better than anyone that no two missions are alike, therefore there is never a routine."
He almost snapped at his younger brother.
Younger in years, a voice sneered, but a lot more mature than you. Look at what happened to him. Do you see him losing it? Do you see John Tracy cowering in fear and terror. No.
Ah hell.
He evaded those too old for his own liking blue eyes and quickly slipped into his shoes, and went outside.
Scott knew he was running.
From his brother.
From someone who knew too much about him, who had seen something Scott hated to have a witness of.
°
John watched his brother, face reflecting his emotions. He had a pretty good guess as to what was going on inside Scott. The same was going on inside all of them, though not everyone showed it the same way.
The first rescue after the near-miss, after having to witness a stranger, a mad man, invade their home. The Hood had set foot on their island, their secret base, their sacred home. John had always seen Tracy Island as a kind of refuge, a safe haven, the calm center of a life that was anything but normal or calm. The island was his home, the place he had grown up on after his mother's death, a home he cherished.
Now someone had nearly destroyed it all.
Everyone dealt differently with the shock and aftershocks, and John knew he wasn't the only one with nightmares.
Gordon spent a lot of time doing laps in the pool or diving, taking out Thunderbird 4, or immersing himself in the repairs of Thunderbird 5. Virgil was no better. When he wasn't running his usual mileage on the beach he was with Brains and tackling engineering problems with the monitor station.
John and Jeff had talked about events. He had a good rapport with their father, born out of countless nights spent talking. Jeff was haunted by all of this as well, trying to battle guilt and what if scenarios while pouring all his energy into the safety of the island and his family.
He had even talked to Alan. The kid was dealing his own way. He had Fermat and Tin-Tin, and he was a strong and resilient young mind.
They would survive.
They had survived.
Gordon and Virgil had now and then sought him out as well, reassuring themselves that he was fine. John had told them that he was healing, that things would be okay, that he wasn't about to pass out because they treated him as usual. Sure, they were more careful about the physical stuff like shoving him into the pool, but otherwise he was perfectly capable of enduring a little brotherly teasing.
Scott was different.
Scott had taken to spending a lot of time in the hangar, brooding.
Older brother privilege.
John smiled a little as he followed the other Tracy outside where he was immediately greeted by the rest of the family. Gordon was already going into the details of the rescue, Alan listening with rapt attention, and Onaha was giving all that motherly smile of hers. Their father sat on his chair.
When their eyes met, John just gave him a little nod, then let his gaze stray to Scott again who was trying his best not to let his emotions of before show.
John knew better.
Scott hated to lose control and he had. He had lost it briefly throughout the rescue, but only one person had noticed.
They would have to talk.
And they would.
tbc...