So he walked the silent house.
Everyone else was already asleep or resting in their rooms. John was knocked out on pain meds, Gordon had been too exhausted to even have dinner, and Brains had shooed Virgil and Scott out of the hangar bay where both men had been almost asleep on their feet. Things were catching up with everyone.
Jeff stopped outside his youngest son's room, drawn to Alan like a magnet. He had reassured himself in London that his youngest child was still in one piece, but they hadn't had a lot of private time after that. Alan had left with Virgil, Tin-Tin and Fermat aboard Thunderbird 2, after dropping Jeff and John off at a private hospital. Gordon and Scott had flown their respective crafts, already way ahead and were at home before TB2 had even taken off from the hospital again.
Pushing the door open, Jeff silently peeked inside. He just wanted to check, he told himself. He needed to reassure himself again that his son was alive.
Instead of a peacefully sleeping Alan he found the youngest of his family sitting on his bed, knees drawn up, hugging them tightly. He was staring at the far side wall.
When the door opened he flinched and looked up, startled. What Jeff saw made his stomach clench.
It was naked fear.
"D-Dad," Alan stammered, valiantly trying to banish his so very open feelings.
He failed.
With fifteen it wasn't easy. Alan was an open book to his father and Jeff knew whenever his son was angry, frustrated or plain stubborn. It showed in his eyes. He came after Scott in that regard.
"Hey," he said softly. "Can't sleep?"
Alan shrugged, uncurling a little. "When did you come back?" he asked.
"An hour ago."
Alan nodded and Jeff saw the coiled emotions in the teenager, the barely controlled feelings of some kind.
"Alan?" he queried gently and walked into the room. "You okay?"
"Yeah."
Jeff gave him a raised eyebrow.
"It's nothing."
"Alan, please..."
He was tired. His son was tired. And still he was trying to be someone he wasn't-- yet. Alan had a right to a carefree childhood, even though his father was a multi-millionaire and called eccentric because he lived on a remote island. It had never fazed Alan because the teenager knew what lay behind the perfect façade.
Alan sighed. "It's pretty stupid," he mumbled, not looking at his father.
He ran a hand through his already tousled hair.
Jeff sat down next to his youngest. "You know you can talk to me, Alan. Stupid things or no stupid things."
Dark eyes screwed shut and Alan bit his lower lip. "I just don't want you to think I'm... a coward..."
Jeff's eyes widened. He loved all his sons, had never played favorites and he had done his best to make them all feel safe and secure with him. He had had them know that whatever it was, he was there for them, had an open ear, would listen to their problems and comments. And he had never thought of any of them as anything else but his sons, his children.
"Did you ever feel like I thought you were a coward?" he asked, shocked.
The boy shook his head.
"Then why now?"
After he had almost single-handedly fought The Hood. After he had rescued those people on the monorail. After he had saved all their lives.
"Alan, you did more than I ever would have thought possible. Humanly possible, not personally. You saved us all."
Alan angrily swiped at his eyes, trying to hide his tears. "Yeah," he whispered shakily. "But at the time I wasn't thinking. I just... wanted to save you."
"And now you're thinking?"
A jerky nod.
"About what?"
"Things..." came the broken reply.
Jeff waited, seeing the inner fight in his youngest.
"I knew his weakness and I was so sure I could beat him, Dad. So sure..."
"And you did."
"No, I didn't. He... he got me... and..." Alan stopped, his voice hitching dangerously and the slender shoulders began to tremble.
Jeff wrapped an arm around his distraught son. Alan fought him for a moment, tensing up as if he didn't want the comfort, then he clung to his father, tears streaming down his face.
"Couldn't breathe," he moaned. "Couldn't... and it hurt... and he didn't stop..."
Jeff held him in a tight embrace, letting him bury into his chest, into the t-shirt, crying like he hadn't done ever since he had been a little boy.
The Hood had almost choked Alan to death and only Tin-Tin's arrival had saved him. Jeff had been forced to witness it all, and he still saw those horrible moments every tim ehe closed his eyes. That Alan had so swiftly recovered, going after the fleeing mad man, had been an adrenaline response.
Resting his chin on the unruly, blond hair, he let his son cry himself out. It was what Alan needed and it was all Jeff could do for him now.
When he had calmed down, Alan pushed away a little, embarrassment flooding his tear-stained features.
"Stupid," Alan sniffled. "So stupid."
"No, Alan. Nothing of this is stupid."
"The others will probably think I'm a baby."
Jeff took his son's chin and made him look at him, eyes narrowing slightly. "None of your brothers think you are a baby, Alan! What you have is a normal reaction to a near-death experience! Don't think your brothers, or I, haven't been affected by this."
His youngest son's eyes widened abruptly and Jeff calmed down, gently caressing the wet cheeks.
"Alan, it's okay. I'm not thinking less of you. Nor are your brothers. You did great. You're a Tracy."
It got him a wavering smile.
"I was just as afraid as you, or your brothers. You did all the dangerous work and we could only sit and watch. It's the hardest thing to do. Watching..."
"Yeah. I couldn't do it. Watch you... die..." He swallowed hard.
Jeff hugged him, hard. "We didn't!" he whispered fiercely. "We survived."
Alan swallowed and nodded against his shoulder. "Is John... I mean, he's okay, right?"
Jeff smiled at the change of topic. "Yes. He will be. He'll probably a bit out of it the next few days, but he'll be fine, Alan. Really fine."
"Okay," was the soft reply.
Jeff gently ruffled the dark blond head. Alan gave him a tentative smile.
"And if you feel you need to talk... about anything... come to me."
Alan nodded and suddenly gave his father a tight hug, which Jeff only too willingly answered. He knew his youngest would be all right in time, but events had left their marks and he needed time.
°
Jeff left twenty minutes later after watching Alan fall asleep. His own bed beckoned and he followed the call, but not without once more checking a son of his. He opened the door to John's room and studied the pale young man. The sling was still there, even in his sleep, securely fastened around his torso to prevent the shoulder from moving too much and the arm from worsening. Pain medication had taken care of any sleep problems John might have.
Smiling a little, watching his son breathe, such a simple little thing, Jeff felt a new wave of tiredness.
He had to sleep.
Soon.
Back in his own room he changed into his pajamas, grimacing at the twinges from all over his back and sides. He knew what he must look like. John hadn't fared any better, though he had been flung around Thunderbird 5 with more force. Jeff had been lucky in that regard.
It still took him a while to relax enough to close his eyes as he lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to the surf of the sea.
° ° °
"What was Mom like?"
Jeff Tracy looked at his family pictures as he sat in the command center, the beauty of the South Pacific that shone through the large panorama window lost on him.
Five children and his late wife beamed back at him, all tightly wrapped up in ski gear.
"She was a lot like you."
Yes, she had been. The same fire and temperament, the same determination and stubbornness, the same courage.
Jeff smiled at the picture, sadness creeping into his expression. Even now, after more than a decade, he still missed her. Part of her was in every one of his sons, but he would never have what he had lost.
Moving carefully, the bruises still reminding him of the events in the last few days, Jeff tried to settle into a more comfortable position. It was almost impossible. He knew what his son John was going through at the moment because he was sharing the discomfort, though in a milder version.
The night had been short for him. The dreams and the pain had him wake too early. He had watched the sun rise, had let his mind blank as the first rays crept across the water, turning it into a wonderful palette of colors. It had been soothing on his nerves to just sit and watch, not to worry for a few hours, to let it all slide away. It hadn't been enough to make him sleep, but it revived at least a little of his mind.
Jeff glanced at the read-out screens. One in particular caught his eye-- the one that normally boasted an emblem of Thunderbird 5 in the corner; a sign that the station was operating. Now there was nothing. Now there wasn't even a blip.
She was dead in the water.
Jeff turned away from his desk and rose slowly, feeling his body groan in protest as muscles had stiffened. Moving gingerly, each move serving to loosen the musculature, he walked past his sons' rooms, knowing they would all still be asleep. Knowing Brains, the scientist was already in the lab, and Kyrano and Onaha were probably cleaning up the mess that was too much of a reminder for his housekeepers.
And he was right.
Entering the kitchen area, he saw Onaha busily sweeping up debris and spilled food. Kyrano was inspecting the debris from the fight over at the broken window.
"Mr. Tracy!" Onaha called, surprised to see him up.
"Do you have some coffee, Onaha?" he asked, giving her a little smile.
"Of course."
He was handed a large mug not much later and savored the bitter smell of the black brew.
"Thanks," he murmured.
She smiled and nodded, then went about her tasks. Jeff walked over to a more or less cleared area and sank onto a couch chair, wincing slightly. He kept his fingers wrapped around the mug, letting the heat seep in.
"What was Mom like?"
So much like you, Alan. So much like all of you, he mused. And she would have kicked my ass for getting it kicked in the first place-- by some lunatic like The Hood.
Jeff smiled.
She had been a strong woman and her sons had inherited that strengths. They all showed it every day; even Alan.
"Do you want some breakfast, Mr. Tracy?"
The softly voiced question drew him out of his thoughts.
"Later, Onaha. I'll wait for my sons to get up."
She gave him that well-known motherly smile. "That might take a while. They all worked so hard yesterday."
He chuckled. Not just yesterday. But she was right. It would probably be a few more hours until the first of them would wake up and shuffle down to the kitchen.
"All right. Breakfast then. Something light."
She nodded her agreement.
Twenty minutes later Jeff had a healthy breakfast. He let his eyes stray to the Pacific again, lost in thoughts, but the arrival of his sons distracted him enough once more from the memories that threatened.
"Hey, Dad!" Virgil called, smiling.
He looked a bit better than the day before, but the tiredness in his eyes was still rather noticeable. Gordon was there not much later, followed by Scott, who looked like someone had actually thrown him out of bed. From Gordon's mischievous twinkling, the younger Tracy had been responsible for that. Alan, Fermat and Tin-Tin arrived as a trio, and finally, about the time the others were just about to go off to do their work, John made an appearance. Pale, woozy, in dire need of a chair and something to drink-- not coffee-- the blond just gave them all a brief smile.
Jeff watched his second oldest son and got a weak, reassuring smile in return. Theirs was a wordless communication and he simply nodded at John, who managed half a bagel and then declined the rest.
"Not very hungry," he sighed apologetically.
Jeff just nodded. "Understandable. You're pumped full of medication and your stomach isn't used to food at the moment."
John played with a mug of simple tea. "My head feels like stuffed with cotton wool. It took me over an hour from waking up to coming here because I lost track of time. You don't wanna know how long I needed in the bathroom." He sighed deeply. "Not something I'm used to."
"Give your body time to heal, son."
Eyes that spoke of too much pain, too much exhaustion, but still relayed an insight into matters far clearer than the young age of the man should allow, met Jeff's.
"I'm not the only one."
Jeff gave him a rueful smile. "True."
He accompanied his son back to his room not much later, staying with him, both of them talking softly until John was too tired to form coherent sentences and dropped off. Jeff smiled a little, brushing a fatherly hand through the bleach blond strands.
Then he finally rose and left, ready to attempt tackling his tasks for today.
tbc...