Disclaimer: The usual – none of the characters or settings used in the TV series or movies belong to me. Only the idea for the story is mine.

Author's Notes: Once again many thanks to Hobbeth for beta-ing, and many thanksto all who read and/or reviewed the first chapter -I welcome all comments on the story.

Well, today I had a lovely surprise when I found out "Thunderbird 6" was on TV, so that was me made for the day. Maybe it was an sign… Anyway, here's the second instalment.

Reasons

Time had lost all meaning. Life had lost all meaning. Where had it all gone?

Familiar routine had become nothing but a programmed response – something that had to be done for life to continue. Conversation was little and sparse, nothing more than a mere acknowledgement of existence. Mealtime had become the most gruelling time, forcing everyone to face each other in mocking silence. The silence that had one time, so long ago, been rarer than hen's teeth.

The winds outside forewarned of the storm heading their way, yet the island had never been so still, so lifeless since the first day it had been inhabited. Everyone had retreated to their own solitary places, seeking their own refuge away from the constant reminders of the life they once knew.

Gradually each occupant had sought after another, longing for a reassuring hug or a tender touch that held such comfort. Words were few but precious just the same, as though they could be the last they ever heard.

The patriarch now sat behind his desk, routine beginning to become meaningful to him. He looked at the lone figure sitting before him on the sofa, a solemn expression striking his features – heartbreaking for any father to bear witness to. He longed to reach to that face, take hold of the body and wrap his son protectively in his arms away from the prying eyes of the world. Protect him from the shadows that loomed over him, seeped into his mind and soul, and drowned his heart.

Grief was not easy for any of them to express. Tin-Tin had shown it was not shameful to cry; that it was a natural response just as was blinking. She had supported Alan as he recovered in the island's hospital, spending much of her time sat on his bed as he cried, holding him close until the heart-wrenching sobs had quietened down to mere whimpers. His physical healing was slow, but his emotional scars were still painful to the touch.

She had helped to coax him to eat something those first few nights since…

Since they had been told…

Jeff couldn't bring himself to finish the thought, the grief still too raw and exposed.

John had returned home from the space station, leaving Brains' robot Braman in his place to take charge. Braman was set to automatically relay any emergency calls directly to base, allowing John the chance to find comfort with his family.

Gradually they had learned to accept food without feeling as though anything they consumed would be rejected by their stomachs. John was grateful to see his brothers accept his comfort; Gordon especially, who had lost his 'zest' so badly they feared they had lost him for good.

No….they feared he had changed for good – that was what Jeff meant.

Gordon was still alive, at the very least. He hadn't gone in the literal sense.

Instead he had been the one to find his oldest brothers hidden deep in the rubble. The image of his eldest brother, clinging to the body of his second oldest, had scorched itself into his brain. Scott had held on so tightly that circulation to his hands was almost cut off. Amidst his own grief Gordon had had to prise Scott's hold from the lifeless body before him, knowing there was nothing more to be done.

Things were still quiet, still stagnant compared to life beforehand. Even the storm outside now was as loud as rockets firing, compared to the silence echoing inside the home of the Tracys.

A watchful eye on the still figure before him studied the blank expression on the young man. Glazed eyes fixed apathetically to the floor beside his feet, nothing moving but the necessary motion of breathing in oxygen. Jeff's heart cracked again at the sight.

Where are you, my son? Where is your mind taking you?

The silence was disturbed by the entrance of the middle child of the family – in correction, the one who used to be the middle child, but who had now become the second oldest. A pang of pain pricked Jeff's heart at the thought, knowing full well that John had thought the same.

Dragging his eyes from the son who occupied the sofa, Jeff looked over to the side. His eyes cast a sensitive gaze over at John, who tried to look away and hide his red swollen eyes.

His elder brother looked upon him from where he sat on the sofa with a gaze that mirrored his father's. John's piercing blue eyes met those of Scott's for a brief moment, the pain and anger so apparently clear and sharp. John tried to hide his pain with the back of his hand, but it was all too late.

Scott's fists balled at the look of his brother's sorrow, anger filling the pit of his stomach. He stood with a raging force, and stormed out of the lounge.

John watched with unmasked fear. He had never seen his eldest sibling so angry, so wounded. He looked to his father for the smallest of reassurances, but all he found was the understanding sadness in his expression.

Jeff understood what he had seen in Scott's body language. The sight of John's pain had been a strong enough force to push Scott plummeting from the cliff of sanity. He knew Scott was furious; angry with the heavens and the god – or whatever being existed – that had deemed their fate.

His fate.

He knew how the need to vent his torment had consumed his eldest, and knew exactly where he had gone to confront it.

The hanger lay in deadly silence, oblivious to the harrowing winds howling outside. The storm was lashing out its own anger at the island – the wind crying in pain and the rain weeping mournful tears, beating the sands and the rocks of the landscape.

Every aggressive step he took echoed in the expanse, amidst the rows of machinery and equipment left inactive for as long as they were not needed. He wanted to hit something; he needed to drain his adrenaline-filled muscles somehow to alleviate the tension and stress he felt.

He walked to the main area of the hangar, staring in front of him at one of technology's finest wonders. The green 'bird mocked him as it loomed high above, seemingly looking down on him without even a shred of compassion. He wanted to punch it, hit it, destroy it with his bare hands for even existing there at all; for reminding him of why he felt like this.

He paced the side of the hangar, his mind muddled with a thousand expressions crying out to be released at the same time.

Anger. Pain. Sadness. Loneliness. Regret.

Betrayal…

"VIRGIL GRISSOM TRACY, I hope you never rest in peace for what you've done to this family!" The sudden blast of fury reverberated in the giant storage bay; the air waves bouncing off the high ceiling and the metal grated floor beneath. The strength of his voice was fuelled only by the hurt of his brother's passing, and the breaking of a promise. "I hate you so much, you hear me? I HATE you!

"I hate you for breaking our family's hearts, for the pain you've caused. I hate you for making me watch you die so helplessly, and making me be the one to break the news to everyone! I hate you for leaving me when you promised you wouldn't…you PROMISED, God damn you! You promised!" His voice began to crack at the last words as his composure began to break down. Like raging rivers he felt the agony gush through his veins, in his blood. The pain flooded his heart, drenching it with guilt.

He folded his arms defensively around his chest, hugging himself tightly as though the action would sooth his aching muscles. He fell to the floor on his knees in penitence to the soul of his lost brother. "No, no, I didn't mean it…I'm…I don't…I don't hate you Virgil; I never could. I never…" The sharp contrast of the soft voice against that of the wrath-savaged tone only seconds before would have been unrecognisable to those who knew Scott.

He gritted his teeth as the sharp pangs twisted in his gut, paralysing him with a new kind of fear.

The fear that his grief would never end.

"Oh God, why does it have to hurt so much? Why the hell can't I breathe…?"

Of course you can breathe, Scott. You're not dead yet.

The small voice in the back of his mind scolded him for the comment. "I'm so sorry…I'm so sorry…"

Seating himself on the cold hard floor, he rocked his pain-wracked body in a gentle rhythm to regain his self-control. He had lost control before, on numerous occasions, but never this severely. Never so completely as to feel such a loss of sense of direction, of being. He no longer knew where to turn, which way to step. He didn't know where he was or where he was going from day to day, his mind constantly in a haze.

In all honesty, Scott didn't even know how to start healing. He didn't know what to do, how to feel, or even what to think anymore. All he understood was the feeling of emptiness in the pit of his soul – a gaping, hollow void that would be hard to close.

He drew his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them protectively; his feeble attempt to block out the outside world. His eyes burned with unshed tears, fighting the urge to give in and let them flow freely down his cheeks. Allowing himself to cry felt as though he would be admitting to the truth, but holding back the tears was nowhere near as painful as the truth would be.

With only a few of the lights in the hangar on, everything was bathed in a soft gentle glow, casting long dark shadows across the floor and over where Scott sat. Partially hidden in the shadow of Thunderbird Two stood an onlooker, watching with pained interest the proceedings play out.

Scott's rocking gradually stilled, leaving him to stare at nothing whilst his mind travelled back to the past. He remembered the first time he had entered the hangar, had stared at the giant wonder that it housed, and watched a brother's face light with pure excitement as he saw his 'bird for the first time. A ghost of a smile almost appeared on his face, before crumpling again into sadness.

"It seems so long ago now…"

Scott's head shot up in surprise, looking up at the source of the voice. He had never heard the steps make their way to his side, had never heard the saddened sigh as his father composed himself briefly. Standing tall, with hands in pockets, Jeff took a long look over the Thunderbird that now lay dormant.

Scott gazed up at his father; a tall figure of authority who he still looked up to as a role model, even now as a thirty-two year old. He had seen the sturdy, stocky figure of the man above him break down with rivers of tears at the news of his son's death. The only other time he'd seen his father so distraught was when they had lost their mother.

Jeff knelt to sit beside Scott. Shoulders touching, they craned their necks to take in the whole of the enormous ship before them. Scott waited for his father to elaborate on his statement, only watching him from the corner of his eye – too afraid to look properly for fear it would break him.

Swallowing hard, Jeff continued. "I pondered it for a long time, whether I was right to allow you all to go into such dangerous work. I know I'd asked you if you were sure – and you were all eager to join International Rescue – but there was always a part of me that felt I was asking too much. That I was the worst father in the world to let my sons put their lives on the line."

Scott automatically shook his head, knowing his father was wrong. "It's what we wanted to do. We knew the risks. We knew there was every chance something like this would happen. It's just…hard to accept."

"I know it is, Scott. Believe me, I know." Looking beside him to his eldest, he added: "But we will get through this, one way or another. We have to hang in there."

Scott breathed a deep sigh as he felt his emotions beginning to slip from his control. "I feel…I feel as though…" Exhaling calmly, he tried again to explain. "It feels as though every time I take a breath my lungs are going to explode. Every time I close my eyes he's…there, looking at me, asking me for help – expecting me to help, but I can't. I…can't…" Scott's voice had begun to falter, quietly choking back the tears that had started to form from the memories. He tried to speak, but the words were caught in his tight throat.

Clearing his throat, he pushed himself to ask the man that sat by him. "Did it hurt like this, Dad? Did it hurt this much…when Mom died?"

Jeff's brow furrowed at the question, confused. He turned to look at his son's face to attempt to read his expression, but his ice-blue eyes refused to look at his father's. Sensing the confusion, Scott endeavoured to clarify. "I remember when Mom died, how I felt…upset and confused. I knew she wasn't coming back – that she had been taken from us – and God, I cried those few weeks afterwards. Hell, we all did." Scott's swallow struck the brief silence of the pause. "I loved Mom, but I didn't feel as close to her as I could be. I didn't…I guess you could say I felt guilty because I didn't feel as though I'd known her as well as you did."

Jeff smiled faintly, understanding now just what it was Scott was trying to say. Their experiences of grief had all been different: Scott had been the oldest and therefore the protector to his brothers. He had hugged and comforted them, been a shoulder to cry on and the rock of strength to hold on to for all of them – himself included, though Jeff had never admitted it. Lucille's death had been a terrible tragedy; one that Jeff would never wish upon a living soul, not even his worst enemy. The tortuous heartache had crippled him, paralysing him so badly he had abandoned all responsibility. Ashamedly, he admitted that had included his family.

"Scott…when your mother died, it broke my heart. Her death tore a hole in me that still to this day has refused to heal. I know you took it upon yourself to look after your brothers, and for that I am eternally grateful.

"I…admit…I wasn't the best father to you all back then. I should have been watching over you, helping you to grieve. But I was so lost and afraid and didn't know what to do. Everything blurred together, and nothing mattered any more." Jeff folded his arms across his knees, mirroring the pose of his son. "You knew your mother in a different way than I did. You were only twelve at the time. Death is a hard thing to comprehend, to completely understand at that age.

"Though Lucille was your mother, you were closer to Virgil – even from a young age. When you lose your soul mate…it's hard to let go of someone so close to you."

Jeff watched the emotions tug at Scott's mind, forcing him to close his eyes against the commotion in his head. Jeff knew he was fighting back tears, but wouldn't leave him until they were released. A small sniff from Scott told him he was getting closer.

"I know you're confused, and angry. I felt the same, wanting to blame the world for putting me through such pain. But being angry with yourself will only make things worse."

Scott ran a trembling hand through his sleek dark hair. Still he refused to look at his father and his tear-filled eyes. To acknowledge he wasn't alone.

"But what if I could've done something, Dad? Why do I feel I let him down? Let you down? Let John, Gordon, Alan…everyone down?" He stared down at his hands held out before him, hands he could still picture covered in his brother's blood.

Jeff rested a reassuring hand on the pilot's shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. "The only person you're letting down right now is you, by keeping your emotions bottled up. No one is to blame for this – least of all you, Scott."

He noted the heavy blink, then the soft pale eyes turned further away from him, hidden from view. It was then that Jeff seemed to realise just why his son had decided to keep his emotions to himself. "You have nobody to confide in, that's why – isn't it? This is what you would've confided in Virgil about, but you can't…"

Scott nodded his head, only barely noticeable by the older man as he watched carefully. Scott's pain was clawing at him again, having only just eased slightly to the back of his mind. He pressed a hand hard over his eye, rubbing it forcefully to keep back the tear that threatened to spill. He left it red and sore, not caring how it looked or felt, caring nothing for his own physical suffering.

The small voice was hardly audible to Jeff's ear when it came. "I didn't mean to shout…I was angry and hurt, but I didn't mean it when I said I hated him."

Jeff nodded in understanding, having heard the anguished cries of his son bellow from the very root of his soul. He hadn't wanted to listen in to such a private moment, but the agony on Scott's face had provoked him into taking some action to ease his suffering.

"I know, Scott. Virgil knows too. He'll have heard you, because he never left you."

At this Scott raised his head in partial surprise, a mixture of grief and confusion detailed on his face. Jeff cleared his throat as it threatened to tighten again. "If I know…knew…my son as well as I think I did, he wouldn't have made a promise he couldn't keep. I know that, and I'm certain you do too."

"I know Dad, I…I know…" For the first time in their conversation, his son turned to look at him. Scott's anguished and tortured expression was enough to bring down the remaining walls in Jeff's heart with a thunderous crash. Jeff's cheeks were already tear-streaked, having allowed a few silent tears to fall as he talked. Scott only noticed them now for the first time as he took in his father's features, and saw a man who had lost a part of his soul.

At the sight of his father's pain Scott could hold back no more, silent streams of tears flowing down his cheeks and dropping from his chin. "Oh Scott…" Jeff simply placed an arm around his son's shoulders, pulling his head onto his shoulder to provide a pillow on which he could rest. Scott's face fell in surrender, scrunching hard as the emotion finally erupted to the surface. A few gentle sobs were soon followed by a few agonised cries as the shaking took control of his body. Scott placed an arm around his father, holding tightly to the only source of strength there for him, and cried his heart out.

He cried for the soul he had lost. For the brother he had lost.

Jeff began to rock him gently, hugging him closer and stroking his arms in a soothing motion. "It's okay…it's okay…" He rested his cheek amidst the mass of floppy hair, trying to give as much comfort as he could.

An immeasurable period of time drifted by as the two sat close together, holding each other tightly, afraid to let go. Every known emotion wracked Scott's body until he could take no more. Physically exhausted, he closed his eyes and rested his head against his father's shoulder, afraid he wouldn't be able to support himself if he tried to sit up. The rocking continued unconsciously, bringing them both just the smallest of reassurance. No words were spoken; instead, the silence conveyed everything they needed to know.

Scott was the first to try and break the silence, but his voice had been lost earlier somewhere between cries. He cleared his throat, trying to regain some function in his vocal chords. "How did you know I was in here? Did you follow me?"

The smallest hint of accusation tinged his words, but Jeff ignored it. "No, I didn't need to. Your watch, remember?" He pointed to the instrument in question.

Scott looked at it and smiled faintly. "My watch…of course – I forgot about that." He twisted the strap around his wrist, turning the watch from side to side, catching the soft light with the glass casing.

"Though I didn't need to use that to find you." Jeff waited for the frown to form on Scott's face. Sure enough, it came. Jeff elaborated, "I knew the most likely place you would come to was here, if you wanted to talk." Gesturing upwards towards the mighty green carrier, he continued, "This is the place we most associate with Virgil – this is where we'd usually find him, with his 'lady'."

Scott snorted softly. "You can't miss her, huh?" A small smile crept to Jeff's face, infected from Scott's own brief smile at the thought. "Things are never gonna be the same around here again – never." The smile faded; a sad shake of his head in defeat again. "Can you ever learn to get over something like this?"

"In all honesty, Scott, I don't think you ever learn to recover completely. You learn to cope, learn how to overcome the pain. You stop thinking in terms of the time they're not here, and instead think back to the times they were here."

Scott's brow furrowed as he tried to understand his father's meaning, eventually settling on superficial understanding. Deeper meaning would come to him later.

Jeff drew back his arm, readying himself to stand again. "When you can look at Virgil's picture and smile with fond memories, then you'll be able to find some peace." With a warm smile Jeff lifted himself to his feet, and turned to offer a hand to Scott to help him stand. Scott gratefully took the offer, pulling himself up to match his father's height. Jeff turned to face the direction of the stairs leading to where the monorail stood waiting, placing an arm around his son's shoulders. "Come on Scott, we'd better head back to the Villa. I have a feeling John will be waiting for us, beside himself with worry that he's upset you somehow."

Scott wore an expression of guilt as the image of John's sorrow-filled eyes returned to him. "Oh God…I didn't mean to upset him, Dad. It's just that…when I saw how sad he was…I just needed to vent my anger, that's all."

"I know you did, I know. And I'm glad that you did, eventually." Jeff nodded knowingly. "Right now you have three brothers who need some of your strength; three brothers who are just as worried about you as you are about them." To this Scott simply nodded.

Jeff held his son by the shoulders until they reached the monorail. He quickly rubbed Scott's arm before letting him enter the carriage, wanting him to know he was there for his son.

That he would always be there for him, no matter what.

To be continued…