It was a little after 1 am, island time. The house lights were dim, reserve power providing only the bare essentials through the hours of darkness and focused mainly on the central core of hardware in the office.

Alert status had decreased from full emergency to cautious awareness about twenty-five minutes ago. But no amount of reassurance from the readouts before him could settle the racing pulse that hummed through his head like his own private warning claxon.

Jeff watched the small blue triangle moving across the digital atlas that was spread over the plasma screen before him. A similar green shape was in hot pursuit and he watched their progress in silence. He had listened to their comm. chatter again a few moments ago and knew that they were safe. But his heart would only cease its frantic dance once the two icons hovered over the island co-ordinates. And even then he would not be completely satisfied.

It seemed an age (but was actually only seven minutes) before the display heralded the arrival of the two craft. A few moments after that and he could sense the gentle rumble that ran through the house as powerful thrusters countered the descent and eased the passage of the craft into it's housing deep inside the island.

Thunderbird 2 was also safely back in it's hidden silo a moment later and the atlas was replaced by status reports and refuelling needs of the two craft. Jeff let out a loud sigh of relief and let his head fall forward into his hands.

He had time to gather his thoughts now. It took an average of two minutes and forty seconds to make the journey up through the house from the underground hangars. Longer if you were dreading the reception you would inevitably receive.

Five minutes passed before Jeff heard the first timid footfalls in the corridor beyond his open office. He wiped his tired face with his hands and sat back upright, swivelling his chair round to face the door.

"Hey." Scott ventured carefully; too old to be completely afraid of his father but wise enough to know that instant bravado would be like throwing gasoline onto a fire.

Jeff regarded his son steadily. Silently.

"I guess I owe you an explanation." Scott continued quietly, stepping over the threshold of the office and unfastening the front of his uniform. He watched the unnervingly even face of his father and sighed as he slipped his arms out of the top of the flight suit.

"I didn't want you to go." Jeff said suddenly, tone unreadable.

Scott nodded slowly. "I know." He shrugged and dragged a hand through his hair. "And maybe we could have let them sort themselves out … I mean … the military had been called into help but …"

"The fire took hold quickly."

"Yeah." Scott smiled thinly, "Maybe the snow would have held it back but with the chemical spill it just … well … I don't think they would have been able to put it out without the Firefly."

Jeff nodded in agreement. The blaze had been small at first but still enough to cause a panic. John had received the call and watched the fire's progress for a short while, aware that the remote villages in its path also lay in the midst of uncertain territory.

"Alan did well." Scott offered in a lighter tone and was sure he saw the slightest hint of a smile on his father's mouth. "It was good to be able to trust him to handle things at ground level while Virg and Gord collected water."

Jeff stood slowly from his chair and this time there was a definite, albeit thin, smile. "Good. I'm glad."

Scott returned the smile warily, aware of the danger of being lulled into a false sense of security while in this man's presence.

"But I told you – quite clearly – that you were to get the hell out of there as soon as you could."

Scott swallowed hard. His father might be speaking softly still but the fury was clear in his dark eyes. "Yes, sir." He agreed quietly, "But I thought - "

"No! You didn't think!" Jeff countered angrily, his loud voice finally unleashed and quickly filling the office. "If you thought at all, then you would not have spent another second in that place!"

"But - "

"But nothing, Scott, dammit! I told you! In and out as soon as you could!"

Scott met his father's angry glare and stood firm. The key was not to confront but, at the same time, to give any ground was to show weakness. It was easier for him, he knew. He had the advantage of a matching height. His younger, shorter brothers found this experience a whole lot more intimidating.

"God, Scott …!" Jeff sighed loudly and turned away, shaking his head in dismay.

Scott watched patiently, waiting for his chance. Angry or not, his father was a reasonable man. You just had to find the right moment. A skill that Alan was still a long way from discovering.

"They're only just coming out of a civil war over there." Jeff continued, voice calmer and attention taken by the moonlit sea out beyond the high windows. "It was only because the UN troops were there to offer some kind of protection that I agreed to let you go. And they gave you clear co-ordinates as to where was safe to fly."

Scott nodded slowly. "And we followed them precisely."

"I know." Jeff sighed again. "I know." He turned back to face Scott and offered a slight shrug of understanding. "It's not your fault that you came across the place." His frown returned and suddenly he changed tempo again. "But that doesn't excuse the risk you took."

"I needed to check - "

"NO!" Jeff snapped, stabbing towards Scott with an accusatory point. "You should have called it in on your return! What the hell did you think you were doing!"

"I couldn't ignore it, Dad." Scott pleaded evenly, "You know that. We've got personnel out there."

"It's not our problem."

"And what about the civilians, huh? What about the volunteers?" Scott retorted firmly, "That chemical fire got dangerously close to the refugees. And now it seems they've got armed forces congregating in the DMZ!"

"That whole region is volatile." Jeff urged, "Which is why I didn't want you out there in the first place!"

Scott watched the anger slowly settling on his father's tired face and he took a deep breath. "And could you have decided that? Could you have watched those villages burn, knowing that we could have helped?"

"Of course not." Jeff groaned.

Scott stepped closer to his father and nodded slowly. "It's too far into the game for us to be changing the rules, Dad. We have a responsibility."

Jeff looked into Scott's earnest expression and frowned slightly. "And what about your responsibility to me? To this family?"

"What do you mean?"

"You have a responsibility to us as well." Jeff urged, his volume on the rise once more. "You have a responsibility to get your ass and that plane back here in one piece, goddammit!" His voice cracked and he sighed in dismay.

Scott's heart sank as he saw the sudden tears that his father's worry and weariness could no longer prevent. He moved closer to him and reached out to place a hand on his father's arm. "I'm sorry."

The embrace was unexpected. It didn't happen often. And when it did it was usually in the heat of celebratory excitement. This was different. Scott let his arms slide around his father's waist and could feel him trembling as they lingered in an unusually tender moment.

oooo

Scott wandered slowly through to the lounge. Despite the somewhat unsociable hour, Onaha was awake and busy. The smell of toasted cheese greeted him as he stepped into the brightness of the large room and he smiled as he saw her fussing over his brothers.

Onaha turned from the table and smiled merrily as she caught sight of him. She wiped her hands on the apron she had hastily tied over her pyjamas and wandered back into the small kitchenette. "Grilled cheese and tomato?"

"Sounds good." Scott replied and tied the arms of his flight suit around his waist. They were usually expected to have showered and changed before entering the main house but middle of the night missions often allowed the rules to be bent slightly.

"So. You're in one piece, then?" Alan observed between mouthfuls.

Scott watched all eyes rest on him and nodded a reply.

"Slightly mad or completely pissed?" Alan continued, glancing warily in the general direction of their father's office.

"Strangely middling." Scott replied, frowning as he recalled his father's embrace. "More upset than angry."

"Oh shit." Gordon groaned, "I hate that. Give me crazy shouting any day. I hate that silent shit. Feels way worse."

Alan watched his brothers nodding in agreement and frowned in confusion. "Huh? I only ever get loud and furious."

"Can't think why!" Virgil laughed suddenly.

"Yeah!" Gordon enthused, "You'd challenge even Ghandi's patience!"

Somewhat put out by the sudden hilarity that was now directed at him, Alan shrugged and tucked back in to his sandwich.

Virgil slowly calmed and then noticed their older brother's lack of amusement. "You okay?"

"Hm?" Scott was pulled from his thoughts and smiled a reply. "Sure."

oooo

It was no good. He was too awake to sleep and trying to was only making him more restless. He clambered from under the sheets and wandered through to the office.

The sky above the still ocean was beginning to brighten but the house would be quiet for some time yet. Brains would no doubt be awake with the dawn and working in his lab well before the others even had their first thought about stirring. Late night rescues disturbed everyone's rest and only the alarm of another emergency would raise them from their beds.

"Thought you'd be up." Came the quick reply to his comm. request.

Scott smiled and nodded a greeting as his brother slid into view on the plasma screen. He watched John yawning wearily and took a deep breath. "Well?"

"Pen's on the case."

Scott's smile faded. "First impressions?"

"She's getting the usual bureaucratic two-step from both sides of the pond. Everyone's denying all knowledge."

"No surprise."

"Comm. traffic coming out of the place is hard to pick up clearly. VHF distorts easily. And most of what I have managed to get is coded. I've got programmes running but it's proving tough to crack."

"Weird."

"Totally."

Scott frowned in thought. "Suspicious."

"Yup."

"Crap ..."

"The speech patterns falter sometimes and it's hard to tell if it's the weird syntax or if some of these guys might have a heavy accent."

"Ruskies?"

"Don't know."

Scott shook his head slowly. "Don't like it."

"Mmm … neither does Pen. But she's got her man out there on the case." John shrugged slightly, his demeanour then sinking into quiet concern as he regarded the worried face before him. "Dad told me to drop this."

"Figures."

"I can't though. Not now."

"Mmm."

"I've been checking back on news reports and intel and stuff. There's very little info on what exactly happened at the border. And some of the reports seem kind of - "

"Fake?"

John sighed loudly. "I wouldn't go that far. But it doesn't smell right."

"No …"

"Maybe - " John was suddenly distracted by something off screen and moved along the console to work at one of the monitors. "Shit …"

"What?" Scott urged worriedly, sitting forward and desperately wishing he could hear whatever it was that John was obviously listening to.

"Shit!" John repeated, more urgently.

"What?"

"Thunderbird." John uttered breathlessly. "They definitely said 'Thunderbird'."

"Fuck ..."

"I think they've worked out who was spying on them earlier." John continued, his comparatively pale complexion suddenly even paler as he leaned back against his chair and turned to his brother. "Which means, whoever they are … they might know we've seen them."

"Shit."

tbc ...