Last chapter :) I didn't want to make it too long, because I'm still unfamiliar with the characters, well, at least with writing about the characters. I hope the ending doesn't come too rushed.

Thank you for the kind responses. I'm glad that you like this story! I certainly enjoyed writing it.

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by kaeera

Chapter Three:

The Release

'Only the pure of heart can see magic.'

I love this story. I love the story little Alan told me before his death. It holds a special place in my heart, and not only because I heard it under such dramatic circumstances. No, the story has its own appeal. It is…innocent. Untainted.

I've seen far too many tainted things in my life, and my innocence has long been lost. Maybe that's why I like the story so much. Maybe because it shows me some part of the world I no longer belong to – the world of innocent, child-like laughter, of dreams and laughing eyes, of wishes, magic and sparkles.

Whilst I don't lead a bad life, I have seen a lot of bad things, and those tend to leave scars. Every time a person dies in my arms, a little part of my soul dies with them. Dad always tells us not to attach ourselves, but he knows as well as the rest of us that this is impossible. In order to save life, you need to care; and if you care, you're going to get hurt. Way of life, and we've all come to grips with it, sooner or later.

But sometimes, sometimes something takes a big chunk out of your soul and then you're left to pick up the pieces.

I guess that's what happened to me. John told me it was because I bottle things up; I'm the prankster and therefore not prone to depression, but even I can't escape the despair that catches up with you after an especially bad rescue. I don't explode like Alan. I don't get into moods like Scott does. I don't play the piano over and over again, until the rest of the family is ready to kill me. And I don't hide behind my books.

I play pranks.

Funny, nasty, witty pranks on the (more or less) unsuspecting members of my family.

Talking is still a difficult thing. I don't know why, it's just that I don't see the need for it. Dad says it's alright; I should take my time, nobody is pressuring me.

But they're worrying, and now that I've come back from the mental plane I've been on over the last days, I notice the stares.

At first they were happy. I remember Sunday – the Sunday after my conversation with Dad. I slept late and when I came down to the kitchen, it was already time for lunch. I said 'Good Morning' – imagine, something as simple as that – and I swear, my brothers jumped up and hugged me, smiling and laughing happily all the way. It was then when I realized how much they cared and how much my silence had bothered them. Of course, I felt guilty. Who wouldn't? I tried to explain, but I was lacking the words, so I gave up. They wouldn't understand anyway.

I think Dad understands, though. He watches me with this knowing look, and I can't help feeling that he knows what I'm feeling, because he felt it once himself, when Mom died.

Anyway, my brothers made a big deal of fussing over me – especially Scott, he's extremely bad that way, like a mother hen – and trying to get me to talk. I quickly got fed up by their attitude and disappeared to my room. Even though I'm talking doesn't mean that I'm completely back to normal. There are still things I have to deal with.

Like the ghosts, for example.

You see, I can still see them. The kids, I mean. Sometimes, when I'm lying awake at night, I can see them standing in my room, just looking at me.

I know that I'm just imagining them – I'm not stupid, after all – and I reckon that they'll disappear once I've managed to deal with it all. After all, their 'visits' become less and less.

Like I told Dad, I need to deal this on my own. Use the old-fashioned Gordon method of rock-hard determination. Or, as Scott likes to call it, bloody damn stubbornness, excuse the swearing.

But I'm worrying them again, and I don't like that. I'm talking, but I'm not talking much, and I haven't cracked a single joke yet. So, of course, my stupid brothers are worried and they can't keep nagging me about it.

John is the worst, because he seems to be able to see right through me. When he came down from Thunderbird Five – saying he needed to see me for himself – he came to me immediately. I was shocked; Thunderbird Five on automatic? Just because of me? It showed me once again how much my family was worrying about me. I'm not talking, and it seems to be the end of the world, at least for them.

Like I said, John came down and we were lucky – no rescue calls during that time. But he walked into my room and fixed me with this intense gaze he sometimes gets, the one that seems to go straight through your soul.

"You're not okay." He then stated.

I bristled immediately. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not.", his handsome face was calm and he seemed to read me like an open book, whilst I was unable to detect what he was thinking. "It's still bothering you."

I just shrugged, not knowing what to reply. He was right after all; and I don't like to tell outright lies. Er, alright, let me correct that. I don't like to tell outright serious lies. I might be a prankster, but I'm not a fool.

Anyway, John did his mind-reading trick again and drove me right in the corner. Luckily, he seemed to realize that and smiled. "I'm not going to ask about it, because I know you – you've always handled your problems on your own, and that extremely well. But always keep in mind where you can find help once it gets too much."

He left, and I realized once again what a wonderful family I have. Really. They seem to know me better than I do – at least most of the time. There are things that I prefer to keep for myself, thank you very much.

Well, anyway, as wonderful as they might be, they can go on my nerves sometimes. Because they worry so much. Why can't they stop worrying? I mean, Scott even came to my room and wanted to talk to me! Can you imagine that? I just stared at him and threw him out again. He said he's worried, that I haven't been my usual self. Duh, as if I wouldn't know. Nobody would be his usual self when he's seeing dead kids all over in his mind.

They've been tip-toeing around me all the time and nobody dares to mention anything about the rescue.

I'm coming to terms with it. Really, I am. I couldn't save them, I realize that now. They were already dead when I came, and Alan…well, Alan was doomed from the start. That doesn't lessen the pain, but it lessens the guilt.

"Hey Gordon, what'cha doing?" It's Alan, sneaking up on me. Well, not really sneaking, I just haven't been paying attention.

"Thinking." I reply curtly. I know that I've been avoiding my younger brother like the plague. It's just that they look so similar, and it hurts…but if I ever want to get over it, I have to deal with that as well, so I smile shakily and force myself to look at him.

He frowns, concern shining in his eyes. "You okay?"

"I'm fine." My standard response over the last couple of days. I should tattoo it on my forehead, might stop them from asking.

"You don't seem fine to me, Gordo." He says honestly and plops down beside me. "I mean, you're so silent. It's weird."

"There's a lot on my mind."

"I bet." He's silent for a while, which is something new – my little brother is so full of energy that he rarely keeps still.

"You saw him die, didn't you?"

My eyes widen and I stare at him in shock. So much for my tip-toeing around theory. But I shouldn't be surprised; Alan has always been the brutally honest one in our family.

"You did, didn't you?" he presses on.

I nod. There's nothing else I can do, for my throat is suddenly burning.

"Was…was he awake?"

I close my eyes. I can clearly see his face…his eyes, staring at me with wonder and hope, a hope that wouldn't be fulfilled. I wonder what Chester is doing. Would the dog miss him? Certainly. "Yes." I finally croak. "He…talked to me."

I look at my hands, searching for the appropriate words. "His name was Alan."

Alan's lips form an 'Oh'. "Is that why you've been avoiding me?"

"Yeah." I feel that he deserved more explanation. "He even looked like you. And then he died."

"Must have been hard."

"It was."

"You weren't talking."

"I know."

"I was really worried, you know."

"Sorry."

He looks at me and gnaws his lower lip. His gaze is calculating and I can almost see the wheels turning in his mind. Then a tentative smile lights his face. "It's alright.", he says softly, and suddenly doesn't appear like the kid brother at all. "Everyone needs some time to hide. Even you."

Even I? What does he mean? I'm confused and I say so.

Alan searches for the right words. He's not a big talker, my little brother, and he finds it difficult to voice his thoughts. "You are strong, Gordon – have always been. We all have our ways of dealing with tragedies. Scott broods. Virgil paints or plays the piano. John gets all melancholy and hides in his room or on Thunderbird Five. I…get angry. And you…you play pranks. It's as if you decided to fight the pressure with laughter – your barrier against tragedy is humour. But sometimes, our methods to deal with tragedy aren't enough. Sometimes I'm so angry that I might burst, but it doesn't help at all. Then I need someone else to help me – Tin-Tin, or you, or even Scott in his mother-hen fashion."

"What are you trying to tell me?"

Alan sighs. "I'm not very good at this, am I?"

I shake my head, amused. It's heart-warming how my little brother, who despises emotional talks, is trying to help me by doing exactly that.

"It's just…it's alright to hide for a bit. It's okay to cry. It's alright to run away…if you come back, of course. And you decided to come back, so…so you shouldn't feel guilty. It's the way things are."

He looks at me sincerely, my partner-in-crime, and there's so much affection on his eyes, so much open love, that I can't help feeling humbled. Gordon Tracy and humbled…that's a day to mark in my calendar, mind you.

"Thank you." I whisper, and I mean it. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." This brother of mine smiles shakily, unaware of what he's just done to me. He lifted a weight off my shoulders, he and the rest of my family. Suddenly, I feel as if I can do this, and I know that things are going to improve from now on.

Yes, thank you, Alan.

It's late at night and I lie beside the pool, flat on my back, staring at the star-lit sky. Tracy Villa is peaceful and serene. I can hear the water of the pool, sloshing around my feet and moving gently with the wind. It's so nice and peaceful that the dangers of a rescue seem to come from a different planet. It's impossible to believe that somewhere on this planet, people are dying, children starving and catastrophes wreaking havoc. Yet I know it's true, and it makes me appreciate this simple beauty even more.

Well, well. Soon, I'm to return to duty again, and then this peace will be over, but for now I can….

"AAAAAAAHHHHHHH!" The scream sounds almost girl-like and echoes through the whole house.

My eyes snap open and I turn around to see what's going on. Virgil has appeared on the veranda, but obviously he hasn't been the one screaming, since he's looking all confused. He hasn't seen me yet, and I don't announce my presence.

"Scott?" He calls, having identified the screaming voice. "What's wrong?"

"I'M GOING TO KILL HIM!" The voice shouts in reply and draws nearer.

"Why, what happened…." Virgil's voice trails off as he sees his brother and he starts snickering. "Oh my."

"This. Is. Not Funny." Scott grinds out between gritted teeth and finally steps into the light of the veranda.

Laughter bubbles inside me, when I see his face that doesn't have its usual, tanned colour, but is spotted instead…green and purple.

Virgil can't contain his laughter. "Scott, you should see your face…what the hell happened?"

"I have seen my face, thank you very much, and I don't KNOW what happened, because I simply washed my face…"

"It didn't wash off?"

"No, it didn't! I tried again and again, but it only got worse!"

"Did you look at the soap?"

"No, I didn't…" Understanding glimmers in his eyes and he grimaces. "That stupid brother of ours! He exchanged my soap for some stupid joke soap! I swear, I'm going to kill him!"

His face is getting all red, which makes it even funnier, since the colour clashes with the green and purple dots and smears.

He looks like a Martian and I say so.

They both whirl around, finally spotting me at the pool. I smirk, knowing that I've been caught. "The look suits you, dear brother of mine." I call, standing up, ready to run. "I'm sure it's going to be very impressive on the female population."

"Wait, you little…" He growls and runs down the steps of the veranda. "Of all the stupid things to do…" He rushes towards me, and I expect to be punched, thrown in the pool, attacked, anything – but instead, I find myself engulfed in a bear hug.

The expression on my face must have been hilarious, forcing Virgil to laugh even louder, as he follows his brother.

"I'm so glad to have you back, Gordon!" Scott whispers and draws back, looking at me fondly. "For a while, we thought we had lost you."

We share a moment of understanding. "Well, for a while I was lost," is my honest reply.

"We noticed." Pain flickers through Scott's eyes. He hates it when he can't help his brothers. It must have been hard on him, seeing me withdrawing from everyone.

Virgil nods seriously. "A Gordon with no sense of humour is no real Gordon. And – even though I know I'm going to regret it – I missed your jokes. As silly as they are."

A slow grin spreads over my face. "So that means that I can make up for the lost time?"

"No way, little brother. I missed you, but I didn't miss you that much."

"Besides, you have to survive your punishment first." Scott grins. "Or did you think we'd let you off the hook?"

I look at him and then at Virgil, both grinning madly. "Hey, two against one is unfair!" I back away, looking for an escape route, but they're crowding on me.

"Well, bad luck for you."

"There's no such thing as fairness between siblings.", Virgil adds for good measure.

I see the wicked gleam in their eyes. Before I even know what's happening, they've got me between them. I yelp as they drag me towards the pool, but against the two of them, I stand no chance at all. There's the rushing of the air, as I'm suddenly thrown backwards.

Splash.

I guess the good thing about living on a tropical island is that the water is never cold. But I still don't like being thrown in the pool with my clothes on.

I sputter and glare at the two laughing idiots. "You're going to regret that!" I threaten.

"I don't think so," is Scott's amused reply.

He stretches out his hand to help me out of the water. He should know better than that, really. Before he knows what's happening, I've pulled him in the water as well.

"Serves you right!" I cry and splash some water at him.

He stares at me and then starts laughing. It's such a carefree laughter that I can't help joining in. Laughing frees your soul, they say, and I must admit, it is true. The worries, the concern, the nightmares, they haven't gone away, but the burden is a bit lighter to bear. And I know that, as long as I can still laugh, everything is going to be okay. Because I'm not alone, because I have my family, because life is good.

Yeah, everything's going to be okay.

……

"You're just a dog," the man said and walked away. "Animals don't feel anything." The dog whined and didn't know what to do. Even though he was an animal, right now, he felt as if his heart would break.

"Why is it that I'm not allowed to have feelings?" thought the little dog sadly, "Just because I'm an animal? Am I not as good as the others?" He laid his head on his paws and whined softly. Thick tears rolled down his furry cheeks. Just as he was about to cry himself to sleep, a little light appeared above him, shining gently.

"Hello," a voice chirped. "You look as if you might need some help."

"Who are you?" the little dog asked surprised and stared at the light.

"Me?" A giggle flew through the room. "Can't you see that, silly? I'm a fairy!"

"A fairy?" he couldn't believe his eyes. "But I thought fairies don't exist!"

"That's what everybody believes," she sang, her eyes sparkling. "But we are as real as you. The thing is, most people can't see us."

He tilted his head and frowned. "Why not?"

"Only the pure of heart can see magic."

"But I'm not pure." The dog replied confused. "I'm just a dog."

The fairy shook her head. "There's no such thing as 'just' a dog, or 'just' a human. Don't you know that everybody is special? I'm special. You're special. Even the cockroach over there is special! What other people say doesn't matter. You're special, and I'd say your heart is definitely pure, because you can see me."

He didn't really understand. The little dog had never been clever. He couldn't read. He couldn't add, or divide, or multiply. He didn't know any big words. But he was a gentle soul. He looked around the dark alley in which he was stranded, the cardboard box he was sleeping in.

"So tell me," the fairy glowed a little brighter. "What is your greatest wish?"

He looked at her with sad eyes. "It's silly."

"No wishes are silly unless you think so. Now tell me. I'm not going to laugh, I promise."

There was a moment of silence. And then, a bark, almost as soft as the wind: "A family."

"Really?" The fairy smiled mysteriously. "So, tell me, what is that, a family?"

Confused, the dog looked up. "You don't know?"

"Well, there are different types of families. I wanted to know which one you'd like."

He sniffed and shivered. It was freezing cold and his wet fur didn't keep him very warm. "A family is a place to belong. I'm not very clever, but a family…well, they're like friends, only closer. People who love you. People who share your pain, and your happiness. People you can turn to. It's just…a family…a family is home." His voice trailed off. "I'm sorry, I cannot explain."

"No, no, you explained it very nicely." She smiled and twinkled a little more. "Now, are you ready for your wish to be granted?"

"What?"

"Well, I'm a fairy after all! It's our job!" She sparkled even brighter. "Be prepared!" With those words, she began to glow, bathing him in a warm, golden light. Fascinated, he couldn't tear his gaze away, until he had to close his eyes, because the light was too bright. When he opened them again, no one was there.

The fairy had disappeared.

The shadows crept back into the alley, leaving the little dog alone and shivering. He still didn't understand what had happened. Lying down again, he resigned himself to a long and cold night in the abandoned alley, when suddenly he heard footsteps.

"Dad, look! There's a dog!" A child shouted excitedly.

"Oh my," a deep, older voice answered. "He must have been abandoned. Look at the poor thing! I bet he's cold."

"Dad, can we keep him? Please? Please?"

"Well, now, don't be impatient. We have to take him to a vet first, and then we can see. We certainly can't leave him here like that."

Little hands slowly touched his fur and he closed his eyes, enjoying the brief warmth of the touch. "Look, he's not wild at all!" the child – a boy – said admiringly. "He seems nice."

"He certainly is." The deep voice chuckled. Someone wrapped him in a blanket and then two strong arms lifted him up.

"He needs a name, doesn't he, Dad?"

"Well, I suppose so."

"Then I shall call him Chester! And he's going to be my friend!"

The little dog smiled. He was home.

Fin.