Thunderbirds and its characters belong to Gerry Anderson. I own the rest. Thanks for reading!
Jeff watched as Thunderbird 3 soared into the sky. He shaded his eyes and stared up until he could no longer see the ship.
"Boys off then?"
Jeff turned as Penny walked up to him. As usual, she was dressed head to toe in pink, this time a light pink suit jacket and skirt. "Hi Pen. I'm surprised you weren't here to say good-bye."
"I spoke to John earlier this morning." She followed his gaze upward. "He seemed a bit anxious to get back to his Thunderbird."
"Yeah, something about a project he was working on, but he really wouldn't go into it." Jeff took one last look upwards, then turned to Penny. "All I know is that Brains almost killed him when he found the mess up there."
Penny looked surprised. "Surely he can't blame that on John. The Hood caused all that damage."
Jeff shook his head. "Not that. The fact that John's chocolate bars melted in the heat and got into the computer mainframe. Brains said it was quite the mess." Jeff glanced skyward again. "I'm just thankful John stayed here on the island for the past month. If he never left the island, Brains can't prohibit him from bringing more up there." Jeff laughed to himself. "It's going to be a long month for John."
"Oh don't worry about that. He has a fresh case of Toblerone to get him through."
"And just how do you know that?" Jeff demanded.
Penny looked out over the water at the dark clouds massing in the distance. Already the waves were building as they crashed against the beach. "Who do you think has been sending them to him all this time?" She smiled up at Jeff as she linked her arm through his and steered him into the house.
"There, that's all of it." Gordon placed the last box on the floor and looked around.
Thunderbird 5's deck had been completely rebuilt. Computer screens and lights flashed everywhere you looked. New desks and counters sparkled and the windows outside were filled with stars. Gordon, Virgil, Scott and John stood quietly, staring out at the earth, miles below them.
"That's a helluva view you got there Johnny." Virgil said quietly.
"Yeah it is." Gordon agreed.
"I never get tired of it." John said softly. Finally, he turned to his brothers. "All right, quit stalling. Dad's going to freak if you don't get back soon."
Scott shook his head. "He's carting Alan and Fermat back to Wharton. We'll be back way before he is."
"Didn't he take the jet?" John asked.
Jeff had a private jet that used many of the same components as the Thunderbird vehicles. Though not as fast as the rockets themselves, the jet could still make it to its destination in a fraction of the time it would take a normal plane.
"Yeah, but he's anxious to get back before the storm hits." Virgil told him.
"And on that note, we'd better do the same." Gordon led his brothers towards the air-lock. He turned and gave John a tight hug. "Take it easy pal. Call if you need anything."
"Thanks Gord, I will." John replied. Gordon disappeared into Thunderbird 3.
Virgil was next. "Take care of those stitches. No heavy lifting or anything strenuous for a while either. I'll be back up in about two weeks to check on you."
"Yes doctor." John said, rolling his eyes.
"I mean it John." Virgil's voice was like steel.
"I know you do." John pulled his brother into a hug. "Relax, I'll call you if I so much as get a hangnail."
Virgil laughed and followed Gordon inside the ship. "John?"
"Yes Scott?"
Scott smiled at his brother's mocking tone. "You sure you'll be all right? I mean, I can stay."
John snorted. "Yeah, like Dad'll let that happen." John sighed and placed his hands on his older brother's shoulders. "I'll be fine Scott. Really. Stop fretting."
Scott tried to believe him, but could see the apprehension in John's blue eyes. John must have sensed his doubts and turned away. "Now get going before you all get stuck up here and I have to share my chocolate!"
Scott laughed. "Take care John. Talk to you soon." He too went inside the ship.
John left the air-lock and took his seat in the Control Room. "Thunderbird 5 to Thunderbird 3. You are cleared for take off."
"FAB John. Disengaging locks now." Gordon replied. "See you in a few weeks."
John watched as the giant red rocket slowly rolled away from the space station. "Hey Gordon?"
"Yeah Johnny?"
John paused a moment. "Just…Call when you land at home."
"FAB. Thunderbird 3 out."
John stared out the window and watched as the rocket's igniters flared and it headed towards Earth. The room felt too warm, and John loosened the collar of his uniform. He tried to busy himself at the computer, but found himself running a perimeter sweep over and over. The heat in the station seemed overwhelming and he ran a diagnostics check, surprised to find out it was actually a bit cooler than normal.
He once again looked out the windows. Thunderbird 3 was no longer in sight, and John had to force himself not to call. Relax John. Peace and quiet just like you wanted. He shook his head and unsuccessfully tried to focus on his computer.
He looked up at the windows again. The Earth glowed blue and green, and stars sparkled in the distance. Gordon should have called by now. What if something's gone wrong? He glanced down at his watch stunned to discover Thunderbird 3 had launched only minutes ago. It had seemed like hours.
John was finding it difficult to breathe. He unzipped his uniform down to his waist and leaned heavily on the console. Sweat poured off his forehead. The station seemed to be closing in around him. A sudden beeping from the console startled him, and it took a moment before he realized it was just the computer completing another perimeter sweep. There's nothing to be afraid of John, just relax.
John bolted for the bathroom, barely making it before he was violently sick. As he sat there heaving, he jumped as he felt some one take hold of his shoulder.
"Easy John. I'm here."
John looked up in surprise. "Oh God, Scott…" John fell into his brother's arms.
Scott cradled John against him for a moment, then helped him to his feet. "C'mon brother mine, let's get you comfortable." Scott led John to the bedroom and sat his brother down on the bed. He turned a moment, then handed John a glass half filled with amber liquid. "Here, drink this. It'll help."
John took the glass with both hands, trembling so much he could barely bring it to his lips. He took a sip and looked up in surprise. "Is this whiskey?"
Scott nodded. "And damn fine whiskey at that. Finish it." He ordered.
John managed to drink the alcohol and handed Scott back the glass. Scott poured another and gave it back to his brother. He repeated the action twice until John's hands were steadier and he sipped more slowly. "What are you doing here?" John asked quietly.
"You really think I was going to leave you up here alone?" Scott asked.
John shook his head. "I…I'm up here alone all the time."
"But not after being attacked by a lunatic."
John stared down at his hands. "I take it Dad doesn't know you're here."
"He will when he gets back. And frankly, he can say whatever he wants, I'm not going anywhere." Scott told him firmly.
John looked up at his brother, anguish evident in his blue eyes. "Scott, I…"
Scott knelt down and placed one hand on John's shoulder. "It's OK John, you're not alone anymore. And you don't have to pretend, not around me."
John let out a shuddering breath. "I can't do this Scott. I thought I could, but I can't!" He said desperately.
"John…" Scott pulled his brother close as John fell apart. Violent sobs rocked the young man and he clutched Scott tightly. Finally his sobs subsided, and Scott eased him back on the bed. "Rest Johnny."
John laid back, his face pale and his eyes red-rimmed from weeping. "Scott, please don't leave." He said hoarsely.
Scott sat down by the edge of the bed and took his brother's hand in his. "I'm not going anywhere John. Sleep. I'll take care of you."
John closed his eyes and within moments, was sound asleep.
Scott sat there for more than an hour and watched as his brother's breathing steadied out and John's hand went limp in his. He jumped as he heard a beeping coming from the other room. Carefully laying John's hand down, Scott hurried to the monitor.
"Thunderbird 5."
Jeff's face appeared on the screen. "Scott, what in hell do you think you're doing?" He exploded.
"Dad, let me explain—" Scott started.
"Damn right you're going to explain! I just got back from dropping your brother off, there's a typhoon on our doorstep, and Gordon and Virgil inform me that you stayed up there! What are you thinking? What if there's an emergency, did you consider that?" Jeff's face was an ugly red, his brown eyes dark with anger.
"I had more pressing matters here Father." Scott's tone held his barely contained anger. He glanced back towards his brother's room.
"Oh really, like what? I told you I talked to John and he's fine!"
Scott's tremulous hold on his temper finally snapped. "Fine huh? Then tell me why I found my brother on the bathroom floor, puking his guts out in the middle of a major anxiety attack!" He shouted back.
Jeff went instantly silent, his face going pale. "What did you say?" He asked gruffly.
"You heard me Dad. John's not fine. He's a mess. It took over an hour of sobbing and half a bottle of whiskey to calm him down. And even then he's petrified of being left alone. He's jumping at every little sound and ordered Gordon to call the minute they landed." Scott's grey eyes were like steel. "I told you days ago that he wasn't ready for this."
"Tell me what happened."
"Check the logs yourself. He was here less than ten minutes and did a security sweep three times. Does that sound ready to you?" Scott snapped.
Jeff glanced down for a moment. "I guess I was wrong…" He said finally.
"I guess you were." Scott's eyes bored into his fathers. "You're so concerned with saving the world, maybe you should first take care of things at home."
Jeff narrowed his eyes at his eldest. "Watch your tone Scott."
"I don't care what you say Dad. I'm not leaving him. Not until I know he's OK." Scott stood firm.
Jeff wearily rubbed his eyes. "Son, I'm sorry." He said finally. Scott didn't reply, but relaxed back in the chair. "Where's John now?"
"He's sleeping, or passed out, take your pick. It's not good Dad." Scott told him bluntly.
"I'll send Gordon up as soon as the storm's over. He can take over for a few weeks and we'll get John back home."
Scott shook his head. "I don't think that's a good idea."
Jeff began to grow angry again. "Why not? Let me get this straight, first you tell me your brother's in no condition to do his job, and when I offer to bring him home, you won't let me?"
"That's not what I meant. Just give me a few days with him. You know John, he'll come around but it'll take some time. I promise I'll keep you posted and if he isn't doing better soon, I'll have you come up here. Please Dad." Scott was almost pleading with his father.
Jeff scowled. "Fine, have it your way. I want constant updates, do you hear me?"
"FAB Dad."
Jeff softened. "Take care of him son."
Scott smiled. "I will Dad."
"Tracy Island out." Jeff signed off.
Scott sighed and sat back in the chair. Well, that went better than I expected. He got to his feet and went into his brother's room. John was still asleep, his breathing deep and regular. Scott sat down on the recliner in the corner and loosening his collar, settled down to watch over his brother.
Jeff stared down at the blank computer screen. How did I miss this? He's my son, I should have seen he needed more time. He sighed and pushed a button on his desk. "Virgil, Gordon, my office."
A few minutes later, the boys walked in. "Hey Dad, what's up?" Gordon asked.
"Virgil, can you monitor some one's vitals from their com-band?" Jeff asked.
"Sure, I might be able to." Virgil's brow furrowed in thought. "Why?"
Jeff ignored the question. "See what you can do. Gordon, think you can be ready to take over on Thunderbird 5 for an extended period of time?" He asked.
"Sure Dad, is everything all right?" Gordon's face wore a puzzled frown.
"It's John."
Virgil's head snapped up. "What happened?" He demanded.
Jeff sighed. "He had some sort of panic attack. Scott got him under control and is going to let us know more in the morning."
"Dammit Dad! I knew he shouldn't have gone back!" Virgil paced the length of the desk.
"If you're going to blame yourself, get in line behind me." Jeff stated flatly.
Virgil stared out the window at the grey sky. Rain started falling, hissing as it hit the windows. "I think I might be able to monitor his heart-rate. But only if he's wearing his communicator. He usually doesn't up there since he's surrounded by all that equipment of his."
Jeff nodded. "Just so we can keep a weather eye on him."
Gordon turned to his father. "I think we should let Alan know what's going on."
"Much as I hate to agree with him Dad, he's right. Alan's earned a place on this team and it's our brother who's in trouble. He deserves to know." Virgil said.
Jeff sighed again. "You're right. Give him a call and have him tell Fermat what's going on."
"FAB Dad." Virgil answered and sat down at the computer terminal in the corner.
They stood quietly for a few minutes, the only sound being Virgil's voice. Wind lashed at the windows and the power flickered, causing them all to jump.
"Here she comes." Gordon said.
"We'd better go make sure we have everything battened down. When this thing hits, it's going to hit hard." Jeff told them.
Gordon gave his father a quizzical look. "I though you said she was just a mild storm."
"That's what the models predicted, but as usual, the weather guys got it wrong. Let's go." Jeff led Gordon out of the room, with Virgil following close behind.
Trangh Belagant, alias The Hood, sat in his jail cell, alone with his thoughts. Footsteps caused him to open his eyes as the lock turned and a guard stepped in. "Let's go. Your lawyer wants to talk to you." He pushed the evil man towards the door.
Hood narrowed his red eyes and the man flinched in pain. A hand clapped down hard on his shoulder. "Enough of your mind tricks old man." He held a syringe in his hand. Hood ceased his physic attack and allowed the men to lead him down the hallway.
They entered a small room with a table and a two-way mirror. "Wait here." The guard ordered and left the room.
Hood casually glanced in the mirror and smiled before sitting down on the cheap plastic chair. When the door opened a few minutes later, he barely glanced up.
A tall young woman wearing a sleek black suit entered the room. Her bright red hair was tightly wound in a bun on top of her head, and she peered around the room through horn-rimmed glasses.
She glared at the remaining guard. "I'd like to be alone with my client."
The guard eyed her for a moment, then turned and left the room. She turned back to Hood. "Sir, how are you?"
He smiled. "Transom my dear. What brings you here?"
She glanced at the mirror and pulled a sheaf of papers out of her bag. Placing them on the table, she pretended to read them as she lowered her voice. "Sir, they have agreed to move you out of here to a different location. One of the state mental hospitals."
Hood smiled again. "Very good Transom. When will this happen?"
"The day after tomorrow."
"And Mullion?"
"We can get him on the way." She shuffled the papers back into her bag. "Sir, are you sure this will work? Security will be heavy."
He patted her hand gently and his red eyes glittered evilly. "Just leave it to me."