FUGUE
A Thunderbirds story in five parts
By Spense
Note: This is TV Verse. Don't own them, not making money . . . etc.
Fugue:
1: a dreamlike state of altered consciousness that may last for hours or days 2: a musical form consisting of a theme repeated a fifth above or a fourth below its first statement
Music. An imitative polyphonic composition in which a theme or themes are stated successively in all of the voices of the contrapuntal structure.
In music, a fugue is a type of piece written in counterpoint for several independent musical voices. A fugue begins with its subject (a brief musical theme) stated by one of the voices playing alone. A second voice then enters and plays the subject, while the first voice continues on with a contrapuntal accompaniment. Then the remaining voices similarly enter one by one. The remainder of the fugue further develops the material using all of the voices. (From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia)
PART THREE
MODULATING THEME
PEDAL-POINT, REDEFINING THE ORIGINAL THEME
Alan and Kenny had their heads down under the hood of Alan's car, trying to find a minor problem with the fuel pump. It was driving them crazy, so when one of the kids working in the shop poked his head out and yelled that 'International Rescue was on TV', they were more than happy to pack it in.
Alan headed into the office with the rest, wiping his hands on a rag. He was really torn. The last several months had been peaceful for him in an odd way. He was extremely busy on the racing circuit, and around people and chaos all the time. But it was chaos he understood.
His pet project of family history was keeping him busy in the evenings when he wasn't here. He'd learned some about his mother. It was harder, though, than he'd bargained on. Alan had always found the internet to be a great source of information, but what he hadn't realized was that somebody had to put the information out there. There was tons on the Tracy family – Jeff was an American hero and, to put it bluntly, he was rich. The general public had a fascination for the rich, and Jeff was reclusive and mysterious as well. Therefore, fodder for magazine speculation.
But as for Lucy Evans Tracy, there wasn't a lot out there about her prior to her marriage. Alan had never realized the true gulf between the rich and the true middle class. Lucy had been middle class – therefore, uninteresting to the media. He was getting quite an education right there.
However, he was ferreting out some information. He'd found her college information and other things from her time in the States. He was just now starting to dig into the information from England, and that was proving harder yet. But still, he felt like he was finally doing something constructive. Even his grief, still a tangible presence, was somehow more manageable.
Now International Rescue was on TV. Alan wasn't sure he wanted to jeopardize the precarious balance in his life by seeing his immediate family in any form. It was bad enough seeing Tracy Enterprises all over the news and in magazines such as World Wide Fortune and World Newsweek all the time. He'd had no idea Tracy Enterprises had expanded that much. Go figure.
However, he followed Kenny into the small crowded office, and gathered around the screen hanging on the wall. This office sure didn't feel this small when he was here late at night.
The World Wide News Network was all over the story. It was a big fire on the top of a high-rise building. The reporter was narrating the scene.
"Now, because of International Rescue's edict of no video or still footage of any kind, we are instead concentrating on the sections that do not show the incredible vehicles themselves. I can tell you that the burning helijet on top of the building itself is causing all sorts of problems for the crew of International Rescue."
"The building itself from floors 170 down is shut off and secure, however we understand that there are five individuals trapped on the 178th floor, two below the helijet pad. The fire has engulfed all of those floors. International Rescue has lowered a platform from Thunderbird Two to the windows of the 178th floor and is trying to get the people out that way. Here, we'll try to zoom in."
The camera panning the building suddenly zoomed in on a fuzzy shot of the top of a large building reaching near the clouds. Flames and smoke were soaring out of the windows and the top of the building.
As the camera zoomed still closer, Alan could see the rescue platform, silhouetted against the flames and smoke. There were two figures on the platform, one undistinguishable, wielding what was apparently a water canon of some type, and one with unmistakable read hair.
Alan watched in concern. 'Man, you are out of your element here Gordon. Be careful!'
"Look at those guys!" A voice behind Alan chortled. "Man, aren't they something!"
"Yeah, you wouldn't get me up there for anything," Pat commented firmly. "Way too high up there for me."
Alan tuned them out, and watched with tension radiating from every muscle. He could almost hear the conversations, see Scott on the ground with Mobile Control. He was pretty sure it was probably John on the platform with Gordon, given the normal rotation schedule. Brains would be taking his place, he was sure of that. That new water canon sure looked to be working well. Alan had helped with the original design, with rescues like this one forefront in mind.
The water canon blasted a way into the windows, keeping them clear for the trapped survivors to make their way out.
"Look at that," Kenny muttered. "I can't imagine how they are getting those people from the window to that cage 178 floors above the ground. That's got to be some pilot, getting them in that close."
"I'll say. Amazing flying," another mechanic agreed.
Alan felt a surge of pride. Virgil was amazing. He could drive or fly just about anything.
"No!" A myriad of gasps went up from the crowd as the platform suddenly dropped straight down. The quick thinking camera man panned out to keep his picture on the image. The platform dropped 20 feet, then stopped abruptly, throwing all inside to be knocked off their feet, but thankfully not out.
Alan watched in horror as each slowly got to their feet. Gordon was the last, moving with a stiffness that probably only Alan or one of his brothers would have recognized.
"Damm," he muttered quietly. Gordon's back was not going to be good after today.
"You said it," Kenny said, not knowing the train of Alan's thought. "Close one, wasn't it? Wonder what happened. Wouldn't I love to see one of those machines." He shook his head in amazement.
The reporter came back on. "I've just spoken to the field commander of International Rescue. He stated that the slip was a result of an explosion of an additional helijet on the pad, and that no harm was done. They have all the trapped people off safely, and are lifting them onto Thunderbird Two as we speak."
She looked up to the sky and continued speaking. "I'm sorry not to be able to show you this sight, folks - it's really amazing. But with all International Rescue does, well, it's the one thing they ask of us. We're just grateful they were here today."
The newscast cut out at that time, and Kenny began shooing everybody back to work. Alan trailed along after the crowd, his mind filled with concern about Gordon.
TB TB TB TB TBMid summer, much to his chagrin, Gordon Tracy found himself up on TB Five 10 days earlier than the original scheduled changeover. He'd been involved with a fire rescue and had strained his back. He was fine, but he was very stiff. And with his history of back trouble Jeff had deemed it wiser for him to be someplace where he could remain quiet.
Gordon hated it. Absolutely detested every minute of being in space, and now he was stuck here for an additional ten days. The inactivity was driving him crazy for one thing. For another, he still had never managed to get over being space sick. He was always running for the head. He didn't know how John and Alan did it. Or Jeff for that matter. Brains even handled it fine!
The first 48 hours were really the worst. By morning, if past experience was anything to dictate, he should be feeling passable. So when the communicator buzzed at what was 2am Tracy Island time, Gordon wasn't sure whether he wanted to answer it or not.
He'd already heard from his Father, Scott and John at various different times. Grandma had chimed in as well - all wanting to know whether his back was bothering him, was he sick, etc. You'd think he was twelve from the sounds of it. Gordon was getting disgusted by the whole thing. All he had left to do was hear from Virgil and Brains. Virgil would be sound asleep right now, and probably wouldn't wake until late morning, if he was left in peace that long.
So, probably Brains or Scott again. Since Alan had left, Scott had been on overload, making sure he hadn't missed anything like he had with his youngest brother. Life was a living hell for the rest of Scott's brothers right now. If he didn't knock it off soon, Gordon just might have to deck him one. In the pool, if possible. He was faster in water. Gordon sighed and keyed the connection.
"So just how space sick are you?" Gordon was flabbergasted. The words and the sentiment were exactly as expected - just not the speaker. It took him a moment to put together the cheerful tone with the knowing smirk of his younger brother.
"Al?" he asked incredulously. "What . . .?" He noticed what looked like a sparsely furnished office with a work bench filled with car parts behind his brother.
Alan laughed outright. "Not too often I find you at a loss for words!"
"Geez! How did you know I was here?" Gordon finally sputtered.
Alan shrugged, slightly uncomfortable. "I saw the rescue on the World Wide News. It was pretty obvious everybody hit the bottom of the platform pretty hard. And since one someone had red hair, and was moving like his back was made of concrete, well, I thought that Dad would probably put you someplace useful."
Gordon heard the guilt in the unsaid 'because you were short-handed' and moved to reassure his brother. He was absolutely delighted to hear from him. "Ah, it's nothin'. Dad's a worrier, you know that."
Alan snorted at the reality of that comment. Gordon had no idea just how much of a worrier. He wasn't the youngest. However, the hydrofoil accident had about made him equal to Alan in the mother hen aspect of his father and brothers, so of all of them, he probably did understand the best.
Alan also wasn't buying the 'I'm just fine' sentiment. He'd helped Gordon through the worst of the aftermath of the accident, and the work it took to get him back on his feet. He knew better. He knew Gordon was hurting, and that Five was the best place for him. But, he let it slide.
"So you didn't answer my question? How space sick are you?"
Gordon grimaced. "You have no idea. And you actually liked coming up here?"
Alan laughed out loud. "No, I just liked the rush of the rocket flight!"
"Well, you've sure been getting enough speed right now. You've certainly been cleaning up on the racing circuit."
Alan looked surprised. "You've been watching?"
"Of course, jackass. We all have. Grandma's keeping a scrapbook."
Now Alan looked truly dumbfounded. "You're kidding."
"No! What'd you think? We'd erased you from the family bible? Nice try kiddo. Come to think of it, I think Virgil may have lobbied for it. He's still pretty sore over you wrecking a certain car of his, but he was over ruled, and in the end he agreed." Gordon grinned.
"You helped!" Alan replied, incensed. "Besides that was a long time ago."
"Come on, I'm joking! Lighten up! Seriously, everybody's been pretty concerned about you."
"Well, after what I said . . . " Alan trailed of uncertainly, looking away.
Gordon sighed heavily, glad to be able to tell his favorite brother a few home truths of his own. "Alan, everybody's really missed you. You only spoke the truth. You should have said it years ago, in my opinion," he stated firmly. "Scott's commented the same thing. He wished he'd known."
Alan's mouth tightened. "Well, he could have opened his eyes."
"Yeah, yeah," Gordon said hastily. "I agree. But at least he's moving in the right direction." He quickly changed the subject to a more neutral topic. "So, you're back with Kenny. How do you like the team?"
Alan readily followed his lead, to Gordon's heartfelt relief. He really wanted to reconnect with his younger brother, and Alan apparently felt the same way. But he'd have to go carefully, he knew. They talked for more than an hour until Alan finally signed off.
That became the pattern when Gordon was on TB Five. He'd let Alan know his schedule, or call him from the privacy of his sitting room when he was home. He kept the calls quiet from his family. Alan had requested that, and Gordon had told him he'd already decided to do so anyway. He had a feeling that Alan might be making night calls to Grandma too, but he never asked, and Alan never mentioned anything.
They talked about anything and everything, just like they used to, with the one exception being the family. To Alan, the subject of his father and brothers was still taboo, and Gordon wanted nothing to jeopardize their resumed relationship.
COUNTERPOINT, NEW SOPRANO VOICELady Penelope Creighton-Ward was amazed as FAB-1 pulled up in front of the track where Alan was currently racing. Although an off day with no racing taking place, the track had one of its 'open' afternoons, allowing fans to come watch the training runs. It was a mad-house of cars, race cars, racing teams and groupies. FAB-1 didn't even get a second glance other than a few appreciative looks.
After asking around and finding out that Alan was out on the track, Lady Penelope instructed Parker to stay with the car, and found a quiet corner in the area where she was told Alan could come back to. It wasn't more than a few minutes before she saw a driver pull off his helmet revealing Alan's distinct bright blond hair.
Penny watched with interest as Alan wove through the gauntlet of fans, stopping agreeably to sign autographs and chat with the fans. As she watched and listened, Penelope was amazed at the ease with which Alan interacted with the fans. Penny's observant eye watched carefully. He was congenial, polite, and kind, while still apart. This was new. Gone was the edgy, somewhat brash young man she had known.
Penny reflected on the many conversations she'd had with this young man's very worried father. He was concerned that Alan would dive into a depression, and possibly turn to drink or drugs – any number of things. Knowing Alan as she did, Penelope had to admit that given the atmosphere he was in at the racecourse, anything could happen. Alan didn't have the same level of introspection that his brothers did. He was much more reactive, less thoughtful.
Jeff had not asked her to come. He would never have done that. In fact, he didn't even know she was here. No, Penny was here on her own. She watched as Alan smiled and talked with the fans, observing and storing away small bits of information, until a conversation nearby drew her attention at the mention of the Tracy name.
"Look at that, will ya?" a wry voice commented. "Tracy's at it again." A man in mechanics overalls was talking to an older driver who grinned.
"Yeah, wish I know how he does it. He's got 'em eating out of his hand."
"Well, the kid's polite," the mechanic commented.
"I'll say. It's nice to see somebody with manners in this set. We might actually get a reputation for being something besides beer-drinking rednecks if Tracy decides to stick around this time."
The mechanic clapped the older man on the shoulder and laughed at the stereo-type, and the two of them turned away. Penny turned thoughtfully back to the scene in front of her. Alan was finishing up patiently with the fans. As the young girls took their prizes and headed off giggling, Alan continued his unknowing trek back towards Penny. For a moment, his face was unguarded. The only term Penny could use for his expression was bleak, and her heart went out to him.
Alan was at a turning point in his life. His wife had died, he was trying to become somebody other than just the youngest Tracy brother, and he had cut himself off from his family in order to accomplish that. Penny sighed mentally. All of the Tracys seemed to have a need to do things the hard way. Why couldn't they just do something the simple way for a change? She answered herself almost immediately. Because then they wouldn't be a Tracy.
"Alan!" She called, catching his attention. Because she was watching him so carefully, she could see the fast play of expressions across his face. The bleakness to recognition to wariness warring with welcome. She and Alan had always gotten along pretty well, but she knew he would be convinced that she was here because of his father.
"Lady P!"He greeted her warmly enough, she was relieved to notice as he continued towards her. Jeff would throttle her if she did anything that worsened the situation.
"Alan. So good to see you! I'm not interrupting, I hope?"
Alan smiled. "No, of course not. What are you doing here?"
The twenty-four thousand dollar question. But Penny hadn't been a government agent for as long as she had and not be able to handle a tricky situation.
"To see you, of course."
Alan cocked his head and looked thoughtfully at her. No doubt, that was exactly why she was here. And he was pretty sure - no, scratch that, convinced - that she knew all about the scene at the hospital. Jeff would have discussed every detail with her. Regardless of popular opinion, he really did know his father pretty well. But had Jeff sent her? Or was she here on her own?
Alan was under no illusions when it came to Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward. He had always been, and would continue to be cautious of her abilities. She was a smart, tough lady, and he'd felt the rough edge of her tongue more than once. Usually he'd deserved it. Oh, she'd filleted him in the most polite, upper-crust British way possible, but she could sure take a guy down a peg or two when she wanted. But overall, they'd always gotten along pretty well.
However, she and his father were close, and Jeff was always going to be first and foremost in Penny's mind, no question there. Frankly, Alan would not have been at all surprised to have Penny as a stepmother someday. He just wished his father would get off the stick and ask her and make an honest woman of her. Honestly, his father was such an idiot sometimes.
But Alan's perspective had changed, and he had a new appreciation of his father's thought process, having lost his own wife. He felt the knife turn in his stomach, and resolutely closed down any line of thought on TinTin. But his tragedy was fresh and Lucille Tracy had been dead for 23 years. Jeff never had to forget her, but man, he could, no 'needed', to move on with his own life.
Besides, it wasn't like Jeff had been celibate. For cripes sake, Penny had named the Australian sheep ranch she had purchased Bonga Bonga! Regardless of how discreet they thought they were, how much more obvious could you get than that? For one thing, the ranch was practically in Tracy Island's backyard, thus a whole lot more convenient than England, AND she dragged Jeff there as often as he'd let her do it. Contrary to popular family opinions, Alan was no fool.
He'd also noticed Scott, Virgil and John's tightened lips at the mere mention of Penny and her ranch. They'd never discussed it with him – why would they? To them, Alan would always be a child. Now there were three other men who needed to get over the past and move on as well. Good lord. Penny was great, and she loved his father a lot, and clearly, the feeling was returned. So where was the big deal? Granted, maybe Alan was better prepared to deal with the situation, not having known his mother. That was probably another reason why he and Penny had gotten along so well – he didn't find her competition for his mother's memory. He suddenly wondered just what kind of skirmishes may have occurred between the older three Tracy sons and Penny that he didn't know about. Interesting. Anyway, another problem for another day.
Alan focused thoughtfully on the elegant woman in front of him once more. She was a lady to the core, but she could also be down and dirty straight-forward. And she didn't disappoint him this time either.
"I'm not here because of your father, Alan. He has no idea that I've come to see you, and he'll probably dress me down thoroughly when I tell him. And I will tell him. I won't hold secrets from either of you, but I promise that neither will I interfere in your relationship with your family. You have my word. But I've been very concerned about you. You've been on my mind and I needed to reassure myself that you really are doing all right. Fair enough?"
Alan laughed. He couldn't help it. Shooting straight from the hip as always. "Fair enough, Lady P. I'm fine. See?" He spread his arms open so she could take a good look at him.
"So I see! You do look like you need to eat more, though," she said critically, her head cocked as she studied him.
"I suppose," he said, indifferently. "But you can see I'm fine. I'm not pining, I'm not self-destructive, and I'm not suicidal. Okay?" He finished with a bit of an edge to his voice.
"Okay, darling, so I see. I'm convinced." She laughed and reached out to hug him, neatly defusing the situation.
He returned the gesture readily. He could see she really meant it.
As they separated, she continued. "I'll say it once, then I'll drop the subject and not bring it up unless you want to talk about it." She continued quickly as his face began to harden. "I'm so sorry about TinTin. You deserved to have your life with her be long and happy, not cut short." She knew she'd said the right thing as his face reflected surprise that she wasn't bringing up his father, and then a heart wrenching gratitude at her words.
This time, Alan initiated the hug, and said quietly into the air behind her, "Thanks Lady P. You don't know how much that means."
Penny hugged him close for a moment. Poor Alan. She realized suddenly that she must be the first person to just let him be a grieving widower. The whole dammed Tracy clan just made things so incredibly difficult for themselves – Alan included! This young man needed to be home right now, recovering with the support of his family, not trying to do this alone. But the situation was what it was, and there was nothing she could do to change it or the past, but she could support him now and in the time to come.
Lady Penelope just tightened her grip of him for a moment, slightly surprised that he let her, and allowed him get his bearings. When he finally released her, she said brightly, "Now, I want to know what you've been doing! Racing obviously. And winning. How about that car of yours? May I see it?"
"Of course! Where's Parker?" Alan recovered quickly. He'd had lots of practice doing that these past months. "He'll want to see it too, I know." Alan and Parker both liked engines and had always talked cars whenever they could. They'd always gotten along famously as well.
"He's with FAB-1. Shall we go get him?"
"Yes, and then I'll treat you both to lunch. Sound good?" Alan asked, grinning, his spirits raised.
'Wonderful!" Penny said smiling, as she took his arm. This promised to be a lovely afternoon. Alan looked genuinely pleased to see her. She planned to make the most of it, and get his spirits up as much as the situation would allow.
"Lead on," Alan instructed, and allowed himself to be led towards the parking lot. He knew that Penny would report on him to his father, and that was fine. There was no subterfuge here and he could live with that. He also knew she was as good as her word, and that she wouldn't allude to TinTin, or to his family, nor would she interfere in any way unless he asked. Therefore, it actually did promise to be an enjoyable afternoon and he planned to make the most of it. Life had been very bleak as of late, and an unexpected bright spot was something to be enjoyed.
STRETTO, REPRISEAlan worked late that evening in the garage workshop to make up for the afternoon off he'd taken. Not that anybody had even suggested it. It was just Alan's own sense of responsibility that made him do it. That and the fact that he felt he was close to a break through on a particular pet project he'd been working on since he first started racing years ago.
He also used the quiet time to explore his mother's family's past. He had his laptop set up, and was perusing the internet, looking for clues. Between the two projects, he usually stayed late at the track, where ever they happened to be. He found it to be peaceful and productive.
As his finger flew over the keyboard, he smiled as he thought of the afternoon with Penny. It had been fun. He'd really enjoyed himself. He hadn't had much fun the last several months, that was for sure. He liked racing, and it gave him a thrill and made him feel alive. That was important right now – finding reasons to keep living. Racing definitely helped. And he was good at it. That helped too. His self-esteem was pretty low.
His fellow drivers at the track didn't know that. Nor did they realize that racing just wasn't the complete rush for him that it was for them. Not after working as an astronaut for as long as he had, or piloting Thunderbird One occasionally. Not after International Rescue. But the trade off was worth it. Maybe he didn't get the adrenaline rush he used too, but he was his own person.
And the afternoon with Penny had helped with that too. She treated him as an adult. An adult with opinions that mattered. She almost undid him when she talked about TinTin. But that felt good too. Cathartic, almost.
Alan's attention was wrenched from his thoughts back to his computer as a search he'd had going came back with the results. He'd gotten another hit on Lucille Evans Tracy. This time he'd finally found information on her immediate family history in England. Eagerly, he clicked on the link, only to be disappointed again. Lots of pictures, lots of facts, no meat. He just couldn't get a sense of her personality, and it was driving him crazy. Names, dates, places, times. Her parents' names and date of death in a car accident the year after she'd married Jeff. Her birthday. Her date of death, which, no surprise there, corresponded with the date of his birth. But nothing about what she liked, or what she did. He still felt like he didn't know her. Well, he might never. But at least now he knew what she looked like. And . . . a new fact – she had a brother.
TB TB TB TB TBOne by one the Tracy brothers straggled into the lounge. It was late, and the hot tropical night felt like velvet. The rescue, a long, hard, dirty cave-in, was finally successfully completed, with no loss of life. Now, the 'Birds' were back, post flight checks and refueling completed, and the boys staggered up to their suites. Now, showered and in clean clothes, they limped into the lounge for debriefing and refueling themselves before hitting the sack.
Virgil dropped limply into a chair, staring at the platter of sandwiches and mugs of soup with longing, but not sure he wanted to move to get one. "That has to have been one of the toughest rescues we've been on in a long time."
Grandma took pity on him, filling a plate and handing it too him.
He looked at her in gratitude. "Thanks Grandma. You're a diamond among pearls," he complimented gratefully as he dug in.
She smiled at him and patted his hand. "You've earned it. It did sound like a lot of work."
Gordon helped himself, then dropped into another chair. "It was the most work we've had to do in a really long time. We practically had to dig them out by hand, the basement was so unstable."
Jeff gazed in pride at his sons. Scott was busy wolfing down a sandwich in about two bites. He'd already finished one and was working on a second. Jeff wasn't surprised. They'd been out nearly 18 hours on this one. A large building had been hit by a landslide, trapping a dozen people in the debris of the basement. The Mole and all of their other machinery was not usable because of the instability. They had, literally, dug the people out by hand.
"I'm proud of you boys. You did excellent work today."
They all basked silently in the praise, content to eat at the moment.
John's voice came plaintively from his portrait. "I can see those sandwiches, and I can practically taste them. But I can't even touch them!"
"Too bad, Johnnie boy. Their all for us!" Gordon teased around his mouthful of food.
"And please don't tell me that's seafood chowder!" John just moaned.
"Okay, we won't," Scott tossed his brother's way. "I think you've got an instant meal up there that's supposed to taste like seafood, don't you?"
John just growled in frustration. "Next time I'm down earth side, Scott, next time. You just watch yourself."
"Now, now, boys. Gordon, don't talk with your mouth full. Scott, stop teasing your brother," Josie chastised. "Virgil, at least you've got manners!"
"That's because his mouth is so stuffed, he can't talk!" Gordon laughed.
"Enough," Jeff said sternly, putting a stop to the banter. He looked around suddenly. "Where's Brains?"
Scott shrugged. "He stayed down in the workshop. I think he's got some ideas for some smaller, more delicate tools we can use in a situation like this for the future."
Jeff just sighed. He'd long since stopped trying to stop the brilliant man's creative urges. There was a couch in Brains' workshop for just that reason, along with a full bath, and a stocked refrigerator. This wouldn't be the first time he didn't make it upstairs. "Alright. Now, what about the rescue?"
The boys immediately began to fill him in. Grandma excused herself after making sure they all had enough food, then headed for bed. But the men of International Rescue spent the next half hour or so professionally analyzing the rescue. What had gone wrong, what went right, and what to do differently next time. By the time they'd covered it all, Scott, Virgil and Gordon were replete with food and drink, and lounging bonelessly on the big easy chairs now that Grandma wasn't there to tell them to sit correctly.
"Anything else?" Jeff finally asked. He'd left his desk and had joined them around the coffee table.
Nobody could really think of anything and they were all beginning to think about packing it in for the night, when suddenly John snapped his fingers.
"Forgot to tell you. Alan raced today. It wasn't something on his schedule. Apparently it was an invitational only type thing, and he accepted at the last minute."
That got everybody's attention, and heads came up, eyes brightened, and posture straightened.
"Well?" Gordon demanded.
"Well, what?" John asked.
"Oh for pity's sake! How'd it go?" Virgil demanded.
"Oh. He won."
"Of course he won," Gordon said in disgust. "He's always winning. Did you think to record it? How tight a win was it? Was there any trouble?"
John started to laugh.
Better that John was laughing rather than getting mad at Gordon's tactlessness, Jeff decided. It was too late for a confrontation, and besides, he wanted the details as well. "Did you record it John?"
"Yep. It's on the main computer. I also downloaded it to the household computer so you can put it on the vid-screen anytime you want."
"Great, but it's late now, Johnny-boy, and I'm tired. You may like the dark and stars, but for me, they mean it's time to sleep. How about a quick play-by-play?" Scott asked tiredly.
"I agree. Go ahead, John," Jeff instructed.
"It was a great race. Tight though, and tough. Alan got pretty badly boxed in for the first part of it. Looked intentional too. But he managed to squeak through, and won by a nose." John shrugged. "Text-book driving too. I don't know what they're fueling that car with, but whatever Kenny's doing, it's been pretty amazing. Alan just can't seem to lose."
"Good for him," Virgil said with real pleasure.
"Yeah," Scott said slower. He looked thoughtful. "It sure would be nice to be able to congratulate him. I just hate being cut off."
The mood sobered. "I know," Jeff said quietly. "And I worry. I know Kenny will call me if something happens, but I'd like to be able to get in touch with Alan as well. For emergencies. I don't like being in the dark. Not that I can do anything about it," he finished sadly.
Gordon decided later that it must have been a combination of fatigue, pity for his father, and the huge amounts of food he eaten. He felt logy and slow. And he knew that regardless of whatever excuses he happened to come up with, if he'd been sharper he wouldn't have opened his mouth. "That's okay. I know how to reach him."
It was the dead silence that made Gordon realize exactly what he'd betrayed.
"Excuse me?" Scott said dangerously, his eyes narrowed.
Gordon looked nervously around the circle of faces and knew his goose was seriously cooked. It was amazing how menacing his brothers and father could be when they wanted to. Scott looked like he wanted to strangle him, Mt. St. Virgil was beginning to simmer, and he didn't even want to look at his father's face. If Scott and Virgil were daunting, his father was downright intimidating. And at least John was up on Five, safely far, far away, but he didn't look any less scary.
He looked nervously around him once more, and realized that he didn't have a prayer. So without any further prompting, praying Alan would understand (after all, he HAD grown up in the same family and didn't like being pounded anymore than Gordon did), he opened his mouth and started talking.
ANSWER, AUGMENTEDScott pushed through the crowd grimly, Virgil close behind. The bar was a madhouse as the victory party for Alan and his racing team was in full swing. Scott was used to rough crowds, but he also appreciated restraint. This crowd apparently didn't. Women, groupies really, were on laps of any available driver, and besides the blatant sexual foreplay going on, he knew he was seeing as much activity related to recreational drugs as alcohol, although that was certainly in abundance.
Scott continued to push his way through the crush of bodies, scanning the crowd for Alan, trying to ignore his growing irritation. He knew he was being unreasonable. Irrational might be an even better way to put it. He had no right to be angry that Alan was a willing party to such a raucous, out of control crowd, especially considering some of the activities he'd taken part in at the same age.
But still, his brother was a Tracy, and he had no business heaping this kind of mud on the family name. Especially as he was very well known not only by his driving, but also by who his father was. Alan knew better.
Scott heaved a sigh as he pushed his way through the oblivious throng of people. As much as he loved his little brother, it still griped him about how he acted sometimes. Spoiled, no doubt about it. Comes with being the youngest of five, and no mother. Inevitable, he supposed.
Before he could vent his frustration by pushing harder on the bodies in front of him, he felt a calming hand on his shoulder. Looking behind him in surprise, he caught Virgil's knowing gaze and forced himself to take a deep breath.
How did Virgil always know what he was thinking? It didn't really matter, he just did. And they were here to try to repair the breach, not make it worse. After Gordon's revelation, Scott had pried his racing schedule out of him, and his home address. Gordon hadn't stood a chance. Scott wasn't his older brother by eight years without knowing exactly which buttons to push. There was a major race being held at the track where Alan's team was based. And since they now knew the address, and he and Virgil were long overdue for some shore leave, here they were. He nodded and Virgil smiled.
Suddenly Virgil's gaze sharpened at something over Scott's shoulder. Scott turned around to see their second quarry - Kenny Malone.
Kenny was at a table talking earnestly to another group of people that the brothers recognized as part of Alan's racing team. Young women of supermodel proportions and not a lot of clothing were draped over a couple of the group, even though the conversation was clearly business.
Scott and Virgil pushed their way purposefully through the crowd. Kenny looked up at their purposeful approach - out of place in the well lubricated crowd of the long underway victory celebration. He looked quizzically at them, not quite placing them.
"Scott Tracy," Scott identified himself with a smile and an outstretched hand. "Alan's brother." He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. "Virgil, another brother."
Virgil smiled and extended his hand as well. Kenny's face cleared and he half stood to shake both their hands. "Nice to meet you," he greeted over the din with a smile. He looked at Virgil. "You're the engineer. Alan talked a lot about you when he was in college. You designed his original car," he stated. "Nice job on that."
"That's right," Virgil confirmed, pleased.
"We're trying to find Alan," Scott broke in, ignoring the pleasantries, intent on finding Alan. "Any ideas on where he is in this crush?" He looked around at the wild party, hiding his distaste.
The entire group at the table looked surprised.
"Alan's here?" One of the buxom girls perked up instantly. "Where?" A couple of others in the nearby vicinity immediately looked around with interest at Alan's name.
"No, Alan's not here," Kenny said with a faint grin, as all of the women in the vicinity promptly deflated. "He's back at the garage, as usual." He grinned bigger at Scott's and Virgil's obvious looks of surprise.
"I wish he'd come," one of the girls grumbled.
"He never comes, to any of the parties," another complained.
One looked Scott in the eye and flashed a saucy grin. "Tell him Tonya's waitin' sweetheart, if he'd ever show up to a party!"
Scott managed to keep a neutral expression on his face as Kenny just laughed. He was clearly enjoying the brother's discomfort. Scott suddenly wondered what Alan had told him. He knew Alan and Kenny went way back to Alan's college days. Scott had not been a favorite of Alan's at that time.
"Here," Kenny handed Scott a keycard. "This will let you into the track. He'll be at our garage. He can give it back to me later. I'll get in with one of the guys tomorrow."
"Thanks," Scott said, raising the card.
"Don't mention it, just tell Alan congrats again for me. It was an amazing win." He looked slightly challengingly at them.
"Yes, it was," Scott agreed smiling, as Virgil echoed him fervently. They'd been in the stands, watching as Alan had been boxed in, but still managed a near miraculous save to pull off the win. "They really had him trapped."
Kenny relaxed. "Yes, they did. He's been winning so much the guys are really gunning for him these days." He gave them directions to the track garage, and waved them off. Scott and Virgil fought their way back through the crowd. They were finally outside the bar, with the noise fading off into the background as the door shut behind them.
Scott stood still for a moment, breathing a sigh of relief at the calm. "Boy, do I feel like an idiot."
Virgil laughed. "Why? Because you were all ready to strangle Alan for being part of that free-for-all back there? Or because of your double standards? You used to do worse, as I recall." He hooked a thumb behind him indicating to the raucous crowd. He was enjoying this. Scott sometimes got a little too certain he was always right. Came from being the eldest, he supposed.
Scott had the grace to look chagrinned. He thought a moment. "Both, I guess. I was getting upset thinking how he was smearing the Tracy name all over kingdom come."
"Well, I have to admit it, I was too." Virgil suddenly grinned. "Could you just see Dad, if one of those bimbos showed up pregnant with the first Tracy grandchild?" Virgil winced as he remembered TinTin's pregnancy. Another child should have been the first Tracy grandchild. He wisely kept his mouth shut.
Scott snorted. "Unfortunately, that was on my mind too."
Virgil looked at him wryly. "You know, we're both lucky that we didn't present Dad with that scenario. You and I did far worse."
"Don't remind me," Scott groaned. "I feel stupid enough right now, just for assuming he'd be a part of it."
Virgil shrugged. "Old habits die hard. Is this a case of do what I say, not what I do?"
"I guess," Scott grumbled, refusing to rise to the bait. He knew Virgil was right, but with nine years difference between himself and Alan, old habits died hard. "I keep forgetting that Alan's an adult. It isn't my job to ride herd on him anymore. I don't think I give him nearly enough credit."
"Nope," Virgil agreed cheerfully, "You haven't."
"And that's been the big problem all along," Scott said glumly. "Well, time to be part of the solution instead of the problem. Let's go to the garage."
"Sounds good to me," Virgil agreed. "And it's probably good we didn't find him here. I think you'd have carved yourself out a larger part of the problem."
Scott couldn't argue with that one. He knew Virgil was right. He and his youngest brother maybe had more in common than either of them had ever realized - tempers and a tendency to jump to conclusions. And not always the right conclusions. He wondered how Alan felt about that. The same traits, specifically the decisiveness, could be viewed as positive in IRs field commander, but negative in the youngest member of the family, he realized suddenly. That put things in a whole new perspective, and Scott thought hard about it all the way to the track.
By contrast to the bar, the track was dead quiet. Scott and Virgil drove slowly through the maze and parked before the designated spot. The building that housed the home garage of Alan's racing team had the sole light on in the area.
Scott raised an eyebrow at Virgil, who just shrugged. They went through the main door into the garage proper, using the keycard. The light gleaming from the office door in the back corner made the shiny metal gleam darkly. The garage was neat, well kept and businesslike. Everything put away in its' place.
The elder Tracy brothers made their way across the dark concrete expanse and paused as one accord before the closed door. Through the glass window, they could see Alan seated at a built-in desk perpendicular to the door on the left side of the room. Car parts neatly spread in front of him, and an open lap top to his left, the screen facing towards Alan and away from the door.
Alan was dressed in jeans and a khaki shirt, blond hair richly glinting in the light. He looked fit and trim, just like any of the successful drivers on the circuit.
But Scott and Virgil could see marks others would not have noticed. The faint lines of strain on his face, the normal open, guileless eyes hooded, as though hiding a secret. In short, the face of a man who chose to conceal things from the world.
Scott met Virgil's gaze and lifted an eyebrow. Virgil nodded, having seen the changes himself. Both had been interested to note that Alan himself had never revealed any personal details in any of the interviews they had seen. He discussed racing - that was it. Regardless of the attempts of many of the interviewers to turn the conversation towards who his father was, or to the death of his wife, and try to turn him into a tragic hero. Alan just didn't allow that. Scott had been impressed.
With another glance at each other, Scott took a deep breath and knocked on the door.
The knock startled Alan. At the same time he was working on developing a more efficient engine, he was also deep into his pet genealogy project. He was starting to find some data on his uncle too. However it was hard going, he was proving harder to track than his sister.
He looked up in surprise. Nobody was usually around at this time. It was nearly 10pm and they were all almost always out partying. He'd discovered it was the best time to work. On both projects. At once. He was even more astonished to see his two oldest brothers. After a frozen half second, he waved them in, as he touched the screen of the computer, shutting it down, then immediately following by closing the lid of the laptop, hiding the screen altogether.
Alan stood up slowly, not sure what this was all about. The last time Alan had even spoken with either Scott or Virgil was in the hospital several months ago. He'd said some rather cutting things. Things he knew neither brother would be pleased to hear, much less excuse, or even tolerate. The only reason he could think that either would be here was in case of an emergency, regardless of what Gordon had tried to tell him about how much everybody missed him.
Gordon had called him and confessed to spilling the secret of their conversations. Alan had been pretty hot about it at first, but by the end of their talk, he had calmed down. Gordon hadn't meant to, and between Scott, Virgil and their father, with John on the link, it wasn't like he'd had a lot of choice. When the older Tracys presented a united front, life was over for the person who was their focus. Alan knew that. Both he and Gordon had had more than their fair share of that kind of familial pressure. Besides, Gordy had been just beside himself with remorse. And Alan had also realized that it wasn't like they couldn't find out the information of his whereabouts by doing a computer search either. In the end, he'd let it go. But he had expected that they would leave him alone. He'd made it pretty clear those were his wishes back at the hospital.
So, what were his oldest brothers doing here now? By their relaxed expressions, an emergency didn't appear to be the case. So what then? It seemed a little late to start taking him apart now. Maybe they hadn't before because they just didn't know where he was. Alan gave himself a mental shake. He felt like a kid again, wondering just what he'd done this time to make his parent and/or older brothers travel to his location in order to take him to task. He was just confusing himself with his mental gyrations. Basically, he just didn't get why they were here, and he'd better get hold of himself.
Although concerned about the reason they were here, Alan was really torn to see them there in front of him. In one sense, he was incredibly homesick. He missed his father and his brothers. From Scott's incessant bossiness, Virgil's music always reflecting his moods, John's ever ready ear, to Gordon's humor. But at the same time, Alan was still angry. Although his fury was no longer hot and blazing, it was still banked, ready to rekindle at the slightest provocation.
A part of him still longed to throw himself into his eldest brother's willing arms and sob out the pain in his soul as he had done as a child. Yet another part knew he'd drawn a line in the sand. And that that line was important, and his brothers needed to acknowledge it. And his father. Alan knew Gordon had, a long time ago. It was time the rest of them did.
Alan's resolve steeled again. He was not going to apologize to his elders. It was time they realized that they were not his betters, but his equals – and that he was entitled to his own opinions and feelings, whether he made mistakes or not. They were his to make.
Scott and Virgil both knew from the shocked expression on Alan's face as he recognized them that he hadn't expected them. Not now, and possibly not ever.
Virgil felt only acute sadness as Alan's face shuttered away any feelings quickly as he waved them in. He followed Scott through the door, never taking his eyes off of his youngest brother, as Alan shut down the computer and with a clear 'none of your business' motion, shut the laptop completely, then stood slowly, unconsciously defensive.
This should never have happened, Virgil thought in dismay. We all should have been more aware of Alan's feelings, and understood that they may be different than ours. Never just assumed that he would feel the same. That the situation had needed to come down to Alan finally pouring out his rage over his wife's deathbed was just unthinkable. A time when Alan apparently felt like he had nothing left to lose.
That Alan was still so defensive heaped more unhappiness on Virgil. Alan didn't trust them to not argue with him, even now, after all that had happened. All it did was show Virgil exactly how much they had all tried to steer Alan in one direction, and not in the one he was inclined to go, rather than let him be himself. They had tried to protect him, and instead had stifled him. It didn't matter that it had been out of love, the result was the same.
Virgil was reminded of Kyrano's comment, that awful day, asking them if they liked their youngest brother. They loved him, yes, but liked him? He could see the words that Alan had never heard Kyrano speak reflected in the wariness of his face. It dawned on him that Alan may also have wondered at times how much his brothers actually liked him. He was secure in the love of his family, but Gordon was the only one Virgil could remember Alan spending lots of time just doing 'nothing' with. The age difference between Alan and his three older brothers had meant that there had been a natural divide caused by maturity and interests.
Alan's suspicion as to why his two oldest brothers were here written on his face. It hit Virgil hard to realize that they had never come to see him 'just because,' when he'd been in school. Be it high school, college, or even NASA, if a brother or his father showed up, it usually wasn't good. There was usually some order to be given or a reprimand delivered. The poor kid. No wonder he'd been so desperate, and so grateful for TinTin. The loss that his youngest brother had suffered was borne in yet again on Virgil – and on them all. TinTin had been special to each of them.
As he moved into the room, Virgil found himself thinking hard at his older brother, praying that the almost psychic bond between them that had been joked about for years was real, and that Scott could hear him. 'Don't screw this up Scott. Don't land on him. Don't ask him why he hasn't contacted us. Treat him like the adult that he is.'
Virgil suddenly realized as he gazed at Alan, exactly how much depended on this. They could lose Alan forever in this moment, or make a start towards a reconciliation. Alan was in a delicate place where his family was concerned. They could blow this big time. And Jeff would kill them if they did. His thoughts were interrupted as his older brother spoke.
"Hi Alan," Scott began easily, a smile on his always mobile face. "Good to see you. Hope you don't mind us dropping in like this. We found Kenny, he gave us the cardkey," Scott held it up, then dropped it onto the desk, moving to lean against it casually.
Virgil grinned at his younger brother, and leaned back against the now closed door, arms crossed. "Good to see you, Al. You look good."
Alan made no move to close the gap between them, but sank back on the high stool behind him. He looked a shade puzzled. "You guys get some shore leave or something? Not like Dad to let his two crack pilots out together this far a-field, much less together," he commented, clearly not even aware of how that statement could be construed.
Virgil hid a flinch. Not good. There it was again. The two perfect older brothers. Virgil knew he'd never look at comments like that in quite the same light. He had to hand it to Scott. He just laughed.
"Yeah, pretty unusual, huh? No, Dad needed both of us to go to New York. Business." He shrugged. "We'd seen from your schedule that we weaseled out of Gordon that you were racing pretty close, so we timed it so we could come and watch." His eyes lit up. "Pretty impressive race today. We didn't get here early enough to see you in person, but we had good seats and could see most of it. Pretty terrific driving."
Virgil could see Alan relaxing slightly. Scott was doing a masterful job. His words were the truth, but twisted just slightly. Jeff's including the business trip came after they had announced they wanted to take a vacation together. He'd approved as long as they attended the business meeting. Neither brother had mentioned planning to see Alan.
"Thanks," Alan said with a quick smile.
"You've had a pretty incredible year so far," Scott was saying, masterfully drawing his little brother out with small talk, and staying away from any accusations.
Virgil's attention was suddenly caught by a niggling thought as he examined the work bench absently. His gaze sharpened and all thoughts vanished except for making sense of what he saw there. "Is this what I think it is?" he blurted suddenly.
Scott looked surprised, and Alan did as well until he realized what Virgil was so intent on. Virgil moved purposefully towards the bench, shoving Scott out of the way.
"You've figured it out?" Virgil looked at Alan alertly. He recognized a part of the racecar engine that he and Alan had been fiddling with improvements on since Alan's college days. They just had never been able to get it to work. It was pretty intricate and novel engineering. More science fiction than reality.
"Almost," Alan grinned. "We're pretty close."
"We?"
"Well, me," Alan conceded, turning so that he and Virgil were staring at the workbench together.
Within moments the awkwardness was gone and Virgil and Alan were leaning over the workbench, Alan explaining the intricacies of his improvements on the engine parts, and the fuel system in particular. Virgil was fascinated and began looking at the parts carefully and firing questions at his youngest brother. Alan answered readily.
Scott leaned back against the door watching the backs of the blond and chestnut brown heads. This felt right and normal. Scott knew Virgil was an outstanding engineer. What tended to be not as widely known was that Alan was just as good, with the potential to be even better than this older brother, as Virgil had told him in no uncertain terms many times.
It really was a shame that Alan had left college after finishing his degree (the result of much parent/elder brother coercion) and joined NASA. Alan probably should have gone on for an advanced degree instead. How much of his choice of direction was really his idea, and how much was unspoken family pressure was still open to interpretation. Scott wondered if Alan even knew.
Jeff would never have forced any of his sons in a direction that they didn't want to go. But IR was beginning, the need for another astronaut was great, and Alan had been so . . . unfocused in school. Jeff had been forced to step in and provide guidance for Alan, something he'd never needed to do with his other sons.
One more way to be different, Scott mused. Be an underachiever in a family over overachievers. Alan hadn't managed that too well though. He was just too bright, and cream always rose to the top regardless of the intent. Alan had been right near the top of his class, in spite of himself.
Scott pushed himself away from the door. Enough introspection. They were here, with Alan, for at least the time being. The hard part was over, the ice broken, and he intended to make the most of it. Besides, he was hungry.
He moved up behind his brothers and put a hand on each shoulder. Both jumped and turned in surprise to look at him, wearing equally startled expression as though they'd forgotten he was here. Probably had, he thought wryly.
"Can this wait? I'm hungry," he whined plaintively.
Both of his brothers grinned knowingly, well aware of his appetite.
"You've got a hollow leg," Alan said with a smile.
"Yeah, I can just see that you're wasting away," Virgil commented pointedly.
"I resemble that remark," Scott replied archly. "Well Alan? This is your neck of the woods – where do you recommend?"
Alan grinned again and proceeded to direct them to a nice, out of the way neighborhood pub. The place looked inviting and friendly, and Alan was apparently well known.
All three brothers enjoyed the evening thoroughly. Scott and Virgil were pleasantly surprised at Alan's taste in restaurant. The food was excellent and the atmosphere pleasant. After an ill-fated choice while Alan was in college consisting of raucous music, signed posters of race car drivers all over the walls, and nearly inedible food, the rest of the family always quietly made sure that Alan's choice of restaurant was usually ignored. Apparently, his tastes had markedly improved.
Scott finished the last bite of excellent apple pie (although not quite as good as Grandma's), and leaned back in satisfaction. He laughed to himself as he realized that Virgil and Alan were now sketching designs on the coasters, having used up all the napkins.
"Umm, I hate to break this up guys, but Virg and I have to be in New York for an early meeting, and I think you both won't leave until there are any coasters left."
Virgil looked at the clock in amazement. "One fifteen in the morning? You're kidding!" He looked in disappointment at the mass of napkins and coasters in front of him. "Call me when you test this?" he pleaded to Alan.
"Yep, will do," Alan laughed.
The two dropped Alan off at the garage as he requested and headed back towards the interstate.
"Nice job biting your tongue about dropping Al off at the garage," Virgil finally broke the silence with a grin. "You can't fool me, I know how hard that was for you."
"You know he's going to work on that design some more. It's nearly two in the morning for cripes sake, AND he drove a race today," Scott groused as he pulled onto the highway, heading for the airport. "He'll work until dawn, and you know it," Scott turned and glared a Virgil.
Virgil snickered and shrugged. "Like I said, nice job keeping your big mouth shut, papa."
Scott finally gave a reluctant grin. "You have no idea how hard it was."
"Oh, but I do," Virgil said, finally laughing out loud. "You just like bossing people around. That's why you make such a good field commander, and why you liked being an Air Force officer so much."
Scott couldn't even get irritated. He knew it was true. "Alan's growing up."
"Correction, Alan grew up a long time ago. We just took him for granted and didn't notice."
There was silence for a moment, then Scott said quietly, "I hope we started the rebuilding tonight. I think maybe we did."
Virgil looked into the dark night. "Me too, Scott, me too."
TB TB TB TB TB
"How did the meeting go?" Jeff asked, smiling a greeting at his two eldest sons as they entered the lounge.
"Great," Scott said after a momentary pause. "Here's the minutes and the contracts. We were able to negotiate a better price." He handed the packet over.
Jeff narrowed his eyes. Virgil was looking slightly shifty, and Scott had his poker face on. He accepted the packet and looked squarely at both men, right in the eye. "What?" He asked pointedly.
"Huh?" Scott looked puzzled. "What do you mean 'what'?" he asked innocently.
Virgil just swallowed hard. Nothing ever changed. Once your father, always your father, not matter how old you got.
"You two did something you know I won't like. I can tell by you're faces. Now spill it." His lips tightened. "Now what did you do?"
Scott drew himself up to his full height, looking incensed. "Give us a little more credit than . . ." He was stopped by Virgil's hand on his shoulder.
"We went to see Alan, Dad," he said quietly. "We didn't think you'd approve."
Jeff sat back, stunned. A myriad of emotions crossed his face. Fear, hope and a naked longing. He could think of all the things he wanted to say to them. He wanted to berate them for possibly upsetting the delicate balance and making the situation worse. It would take very little right now to cause Alan to back off from even his contacts with Gordon.
He knew Scott had been as much like a second father to Alan as a big brother. Alan would resent him the same way he would his father. And Scott would find it hard to change his habits. All it would take was the wrong word.
But he was also terribly worried. Penny's visit had relieved him that Alan hadn't turned to alcohol or drugs. But Alan had lost his wife. And he was trying to go through that alone. And that frightened Jeff more than he wanted to admit.
And, above all, Alan was his son. Loved unconditionally. He was an important part of the family, and Jeff missed him desperately. His courage, his loyalty, his ability to put others before him in a dangerous situation, his humor, and his inventiveness. How much he missed him . . . All Jeff wanted was a chance to start over with his youngest.
He stared for a moment longer, all of these thoughts flashing through his mind, as he looked at the two defiant men in front of him. They were all so stubborn, his sons – every last one of them. And he knew they had gotten it from him.
"How is he?" Jeff finally asked softly. "Is he alright?"
The signal given, Scott and Virgil dropped comfortably into chairs in front of their father and filled him in on their entire visit. They didn't leave out a word. To a worried father listening with rapt attention and hungry for any concrete news on his son, this was manna from heaven.
