Inspired by these two quotes:

Look out for the caregivers in your life, they spend so much time and energy on others they may not register themselves as a person who needs to be cared for.

Zandashé L'orelia Brown:

I dream of never being called resilient again in my life. I'm exhausted by strength. I want support. I want softness. I want ease. I want to be amongst kin. Not patted on the back for how well I take a hit. Or for how many. Instead of hearing "You are one of the most resilient people I know," I want to hear "You are so loved." "You are so cared for." "You are genuinely covered."

Gentleness

It was always the same pattern. First a chime from the house security network, then a ring at the doorbell. If Parker had the night off, she'd answer it herself to find a Tracy standing there on the doorstep, looking up at her with an air reminiscent of a lost kitten in a rainstorm. No matter which one it was, he would look at her and quietly ask some version of the same question and always with the same hesitancy, not wanting to impose: "Can I, can I just… be here… for a bit?"

And her answer would always be the same: a welcoming smile as she stepped back to open the door wider. "Of course, come in." She would say as she ushered them inside.

Half the time she had no idea how they even got here. There was never a roar of a Thunderbird overhead, though once there had been rocket engines involved when John had dropped out of the heavens in his space elevator. Occasionally she'd hear a helicopter POD swoop in or catch a glimpse of an auto-cab disappearing down the driveway, but their method of arrival wasn't important, only that they had arrived.

She'd bring them to her personal sitting room, the one that was part of her suite. It was smaller and more private, the decor more soft and feminine as opposed to the chic look of the larger sitting room she used for entertaining. It was a place she could relax in her favourite fluffy dressing gown with a good book and a pot of tea and she knew her guest would be able to share in that relaxation.

Because of their work the Tracy family had many acquaintances but not many friends. She knew herself how isolating that could be, so she had completely understood the first time a Tracy boy had shown up on her doorstep needing a safe place to hide and a safe person for company; how he wanted to lay aside the burden of the world and enjoy some peace and quiet, to be allowed to rest and be treated tenderly and with softness and comfort. Their relationship was reciprocal in many things and especially this one- she and Parker regularly availed themselves of the open invitation to use the guest accommodation of the Round House when they needed a break from the burdens of their own world.

This evening it was Virgil who had turned up at her door, a world of weariness in his brown eyes and slumped shoulders. She'd welcomed him in, ushering him to a particular divan-style couch upholstered in pale peach-coloured fabric. She privately called it the 'marshmallow couch' for how soft and pillowy it was, almost impossible to escape without a deliberate effort. Like she anticipated, he sank into its embrace with a groan, letting his head rest against the back of the couch.

"You can take your boots off and curl up properly if you like." She offered as she went to the media centre and selected an appropriate playlist- a collection of soft, relaxed jazz. "I have no objection to stockinged feet on this furniture."

"Thanks." Virgil offered her a small smile as he sat up just long enough to unlace his work boots. He tucked them under the couch and promptly moved to half-lie on the scrolled armrest, knees drawn up and his head pillowed on his arm, staring at the intricate patterns of the woven carpet in the middle of the room without really seeing them.

With the exquisitely tuned senses of a special agent, a member of the aristocracy trained in hosting and most importantly that of a good friend, Penelope considered his needs, knowing that Virgil was the ambivert of the family. Judging by his behaviour he was leaning towards introversion tonight- he didn't wish to interact, but he did want to be around company. Coffee… no, he didn't need caffeine, but he did need tending to. She slipped away to the little kitchenette, filled a glass of water and placed it on a side table within his easy reach along with a plate of crackers to nibble. She also secured a large, tawny coloured fluffy blanket from a box in the corner and draped it over him. He smiled his thanks and snuggled into the warmth the blanket offered.

Finally she selected for herself a book from the well filled shelves. Tonight's choice was a tawdry romance novel with a cover adorned by a swooning woman and a man in a half buttoned shirt, the kind of book that one hid from one's mother and would get the older relatives tutting. She curled up on the adjacent couch and settled in to read, simply existing in the room with Virgil so that he wasn't alone, but leaving him be. Half her attention was on the book, the other half on Virgil as she kept an eye on him.

It took maybe ten minutes before the change in his breathing alerted her that he'd dozed off.

She uncurled herself from her spot, padded over to him to gently pull the blanket back up to his shoulder and went back to her book, pleased that she had indeed read him correctly. Virgil most often craved stillness and peace during his visits. In the daylight hours and if the weather was suitable he might seek refuge in the gardens, or if a restless mood struck him he'd ensconce himself in the workshop, tinkering with the maintenance drones until the restlessness passed and he would come back to the house to take a nap.

Scott's care and comforting would have involved confiscating his electronics first, a trip to her well stocked kitchen for a large plate of snacks, followed by a nap on that self-same couch. Depending on John's mood and how much distraction he needed, she might make a pot of tea and read aloud to him from the book- the more ludicrous the romance scenes, the harder he'd laugh. If he was more sombre she'd put on a movie- one of the old sci-fi or fantasy classics that he could lose himself in for an hour or two. Gordon, well… Penelope smiled to herself. Gordon would have read the book to her, putting on the silliest falsetto she'd ever heard for the woman's lines as he tried to make her laugh, or if he was in a quieter mood she'd simply put on a video of someone's tropical fish tank and he'd curl up on the rug like a great cat, swathed in a blanket as he cuddled Sherbert and watched the fish darting back and forth. Alan hadn't had an occasion to visit her yet, but she imagined he soon would now that he was a fully fledged member of International Rescue.

The thought of the other siblings reminded her to check her watch and seeing it was close to the usual timeframe she slipped her compact from her pocket and moved to the other side of the room to avoid disturbing Virgil.

Almost exactly when she anticipated, her compact chimed for attention and John appeared in miniature. "Hello Lady P, is Virgil there?" He asked.

"Yes he is. You can have him back once he's rested and not one moment earlier." She informed him with a primness that she knew he knew was all for show.

"Understood. Thanks for looking after him." John replied, a grateful smile curving his lips before his image vanished.

Penelope clicked her compact shut and went back to her book, well pleased with herself.

Even the strongest people needed gentle handling sometimes, to not be congratulated on their toughness but instead treated with love and care. She was flattered and honoured that the Tracy family, some of the strongest, most resilient, most giving and compassionate people she knew, trusted her with their own when they were the ones who needed tending to.