DISCLAIMER: I do not own the rights to Thunderbirds. This story is for entertainment purposes only, and is not meant to create any profit. Also, any references to NASA in this or other chapters are not meant to reflect the viewpoints or the actions of any people, living or dead, who have worked for the organization. Any similarities are simply coincidence.

Fly Like A Kite
Late July 2015

"I think I had too much for supper."

Famous last words, Scott thought sadly, glancing at John who was proceeding to turn shades of white and green. This is going to be interesting.

"As soon as I get the plane at a good altitude, I'll let you have the yoke." Scott flicked a pair of switches, and the plane settled into a cruising velocity. The way that John looked wasn't encouraging though, and Scott wondered how long his brother would last in control of the plane himself.

"Just tell me when," the blonde gasped frankly, one hand on his stomach and the other on his forehead. "I'll be okay. It's just the bumps during take off that do me in."

Raising an eyebrow in amusement, Scott didn't bother to argue. He had seen what had happened to John every time he stepped onto a plane. What he wasn't sure about was whether or not he would grow out of it with time and experience.

Finally satisfied, Scott flipped another control and sent command of the plane over to John's station. "Okay, it's all yours."

"What?" John spat out, and the plane suddenly took a dive when he made no move to grab the controls. "Now? Already?"

Without even thinking, Scott leaned over and took the co-pilot's yoke expertly in his left hand. A quick set of manoeuvres had the plane back on course, but it hadn't been soon enough. John had already paled visibly, and Scott could see him trying to keep in his supper.

Groaning sheepishly, John took the yoke and gave his brother an embarrassed grin. "I knew that."

"Of course you did," replied Scott in a cool tone, trying to fall into the role of instructor. It was not easy. "Now, keep both hands on the yoke. That way you'll have an even flight pattern that doesn't jump to one side or the other."

"Roger."

"The flaps are controlled by the two mechanisms under your feet. You can manipulate one or both to cause the plane to turn sharply or to roll in a line. The yoke also controls the flaps, but it moves them at the same time in order to either ascend or descend the plane, or to bring it into a gentle turn."

"Roger."

Rolling his eyes, Scott gave John a wry look. "You don't have to say 'Roger' all the time. That's only under formal circumstances, not when you're flying with me."

"I want to do this properly," John muttered, keeping his focus on a point past the front windshield. The sun was beginning to drop below the horizon, and the entire was painted a mirage of colours and shades. "They are incredibly picky with everything."

They, Scott did know, were the selection committees at NASA. They would be, in just over two year's time, reviewing his brother and critiquing his abilities. If he had anything to say in the matter, he would make sure that John at least passed the flying exam.

Even if it meant getting messy.

"Okay," he finally said, "now that you've got the feel for the controls-"

"Or not."

"Try easing the plane upward."

John complied, and the plane proceeded to climb at an alarming rate.

"Scott! It's going up! Really up!"

"Down! Go down!" Scott yelled, only to realize that it was probably the worst thing to say. The plane stopped climbing then began to fall in a period of about two seconds. "No! Not down! I take that back!"

The bouncing colours and clouds out the windshield were too much for John to handle. Letting go of the yoke, he let himself be slammed back in his seat by gravity. "I think I'm going to puke."

Cringing against the g-forces, Scott managed to pull the plane up before it fell too far below the cloud line. When the plane finally levelled out, he sighed and triggered the control back to his yoke so that he could re-elevate the craft again. "Let's try that one more time."

Gordon couldn't hold back an entertained chortle when the plane took a sudden climb towards the sky, then a sudden dip at the ocean, then a sudden climb back into the clouds. He could see the whole exhibition easily from the pool, and he had spent more time watching Scott teach John to fly than actually swimming.

The plane finally disappeared back up into the thin layer of cirrus clouds that dotted the sky, to a safer height where the winds wouldn't be so chaotic. From his own experience as a passenger in a plane, Gordon knew that it was common sense to fly at a high altitude. Rogue waves or ocean air currents could send even a large plane tumbling, and a small plane like Tracy One was always tossed around by even the lightest of weather patterns.

"This is so horrible, yet it's so incredibly funny," Virgil stated from the deck, turning from the painting that he was working on so that he could watch the turbo-jet take another stomach churning dive after another. "I don't want to watch, yet I keep finding myself paying an incredible amount of attention to it."

Nodding to his brother, "I give them five minutes before we can see them below the cloud line again," Gordon took a quick dip under the water to wet his hair down. He had been above water level for so long that his ginger locks had dried like plaster to his face.

"Honestly Virgil, I don't think there's going to be anything left of him when they get back."

"John?" wondered Virgil, his voice concerned. "Yeah, I think you're right."

"No, not John," Gordon responded lightly, snorting as the plane began a series of rolls that sent it shaking from side to side. "Scott. Just wait till it's your turn to have a go at it - his nerves will be so fried, he'll never step inside a cockpit again!"

"I know, that's what I'm afraid of. And dad really wants me to learn, too." He sighed, and dipped his brush. "I just hope John isn't too sick."

"What are you painting, Virg?" Gordon had pushed himself from the pool, having succumbed to the fact that he likely wouldn't get any swimming done as long as the plane was buzzing overhead. "Can I see it?"

"Just something," Virgil replied secretively, his attention on the canvas. "Something for later."

Gordon trotted along the pool deck, his trunks dripping a trail of water droplets behind him, until he stood beside his brother. He looked at the painting for a long moment, then nodded in appreciation. "Do you know what? I hate you sometimes."

Virgil rolled his eyes and continued working. "Because I can paint?"

"Well, that of course. And because you always come up with really good ideas to start with." He raised his thumb, and gave the picture an appraising glance. "I give this one a Leonardo da Vinci out of ten."

A loud buzz caused both Virgil and Gordon to look skyward, where the family plane was circling slowly around the top of the island.

"Looks like they're coming into land," Gordon observed.

"Looks like it." Glancing around, Virgil's eyes came to rest of the horizon. The sun had finally set, and the entire Pacific was beginning to fade from auburn to amethyst hues. "They'd better get in soon before it gets too dark. I wouldn't mind being up there now, though. I'm sure the view is gorgeous."

Twilight had faded completely by the time that the plane landed back on the island. The turbo-jet had skidded in a controlled fashion down the main runway, coming to a stop in front of the hanger doors.

Once the plane was safely stowed for the night, it took about ten minutes for Scott and John to take out the garbage inside. Cleaning up the cockpit was no easy task, and Scott cringed at the thought of telling Virgil what happened to the dash. He and John silently went about the task, methodically wiping whatever they could, leaving the rest so that it could be dealt with at a later time. By the time that they had finished, and had trudged up the stairs towards the lounge, the rest of the Tracy family was nowhere to be seen.

Gazing out at the deserted recreation room with a forlorn look, John shook his head and pushed himself the rest of the way up the stairs. "They probably went to bed."

Not quite convinced, Scott glanced about suspiciously and wondered what his brothers were up to. "Don't think so. They said something about seeing us later, and I don't think they were kidding around." He rubbed a hand through his mop of dark hair, and took another look around the room. "No, something's up."

The two carefully walked to the center of the room, taking care not to trip over furniture in the dull light of the overhead lamps. Pale moonlight drifted into the house and painted shadows across the walls.

After taking several good looks around, John shrugged and turned to Scott. "No one's here. I don't get it."

Before he even had a chance to speak, Scott found himself being pushed onto one of the couches by unknown hands. He heard John yelp, and he could only assume that his brother was receiving the same impolite treatment.

The lights snapped on, and Scott wasn't surprised to be looking directly in his brother Gordon's face.

"Gotcha." The redhead's eyebrow went up in a smug fashion. "And you thought that you would get away."

"Not really," Scott stated dryly, giving Gordon a look of his own. "It's a bit difficult when we're surrounded by a few thousand square miles of water."

"Good point," Virgil laughed from where he stood in front of John. "So I guess we didn't have to go so far as kidnapping you."

"Not really," John echoed, rubbing his forearm tersely. "That was just payback for when I smacked you with the water polo ball last night, wasn't it Virgil?"

"You hit me, not Virgil," interjected Gordon. "I can't believe that you forgot already. I don't think I'm loved."

Trying not to laugh, Scott raised his foot and gave Gordon a light but emphatic kick in the gut. The redhead fell backwards with a shocked expression, his eyes wide.

"Ouch!"

"Serves you right, you villains." Rubbing a hand through his matted hair, Scott snorted in amusement. "Now, aside from scaring the living daylights out of us, what's this all about?"

He wasn't sure whether to be worried or not when Gordon and Virgil's faces became instantly solemn. It was either a sign that they were about to spring the grandest of all jokes ever on him, or that they were actually serious about something for a change. Before he could say anything, however, the two sprinted out of the room and down the main hallway.

It was John who turned to his brother first, his face still slightly pale from the flying. "I think I'm starting to be concerned now."

"Me too." Scott sighed, giving his brother a knowing look. "They're either ready to douse us with glue, or they're going to do something that I can't possibly imagine."

"I'd be more worried about the 'can't possibly imagine'."

"I know. Whenever Virgil's imagination and Gordon's relentless mirth are in the same room I become worried."

The sound of pounding feet signalled to Scott that his brothers were returning. Sure enough, the two of them reappeared in the doorway a moment later, dragging between them a large cloth covered object.

"It's heavy," Gordon complained, trying to keep his side aloft. "You could make them lighter."

"You could actually exercise something other than your mouth," Virgil replied lightly, "and then maybe you'd be able to lift it."

John and Scott traded curious looks, then turned back to the spectacle.

"Can't possibly imagine?"

"Quite possibly."

A loud smack echoed in the room as Gordon and Virgil dropped the canvas stand onto the floor. Clearing his throat, Virgil turned towards the couch and put on the most serious expression that he could muster. "In recognition of the long hours of work that our dearest brother-"

"Can't be me," John whispered smartly, drawing a poke in his side from Scott. "Considering what I did to the plane."

"-has and will be putting out in order to pursue his career, Gordon and I-"

"You mean Virgil and Virgil," Gordon added, laughing when Virgil stopped talking long enough to give him a dirty look.

"Whatever. You were in on this too. Anyway, in recognition of his hard work, we are here to present him with a wonderful parting gift for when it comes time for him to leave this Earth."

His expression part shock and part delight, John laughed quietly, "You're making it sound like I'm going to die or something."

"Well get on with it," Scott snorted, "you're also making this as long as a eulogy."

"Ahem." Rolling his eyes, Virgil reached a hand and grabbed hold of the cloth. "Presenting, to be seen for the first time by the eyes of man, my piece de resistance!" He yanked the cloth with a flourish, letting it fall to the floor with a quiet rustle.

All four Tracy boys sat silently for a long moment, their eyes all upon the painting that stood before them.

The canvas, fifteen inches by twelve inches, was a collage of several images. The background was a sprawling interstellar nebula, spreading out across a vast black void until it intersected with Earth in the corner of the painting. In the top right corner diagonal from the planet was a profile of John. His face was passive, and his eyes looking as though they were taking in the entire realm of the universe.

Wiping mist from his eyes, John leaned forward and simply shook his head. "Virgil . . ."

"That is incredible," finished Scott, his voice unusually restrained. "That is absolutely amazing."

Continuing to shake his head, John didn't speak anymore. He simply sat, with an awed expression on his face, staring at the artwork.

"It's a good thing you're here," Gordon directed at Scott, "because John's doing his 'I'm not speaking' thing again." The redhead grinned, his tone mildly teasing. "Virg, I think you hit big."

"Do you like it?" Virgil asked, walking over to the couch so that he could sit beside his brother. "I had to use your picture from school this year because I couldn't find anything else that really worked. I hope it looks all right."

John opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again and stuck with a nod instead.

"And I don't know if I really captured the essence of the nebula properly," Virgil continued, glancing back at the painting. "I don't paint that much scenery, especially of that kind."

"It's perfect," John finally whispered, his voice hoarse. "I think I'll hang it in my dorm room this fall so that I can look at it when I work."

"I can make you a sign to go with it," Gordon offered, his grin contagious. "The title can be 'Aim for the Stars'!"

"That's a great idea," Scott put in, giving Gordon a thumb up. "And the picture really is wonderful, Virgil. You guys are both wonderful."

"You all are." John looked up and met the gaze of each of his brothers individually. "Really, I know that sometimes I want to beat you-"

"Oh joy." Gordon's face was less than concerned.

"But then you come and do something like this. Know what I want to do now?"

"Beat us because we almost made you cry?" Gordon asked, smirking. "Seriously, John, making you cry isn't that hard."

"I should punch you for that jab, Gordon. But I think a hug will suffice," the blond teen responded, laughing as a pair of tears ran down his face. "You guys are really something."

The other boys willingly obliged, and soon the four of them were piled on top of each other on the couch.

"Someday we're going to get you off of this planet," Virgil finally said, "back to Mars where you belong."

"You rascal." But John didn't fight back. He just smiled and let himself relax into the plush cushions of the couch. "I just hope that I meet their requirements. They're awfully strict."

Gordon snorted. "If they're looking for someone who can mimic the local wildlife, then you would fit in really well."

"And Dad wonders why I have these reoccurring emotional problems."

"Should we tell them?" Scott said suddenly, just remembering something important.

Giving his brother a pained look, John's face became downcast for a moment. "I guess that we're assuming that I'll pass the testing for the job. You guys might be a bit premature with the celebrating. Go ahead and tell Virg, Scott."

His brow wrinkling, Gordon turned to Virgil and shrugged his shoulders. "What's he talking about?"

Virgil, however, seemed to have already figured out what they were talking about. He closed his eyes, and gave a very long and profound sigh. "Gord, how'd you like to learn to clean the plane?"

A/N: So, what's going on here? John, air-sick? When did that come about?

If you're feeling that way – confused – then stick with me and keep reading. ;) For those of you who noticed and remembered John's trip to the barf-bag in A Tracy Family Holiday, kudos! It was there for a reason.

Also, if anyone is curious, you can actually see the painting that Virgil made John. I was bored one day, and worked up a digital composition. If you go to Photobucket and search for darkhelmetj as a username, you'll find my account complete with 'paintings' of most of the brothers. It seems my inner Virgil has been quite busy as of late. :)

Okay, reviews, reviews!

Thanks, everyone, who reviewed over Christmas. Things have probably been busy for all of you. I appreciate you taking the time out to leave me a little note. :)

Ariel D – John is as eloquent speaking as I wish I could be. ;) That said, I won't sacrifice my emotional sanity for eloquence. Thank You again! I hope my horrible case of than/then didn't wear you down too much.

zeilfanaat – I'm so glad to hear such good responses for that speech! I thought maybe it was too emotional, but scientists can be very devoted towards their work. Lol I think Ariel got the message. ;) Now I just have to give the message to my FR muse . . . Thank you!

andrewjameswilliams – The boys have no idea what's going on. :) I probably shouldn't say that, but oh well. My take on John's 'astronaut' training is a little different than most people's, and so I hope that you like it. snickers The conversation between Scott and Virgil was inspired by a scene from The Mighty Atom, where Scott stands and tells Virgil what to do while Virgil does all of the work. I couldn't resist poking fun at 'Mr. Do Nothing'. Plus, it hints at the Virgil/Scott working relationship of the future. :) Thanks for the help with the game – if I can get it away from my brother, I'll take another crack at it.

miz greenleaf – At least we think he's going to. ;) Thanks for the review!

pepsemaxke – Thanks, I hope you had a great Christmas too! :)

So, tune in next time for a scene . . . that doesn't have Scott or John! :o Shocking! Look out for "Boarding School".