Author's Note:

Dedicated to my boi and the extraordinary things that have made and continue to make him an extraordinary person.

This story is a blended version of the events of Thunderbirds Original Series (1965) and Thunderbirds Are Go (2015), and explores the timeline beyond the ending of both series. Additional elements are incorporated in from the books Extreme Hazard and Countdown to Action, as well as the official Anderson A21 News Report, Road to Recovery.

Many thanks to WillowDragonCat and ParkerCat for beta reading.

Disclaimer: I do not own Thunderbirds Original Series or Thunderbirds Are Go, nor am I making any kind of financial profit from publishing this story. All original characters are my own. If I did own the series, it would never end and a certain aquanaut would be the star of every episode.

-x-

:PART 1:

-x-

Chapter 1.

Lights.

Camera.

Action.

Gordon Tracy struck a pose in front of the mirror, his caramel eyes straying to the USA flag sewn onto the lapel of the jacket he was wearing, its blues, reds, and whites winking in the shafts of sunlight filtering through the blinds.

He'd finally done it.

Standing in the middle of a sparsely furnished apartment with just his suitcase and the clothes on his back for company, Gordon let the weight of his achievement sink into his bones. The months of intensive training and mental housekeeping he'd endured had prevented him from savouring the fruits of his labour, but those days were now firmly behind him. If the five rings on the opposing lapel of his jacket weren't enough to underline that, then the view out his window certainly was.

Sunshine, acacia trees, and a trio of giraffes wandering around on a hillock of sorts.

Nairobi 2053.

Electric energy buzzed through Gordon's veins as he drank in the exotic sights of what would be his home for the next three weeks. He'd had designs on getting into the Olympic circle since he was ten, and now here he was, the fastest qualifier in the men's one-hundred meter butterfly division and, at the ripe age of fifteen, one of the youngest athletes in all of Team USA.

Secondary to the delight of achieving something many people spent their lives merely dreaming about was the fact that, for the first time in his life, Gordon finally had absolute control over his living space. No grandmother to chivvy him into making his bed and putting away his laundry. No brothers to moan at him for taking too long in the shower or for stealing their food. The floor was, quite literally, his.

Knock knock.

A small knot of homesickness formed in Gordon's stomach as he headed towards the door. He'd never admit it out loud, but the five interlaced rings on the jacket he was so proudly wearing held a deeper significance to him than just the union of the five continents. In his own little world, they also represented the links that bound him to his home, and more importantly, to the brothers that had helped him get to where he was now.

Knock knock knock.

"Coming! Coming!" Gordon huffed, tripping over the shoes he'd discarded in the middle of the room for feng shui purposes, "Geez Louise…"

A brief moment of fiddling ensued as the fourth born Tracy tried to disengage the lock, only to realise that he hadn't actually bothered to use it in the first place. While this would probably have sent Scott into orbit, Gordon was content to chalk it up to first day disorientation.

"Surprise!"

'Heh. Speak of the devil.'

Shrieks of varying volumes bounced off the walls of the corridor outside as four familiar faces surged through the doorway, their owners engulfing Gordon in a bear hug that nearly squeezed the life out of him.

"Guys?" Gordon wheezed, shock rolling off him as his vision was assaulted by shades of brown, black, red, and blond, "What are you doing here? I thought you weren't coming until my first race next week?"

Scott broke rank first, his face playing host to a smile the size of Spain as he stepped back and regarded his little brother proudly, "We just thought we'd drop in and check that you're bedding in okay. What are your neighbours like? Have you unpacked yet?"

A blond brow travelled north as Gordon tried to extract himself from the arms Alan had locked firmly around his ribcage, "Uh, no idea, and no. I only picked my key up twenty minutes ago, and fifteen of those were spent lugging my bags up the stairs. And before you ask, using the lift is bad practise for an athlete representing their country, I'm afraid. There's already a rumour in circulation that the Swiss hockey team refused to carry their own gear, and now Germany and Russia have launched a full-blown smear campaign against them."

A rumble of laughter bubbled up Virgil's diaphragm as he began to unzip Gordon's suitcase and streamline its contents "Well, we certainly wouldn't want you to make a bad impression on your first day now, would we?"

"Definitely not," Scott agreed, stooping to relieve Virgil of several shirts "I'll pop these in the wardrobe for you. Oh, you have got to be joking! They don't provide you with complementary hangers? Guess they'll have to live in your drawers for now. Have you got enough towels to last you?"

A deadpan stare was offered in lieu of a verbal reply, "I'm on the swim team, Scott. A lifetime supply of towels pretty much comes as part of the package."

The eldest brother huffed, but didn't let up in his smother mission, "What's the deal with food here? Do you prepare your own, or do you eat with the other athletes? Oh, and remember to mark your snacks if you end up storing them in a communal area. Dairy sensitivity is no joke, and your lactase tablets might flag up on a drugs test."

"You didn't pack a rotational pair of pyjamas," Virgil noted, sucking on his teeth in obvious concern, "On that note, how does laundry work here?"

Gordon felt his left eye twitch so violently it was a small wonder he didn't go blind. The independence and freedom he'd been relishing mere minutes ago was now gone, replaced instead with the fussing forms of his brothers who he'd been only too happy to wave goodbye to at the airport. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate their concern, but they had to at least give him a chance to prove himself in the domestic department.

Thankfully, having four brothers meant that there was always a good variance of moods in every situation. While Scott and Virgil were fighting over how best to fold a swimsuit, John was standing quietly by the window, his turquoise eyes taking in the scene before him with his usual air of benign attentivity.

"Is tomorrow a training day?" the redhead queried, inclining his head in curiosity, "Or will you spend it exploring your new surroundings?"

A beat of silence passed, during which the only audible sound was that of Scott grumbling about Gordon's inability to successfully match socks.

"Not sure yet," Gordon admitted with a shrug, "Sam wants me to clock up at least twenty hours before my first race. He says the humidity here might have an impact on my performance, but I fail to see what difference it'll make when I'm actually in the water. Still, he knows what he's talking about. The Village shares a boundary with Nairobi National Park, so I might see if I can nip out and go for a walk there at some point. You can see some giraffes out the window if you look eastward."

John smiled, "Already done. You've certainly got a good view to unwind with of an evening."

Gordon smiled slyly, "I don't know what the social scene is like here or if there even is one, but I certainly won't be spending any more time in this shoebox than I absolutely have to. Hey, has anyone seen Alan? He hasn't flushed himself down the toilet, has he?"

Almost on cue, the youngest Tracy scampered back through the door, the familiar forms of Grandma and Kayo on his heels.

"My dear boy!" Sally Tracy cooed, lowering the bags she was carrying onto the floor before opening her arms for a hug, "Come over here and give your Granny some love! Oh, look at you in that jacket! Your mother would be so gosh darn proud of you right now."

Kayo smiled and placed her own offering, which looked suspiciously like a bag full of clean bedsheets, onto Gordon's dresser before wandering over for her own hug, "Hey, fish boy! Homesick yet?"

Gordon's eyes swept over Scott and Virgil faffing around in the wardrobe like a husband and wife arguing over space, John lining up cosmetic bottles in order of size along the bathroom counter, and Alan ferreting through the bags their grandmother had just brought up in search of something to eat.

"I'll have to get back to you on that one."

-x-

After setting his apartment up to his family's liking and then abandoning them all in the cafeteria, Gordon took advantage of his newly reclaimed freedom and snuck outside to have a snoop around his new home.

The general guidelines stated that athletes were to arrive at the Olympic Village five days prior to the start of their competition, but as with everything, there were exceptions to the rule. Gordon's coach had pulled a few strings and managed to get him slightly earlier access on the condition that he not be allowed to use any of the training facilities until the other competitors arrived. The arrangement didn't bug Gordon too much, as it allowed him to fit in a bit of sightseeing before getting down to business. He'd have to substitute his early morning laps for runs around the compound to keep his fitness up, but the opportunity to ground himself by becoming familiar with his new surroundings was worth the switch.

Gordon smiled and waved as a couple of young men strode out of a nearby building and headed towards the laundromat. From their physiques, he theorised that they were either rowers or weightlifters, and in no time at all had started a game trying to guess people's sports based on their body types.

The basketball players were particularly easy.

All around him, people were pouring in and out of buses and taxis. Parents were proudly hugging their sons and daughters, coaches were slapping their proteges on the back, and undercover journalists were trying to discreetly photograph anything and everything they could before their covers were blown.

Gordon shook his head in amazement. Even a hundred and twenty years after its conception, the Olympic Village was still a source of great intrigue to the outside world. Its privacy was unrivalled, however came at the expense of its inhabitants being pretty much cut off from society for the duration of the Games. Being protected from the disturbances of everyday life was a huge benefit but, for some of the more sociable athletes, the transition from mingler to hermit was a tough one to make. Phone and video calls were permitted from within the compound, but visitors were strictly policed.

A nervous knot began to form in Gordon's stomach as he contemplated the reality of being separated from his family for the next three weeks. Despite having the same yearning for independence as any teenager, he'd never been away from home for so long, and the thought of not being able to instantly turn to one of his brothers for advice rattled him. The Tracy clan had pretty much closed ranks since Jeff had departed on his most recent long-haul extraterrestrial mission, making this little 'foray' out to Nairobi the first significant trip their unit had taken that excluded rescue work.

Speaking of work, Gordon had been thrilled to learn that after a little tweaking and a lot of swearing, Scott had arranged for the GDF to step in and help field rescue calls for the next twenty-four hours. Scott, Virgil, and John were all ATD (available to deploy), and Thunderbirds One and Two were parked on a disused airfield at Jomo Kenyatta airport in case an emergency arose that necessitated either craft at short notice.

Until such a situation occurred however, Scott had made it clear that he and the rest of the family were at Gordon's disposal for the rest of the day. Settling into new surroundings was always easier with familiar faces present, and Alan in particular had been very vocal about his desire to get autographs from a couple of Japanese skateboarders he actively followed.

The Village contained everything an Olympian could either want or need. In addition to the accommodation blocks, there was also a post office, a medical clinic, a laundromat, a cafeteria, a spa, several recreation rooms, and a multitude of different gymnasiums. There had also been talk of an animal therapy centre, complete with support puppies for the feel-good vibes competitive environments so often lacked. Unfortunately, the risk assessment hadn't gone through (allegedly), so a cinema room had been granted instead. Gordon knew he couldn't speak for the other competitors, but he'd bet dollars to doughnuts that the majority of them would have preferred puppy cuddles after a long day of training over watching The Avengers in ultra ultra ultra high definition.

Kayo would probably beg to differ, but she wasn't competing, so wasn't entitled to an opinion…at least in Gordon's opinion, anyway.

A few drops of rain discolouring the concrete underfoot brought a natural conclusion to his walk. Kenyan summers were generally hot and dry with very little rain, but the forecast had forewarned of a light shower that, if nothing else, would help to green up the fields for the baseball and golf tournaments.

A brief flash of colour caught Gordon's eye. Craning his neck, he spied someone draping an American flag over their balcony several stories up. He couldn't immediately tell if the person was male or female, but closer inspection revealed that the building was in fact his own, and a quick count showed that whoever the mystery person was resided on the same floor as him.

Athletes were grouped together according to their country, then subdivided based on their sport. Beyond that it was a simple case of organising each discipline alphabetically. Gordon already knew that he shared his building with the shooters, sailers, surfers and show jumpers. He was too far away to guess the person's sport based on their physique, however they clearly had the guts of a diver if they were comfortable suspending themselves a hundred feet up for the sake of telling the world which country they belonged to.

A smile twitched at Gordon's lips as his rather patriotic neighbour tried to secure one end of the flag to a railing on their balcony, only to end up on their backside when a strong gust of wind caused said flag to break loose and billow in their face.

Time to make a new friend.

-x-

In keeping with the laws of familial interference, Gordon's plan to kickstart his Olympic friendship collection crashed and smashed when he spied his grandmother waiting for him in the lobby of his building.

"Hey kid," Sally crooned, intercepting him before he could reach the stairwell, "Good walk?"

"The best," Gordon replied, his eyes aglow with excitement, "They have everything here, Grandma! They even have a gift shop, so I can send you those picture card things you and Grandpa used to stockpile when you went travelling."

Sally quirked a silver brow, "You mean postcards? Oh, come off it. You're only going to be here for a few weeks. Odds are you'll arrive home before they do."

"It'll give me something to do when I'm not in the pool," Gordon countered, unzipping his jacket and draping it over an arm, "Scott and Virgil have organised my room, and you and Kayo have done all my shopping, so I'll be hard-pushed for things to occupy my time."

A beat of silence passed, during which Sally expertly swept her eyes up and down the young man before her. She could read all of her family like books, but Gordon was particularly expressive. His entire body hummed with energy of both the physical and emotional kind, while his face played host to a myriad of different expressions that made emotional concealment near impossible for him. He hadn't been blessed with Scott and John's poker face gene, and had always been unapologetic over his habit of laughing when he was happy and crying when he was sad.

Scott and John chalked their younger brother's demonstrative nature up to the close relationship he'd shared with their mother, while Kayo cited his tendency to hang around Virgil as the cause. Virgil himself had been quoted as saying that Gordon was simply more in touch with himself than the rest of them, and Alan was still too young to either care or have the reasoning skills to form his own opinion.

Sally disagreed with every theory. Gordon's personality wasn't a by-product of his relationship with his brothers, nor was it the result of parental influence. He was simply Gordon. Her Gordon. Their Gordon. Gordon Cooper Tracy. Fourth in line to the great Tracy empire. Budding oceanographer. Olympic qualifier. Son and grandson. Little brother to three. Big brother to one.

And one of the best huggers Sally had ever met, family bias notwithstanding.

"You'll make friends soon enough, kid," she reassured, reaching out to squeeze Gordon's taut bicep, "Being away from home is always unnerving, but we're only a phone call away if you need us. Virgil and Alan will be here for your first race next week, and your dad will be tuning in remotely from his Moon Base. Give it a day and I guarantee that you'll be far too busy to waste time missing any of us."

Apprehension seeped into Gordon's bones as he pondered his grandmother's words. He knew for a fact he wasn't the youngest athlete on the team (that honour went to a gymnast), but it was still disconcerting to know that he would most likely be mingling with people who were getting on for twice his age. While he knew he was as good as the rest of them ability wise, he still craved the acceptance that came with being a teenager and knew that he'd probably have to work twice as hard to earn the respect he wanted.

The prospect of not having his brothers to lean on socially was also anxiety inducing in its own right. Gordon knew he was perfectly capable of conducting himself well in social situations, however acknowledged that he had been spoiled growing up with so many siblings. He was never short of company, never short of someone to talk to, never short of someone to back him up, and never short of someone to sit next to in group situations. One of the Tracy clan's biggest and most unique strengths was coming back to bite him in the ass, and he had a horrible feeling it was going to leave a scar.

A big, socially awkward scar.

-x-

Goodbyes were hard for every family, however particularly so for the Tracys.

Jeff's habit of blasting off into the deep unknown, often for months at a time, meant that each and every family member right down the line attached great significance to what was supposed to be a fairly mundane exchange. Handshakes were swapped out for hugs. Awkward parting phrases replaced with deep and meaningful conversations about safety. Flippant flicks of the wrist discarded in favour of long, dramatic waves that continued until one or both parties disappeared from view.

And tears. Tears were now a thing as well.

After escorting his family down to the lobby and confirming that there was nothing more he needed from them, Gordon braced himself for the emotional turmoil he knew was coming.

"Look after yourself," Scott instructed, wrapping him in a hug and resting his chin atop his head, "Call us if you need anything, and try not to get on too many people's nerves while you're here."

"I make no promises," Gordon replied, trying frantically not to lose his composure as he inhaled the familiar and comforting scent of his brother's aftershave, "Enjoy your peace and quiet while it lasts."

Scott gave a shaky laugh and stepped back, only for Virgil to instantly take his place.

"Have a fantastic time," the engineer whispered, tightening his embrace so that half of Gordon's organs ended up bottlenecked at the base of his throat, "Send us photos if you have time."

A lower lip began to tremble.

"We'll be here for your first race," John assured, picking up on his brother's emotional cues and going for a shoulder squeeze instead of a hug, "I'll go over the rosters as soon as I get home. Those of us who can't make it will tune in live from wherever we happen to be at the time. You'll be able to hear our cheers on Jupiter."

The lip was joined by a stray tear leaking out.

"Oh, come on now," Sally tutted, scooping her grandson up into his third hug in as many minutes, "None of that silliness. You're not leaving home now, are you? You daft duck. These three weeks will fly by, so make the most of them. Now, I've stocked your linen cupboard and you have enough clean clothes to last you comfortably for the next few days. After that, you'll have to brave the Land of Laundry on your own. Call me if you need help with any of the temperature settings on any of the machines. I don't want you shrinking your underwear again."

Gordon was about to scoff and deny having any knowledge of the aforementioned incident. He'd thrown the offending pair of pants out and sworn off ever touching the sixty degree button again, however was cut off by Kayo concluding the goodbye exchange with yet another hug.

"Go and make some friends," his adoptive sister advised, "I saw a small group of people who looked to be about your age outside by the fountain. Do you want one of us to come with you while you introduce yourself?"

Scott and Virgil looked all too happy to comply with Kayo's suggestion, however Gordon knew it would be wrong to accept their help. He was determined to make his own mark on the Olympic soil they were standing on, and using his brothers as social crutches would only make their imminent departure all the more painful.

"No thanks," Gordon replied, dabbing at his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket, "I'll be fine. I'll go for a run and then knock on a few doors. I'm sure everyone's struggling with first day jitters a bit."

A small smile signalled John's approval of his brother's decision. He was all for supporting Gordon as much as possible, but knew from experience that the best way of overcoming homesickness was to occupy the body and mind. He'd dealt with his own fair share of mental turmoil during his first few solo shifts aboard his dad's Moon Base, and had only developed the resilience he was now famed for by forcing himself to embrace a routine that had originally fallen outside his comfort zone.

A loud sniff halted the Tracy clan in their tracks as they began to file out the door. Putting his own feelings on momentary hold, Gordon scanned the group and was surprised to see Alan mopping frantically at his cheeks.

"Why are we leaving him here?" the youngest queried, his blue eyes shining with confusion, "Isn't he coming with us?"

A beat of silence passed as Alan's bewilderment sank in. Scott in particular had anticipated that he'd have mild separation anxiety when faced with the reality of not having his favourite brother at home for a while, however hadn't expected for it to take root before they'd even left.

When the reassurance he was seeking failed to make an appearance, Alan reacted how any eight year old would and fused himself to the object of his desire, which happened to be Gordon's torso.

"Okay, time to go," Virgil announced, striding in and extracting the youngest before Gordon crumbled completely, "We'll call as soon as we're home. Keep your phone on, and don't leave the Village unless Sam or someone else is with you, okay?"

Several nearby people winced as Alan's screams began to rapidly escalate in volume, his hands clawing at the air as he leant over Virgil's shoulder and grabbed desperately for Gordon. Despite the attentive ministrations of his brothers and grandmother, the youngest refused to cease his wailing, his voice like a siren as he was gradually carried away towards the security checkpoint that marked the entrance/exit to the compound.

Gordon felt himself die a little as John turned around and gave one last wave before vanishing behind the wall that acted as a boundary between the Village and the outside world.

It was official. He was on his own.

-x-

Ring, ring.

Snooooooore.

Ring, ring.

Snooooooooooooooooore.

Ring, ring.

Snore, grunt, exhale, roll over.

Ring, ring.

Gordon groaned and dramatically surfaced from beneath his duvet, sleep encrusted eyes narrowing in groggy annoyance at whoever dared to rouse him from his peaceful slumber at…he checked the time on the digital clock next to his bed…quarter to four in the morning.

"N'ello?" he slurred, not even bothering to check the name on the screen as he swiped right to answer, the logical side of his brain gearing up for a potential emergency.

"Hey, bro!" came the peppy tone of a certain baby brother, "How are you?"

Gordon's eyes widened in disbelief as he pulled the phone away from his ear to scowl at it, only to squawk when he realised that Alan had him on a video call, "Alan? What's the matter?"

"Oh, nothing," came the casual reply, "Everyone is busy and I'm bored. Are you able to help me with my homework? I'm stuck on this one question about lines of symmetry."

Alan shifted his phone so that the camera was focussing on the worksheet in front of him, briefly giving Gordon an uninterrupted view up his nose in the process. Clearly, he had yet to learn about time zones, and the fact that Nairobi was ten hours behind Tracy Island.

"Have you met any famous people? What's the food like? What did you do after we left? Have you been on TV yet? Do you mind me ringing you? When are you coming home? How many people are on your floor? Can we talk on here every day? Do you know where Scott hides his popcorn? Can I sleep in your room while you're away?"

A smile of resignation made itself at home on Gordon's face as he propped himself up on his pillows and began to patiently answer all of Alan's questions.

So much for being on his own.