Lost

by LMC25

Colonel Jeff Tracy has just suffered the biggest shock of his life, his wife and father dead. As he begins to spiral out of control his son's struggle to cope with their own grief. Then just when they thought it couldn't get worse their father runs off in his private jet and disappears. Can the the brother's find him in time? How will they cope parentless?IR origin story

1. Chapter 1

1

Disclaimer: I don't own thunderbirds and I am writing this for entertainment purposes only - for fans to enjoy hopefully! This one took inspiration from the 1992 comic books, although not part of the official canon they do have an interesting take on the beginnings of IR which called to me. It appealed to me because the tragedy with Lucile is portrayed when the boys are in early adulthood. For the purpose of this fic I have gone for 3 years before IR was formed which places the boys aged around 28 years- 19 years respectively based on the show taking place in 2065.

Two weeks ago, Colonel Jeff Tracy had it all. A distinguished military career in the air force, celebrated astronaut and owner of a rapidly expanding business specialising in Civil engineering, construction and aerospace technologies. He had not one, not two but five sons! Two were adults the other three slightly younger, still completing their education. He had a beautiful wife that was his soul mate in every sense of the word. A large family home, a car and even his own jet and growing fleet of private craft. If his business continued to build on its current success, he would be the wealthiest man alive by 2065. Jeff Tracy had the rest of his life to look forward to. At least he thought he had.

Jeff now lay in their room alone; the smell of stale alcohol and cigars tainted the air. He faced the empty side of the king-size bed his hand tracing the slight indent where his wife rested. He corrected himself, had rested. His stunning wife, so full of joy. So full of life. The ghost of her smile was looking back at him mischievously, cruelly taunting him with what could never be again. His eyes were red raw and bloodshot, tears long since expended. His beard was the longest it had ever been. There had been a few shocked faces at his gauntness yesterday, not that he noticed. He was still in his crumpled funeral clothes, yesterday had been the final straw. Yesterday he had buried his wife which was incomprehensible to him. How could someone that literally radiated vitality be snatched away so callously, so that there was nothing left? His companion, confidante and lover now reduced to ash. If that wasn't hard enough to comprehend, he had also had to bury his father who was killed in the same tragedy as his wife. His father had raised him into a competent strong willed, yet compassionate man who knew his worth and how to help others reach their full potential. Jeff had never anticipated being fatherless in his early-50's. He shuffled closer to the vacant side of the bed seeking a comfort he knew he would never feel on his skin again. The sheets were cold to the touch but her scent still lingered. He crushed them to his face. Just to be held by her one more time, that's all he wanted! Not even being the wealthiest man in the world could grant him that desire.

His eyes caught hold of the picture on the chest of drawers opposite the bed, walked by and forgotten for many years as a piece of the furniture. Jeff sat up and grabbed it like it was his most precious possession. In a way it was; at that moment in time, for it was a picture of him and Lucile in their late teens. He traced her strawberry red hair with his hand, she was sat across his bike and he was hugging her from behind, face half buried in her hair with the widest smile, half seen behind her. She was laughing holding on to his arms around her neck, wearing his air force jacket leaving him in just a white shirt and jeans. They looked so young, Lucy was so stunning. His Lucy had a heart of gold and a passion for seeing beauty wherever she went. Its why it hurt so much to see Virgil paint now, he gained all his artistic flare under her tuition. Her sons had become her life, she devoted her whole self to them. She couldn't be replaced! how was Jeff meant to raise five boys on his own? He had done very limited parenting having mostly been away in space or starting up the business, he had always been confident with them in their mother's expert care. With his own father no longer there for support him and his children he felt the worry of becoming an only parent even more. He knew his mother was still reeling from her own loss, if he felt like this how could be possibly ask her to care for his sons while he tried to pull his own life back from the brink? Would he have to give up what he had started to raise his sons? How could be balance running a billion-dollar company with raising five kids! Granted two could look after themselves but the three youngest would need him round more.

Jeff felt like he was in a tail spin, usually he knew exactly how to get out of those but this one had him pulled down into the depths of despair in a nose dive. He had a business to operate, a family to raise and all in the public eye as he was one of the most famous men of the last decade. He couldn't face people knowing, knowing that he was bereft, looking upon him in pity and offering their condolences. What good does that do? They can't bring back his wife and father any more than he could, why couldn't they just let him get on with his life? He had tried going to work, the whispers in the corridor and the sad doe eyes glancing away from him as he walked by. Everyone acting like they were stepping on eggshells when around him. It was oppressive and a constant reminder of what he had lost when he just wanted to bury himself in his work which was his life. He couldn't watch the TV for the first week without them replaying the very public media coverage of how Lucy and his father perished, triggering a fresh wave of intense flashbacks. Images of them on red carpets burned across his eyes like the glare from paparazzi cameras, flooding him with memories. Worst of all he couldn't take the grief he saw reflected back at him in his son's eyes when they looked at him, couldn't handle all the features of Lucile that he could identify clearly in nearly all of his son's bar Scott who looked very much like himself.

So, for the last twenty-four hours he had locked himself in here. His sons had pleaded for him to come out but he refused even when the youngest Alan had slipped a note under the door asking him to come out and see them. Jeff was broken and he knew it. He just didn't know how to communicate that to anyone, especially his own family. His boys had their whole lives ahead of them, still young enough to adapt and recover but this old wolf was tired and alone, scared he would never find comfort and peace again. Terrified he couldn't be the man he was before - like he was an imposter trapped in his own life. When Lucy died a part of his soul had fled after her, wanted to be connected again in a way that stabbed at his chest and made him heartsick. When his father died shortly after the anxiety had started to manifest in his mind convincing him there was no coming back from this, it was his fault they had died. If he hadn't suggested the elaborate holiday, if he hadn't been late getting there from work, if he hadn't been so filthy rich, they could afford such a vacation in the first place his wife and father might still be alive.

He clutched the photo so tight to his chest he could feel the frame straining under the pressure, it leaving deep red indents in his palms. He brought his knees up to his chest and prayed for oblivion, a place where he would feel pain no more.