Disclaimer: I don't own Thunderbirds

Spoilers for 3.25 "The Long Reach (Part 1)"

Jeff couldn't sleep. Gravity was heavy all over, a pressure his body hadn't felt the force of in far too long, and the light cotton of his clothes was a foreign sensation after so many years in his uniform. And that wasn't including his underlying fear that falling asleep here would mean waking up back there, in the wreckage of the Zero-X all alone, with the sinking knowledge that being back home was just a dream.

He threw off the covers and scrambled his way to his feet. There was no sense in lying awake with nothing but his thoughts for company – he'd had plenty of time to do that in the depths of the Oort Cloud. Tracy Island was its own quiet paradise in the middle of the ocean, and he didn't have to double and triple check his oxygen levels before leaving his airlock prison.

That didn't stop him reaching for the helmet by his bed out of habit, only realising what he was doing when his fingers met air where years of instinct told him should be the smooth shell of his gear. He sighed, a deep exhale followed by a shallow inhale. Adapting to life on Earth would be a lengthy process.

The door opened soundlessly and easily – no airlock to shift, just simple light wood separating his bedroom from the rest of the villa and he padded out equally quietly on bare feet. Snuffles sounded from the room next door, the noises his mother made in her sleep still familiar despite the long absence and he smiled as he passed. Tanusha's - Kayo's – room was on the end, just before the flight of stairs to his sons'. A new change; one of many, so many he had no idea how he was ever going to adapt to the life that had gone on without him. He remembered her as being quiet, but even through the door he could hear slow even breathing.

Carefully he made his way down the stairs, the exactly equal paces required for descent a marked change from clambering over a rugged planetoid, and passed his sons' rooms. Doors closed, they should all be asleep, exhausted after the mission of a lifetime. No matter how badly he wanted to see them again, he could wait until daylight. They didn't need him disturbing their sleep. Not now.

There was light in the den as he descended the stairs towards it. More of a glow than light, it came from the desk – his desk? Was it still his? The holoprojector was on, a blue background defining white text he couldn't read at that distance, and in the shadows it cast, something gestured and it changed.

Someone was still up. He could hear their breathing, slow but not quite steady, and the tap-tap-tap of fingers drumming on wood. As his eyes adjusted to the off-kilter lighting he could make out the sight of his eldest son hunched over the wood, one hand propping up his chin while the other tapped at the desk by a mug.

He checked the time. It was gone four in the morning. Scott was still in his day clothes, shirt rumpled and hair falling loose from its gelled confines to flop weakly over his forehead. He looked exhausted, even as his hand paused its tapping of the wood to swipe the hologram into the next page of text.

Jeff remembered the days of paperwork, one of the few things he hadn't missed during his time amongst the stars. The fact that Scott had taken it on was not a surprise – he had had far too much time to think about what his boys would do in his absence, and while many of his predictions appeared to have been falling flat, Scott was the eldest child and therefore officially his heir. The paperwork required to keep Tracy Industries afloat would have settled on his shoulders.

The time of night he had chosen to work on it, however, was. He'd thought Scott would follow his example – work during the day when not on rescues. There was no reason for him to stay up all night, and his parental instincts flared in a mix of worry and anger.

Scott knew the importance of a good nights' sleep, had had it drilled firmly into him as a child. Why was he ignoring everything he'd been told as a child about bedtimes? He was only going to hurt himself!

He stepped forwards, deliberate and determined to get his wayward son into bed where he belonged at this time of the night only to be brought up short by a hand landing on his shoulder from behind.

His nerves lit up, the warmth of the touch unexpected and unwelcome in the darkness when he hadn't known it was coming, and he whirled around sharply to see who was foolish enough to sneak up on him.

It was Gordon, his second youngest's hands raising up in a quiet surrender as he rounded on him, breathing heavily.

"Shh!" the blond hissed under his breath, sounding like a leaky air tank as he pressed a finger to his lips in an unmistakable demand for silence. He looked tired himself, hastily suppressing a yawn before bringing a glass up to his lips and sipping it quietly.

Jeff remembered his midnight kitchen trips from before. But then it was sweets, sugary menaces that would keep him bouncing off the walls for most of the following day before crashing mid-afternoon. Not a simple glass of water.

He gestured for him to go back up to bed, not wanting to deal with multiple sons up when none of them should be, and Gordon responded with a shrug and clear invitation for him to join him. Jeff signalled later before turning back to Scott, only for Gordon to shimmy around in front of him, arms crossed and shaking his head.

Leave him, he mouthed, barely visible in the pitch dark of the island. His lips were barely lit by the glow of the hologram Scott still perused on the desk, seemingly obvious to their presence. Jeff frowned, digging his heels in at the idea of leaving his eldest to an ill-advised all-nighter, but Gordon had inherited the Tracy stubbornness and his mother's cunning.

Jeff wasn't entirely sure what Gordon did to get him climbing back up the stairs, away from Scott, but that was where he found himself heading, Gordon behind him – between him and Scott, almost like a guard dog.

"You won't get him to stop," the blond teenager said – was he still a teenager, or had he reached twenty yet? Jeff had lost track of the years in a place beyond Earthly time. "Interrupting him now is like trying to wake Virgil up this early. Violence, arguments, and ultimately futile."

The idea that this was something common enough that Gordon knew what would happen did not sit well with Jeff.

"This happens a lot?" he asked, looking back at the stairs that led to his eldest. Gordon sighed before draining his glass.

"I don't remember the last time he slept in his bed," he admitted, and Jeff's heart sank. "There's just never enough time in a day, you know? Rescues, rescue reports for the GDF, being badgered by the GDF about anything they please, keeping Tracy Industries running."

"The GDF?" Jeff's voice came out strangled as he tried to think what the Global Defence Force would have to do with International Rescue. They were two independent organisations, the GDF had no jurisdiction over them! Unless… no. His sons wouldn't-

"They think Scott's too young," Gordon said, sitting back on his bed and staring at the ceiling. "He won the battle to keep us independent, but it came with compromises."

Jeff thought back to how he remembered Scott, leaving him with a reassurance that he'd be home soon and that it was a simple mission – he didn't need the backup just to stop the Zero-X. Then he remembered the wrist he'd clasped as he stopped him falling to his death, the face that had looked up at him then.

Too young? Maybe the Scott he'd left behind that day had been. But the one he'd reunited with less than an Earth-day ago was too old.

"He'll pa- uh, fall asleep soon," Gordon continued, jumping back to their original topic of conversation. "His favourite blanket is kept tucked under the yellow couch." He said that as though it was supposed to mean something. Jeff nodded awkwardly, feeling the gap between them yawn into a chasm. He didn't know this young man in front of him. Not really.

Gordon looked at him after a moment, a why are you still here look in his eyes – one Jeff recognised from the mirror, not because he'd ever seen Gordon wear it with such gravitas before – before he flinched and sighed.

"Oh yeah, you don't know," he said, and Jeff got the feeling he wasn't the only one facing someone who should be familiar but wasn't quite as expected. "Scott won't go to bed. He sleeps at the desk. Whoever finds him first throws the blanket over him. Unless it's Virgil. Virgil can at least carry him to the couch. He's too tall and heavy for me and Alan."

Jeff had expected some things to have changed while he was gone. It was only natural, after all. But this change he would need them to explain, in detail, why they let it happen.

A conversation for the daylight. For now, he had a son to leave to sleep, and another son to handle. Gordon made it sound like he was as volatile as uranium, but Gordon was prone to over-exaggeration… unless that was another trait he had dropped or changed. He reached out to brush Gordon's hair back, the urge to kiss his son goodnight overwhelming even though dawn was approaching, and Gordon made a small, blessedly familiar noise of protest and quiet squirm before muttering "night, Dad."

It was good to know not everything had changed.

Jeff closed the door quietly behind him, the quiet click of the catch engaging a contrast to the clunk of the airlock door, and he forced himself not to shut it again just to ensure it was truly closed. Gordon's window had been ajar anyway.

One erstwhile son dealt with, although it felt uncomfortably like he'd done nothing at all and Gordon had been the one doing the handling, one to go.

He padded back down the stairs, just as quietly as the previous time and just as jarred by the artificial evenness of each foothold, to find that Gordon had been right. Where before Scott had been hunched over the desk, fingers tapping agitatedly, now he was slumped over it, head at an uncomfortable looking angle over the hard wood and looking more like he'd fainted than fallen asleep.

Then again, Gordon had started to say pa-, which Jeff could now easily finish as pass out.

"Oh, Scotty," he breathed, falling into the childhood nickname without thinking as he quietly approached. The holoprojector was still on, showing rows and rows of figures – annual turnover, Jeff recognised – and under its bluish tinge Scott looked grey and washed out. The mug beside one of his hands was still half-full, a long-missed scent of strong coffee wafting out of it but unaccompanied by any steam. Despite himself, Jeff buried his nose in his arm. Packet coffee from the Zero-X's rations had been nothing like the real thing and the smell was overpowering despite its welcoming nature.

He turned the holoprojector off, both because it was unrequired and because he didn't care for the light it was casting his eldest son in – Jeff had had many nightmares about his sons with a sickly dying pallor and seeing it even as an illusion caused by lighting made his heartbeat accelerate. Now the only light came from the stars and crescent moon, shining through the glass wall of the house. It bathed Scott in silver, and did little to improve his appearance.

Gordon and Alan threw a blanket over him. Virgil carried him to a couch. John hadn't been mentioned, but Jeff had already suspected his second eldest spent more time than he should in orbit. Like father, like son, for all that he wished his love of space hadn't been inherited in such a self-destructive fashion.

Jeff wasn't quite as tall as Scott now, or as broad as Virgil, but he was a father and carrying sleeping sons to bed came as naturally as breathing. Scott always was – had been – a light sleeper and he had no cause to suspect that had changed, so he was as gentle as his weakened body could manage as he oh so carefully shifted his eldest son into his arms and started the journey up the stairs, counting them carefully and realising he didn't recall exactly how many there were as his carefully questing foot met resistance one time more than he'd expected.

Scott shifted in his arms, a sign that his shallow sleep was losing its hold on him, but Jeff didn't let himself hurry as he continued his journey, nudging Scott's door open with a toe and frowning at the neatly-made bed that clearly hadn't seen any occupancy in far too long. The sheets were cool to the touch as Jeff set Scott down on them, and his frown deepened as Scott shifted some more, his subconsciousness aware that something was happening.

He hadn't dealt with shoe laces in forever, the texture of thin cord rough against his hands, but muscle memory prevailed as he unknotted them – Scott still tied his laces the exact same way Jeff remembered, and he let himself enjoy the unchanged moments as he found them – and slipped them off his feet.

Easing the sheets out from underneath his barely sleeping son was a challenge, and his heart sank as he pulled them up to Scott's chin – the way he'd always had them as a child, taking comfort in being all bundled up even if he wouldn't admit it out loud – and caught sight of blue eyes blearily opening.

"Ssh-sh-sh," he hushed, barely audibly, one hand carding back the escapee hairs from Scott's rigid gelled style. It took several repeats of the motion before they slid back closed again, a quiet Dad? breathed from between slightly parted lips.

I'm here, Scotty, he wanted to say, but words would only wake his eldest child up so he kept them at the forefront of his mind instead. Go back to sleep. He risked the same goodnight kiss as he had with Gordon, and received little more than an unintelligible murmur in response.

To his relief, it didn't take more than a few seconds more before Scott was fast asleep again, and as with Gordon he gently padded out of the room and shut the door gently, hearing the click instead of the clang as the catch caught. This time the desire to try again until it sealed didn't rear its head – his desire for Scott to sleep improbably overriding survival instincts.

With two sons out of bed and since settled back into them, Jeff couldn't rest until he knew the other three were tucked in and sleeping soundly. John's room was next to Scott's, he thought until he nudged it open – aware that his ginger son was the most likely one to be awake – and found a mess of a bedroom with a blond mop of hair on the rug in the middle.

When had Alan taken John's room?

And why was his teenage son – Alan was definitely still a teenager – sleeping on the rug instead of his bed? The bed in question was piled high with all sorts of paraphernalia not best for sleeping with, including a holoprojector blinking at him, declaring that it was in sleep mode and not turned off, as holoprojectors should be at four in the morning – more like four-thirty now, he realised.

Still, Alan was sleeping soundly, and moving him would require tidying his bed, which Jeff knew he was not up to in his adjusting-to-Earth state. He settled for readjusting the blanket the lanky boy had half thrown off at some point, running fingers through thick blond hair and finishing the ritual with another forehead kiss before quietly leaving again.

Next along was Virgil's room, unmistakable even only lit by the moonlight by the numerous paintings hung on it. Relieved at finding another thing still the same, he gently pushed the door open. Faint snores heard through the door turned into loud ones as the barrier was moved, and Jeff smiled at his middle child, sprawled out in the middle of his bed with blankets everywhere and snoring to his hearts' content. Recalling Gordon's warnings about waking him, and his own memories of a grumpy dark haired child declaring that school was at an ungodly hour of the morning and how the education system should have more sociable hours, Jeff resisted the urge to fix the mess of blankets and instead pressed a customary kiss to this son's head as well, rewarded by a brief pause in snores, before backing out of the room.

He skipped Gordon's room, the second-youngest already seen once this side of midnight, and went for what was once Alan's, closest to Jeff's own room one story up. If Alan had moved to John's room, between Scott and Virgil's, then by process of elimination John used Alan's room when he was down from orbit.

He was down from orbit now, but as Jeff had suspected, not sleeping. He was sat by the window, eye pressed to his telescope as he looked at the stars up above them.

"Circadian rhythm," John said before Jeff could say a word. He held his hands up in surrender, managing to find a smile on his lips for the first time since he'd found Scott working himself past exhaustion at the desk.

"They look different from down here," he said instead, crossing the room – empty, barely lived in – to stand by John's side and look up at the stars.

"They do," John agreed, breaking away from the telescope long enough to share a grin – an in-joke, one only recognised by those who spent more time in space than on Earth. "It's trained on her," he continued, sliding sideways and gesturing for Jeff to look through it himself. He took it, knowing which star John meant and drinking his fill of the beautiful sight his second-eldest son had named after the most important woman in both their lives. Lucille-20181325 shone as steadily as he remembered.

John wasn't the most tactile of his brothers, not by a long shot, but he didn't resist as Jeff wrapped a delicate arm around his shoulders and pulled him in for a one-armed embrace.

"She'd be proud of all of you," he said quietly. "As am I."

Circadian rhythm or not, he wouldn't let John miss out on – or escape, depending on the point of view – the same treatment his brothers had received, and gently kissed his forehead.

"For my next sleep?" John asked, smiling. He'd never been as dismissive of the affection as his brothers, for all of his desire for personal space.

"For your next sleep," Jeff confirmed, matching the smile with one of his own.

I have a lot of feels about how the family dynamic is going to struggle with Jeff's return. His relationships with his sons have all changed slightly - they've grown up without him (all of them, not just the more obvious Alan and Gordon) and slotting him back in to the family is going to be a difficult challenge for all of them. Not to mention general adaptation to living back on Earth after so long in the Oort Cloud. There's a reason astronauts don't spend too long in space.

I've got a couple of ideas for some more short fics exploring these challenges - I'll be referring to them as my Familiar Strangers series.

Thanks for reading!
Tsari