Author's Notes: Takes place between Buried Treasure & Venom. I headcanon the Mechanic as a self-made cyborg.
Gordon couldn't sleep. Maybe it was that Scott was flipping between being Mr. Chipper or Mr. Impatient Snarls-Alot without any warning a lot lately. Or Virgil being a grumpasaurus rex far longer than he usually was when some of his artwork got ruined. Or finding out the Mechanic was free of the Hood (Yay!) but The Hood knew about the reconstruction of the T-Drive (Not So Yay.) But Gordon couldn't sleep.
He wanted to swim, but he respected the family rule of someone else must be awake and alert and within acceptable physical distance (John might be awake, but there was little he could do up in Thunderbird Five if a mishap in the pool occurred) before anyone could swim in the pool, even the gold-medal Olympian. So, he settled for a good long walk around the island.
Tracy Island was both stark and beautiful. The native plants were tenacious in their survival on otherwise barren rocks, and the few plants that had been brought and planted that had been deemed 'safe' and unlikely to supplant the native plant only added to the near surrealness of the place. Gordon appreciated just how much work his Dad and Brains had put into making their home beautiful as well as functional.
As he was returning to the main house, he saw someone sitting? Squatting? Well, obviously not standing, at the very edge of the maintained side of the island's flora.
Initially he thought it was Virgil from the breadth of the shoulders and crest of the hair, but there was no mistaking the Mechanic when the clouds broke, and the moonlight illuminated the extensive tattoos on his back and shoulders. At least, Gordon hoped it was tattoos on his back; there was a quality in some of the darkness that suggested input sockets. The man was huddled into himself. Knees to chest, arms around knees, head down. He was shaking minutely. Something was clearly wrong.
Gordon was just going to walk away, go get Brains or something, but… You didn't leave someone suffering, alone. It wasn't the International Rescue thing to do.
It wasn't the Tracy thing to do.
Even if the person had torn your Thunderbird in half.
Taking a deep breath, he crossed over to where the Mechanic was, and sat down mimicking the Mechanic's position, except his head was up and he was watching the sky. A few minutes later, after gathering his courage, he reached and lightly placed a hand on the Mechanic's shoulder and felt a whole-body shudder run through the man's frame. But he didn't remove his hand.
"I couldn't sleep, decided to take a walk," Gordon just started rambling, going on about how the island's flora and fauna seemed so different at night and how much brighter the stars seemed here in comparison to Kansas or Arizona, even if the farmhouse or ranch were in the middle of nowhere themselves, and anything else that crossed his mind, "…and if you hear Grandma looking for someone to try something she's made? Go hide under Dad's, well, my Dad's Desk, I think you'll fit, we once managed to fit all five of us, Kayo and MAX under there, usually she'll relent…"
The Mechanic lifted and turned his head a little, just enough for Gordon to see the suggestion of eyes. That was enough.
"That bad, huh?" Gordon's voice gentled from quiet exuberance to soothing concern.
"Nightmares," came the rumbled answer, "I fail again."
"Uhuh," Gordon nodded, "you realize you didn't fail the first time, big guy, the Hood's just an asshat."
"Everyone thought I failed," the Mechanic retorted, " and…it isn't just the t-drive…I fail."
Gordon let the silence hang there, waiting to be filled.
Sure enough...
"He gets control of me again. I can't fight him. And he makes me go on a rampage. People get...hurt."
It doesn't take much to read between those lines.
"Not going to happen," Gordon said confidently, "Not after Brains kicked him out of your head."
"It's not Brains that I doubt," the Mechanic quietly confided, another shudder running through him, "but I let the Hood in once, thinking I could handle him. What if I make that mistake again?"
Gordon considered this, and how to answer. He wanted to tell him that they wouldn't let him, but he'd heard how badly the Mechanic had reacted when Alan had apparently said something like "grab him" up on the Hex from Kayo. The last thing he needed to hear was something that seemed it would take away his self-determination.
"Weeellll, if you think something like that might happen, talk to Brains, or Kayo, or any of us really, maybe not Scott, or Virgil until he's over the topiary," Gordon suggested, then a thought struck him, "actually, talk to Grandma. She's good at keeping people on track. She'll Grandma anyone who'll let her."
"Well, there are a few exceptions."
Both of them startled. Gordon actually rolled over on to his side, and the Mechanic turned a haunted face to Sally Tracy.
"But you're not one of them, dear," Grandma Tracy said kindly, as she wrapped a blanket around the Mechanic's shoulders, "I know it's seems warm here, but you could catch your death of cold wandering around the island at night without a shirt on, and Brains seems worried about dirt getting into your interfaces."
"Thank you…" the Mechanic floundered for a moment before settling on a quiet, "ma'am."
"Call me Grandma. You're going to be staying with us for a while. Saves me a lot of trouble remembering what to answer to," Grandma Tracy chuckled, "Now, Virgil is back in there making his fancy golden moon milk, whatever that is, and says it might be just what we all need to get back to sleep."
Gordon tumbled up to his feet, then offered the Mechanic a hand up. The Mechanic unfolded slowly upwards and rolled his shoulders carefully not to dislodge the blanket; he cautiously offered his arm to Grandma Tracy, who took it with a smile.
"There might even be some of my famous cookies to dunk in the milk."
Gordon leaned around his Grandma and gave the Mechanic a sly grin.
"Welcome to the Family."