Disclaimer: Considering I just got some pretty bad financial news - I believe its safe to assume that of course I don't own them.

To quote a reviewer, I believe yes it is safe to say the story did "kind of explode". I hope you're enjoying the ride.

Close Calls and Promises

Scott slowly pushed the wheelchair in front of him as they traveled toward the hospital laboratory. His mind wandered to his two youngest brothers. One laid in a hospital bed trapped in a coma, in a place that was both secure and frustratingly beyond Scott's reach, while the other sat in the very wheelchair he was pushing ever so gently. Both his little brothers were in pain - a pain he couldn't take away. Scott wished his current predicament of angst was nothing more than frustration at not being able to help his brothers.

It wasn't.

A slideshow of his brain's own making flickered by, reminding him of the last twenty-four hours. No day went without its risks as a rescue organization, but this one had been very rough.

Their long day had started yesterday afternoon with a call out to Indonesia. A massive system had moved through the area dumping tremendous amounts of rain in one fell swoop. The result was a mudslide that caught many residents off guard. It had been their job to save those trapped by nature's fury, but success was not without many close calls to their own lives. The thought brought a shiver running down Scott's spine at one memory.

The first brother threatened since they had left home had been Virgil. Scott's music-loving brother had been helping a young woman from the dangerous hold of the fast mud.

~0~

Panic was the only thing that filled the young woman's body as they stood so close to the thick brown liquid. She clung to the first body she was near - which happened to be Virgil. The only thought running through her mind was to hold on and not move.

Virgil desperately tried to pull the woman off him and bring her and her family away from the rapid danger, but she wouldn't listen. The field medic looked around for help in gaining control of the situation. Seeing both Scott and Gordon busy helping more victims, he turned to his father. Before he could fully gain his father's attention or the woman's composure, the ground beneath them grew unstable, forcing them to fall toward the mud.

"VIRGIL!" he heard someone scream in his earpiece.

Water and mud rushed at their feet. Virgil quickly looked for a place to stabilize their descent. He gripped the remaining solid ground near him as a lifeline and held the woman close to him as she clung to his body.

"Virgil!" Jeff's voice screamed, and relief filled the middle Tracy as his father's frame met him from above.

"Take her first," Virgil instructed, his voice strained.

"Take my hand," Jeff quickly spoke to the woman.

The woman was reluctant to respond at first. Looking at the fast-moving mucky substance below her, she met Jeff and reached for his hand. Jeff gently but swiftly hoisted the woman up. By now, Scott had joined them and gladly took the woman from Jeff.

Virgil felt the ground beginning to crumble around him. Noticing what appeared to be a root from a nearby tree, he latched onto it, praying it would hold his weight.

Turning back to his son, Jeff urgently extended his hand back down to Virgil. His heart lurched as he saw the dirt crumble away around his middle son. "C'mon!" he vigorously spoke, knowing it wouldn't be long before the area they stood on would become weak as well.

Virgil gladly took his father's hand. Relief passed over him once again as his body touched solid ground.

~0~

Each of them knew how close they had come to losing Virgil. If the ground Virgil had been clinging to had slipped away as well, he and the woman would've fallen in. If Jeff hadn't seen his middle child fall so quickly, they might not have reached him in time. So many factors made up the difference. As his mind continued to walk through the events of the past day, Scott drifted to dinner last night.

~0~

It was a little past seven o'clock in the evening at the tropical island as the family gathered at the table. To each of the men, the smell of food was welcome. After helping out with the mudslide and a fresh shower, their stomachs were growling for fuel.

"It'd be okay if we didn't visit Indonesia for a while," Gordon said, taking a bite of his food.

"Agreed," Virgil said. "We've dealt with mudslides before, but this one was the topper."

"I don't think it would've been so bad if the people would've followed our instructions," Jeff added.

"That would've helped a ton," Scott said, shaking his head. Taking a drink from his cup, he set it back down. "I don't think we've had such panic at a scene since the school fire in France."

"Alan sure was lucky to miss this one," Gordon laughed. "I'm sure he would've loved the lady that clung to you Virg and wouldn't let go."

Virgil glared at his younger brother. "She practically got us both killed."

Jeff cringed at the memory. "You shouldn't have been in that zone by yourself," he said.

Scott looked at his father. "We were all busy, Dad. There was just so much water."

"It would've been nice if the local authorities were more helpful. There wasn't a bright crayon in the bunch," Gordon huffed.

Virgil laughed. "Next time, Gordo, I suggest talking to them a little more calmly."

Gordon looked at Virgil like he was mad. "Are you kidding me? They talked to us like we didn't know what we were doing. We're International Rescue for crying out loud. We've been through this before. I say next time we let them get caked over in mud and gunk. They barely had an ounce of mud on them. Why should we do all the work?"

"Gordon," Jeff warned, trying not to laugh at him.

The klaxon suddenly began to whine, interrupting their conversation. Each rushed from the table. Jeff and Scott each exchanged worried looks at the thought of another rescue so soon.

-TB-

Looking back now, Scott had never been so thankful for a rescue in his life. If they wouldn't have been out rescuing the sinking ferry in Maine from the Nor'easter's fury, then they wouldn't have made it to Alan in time. If that was one thing he could hold onto, Scott was going to seize it.

Looking down at the copper hair that laid upon Gordon's head, his heart clenched at the deep funk that claimed his sibling. Scott remembered the scared and painful look that had greeted him aboard Thunderbird 1, as well as the emotionless look that soon followed as they entered the hospital. However, nothing tore at his heart more than listening to his water-loving brother breakdown. The amount of grief and despair that had filled those gasping words had nearly killed him right there.

Even though the twenty-one year old was sitting as comfortably as he could in the wheelchair in front of him, Scott could tell the redhead was still in a great deal of pain. Gordon was trying his best to hide it, but after years of reading every single one of his brothers, Scott saw past the wall.

So far, three of his brothers' lives had been threatened: Virgil during the mudslide in Indonesia, Gordon in Maine fighting the Nor'easter, and now, Alan, fighting to save the lives of his classmates.

Uncertainty and lousy luck were only a few of the factors that had been playing against them in the last sixteen hours, and even those were their best playing cards. Scott knew he had to do a better job in protecting his family if they were going to make it out of this day alive. When their mother had died, he had promised to protect their family - looking after every need. It was apparent the eldest was failing in several levels of that department, but there was one promise Scott was going to keep without a shadow of a doubt now. If he couldn't help free Alan from his current condition, he was going to turn his focus toward something else.

The field commander was going to make sure that whoever started this nightmare paid dearly. He didn't care what it took - those responsible for the fire were going to be held accountable for their actions. All he needed was a plan.

A small satisfying grin appeared across Scott Tracy's face. If he couldn't protect his brothers from the initial harm, then he would hurt those who dared to cause his family's suffering in the first place. Justice was his new best friend.

-TB-

Aaron Edwards stepped out into the cold morning air. The sixteen-year-old smiled at the previous night's events. "That's one way of taking care of something," he chuckled to himself.

He hated Wharton Academy and everything it stood for. The only reason he was at the school was by force. His father owned several big insurance agencies around the northeastern United States. Wharton was considered the perfect placement for him. As he remembered his father and mother telling him - "You need an excellent education and a little socialization wouldn't hurt." The youngest child of the family, Aaron despised the way his family looked at him. He was never outgoing enough or determined enough for them. Of course, after always being compared to your older siblings, how could you?

Cody - his oldest brother - was eight years older than him and already on his way to following in their father's footsteps. An exuberant and determined man, his brother had found himself as the right wingman on several of his father's agencies. No doubt, due to graduating from Harvard business school, Aaron scoffed. Such a show-off. It irked him how much Cody worshipped their father's every move.

Of course, his older sister wasn't any better. Amy was five years older than him and was a graduate from Harvard as well. Amy worked hard organizing their mother's career as a Massachusetts politician. Their mother currently held the Senator position for their state - a spot once again reclaimed by a democrat since Ted Kennedy's death years before. However, if their family had their way, she would be President in a few years. If it wasn't one sibling worshipping one parent, then they had to follow the other.

As a sixteen-year-old, that left Aaron a long legacy to follow behind and even bigger shoes to fill. He never had the desire to follow in either parent's shoes, and he certainly didn't want to help either sibling hold the royal train for the king or queen as the doting prince and princess were to do. So here he was, shipped off to a boarding school with a bunch of spoiled kids of the rich and famous — all of them seeking to follow in mommy and daddy's footsteps in one way or another.

Walking off to the side of the church, Aaron pulled out a pack of cigarettes - thankful he had a pal who had given him a big stash. Scouting the area for the all-clear, he pulled out a single stick and lit it with his lighter. Smiling to himself, Aaron was pleased with the damage caused at Wharton Academy. Taking in a puff of the tobacco, he chuckled as he realized the school would be out of service for a long time. It looks like I'll have some freedom for a while. Who knew it would've been so easy, the sophomore thought. I should've done this a long time ago. Thoughts of those killed and rumors of ones that were severely injured didn't even register in his self-centered mind.

-TB-

John could feel the sweat beading across his forehead as he watched the phlebotomist gather her supplies. His eyes never left the giant needle that lay on the sterile tray. That very needle was going to "suck his blood" but would help make the difference between life and death for his baby brother. John's stomach churned at the thought. He precariously weighed his options as the needle seemed to mock him. Maybe he could help Alan another way. No! Alan needs you. You can do this, the astronaut told himself.

"Relax, John," he heard Virgil say as his younger brother squeezed his right shoulder. Virgil sat in a chair next to him, while Scott sat next to Gordon.

"Sorry," John muttered, blushing slightly. Damn phobias. He knew how irrational his fear was, but it still didn't make it any easier. Needles were merely a device used for medical means, not a torture device. Glancing back at the evil tool, John shuddered slightly. Who was he kidding?

"John," Scott started.

John shook his head. "No, I'm doing this." He wasn't going to be the brother who stood in the shadows and did nothing. After all, that's what he always did. He was regularly safe on Thunderbird 5 while the rest of his brothers risked their lives. He was doing this, not only for Alan but himself. He wasn't going to let his fear win. Not when someone he would give his life up for in a second needed him.

The technician looked at the blonde with sympathy. Patting John on the arm, the middle-aged woman smiled. "You'll hardly notice the needle, I promise. Once I get her in, it'll be smooth sailing, all you'll feel is a pinch."

"That's the problem, getting it near him," Gordon muttered, even as another technician began to apply a blood pressure cuff to his arm.

"Gordon," Scott warned as John glared at his little brother.

"Hey, I'm not being mean, Johnny. I'm just saying," Gordon immediately explained.

Each of them understood how John felt about needles. It was a fear that the space-loving Tracy had never gotten over from childhood.

"I'll be fine," John declared.

"Alright, dear, let's get you started then," the woman spoke. Grabbing what appeared to be a rolled-up cloth, she handed it to John. "I want you to hold this in your hand. I'll need you to squeeze this before I put in the needle. It'll help bring your veins up. " John shook his head, understanding.

Next, the older woman grabbed a blood pressure cuff and secured it along John's upper arm. "This will serve as your tourniquet," she explained. Securing the cuff, she inflated it and then began to look at John's arm. "Go ahead and squeeze the cloth, dear. We need to find a good vein."

John remained silent but followed the woman's instructions.

Palpating John's forearm, the technician smiled. "Looks like we've found our vein." Grabbing what looked like a small aluminum clip, she marked the vein on John's arm. "This is so that I don't lose it."

Reducing the pressure in the cuff a little, she smiled at him. "Okay, you can go ahead and relax your grip. I'm going to need to clean the site, and then we'll get the worst part over. Are you allergic to iodine?"

"No," John answered.

"Good, just want to make sure. I wouldn't want you having a bad reaction to this now would I. I think this process is enough to deal with, huh?" the woman smirked at hearing her patient and his brothers chuckle.

Opening the two packages she needed to cleanse the site from any bacteria, she removed the first swab and rubbed it along John's arm. After several seconds, she then circled the second swab. "We just have to make sure we've killed all the bacteria. We wouldn't want you or your brother getting sick."

With the area now dry, the woman stopped and looked at John, grabbing the needle discreetly. "Okay, you'll hardly feel a thing. Just relax." Feeling the vein, she secured the needle. "Here we go. Just take a deep breath for me and relax your arm."

John did as the woman instructed. He felt Virgil squeeze his right hand. Turning to look at his younger brother, John slowly smiled.

"Ya know, I can't wait to tell Allie about this," Virgil grinned.

"I doubt he'll believe you," John smirked.

"Then you'll have to tell him yourself," Virgil said. "He'll believe you for sure. For you to bring up the subject at all will be a small feat in itself."

"Alright, we're in and set," the older woman smiled.

John looked at the nurse in disbelief, shocked at the needle already in his arm. John looked back at his little brother.

Virgil winked at him. "You can be easily distracted when you want to be."

John rolled his eyes but was thankful for his sibling. "Thanks."

"No problem."

Making sure the needle was secure, the woman placed tape at the far end of the tool and put the bag that would collect the blood on a hook next to her. "Does that feel okay?" she asked John.

"I'm good," he replied.

"Okay, I'll be back in a few minutes to check on you," she told him and left the room, taking the sterile tray with her.

"I like her, she's got a great bedside manner," Virgil said. He knew the woman's gentle approach had helped ease his brother immensely.

"Me too," John sighed, leaning his head against the padding of the chair he laid in. If you only knew what I was doing right now, Allie, he thought. John just prayed it was enough. They couldn't lose Alan. It wasn't an option.

-TB-

Jeff signed the last form before him and sighed with relief. He was used to committing his signature to paper – a lot - but right now, he wanted to be with Alan - not feeling like an autograph machine.

Closing the folder, he handed it to the nurse behind the desk. Most of the paperwork had been for security measures due to Alan's age - since he was still considered a minor - and to cover many of the Intensive Care Unit's guidelines.

The male nurse gladly took the folder. "You can go ahead and see your son, Mr. Tracy."

Jeff thanked him and walked toward his youngest son's room. As he entered the large room, a weight seemed to press against him.

Pulling a chair up beside the bed, Jeff gently took Alan's right hand in his. Cupping Alan's cheek, he winced at the purple coloring that still marred the teenager's too pale skin. "Why did it have to be you, Alan? Why did you have to be the hero?"

Jeff leaned back in his chair but still held Alan's hand protectively. Closing his eyes, he let out a long deep breath. Opening them, Jeff looked up toward the ceiling. Please be with our son, Lucy. He needs you. Please guide him back to us.

A soft knock interrupted his silent prayer, turning Jeff smiled as he saw his four older sons. Entering the room, the four boys scattered themselves across the room.

Pushing the wheelchair into the room, Scott placed Gordon across from their father. The redhead grinned up at his big brother for the action. Scott ruffled the prankster's hair and walked over to the wall across from Alan's bed, content to stand guard and watch over his baby brother and the rest of the family.

"Any change?" John asked as he took a seat on the small couch that occupied the room. He watched as Virgil picked up the chart that laid at the end of Alan's bed.

"No. Dr. Emerson said she'd be back to check on him in a half-hour," Jeff said, eyeing his middle son. He didn't like the frown that increased upon the boy's tired features. "What is it, Virgil?"

Virgil read the chart before him. What caught his eye was a side note upon the page. - ARDS - Acute Respiratory Distress Syndrome. A syndrome that appeared in trauma patients twenty-four to forty-eight hours after an initial injury to the lungs. He knew Alan was on a ventilator due to the smoke that had filled his lungs, but he hadn't fully realized how severe the trauma had been - or he hadn't wanted to. Virgil had hoped his medical eyes had been wrong. "Looks like Al's showing signs of ARDS or acute respiratory distress syndrome."

"What does that mean?" Gordon asked quietly.

"Dr. Emerson told us he was showing signs of severe trauma to his trachea, and this is the diagnosis to prove that. ARDS makes it difficult for the lungs to obtain oxygen. Without the ventilator," Virgil paused as he realized what he was about to say. He didn't know if he could say it.

"Alan wouldn't have a fighting chance," the female voice spoke from the door. Amanda Emerson smirked at the chart in Virgil's hands. "I see we have a doctor in the family." She entered the room and checked Alan's vitals. Turning, she addressed the family. "I was going to inform you of our findings but not until I had firm evidence to support the diagnosis. Someone beat me to it," she winked at Virgil as he put the chart back down. "I want to reassure that Alan is stable. The toxins that entered his lungs have done some damage, but I've seen worse. Alan's case is just as the name says - acute. I won't sugarcoat the problem because ARDS can be serious and fatal. However, we are doing everything possible, and Alan is responding well to oxygen, aided by the ventilator. My hope is by early afternoon we will be able to determine how his body will respond further."

"It's all a waiting game," John groaned from the couch.

Dr. Emerson frowned with sympathy. "I'm afraid so." Picking up the chart, she wrote a few things down and then closed it again. Turning to the redhead beside Alan's bed, she addressed Gordon. "How's the pain in your back, Gordon?"

"It's manageable," the swimmer responded.

"Just take it easy the next few days and make sure you get plenty of rest. Doctor's orders," the woman said. Gordon only nodded; he was content on watching his baby brother.

Eyeing Alan's vitals, the doctor was satisfied with their progress. "I've got some paperwork to finish, and then I'll be gone for a while. Dr. Boyd will be available in my absence, and I assure you that Alan will be in very capable hands with him. Do you have any questions for me before I go?"

Jeff looked to his sons and then back at the doctor. "I don't think so. Thank you again for everything you and your team are doing for my son."

"It's my pleasure. The nurses will be in regularly to check on Alan," she said as she walked to the door. Pausing, she looked at the family. "Get some rest, gentlemen. It's been a long night."

Gordon chuckled as the doctor left the room. "Looks like you scored in the doctor department, Sprout. She's a keeper."

"He's in good hands," Jeff agreed as he gazed at his youngest. That little piece of reassurance only calmed him a little. Turning to his other four sons, he sighed knowing the protests that would arise at his next comment. "Alright boys, you heard what the doctor said. I've made arrangements at the Liberty Hotel. I want all of you to get some rest."

Scott was the first to object. "Dad, I'm not leaving Alan."

"Yes, you are. Allie doesn't need all of us collapsing from exhaustion. He wouldn't want that," Jeff said sternly.

"What about you? You need to rest just as much as we do, Dad," Virgil added.

"I'll be fine right here. What I need is for you to do as I asked. The rest will take care of itself. Alan and I will get along just fine. Won't we Allie?" he frowned, knowing he wouldn't get a response.

Each of them made to protest further but realized the fight was futile. When Jeff made up his mind, it was hard to change it. Tracy stubbornness at its best.

Jeff tried to hide the grin that threatened to appear on his face as defeat appeared across each of his son's faces. He knew they were all physically and mentally exhausted - which made the fight an easy win it seemed. Standing up from his chair, he moved so his sons could say their goodbyes to Alan.

Gordon squeezed Alan's hand gently. "Dad is kicking us out for a while, Sprout. Try not to get into any trouble while I'm gone. I won't be able to bail you out," he smiled. Sobering at the silence that answered, he wheeled himself toward Jeff.

Virgil smirked at Gordon's words. "We'll be back soon, Allie. Regardless of what Dad says, you know we won't stay away long," the middle Tracy chuckled, winking at their father. "Just make sure Dad stays away from the coffee. I'm counting on you to keep him in line." Smoothing his hand through his baby brother's hair, he kissed Alan on the forehead.

John squeezed Alan's limp hand and cupped the teen's face gently. John's soft eyes were gazing at the younger's features. "See you when we get back, kid. We'll be here again before you know it."

Scott nodded at Virgil as his brother walked away from the bed. Taking his vacated spot, the oldest Tracy took his youngest brother's right hand in his and held it to his heart. Running his free hand through Alan's mop, he sighed. "I'm getting kicked out too. As John said, we'll be back before you know it. Sleep tight, buddy," he said and kissed Alan at the top of his head. Turning, he met his father's tender gaze. "I guess it's time to go then."

"I've reserved a suite for us, so there will be plenty of space for each of you," Jeff said. Looking down, he spoke to his fourth born. "I want you to take it easy and rest. How's the back, really?"

Gordon sighed as he leaned back in the chair. "I'm alright, Dad."

"You didn't answer the question, son," Jeff said. "Well?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Gordon resisted rolling his eyes. "It's tolerable. I'll be fine."

Jeff smiled, accepting that was the best answer he was going to receive from his second youngest.

"Don't worry, Dad. We'll make sure he follows doctor's orders," John reassured, coming to stand behind the wheelchair.

"Is that Dr. Emerson's orders or Dr. Virgil?" Gordon grumbled.

"Depends on how good you are," Virgil glared at his brother.

"Get some decent rest. We've all had a rough twenty-four hours," Jeff said as he guided them toward the door.

Scott put an arm around their father. "We will, Dad. I'll make sure of it. Just make sure you get some sleep too."

Jeff grinned, returning the squeeze his firstborn gave him. "Will do, boss."

"Hey, I'll know if you follow orders. Al's a great spy," Scott beamed.

"I guess I'll have to watch my back then. I'll see you in a few hours," Jeff said as Scott exited the room, following his younger siblings.

Walking back into the room, Jeff reoccupied his position next to Alan. Leaning forward in the chair, he grinned as he replayed the last scene in his head. He was very thankful for each of his sons and how they looked out for one another. "They've all grown into amazing men, Lucy. You'd be proud," he murmured. Taking hold of Alan's hand in his, he watched his youngest's chest as air filled his injured lungs. Jeff's thoughts carried him to how close they were to losing Alan. The very idea sent a shiver down his spine.

"You've gotta keep fighting, Alan. Don't give up on us," Jeff spoke.

Yawning, Jeff laid his head on the bed. He placed his son's limp hand near his cheek. Exhaustion hitting full force. For Jeff, it had been twenty-four hours since he last slept. The family patriarch had woken up early to take care of several vital details on new technology for each of the Thunderbirds.

Closing his eyes, he sent a prayer up the heavens once more. Be with our baby, Lucy. He needs your protection and guidance. We need you to guide him back to us.

As he shut his eyes completely, Jeff smiled as he smelled a faint smell of lilac spreading next to him. A calming sensation began to fill his body as slumber took him.

Don't worry, Rocketman. I'm keeping watch.

-TB-

Laying a pile of finished files on the nurse's desk in the ICU, Dr. Emerson let out a long sigh. She closed her eyes for a minute as she took in the day she had had.

"Long day, Mandi?" a soft male voice asked.

The doctor turned toward the voice and smiled. "Aren't they all Adam?"

"Our lives as doctors wouldn't be exciting if they weren't," the older doctor snickered.

"Especially when you're on call for over twenty-four hours straight," Dr. Emerson muttered.

The graying doctor watched as the woman before him played nervously with her long brunette hair - a nervous habit of hers. "What's eating at you?" Dr. Duboy asked.

Dr. Emerson looked at the wound specialist curiously. "What makes you think something is eating at me?"

Dr. Duboy chuckled. "Amanda, by now I would think you'd remember I know everything about you. Including your nervous habits. Do I need to ask if you need a haircut?"

The young woman immediately realized what she had been doing and stopped with a smirk. "Old habits die hard."

Adam smiled at the women whom he thought of like a daughter in some ways. From the day the young doctor had entered Boston Mass General to begin her residency, he had seen great potential in her. That had been four years ago. "So, are you going to answer my question?"

Amanda began to hand the finished files in front of her to one of the nurses. "Just another case. Some of our patients are just too young to be here," she sighed.

"Are you talking about Alan Tracy?" Adam asked.

"Yes. I'm finding it hard not to get too invested in this one. It's nice to see that kind of devotion still exists in families. No matter their name, they're good people. That boy in there is a hero. He doesn't deserve to be fighting like this," Amanda said, shaking her head.

Dr. Duboy put a hand on her shoulder. "Young Alan is lucky, and considering what he's been through already, I don't doubt he'll pull through. That young man is a fighter. I won't say he won't still give us some trouble, but I don't see him giving up on the big fight anytime soon. As you said yourself, Alan's family is loving and caring. That is the best thing that kid can have. Knowing he has support will bring him out of this. You'll see."

Situations like the one with Alan Tracy reminded Amanda just how young she was. Not only in age but in her career. She still struggled with some cases. Never once did she let her emotions cloud her judgment, but the twenty-six-year-old found it hard not to find herself attached in some way or another. Many of her colleagues often told her that her compassion and heart was what made her an excellent doctor. Maybe. Maybe not.

TBC…

Well, I hope you enjoyed this one and its length. Quite long.

So, I'm debating on adding another chapter to my new one-shot Take My Breath Away. It depends on how many still want me to show the others reactions. If you haven't read it yet, I ask that you please do and let me know what you think.

Please review on this one too please :D let me know what you thought of this long chapter. I hope you liked it. You guys brighten my day when I see a review.

More soon! Thanks for the support!