Dang, almost forget the notes and thank-yous. Can't have that. Tikatu, Guest, Creative Girl and Bow Echo, thank you for letting me know what's working, and how I can sharpen things up. =)
44
London, former U.K., in the GDF hospital's luxurious VIP ward-
Sitting up in bed, restless and bored, Jeff pushed his lunch tray aside. Shoved that clear broth, red jelly and pale, tasteless tea as far out of sight as he could. He had a deck of playing cards, wall-to-wall flowers and a king-sized guest suite. His own team of doctors, for God's sake, but couldn't shake the feeling that something major was about to go terribly wrong. Again.
"You're holding out on me," he accused his son, who was sitting on the bedside chair, trying to strike up a conversation. "There's something you're not saying, Gordon. What is it? And where's Scott?"
His sandy-blond, muscular son shifted around in the cushioned bedside recliner, looking unhappy.
"Dad, I… maybe I'm not the best one to talk about this. I don't, um… I don't cushion things very well."
Jeff Tracy leaned back against his carefully fluffed and piled pillows, and shook his head.
"Just tell me the truth, Son. Skip the candy-coating."
Gordon looked down for a moment, took a deep breath, then raised his head and nodded.
"They, um… they're sick, Dad. Scott, John, Virgil and Al. Really sick. Like they had to be frozen, to keep them from dying. Brains says it's some kind of virus, and that it was genetically altered, just to hit us. Just Tracys. Grandma didn't get it, and neither did Kay, or anyone else in the house. Me… I, um… kinda had an argument with Scott. Just got fed up with his sh*t, and left the house for awhile. So, I wasn't there when all this went down… and now I can't go back. Neither can you. Grandma says it's too dangerous."
Jeff was perfectly still, completely expressionless, for a handful of seconds. Then, very quietly, he asked,
"You said that this illness is some kind of deliberate attack?"
Gordon Tracy expelled a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding.
"Yes, Sir," he replied. "That's what Grandma told Brains, and he told me." The swimmer waited, but his father didn't ask the next obvious question: who did this, and why? Did that mean that the Colonel knew more about their situation than he was letting on? Because, in that case…
"Dad, who'd be able to do something like that to us? The Mechanic?"
Jeff shook his head, no. With difficulty, because some subjects had been closed for so long that they were just about rusted shut, he said,
"Not the Mechanic. He's a cyborg. Controls machines and devices, not germs. That's a De la Vega stunt. I've… kept a few things from you boys, Gordon. From your sister, as well. Maybe that was wrong, but we do the best we can as parents, and all I wanted for you, was a chance to be normal. A chance to play, grow up and then do something important, out here in the real world. My father did that for me. Just decided to stop Goddam hiding."
His dad halted a moment to clear his throat and have a pull of that watery tea. Gordon hardly dared say anything, sensing that the colonel was on the brink of telling him something vital.
"Hiding from what, Sir?" he prompted.
Jeff sighed through his nose, and set down the white plastic teacup. Took a moment to position everything, just so. Maybe he'd talk, maybe he wouldn't. There was no forcing Jeff Tracy. He was a grey-haired, brown-eyed mountain.
"Hiding from what we are, Gordon," he admitted, at last. "It's a long story. I heard it from my father, who had it from his. I said something to Scott, awhile back, because he wanted to know why the Hood hates us so much, and there's just no way to explain that, without telling the truth about how this family got started."
Well, Gordon could only stay serious for just so long, even in the face of disaster. Now, he said,
"Mommy and Daddy loved each other very much, and then the fertility gods came, and left a bundle of Tracy joy under every cabbage leaf."
"Tell me why I haven't strangled you, yet?" Jeff snorted.
"Because you don't want to do time in the pun-itentiary, for pun-ishment?" Gordon suggested, starting to grin.
"Would have been worth it," Jeff dead-panned, as Lee strode into the room, brandishing a data pad.
"Good news," he announced, smiling all over his craggy face. "All charges dropped, across th' board. Destruction o' property, kidnap, manslaughter… all of it. They're sendin' Casey back, even. Won't wake 'er up, neither; just ship 'er cryo-tube from inbound t' outbound, so she wakes up right back on Earth."
"Good," Jeff decided. "It'll be nice to have an ally in the top office, again. What about Havok and Fuse? Anything?"
Captain Taylor shook his head, hauling a heavy wooden chair from the other side of the room, to Jeff's bedside.
"'Fraid not," he grunted, thumping down into the seat. "They're gone like yesterday's drawers, and it looks like they had some help doin' it."
"Naturally," Jeff muttered, wincing a little as he tried to shift position. That impaling metal shard had done a truckload of internal damage, but he wasn't much hitting the painkillers. "Somebody sent them. Somebody wanted them back. I'm betting on one of our oldest "friends". Sonuvabitch is still alive, somehow. Bet me."
Lee shook his head.
"No, Sir. I aim ta keep whut I got, Jeffery. Got plans ta make, an' hungry nephews t' support. Cain't afford ta make no dumbass wagers."
Jeff opened his mouth, started to ask, and then changed the subject. Ma's life was her own, and he wasn't going to brave that crazy, bass-ackward turn of events, until he absolutely had to. Instead, he arrowed right back to the first problem.
"What's Brains doing to solve this disease Gordon was talking about?"
Taylor's face changed; shifting from seamed with pleasure, to grim, hard reality.
"Yeah… about that. I been in touch with Doc fairly reg'lar, Jeff, an' it don't look good. That bug don't propagate outside an actual Tracy, so it's right hard ta work on. Mutates like a bitch, too. Ain't all bad news, though. Doc says he's got Plan B lined up. Wants ta use 'is time crystal."
Jeff nodded slowly, turning that, and lot of other things, over and over in his head. Looking up at his best friend and fourth son, the astronaut said,
"I need to get out of here. Now."
…and when the Colonel spoke, he expected action. After all, if the d*mn hospital couldn't hang on to the Hood, or General Steele, what chance did they have of keeping Jeff Tracy locked up?
XXXXXXXXXX
Not far away, in the brightly-lit hospital cafeteria-
Kayo spotted the young captain, sitting alone at a corner booth. Not that she'd been looking for him, exactly... Call it a happy accident. Unlike her brother and dad, she could have gone home to the Island. But for several reasons, Kay had decided to remain there in London.
First, because Gordon and Uncle Lee needed help watching Dad and visiting Pete and the other surviving colonists. Cheering-up tours, y'know? Second, because Kat Cavanaugh was sniffing around, and the only good reporter, was a supervised reporter. Third… well, third was right there, sitting by himself at a corner booth, over coffee and a precisely quartered cheese sandwich.
Forcing her shoulders back and a relaxed smile on her face, Kayo sashayed over and slid into the red vinyl seat across from his.
"Hello, Captain," she said. "Mind if I join you?"
Rigby actually stood up; doing the sort of gentleman thing she'd seen John practice, for those always-disastrous nights out with Penny.
"Of course, Miss Tracy," he replied, blushing a little. "You're very welcome. That is… I haven't done anything. You're welcome to sit here. I mean… Can, um… can I get you anything?"
Kayo smiled. Having eaten at the hospital cafeteria for nearly a week of meals, she didn't need to look at the menu. Anything was better than Island food.
"Sure. Thanks, Captain. I'd like a bacon sandwich, please. Extra mayo. Iced tea to drink."
They smiled at each other over the order, then broke off in sudden confusion. Rigby, because of her; Colonel Tracy's beautiful, amazing, unattainable daughter. Kayo, because she didn't understand. When her brothers saw someone they wanted, they just moved right in and took charge. Even John, once O'Bannon had made known her interest. Even Alan. Question was, why not Rigby? Was it her? Had she done something wrong?
The young Marine cleared his throat, then asked,
"How is the Colonel, Miss Tracy?" like he hadn't just left him, an hour ago.
"Good," Kayo responded; nodding and smiling inanely. God! She must look like an idiot! Come on, something, anything else to say! "He wants real food, though. You'd probably get promoted to admiral, if you brought him a cheeseburger."
Rigby frowned a little, looking like a square-jawed Captain America. Most of his bruises had faded already, leaving him just rugged enough.
"That's a naval rank, Miss Tracy. Best I can hope for in the Marine Corps is Commandant. But… that, uh… that might take some French fries and a bottle of pop, too."
Joking. He was trying to joke with her. Kayo smiled again, only just stopping herself from grinning like a boy. Almost unconsciously, she reached up and pulled her long, dark hair out of its bunch, letting it flow like smoke over her shoulders and budding chest. She wasn't in uniform, after all. Just a tank top and shorts. Hair down was fine.
Rigby coughed, and grabbed for his drink, almost knocking it over. As he was gulping the soda, Kayo took a fresh stab at conversation. Stuff like this was so much easier while beating up villains, together.
"So… have you been in the marines a long time?" she asked, cleverly.
Back on safe ground again, the captain snorted.
"Feels like forever," he admitted. "I was in JROTC in high school (that's Junior Reserve Officer Training Corps), then regular ROTC…" (He pronounced it "rot-sea".) "…in college, and got my commission straight after that. I, uh… graduated with a law degree. Early. Summa cum laude."
"Wow. And you're only… what? Twenty-four years old?"
Rigby made a face. Somehow, their hands were very near each other, on the table top. Why did two inches feel like ten-thousand miles? It hadn't been hard at all to touch hands, when passing ammo and weapons.
As her order arrived, Rigby thanked the chirping chrome waiter-bot, and then said,
"I'm twenty-seven, Miss Tracy. Well… I will be, in August."
"Twenty-seven?! You're almost as old as Scott, and he's fossilized."
Almost literally. Because of that virus, because of the cryo-pod, her brother wasn't likely to get any older, ever again. All at once, Kayo's green eyes filled with tears. Tired, worried and troubled, she started to cry.
"I didn't mean to say that… I miss them, Captain Rigby. I miss my brothers so much…!"
He leaned over to pat her slim, bare shoulder, offering a handful of scrunched paper napkins and some really lame comfort.
"Come on, now, Miss Tracy. It's not over, yet. Medical advances happen every day. You've got to keep fighting. From what I've heard of your brothers, they would."
His blue eyes were very earnest and kind. Normal. Not gem-toned, like Scott's or John's. Regular… and yet, totally fascinating.
Biting her lip against all of those conflicting emotions, Kayo sniffled and said,
"You can call me Kayo, or TinTin. Tanusha's meant to be formal. I think it means "trouble-maker"... and only John calls me "Little Bit". I don't bite, I'm down to one really open-minded brother, and my dad has been known not to kill guys who, um…"
"Show an interest?" Rigby finished for her, smiling again. "Tell you what. I'll call you by one of your copious nicknames, if you call me Wayne."
It was a start.
XXXXXXXXXXXX
Tracy Island, later-
Shown those images, Brains wasn't hard to convince. But a trip seven hundred years into the future had its risks. There were things he'd have to accomplish, first. Vital business to conduct.
Searching through the lab complex that night, he at last found Moffy at the stark white kitchen alcove, making a cup of coffee.
"P- Professor Moffat," he began, entering to stand close beside her. "I w- would like to ask…"
Moffy smiled, adding sugar and cream to the steaming dark brew in her mug.
"Of course, I'm going with you, Hiram," she told him. "I have a bag already packed, with everything we could possibly need to face a potential dystopia. I even threw in Alan's zombie survival guide, in the unlikely event that animate corpses rise up to confront and menace our party."
Hackenbacker blinked. It hadn't even occurred to him to risk Moffy on a voyage to the unknown, like that. Sheffield and Pope had received clearance to make a return trip with the crystal, and surely, they were all that he needed by way of assistance. But Moffy…? With him…? For an entire week…? All at once, Brains found himself smiling.
"Th- That is good, Moffy. Alan would, ah… would b- be overjoyed. But, first…" He hesitated, some of his uncertainty touching his colleague, and erasing her smile.
"Yes? What is it, Hiram?"
Brains squared his shoulders.
"I w- want to know about "before". W- Were we together? I ask, because I b- believe that I love you, Professor M- Moffat, and I hope that you have experienced r- reciprocal emotions. The assumption s- seems reasonable, as you have certainly helped me, when no one else w- would. Because of you, I am n- not running a criminal artifice "chop-shop". I belong with International Rescue. I th- thank you for giving me that, and I wish to know... What w- were we before, b- besides university colleagues, that you sh- should take such a risk, for me?"
He hadn't meant to upset her. Only, Moffy's face fell; as though he'd punched her, rather than making her happy. Exchanging her coffee for a white paper napkin, Vanessa Moffat began tearing the innocent object to shreds.
"I… Oh, Hiram…! I was afraid that you'd ask me that," she whispered. "Do we have to discuss this? Can't we just stay as we are? You be Hiram, and…"
"My name is Yudisthir," he told her, with a flash of something like temper.
"I know," she whispered. Then, shrugging a little, "You were Dr. Singh, the most brilliant mind in the department… in any department… and you knew it. No. We weren't together. Not in that way. You were seeing a very beautiful woman, Hiram, and you had a truly enviable future in physics and engineering. Then, someone tipped the authorities off to your "archaic superstitious delusions". Just jealous, probably, but they knew exactly where and how to strike at you. It all came crashing down in less than a week. I followed what was happening, and rescued some of your lab manuals. Tried to find you, afterward."
"Why?" he asked, very gently.
Moffy shrugged again, looking down at the tiled floor, as she tore that napkin to ribboned confetti.
"Because, even back then, I loved you, Hiram. Everyone else admired your brilliance, or hated your success. I just… wished."
Placing his hands on her shoulders, Brains shook his head, saying,
"N- No, Moffy. You did not just 'w- wish'. You acted to find and, ah… and h- help me, when no one else c- cared enough to bother. D- Dr. Singh was not much missed, it seems."
"I missed him," Vanessa objected softly. "But I like Hiram better."
Brains nodded. Under his hands, her shoulders felt rounded and warm. It was a lot to think about. A great deal to take in. Really? He'd been an arrogant, domineering bastard? Oddly, that thought made him feel good.
"Y- You are a truly exceptional woman, Moffy. I am very glad that I had, ah… had s- sense enough to see that, in this second chance, and to f- fall in love with what matters. I s- say again that I love you, and th- that I hope you w- will forgive whatever rudeness I may have d- displayed, back then. Th- That has all passed away. I s- seek a life for us, now. Together. Does the, ah… the c- concept stir interest, Professor?"
By way of answer, his beloved, beautiful colleague threw her arms around him and squeezed tight, nearly cracking a rib.
"It does, Dr. Hackenbacker. It very much does."