#Colonel Casey

[pareidoliaonthemove]

Tale of an Iron-Clad Stomach

Sally Tracy swept into the lobby of the exclusive rehabilitation and physical therapy facility Jeff was relegated to as he reacclimatised to Earth. She was at the head of a troop of four of her grandsons, plus Brains and Kayo, and had a mysterious box tucked under her right arm.

“Good morning, Janice,” she greeted the young woman – dear God, was she old enough to be out of high school? – on reception duty.

“Good morning,” Janice chirped back. “He’s in his room with Alan, they’re expecting for you.”

Sally smiled. “And have they been behaving themselves?”

“Well,” Janice looked a little worried. “Alan has been an angel, but his father…” She grimaced. “Mr Tracy has decided that he is less than impressed with his prescribed diet. He’s been saying…” Janice flushed.

Sally grinned. “I’m guessing he’s been casting aspirations on my cooking abilities.”

The flush turned crimson as the mob behind Sally sniggered and nudged each other. “Yes, Dr Tracy. He’s been saying that as he grew up eating your cooking he had a cast iron stomach and could cope with anything.”

Sally snorted as the sniggers turned into full blown laughter. “So I had heard. And have heard before, usually to Jeff’s detriment.” She patted the box. “I think I have something here that will quiet him down good and proper.”

Janice smiled. “Just so long as the doctor’s don’t find out, Dr Tracy.”

Sally grinned and thanked Janice, before leading the group into the facility.

Hurried mutters behind her resulted in Virgil stumbling – obviously pushed – to her side. “Ah, Grandma…?”

Bless the boy, he was as sweet and as kind as the day was long, and all he ever wanted to do was help, so being sent – as the designated Medic – to challenge her – the Doctor was not something he was going to be comfortable – or subtle – about.

She smiled reassuringly. “It’s okay, Virgil. You’ll all find out what’s in the box soon enough. Yes, it is capable of hurting your father, but it has done so in the past – he’s unlikely to repeat that mistake. All I’m going to do now is remind him of that and what his limits are.”

“Ahh…” Virgil was saved from having to find a response to that by their arrival at Jeff’s room.

The door was ajar, obviously waiting for their arrival, so she tapped perfunctorily on the doorframe and swept in, the others piling into the room behind her. Jeff was resting on the bed, laying the pillows of the elevated section, a bolster cushion tucked under his knees. Alan was perched next to him, his torso pressed up against his father, with his knees drawn up higher. They were both focused on the pair of holograms projected into the room: Lee Taylor and Val Casey.

Jeff jolted at the intrusion. “Ma! Boys! Is that the time?” He glanced at the holograms guiltily.

There was the usual chaos as everyone went through the greetings, complicated by the extra two people ‘in’ the room. As the chaos settled down, and everyone settled into their selected seats: Grandma in a chair by Jeff’s other side to Alan, John beside her; Gordon, Kayo and Brains arrayed on the other side of the bed, while Scott and Virgil perched in chairs at the foot of the bed, Scott firmly planted between his father and the door.

“So, Jeff,” Sally began, “how has your week been?” She smiled innocently. “Is the food good?”

Val flushed and began making her excuses, and not-so-subtle hints to Lee that he should be doing the same, but Sally cut her off. “No need for you to leave. You’ve gone to a lot of effort to call, both of you, and you’re practically family.”

Her tone allowed no argument, and both stayed on the line. Sally turned back to Jeff. “How is the food, dear?”

Jeff squirmed. “Who ratted me out?” he asked, petulantly.

“Jeff, dear, you were missing for eight years. You really think we’re not burning out the switchboard, calling to make sure you’re really here and it wasn’t a dream?”

Jeff sighed. “It’s not like it was deliberate, Mom.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “It was eight years. Eight years eating nutrient mush processed from the rocks of the Oort Cloud. It kept me alive, but it didn’t really do much for me taste wise. I just really, really want a steak dinner. Is that so bad?”

Sally sighed, and patted his hand. “I know. It’s not bad to want it, Jeff; but as you said, you spent eight years eating nutrient mush. You’re stomach isn’t up for that steak dinner yet. If you try … well, it won’t be pleasant – for you or anyone else.”

Jeff sighed. “I guess I know that, but … I guess I want reassurance that I’m home, too. And the bland food I’m getting,” he slumped, and mumbled to his clasped hands, “it doesn’t help. It feels … it’s more like there than here.”

Whimpers rose from numerous throats around the room, and from all sides hands made aborted moves to touch Jeff. Sally reached out and grasped his hands in hers. “I know, baby. And I know that patience isn’t your greatest strength, but you’re going to have to be patient. It’s like when you were learning to fly, or undergoing astronaut training. One step at a time.”

There was a sigh from the bed. “It’s a matter of time, Dad. You’ll get there,” Virgil offered.

“And when you do, we’ll have the biggest, most elaborate, steak dinner to celebrate – no holds barred, the whole cow, all the trimmings,” Scott offered.

“So start thinking what you want, we’ll need every minute of the time sort out the menu,” John added. Then, casting a grin at Scott, “because you can bet Scott’ll make sure we have test runs to ensure everything is just right for you. And he’ll throw himself under the bus as the quality assurance.”

“And in the meantime,” Sally added, “I brought a little something to cheer you up. It might … spice up your meals.”

Jeff had brightened up as they spoke, and had a full-blown grin on his face as he accepted the box from Sally, his eyes bright with the anticipation of the gift – and the others all leaned closer, as eager as Jeff to see what was in the box.

Jeff pulled the lid off, and stared at the object within. His expression somewhere between amusement, horror, and heartbreak. Alan leaned forward, a frown on his face. “Is that … hot sauce?” he asked, then gagged. “What is wrong with the people that made it? Why would they call it that?!”

Gordon bounced a little in his seat. “Call it what?”

Lee made a sound between a wheeze and a laugh. “It’s not …” he began, “she didn’t really bring…”

Jeff nodded. “Yep.” He lifted a bottle out of the box, and held it up. “Hot sauce. The hot sauce.”

The holograms of Val and Lee began laughing hysterically, and the others looked between the bottle, Jeff, Sally, and each other.

It took a long time for the laughter to settle down enough for Scott – who had taken the bottle from his father’s hand, and showed it to his brothers, they all recoiled on reading the name on the label, but none of them were enlightened to the reason for the laughter – to tentatively ask, “What’s the story with-” he glanced at the label again and baulked at the name “-this?”

Sally took the bottle off Scott, and passed it back to Jeff, who carefully, reverently, put it back in the box, nestled among the packing material. “Your mother gave me this, my first birthday after we were married,” he said, his eyes not quite focused on the room.

There was a collective holding of breath by his sons – Jeff rarely spoke of Lucille, any information they could coax out of him was rare and precious. Nobody wanted to risk disturbing him as he spoke.

“I’d been bragging about how growing up eating Mom’s cooking had given me a cast iron stomach – never got food poisoning, could handle hot chilli, no problem. So she brought me this…” He reached forward, and Scott surrendered the bottle to him. “It’s made from Carolina Reaper Chillies, they’re the hottest ones allowed for human consumption.” He smiled. “She kept mentioning that fact, but I kinda … missed that point.”

There was a wry chuckle. “She put on a birthday dinner, with some of our friends and a few of the other astronauts. Everyone was really interested in the hot sauce, and there was encouragement to try it.”

There were twin snorts from the holograms. “It didn’t take a whole lot of encouragement,as I recall,” Lee drawled.

“You weren’t exactly trying to dissuade him, as I recall,” Casey laughed. “And as I recalled you poured some on your dinner readily enough.”

Jeff grinned at his best friend. “Long story short, there was a limit to how much spice I could handle.”

Sally laughed, short and not entirely amused. “Poor Lucy called me absolutely distraught. None of you went light on the sauce. Apparently you couldn’t speak, your eyeballs were about popping out of your skull, you were sweating at a greater rate than Niagara Falls, your face was bright red, and you were having trouble breathing.” A glance at the hologram of Lee, “the lot of you.”

Alan’s jaw was hanging loose. “What happened? What’s the first aid for first degree chilli burns?”

Sally grinned. “Dairy. Full fat dairy products. Preferably milk, although in this case, it didn’t cut it. Luckily your mother had lots of heavy cream for some cooking she was planning. That was enough to kill the burn.”

Lee grimaced. “Yeah, but we’d been hitting the beers. Mighta killed the burn, but most of us were queasy as all hell for days afterwards.”

Sally snorted. “No sympathy. You all should have known better. The one I feel sorry for was Lucy, poor girl honestly thought she’d poisoned half the astronaut corps in one go.”

“So what happened?” Gordon asked, spellbound.

Jeff laughed. “We were all humbled. It burned going in, and it burned going out. We were all pretty gun-shy of spicy food for a while, I can tell you.” Jeff smiled, a little sadly. “Lucy was miserable, thought she’d near killed me – and at the time, it sure felt that way. She’d honestly never thought that I’d actually try to eat the stuff. Thought she was buying me a decoration for the barbecue area I was setting up in the patio. Truth be told, I should have known better, but … well, we’d been on the booze, and there was more than a bit of testosterone in that room.”

Jeff stared at the bottle nestled in it’s box. He rubbed at his eyes, and nobody commented on the dampness on his eyelashes.

The room was silent for a long moment.

Finally Jeff heaved a sigh. “I have my limits. I’m not ready for that steak dinner. But I will be. Right?”

“Right,” Sally squeezed his arm, gently. “And we’ll be here to help you. All of us.”

Notes:

Soooo my Christmas present to brother-in-law the younger may have near poisoned him…

In my defence, I made it very clear the ‘hot sauce’ was made from Carolina Reaper Chillies, that they are the hottest chilli’s currently available for human consumption, and honestly: would you put something in your mouth that was labelled ‘Rectum Wrecker’? I thought I was getting him a talking point decoration for his new barbecue area; not actual food!

After a couple of days when it was apparent that he was okay, I got to thinking it was a very Tracy thing to do...

The standard disclaimers, I do not own Thunderbirds, either the TOS or CGI Series. (Although I do own copies on DVD.)

I do not do this for money, but for my own (in)sanity and entertainment.

[edutainer2022]

In commemoration of the recent bomber drone hit on Chornobyl  reactor sarcophagus, I absolutely had to do a thing. The GDF ask Scott to step out of his comfort zone and are shady, undeclared wars loom treacherous and deadly amid Global Peace, Jeff is dealing with memories worse than I expected. The Radioactive Trio are my bosom darlings, so maybe there will be a Part 2.

Always hugs and thanks to @janetm74 for talking all the wayward ideas through with me.

DÉJÀ VU

His father's face was somber and taut in the bluish hues of the wrist com - a rare occurrence after his return to them. That alone made Scott speed up the jog back to the villa.

It wasn't unusual for Dad to be up early lately, to see Gordon off to his first swim of the day and to catch Scott back from the morning run. They'd share a coffee (decaf for Dad), a chat about orders of business for the day, maintenance or training plans, and a centering, tentative sense of normalcy that had just ever entered their routine on the island before Zero-X ripped Dad away from them for years. Things weren't the same - Scott was the one with more information now and a decisive vote on the agenda of their family, but it was a start. For the first time in almost a decade Scott felt like the day ahead wasn't about to swallow him whole, like he could share at least some of the burden without apprehension or guilt. Almost without, that is.

The pit of unease and worry was growing in his stomach now. Dad would never have called him through the run without good reason. At first Scott panicked it was Dad's health, still very far from pre Oort Cloud bottomline, but the monitor and Eos would have alerted him sooner. Dad's face was inscrutable, his words clipped and dry. He needed Scott in the study ASAP, not the lounge, for some reason, so Scott accelerated up the rocky path back to the villa. Shower was obviously not an option, although he was sweating buckets. Years of growing up in Jeff Tracy's household, however, made him pause a second in front of the door, wipe the sweat away with the hem of his old Yale t-shirt and attempt to comb fingers through the hair, damp and curling in spikes every which way. Not that it helped much.

The study, which first Jeff, and then Scott favored for important conference calls and other business matters that couldn't withstand the bustle and hustle of the lounge and other communal areas, was now dominated by a hologram of Colonel Casey. Dad's face was positively grim as Jeff stood up to greet him. The maw of anxiety was by then snapping with teeth of steel in his gut.

Dad clasped a hand over his shoulder, a brief but welcome comfort, as he steered Scott to take his place at the desk. Scott nodded in a brief greeting as his father repositioned himself with an effort in the armchair by the wall, suddenly looking older than he usually did in the mornings. It didn't help that Aunt Val's face was serious, edges of her face hard and sharp.

"Colonel Casey."

"Scott! I need to request your help."

"Sure, what's the situation?"

He glanced across the room at Dad in mild bewilderment, as typically the GDF would not hesitate to forward initial data and rescue specs to John up in Five. The need to know was beginning to unnerve him.

"There's been a localized breach in the dome of the outer protective sarcophagus over the fourth reactor of the Chornobyl nuclear power plant."

That was... not good, by any yardstick. The abandoned and sealed reactor had been a radioactive hotzone for almost eighty years by then.

Colonel Casey droned on, as if reading off a script.

"The repairs require high altitude certified responders with experience in contaminated areas."

Yep, that sounded like a job description for him, alright. Fly in One, seal the dome up top, submit radiation readings from the patch for inspection, fly back. If he left now, he'd be home on the island in time for breakfast. Worst case scenario, he'd have to wait around for Virgil in Two to help with putting out the fire. The hardest part would be to wake Virg up this early. He glanced up with a ready smile, but Colonel Casey wasn't meeting his eyes. His father was sitting ramrod straight and still, hands gripping the cane.

"There's something else, Scott."

There always was! He gave the Colonel room to continue with an expectant silence.

"I know you made your stance very clear on NOT deploying International Rescue as law enforcement and I respect that."

For some reason it felt like Casey was addressing his father more so than himself.

"But under the circumstances, I have to request that you assisted the GDF investigation on site".

The pit in his stomach grew wider.

"Under the the circumstances?"

Colonel Casey paused, as if weighing her options one last time. Jeff's death grip on the cane turned his knuckles white and skeletal.

"We have reasons to believe the breach didn't occur by natural causes... or a local sabotage."

He was about five when the Big War erupted the first time. He'd been to a warzone since then - memories he'd rather not touch willingly. He knew the dill. If it wasn't wear and tear, or a disgruntled extremist with a dynamite pack... it was...

"We suspect the dome was damaged due to a collision with a high velocity unguided aircraft."

A drone. To breach the layers of concrete, designed to contain radiation for centuries to come, the drone had to carry a hefty payload. To direct a bomber drone at the one object under protection of the Global Peace Treaty for the exact purpose of avoiding a continent-wide nuclear catastrophe meant one thing. A war.

Scott squeezed his eyes shut against a rapid onset of a headache and a creeping panic. He caught a glimpse of Dad doing the same in his chair. Five rhythmic breaths later - one for each brother and Dad - he ventured to face Colonel Casey again.

"How can I assist the GDF investigation, Colonel?"

Surprisingly, Aunt Val's face softened in a shadow of a smile.

"I need you to oversee our investigators and be a liaison between the GDF team and the local authorities and rescue services."

"Liaison?"

"Translator, Scott. You speak astronaut Russian and..."

Colonel Casey paused, but it was his godmother Val, who went a shade paler. Scott himself stifled a chill, although the study was perfectly climate controlled. He also spoke Bereznikian. He was semi-fluent, through no will of his own, in the crude amalgamation of Ukrainian, Polish and Hungarian. That Place was still reaching back to haunt and taunt him. To reassert its grip.

In the chair across the room his father hunched in on himself.

"I don't have to tell you any findings of the investigation are strictly classified. We need to keep it all under wraps, for now."

He could guess as much. Same as he was having a very good hunch who the GDF expert investigators in the radioactive exclusion zone would be. Maybe Aunt Val expected him to do a bit more than just "liaise with local authorities". "Keep an eye on young Cameron and make sure Marion doesn't do anything hasty and reckless, that could cause another Global Conflict", more like. Easier said than done. But he had never backed off a challenge in his life.

"Copy that, Colonel! Forward me the rendezvous coordinates and I'll be there in One. It'll be fastest."

Aunt Val was obviously pleased he was quick to read between the lines.

"You'll meet Leutenant Van Arkle and Corporal Ortíz at an airbase in Katowice, then fly from there to Chornobyl."

Scott frowned for a second. His father's face a mirror of his own concern. The GDF were willing to draw attention to the impact site with One of the IR fame swoooshing in over the megapolis to the Exlusion Zone, but not advertise the involvement of their own officers. That could never point to anything comforting. Two tagging along for the ride was out of the question now too. So Scott would have to prepare for any eventuality without backup.

He was up on his feet in time for Colonel Casey's hologram to blink out. Dad was getting up too, a lot slower. Jeff's eyes were ill, haunted, hoarse voice thick.

"You don't have to do it, son. You don't have to go there."

As far as Scott was concerned, he didn't really have a choice. Someone attacked a still hot, faulty nuclear reactor. Scott wanted to reassure Dad it wasn't That Place. Only it was a demilitirized zone in Eastern Europe, several miles away from the border with a rogue dictatorship, in the middle of a forest still rigged with field mines and littered with undetonated missiles, with multiple unknown hostile factors and agents on the ground. The parallels were hard to ignore, so his own fingers were going numb with long repressed dread.

Scott stepped around the desk and gave his father a swift, fierce hug. For a brief moment it felt like Dad wouldn't let him go. But arms, suddenly frail, fell back and Scott hurried out. He still needed a shower before heading to his macabre destination. "No thieves or dangerous radiation" was, apparently, not in the cards. Again.

[jacksonstarkiller]

Colonel Casey: I don’t think we need International Rescue for this one.

Scott: Fine, suit yourself then!

Scott: *turns around and walks away*

John, over the comms: Erm, where are you going?

Scott: Back to Thunderbird 1.

John: But Thunderbird 1 is the-

Scott: The other way, I know!

Scott: I was just in dire need of a dramatic exit.

Scott: I’ll circle back once I’m out of sight, but let me have this!

[forest-falcon]

The Butterfly Effect

Chptr 17

It's been a while since I've last updated this fic, but here it is - the next chapter of The Butterfly Effect. Hope you enjoy! And thanks for everyone's lovely support with this story. Hopefully it won't be as long before the next chapter is out 🤞

No major tags for this one - minor angst, whump and a bit of family fluff thrown in!

💙💚🧡💛💜🐦‍🔥🚒

John was torn. Torn between all those who needed him. Torn between duty and love. But, in the end, the choice was easy. His place was on the GDF carrier headed for Auckland, at the side of his brothers and Grandmother.

The post-mission clean up (if it could indeed be called that), the press, and the rest of the world waiting on them, would simply have to manage. God knows, he was having to.

Hauling himself aboard, he gently touched the painted name of the carrier, before finding a vacant seat next to Tam.

"Welcome aboard!" Colonel Casey greets, over the sounds of the engines, and flicking of buttons.

Val had been good to them. As soon as she had a functional comms line up and working, she'd taken the initiative to pull strings with a number of contacts. Phoenix would be allowed the time off from their regular civilian jobs back home to help with getting International Rescue back onto their feet, if they so wished.

It was a unanimous 'yes.'

"We're here for as long as you need us," her words held a warmth befitting her honorary Aunt status. She'd squeezed his shoulder, before brushing a stray lock of hair out of Scott's face.

"Thanks," John sighed, with a gratitude that somehow furthered his exhaustion.

Although it was in the world's best interest to see International Rescue functioning again, as swiftly as possible; it was good to know that people had their backs when the chips were down.

Val made her way to the front of the carrier and a flutter of garish Hawaiian fabric filled the seat.

Gordon peered over the eldest brother.

"Hey there, Bird Bath! How's the head?"

A groan, but Scott's eyes remained shut.

"Gords..."

"The one and only!"

Scott could hear his brother's Cheshire Cat grin.

"As your brother, I feel it's my duty to tell you that that landing was...*raspberry* stinko, awful...I've seen Rigby land better!" He gave a thumbs down.

"Ah, save it! Yours is the one Thunderbird that doesn't fly," Rigby deadpanned, from the cockpit.

"Make him stop," Scott's hoarse whisper is mainly levied at John, but entreats any and all who can hear him.

"Gladly. Just tell me how," John smirks, finally letting his shoulders drop a fraction.

"Ah, don't be like that... Hey, I know what'll cheer you both up!"

"No."

"A good ole sea shanty!" Gordon whips out his pocket device.

"Veto."

"Aww, really John? Not even, 'Leave her Johnny, leave her?'"

"Especially not that."

"Fine. I've got you..."

A moment passes as Gordon scrolls, then taps; and the hangar bursts into song.

"Eurovision!"

Virgil reopens his eyes to the sounds of...wait, is that Conchita Wurst?

Oh God, Gordon - Rise Like a Phoenix...really? Phoenix. This was definitely Gordon's taste in music - and humour.

Virgil doesn't remember being hover-stretchered to the hangar, but it's good to hear the voices of his family once more.

"Stop your fussing. I'm fine,"

"I'll be the judge of that Mrs. Tracy."

"Matthew Eric Jones!" Grandma starts.

"She middle named me! Did y'hear that Mac? She middle named me!"

"Oooh! Now you're in for it!" Gordon's chimes in, clearly enjoying his inflight entertainment.

"I was a doctor-"

"-And now you're my patient. So, unless you're going to sign an AMA form, you'll sit back nicely, and let me do my job."

"Oooh, I like him." Grandma's voice concedes. "Fine. But if they keep me in, you're bringing the treats! And none of this basket of grapes rubbish. I'm talking chocolate and brandy - neat."

"It's a hospital, Grandma." John's voice reasons.

"And?"

"And you should know - better than most, that they're not gonna let us bring that in for you."

Grandma goes to fold her arms, then winces, with a concealed hiss.

"John. Kid. I'm old! Just stick it in a sippy cup and call it apple juice - they'll never know the difference!"

"Stop tryna...get John...into trouble."

It's a wonderful sound, hearing the deep rumble of baritone. Sally can feel a secondary tightness - one she could not attribute to her injury, leave her broken ribcage.

"Eh. Twas worth a shot." She offers up a warm smile, knowing he cannot see it - both her eldest grandsons sporting large foam trauma blocks; but she hopes he can hear the sentiment within her voice.

"Nice to have you back in the land of the living, kid!"

[renegadesstuff]

They both love him so much 🥺❤️

[darkestwolfx]

It's a Long Story about the Topiary

I have nothing to say about this that hasn't already been said. @tsarinatorment as I promised you this series was always going to have more written, and as you requested it, I got straight on with it!

I'll add fanfiction.net link once it generates! Notes: I don’t know how long awaited this may be for everyone who reads it, but I know for some it will be very important to them! So I hope you enjoy whether you are new or old to this little universe (that will not be staying little at all)!

This was something I fully intended to write before going away, so I’m pleased to have the chance to finish it and bring it to you all now. It seemed like the appropriate next add-on, but there are a few others also that I want to add also.

Might be best read after ‘A Seed Once Sown’ and ‘Afternoon Tea’ but it’s not a necessity as this fic will contain everything you’d need to make this a stand-alone read also.

And if anyone had noticed, yes, the title is a play on the song “long way to Tipperary”.

Also ages don’t particularly matter, but I’ve worked out based on what rough idea TAG did give us that when the boys rescued Jeff they were around the following give or take: Scott - 28, John - 25, Virgil – 23, Gordon – 20, Alan – 17 In case this is something people like to have in mind when reading.

Words:  6226

Summary: After Jeff returned home, there were a few things that needed explaining. Like the intriguing garden furniture…Chronologically, this is looking to be part 6 of International Gardening Services, but for now it's only the 3rd part written.

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There were many things to get used to again by being back on Earth.

Gravity was a noticeable first and combined with sunlight – a noticeable second – they had quickly become his bane for several days. Jeff had never had the same struggle with returning to gravity that John did as a young man, but now he felt a little of his second son’s difficulty. No– a lot, he understood it a lot.

He knew the boys had worried, but after a week or so, he’d managed to prove to them that he was right as rain (if not a little unsteady if he rose too fast, but that resolved itself again in another week).

The third – almost sadly – was his mother’s cooking. After surviving on rations, the thought of a meal was heavenly, until it was “meatloaf surprise” served up before him. This was a new take on the dish, something his mother had obviously developed in his absence, but it was no improvement to her known poor cooking - nor the standard “meatloaf” which had come before it - and Jeff had to admit he (momentarily) wondered if he would be better off on rations again.

The fourth, was the realisation that his boys… weren’t really boys anymore, not even the youngest. In his absence, they’d grown up by themselves, taught each other what they needed to, and – whilst he could look upon them now with as much love and pride as he ever had – the realisation that they didn’t need him anymore was (more than) a little soul-breaking. He couldn’t say that to them either, not after everything those developments had allowed them to achieve, which included rescuing me.

No, it would be an insult to say he wished for the sons he left behind, but… he did miss– no, regret what he’d lost. He supposed the boys likely felt the same way, to have lost him for eight years, only to gain him back now when… well, when they didn’t really need him anymore.

Logically, he knew that wasn’t really true. Although he may have missed the formative years to still play the role of father, he would always be their father, and they would desire he be around as much as he wanted them to outlast him. That was the truth, but emotionally, it hit hard still.

That’s why he’d tried so hard, desperately fought to think of anyway to get home, and yet, no matter how much he tried, he still wondered whether it would be too late – for him or the boys, or the years they’d have lost.

It could’ve been worse: it could’ve been better, of course, also.

You could’ve never gone…

No, Jeff knew – as much as he knew his family did – that he could never have not taken that mission to stop The Hood, no matter what it cost. But if things could be different, just one time…

That was no longer worth torturing themselves with.

The fifth – and well, everything else that came after – was a mix of the more little things. Letting former friends know that he was alive and a bit less of the “former” could come back into play.

Making time to see all such people was a head-rush and not something he’d yet got round to even thinking about arranging. Except for Lee was going to return to the island. Jeff had been intrigued to hear the tales of the adventures his sons had with his old friend in his absence and Alan had eagerly agreed that he could make the trip to pick the Captain up as soon as the weather conditions on Mars cleared up again.

There was redoing his wardrobe, because for all he’d tried to keep his physique, it hadn’t been an easy mission and some of his shape had dwindled away, if not his strength.

There was learning all about the “new” things that had come into play over the last eight years, like home-made AI’s and Hypercars, and gecko gloves and deadly space lasers. Not to mention weather drones and giant allegators!

The drama wasn’t just limited to the field either, as apparently there was quite the stack of films he’d missed the release of that the family had watched on their movie nights (sometimes afternoons – “depending on the type of week we were having”, he’d been informed by Gordon) that they now needed to rewatch with him. The first of such had been two weeks into his return when the holo-screen just about looked straight, and it had been enjoyable to spend such effortless time with his family again, even if he didn’t understand why Virgil and Scott no longer shared the popcorn, each having to have a bowl of their own instead, nor why John had to sit tediously (it seemed) in the middle of them both whilst Gordon seemed to snigger even when the movie didn’t prompt it.

No, he didn’t understand that, but then, it was another thing he knew he must’ve missed.

------

It was in his third week of being back – balance and vision somewhat back in coordination – that he ventured outside. The poolside smelt of chlorine and chemicals, and yet it was welcoming in its own odd way. The deck chairs were still covered the same and clearly hadn’t taken anymore burning’s from Scott’s launches of Thunderbird One. Jeff supposed he was thinking quite some way back to when the eldest was first learning to pilot the craft: and of course there would no longer be such issues. There barely had been when he left!

It seemed easier to remember the past, because he’d not made many memories over the last 8 years, only the previous twenty lived on repeat for him: from the day Scott was born to the moment he left them to go on the Zero X mission.

Only those years had existed for him.

Sitting beneath the sun, feeling the warmth on his face was glorious and something else he soon realised he’d missed. Moving their lives to the island had been necessary for so many reasons – for International Rescue to be possible, for the secrecy, and for them to start again. And the sun and the sea had seemed a good thing to encourage some of that healing.

He felt it now keenly.

It was only after a while sunbathing that he opened his eyes, blinked twice and finally took in the growth of trees opposite the pool. The island was full of trees, yes, an entire jungle worth of assorted sprouts to be more specific, so these shouldn’t be anything worth noting, but there was something… they hadn’t been there when he… left.

They seemed now to border and block in the little garden area he’d cut aside for his mother when she’d insisted if they were moving to a tropical island that she still wanted a normal garden. So he and Kyrano had put some paving stones down from the stairway he’d made around the back of the buildings, and maintained a lawn amongst all the fast growing greenery. Kyrano had planted a couple shrubs in the centre and some plants around the edges, but that was the best Jeff knew he could manage to maintain. It wasn’t really a garden as such, but it had worked to keep his mum happy.

He’d wondered, maybe once or twice, how the boys would maintain it, considering they seemed to inherit his skill in gardening from what he’d remembered and so the last thing he’d expected to see were trees.

Curiosity piqued, he rose and strode around the pool’s edge to take a closer look.

The stone pathway still seemed to run towards the stairs and through to a gap in the trees near the pool, but once you stepped through, the enclosed space originally set aside seemed to double in size. The middle of the path was now replaced with a pond, but the slabs of stone curved around the circular feature and broke off to each side, making four straight paths away from the pond. There were a series of chairs on one part of the lawn and a rockery to the far side that seemed to be full of an army of– were those geraniums?

He hadn’t been aware when he left of any of his family having strong feelings about the pink flower, but hey, he’d missed eight years’ worth of development and choices.

It was better maintained than he’d expected from the boys and some of the plant varieties Jeff couldn’t even name! It was fascinating, and intriguing. From everything he knew and all that he’d recently seen, he didn’t doubt the boys had the artistry and heavy lifting to make such a thing, he was just… bemused, he supposed. Last he remembered, Scott couldn’t even keep a cactus alive, so this much had to be a challenge.

Maybe he was giving the credit to the boys when it had all been his mother’s or Brains’ work. Although, saying that, neither of them would have been able to do something like this alone he didn’t think.

It was all a mystery, but it had a nice view!

He’d made a note to ask the boys, but that evening also brought in the revelation of Kip Harris when he rang on the holo-channel to confirm when he was next coming for dinner, and that was the start of a whole new conversation – led mostly by Gordon (for Virgil was a little starstruck and Jeff didn’t think his mother was faring better) with Alan and Scott chipping in obligatory sound effects and John rolling his eyes from where he didn’t think he could be seen, tuning in up on Five as he ran a check of all the monitoring systems and caught up with EOS.

Apparently, the red head had only come away for a few days at a time in recent years, but from the day Jeff returned with the boys until early this morning, his second child had remained firmly on the ground with them all and he’d promised to be back on the morrow.

Jeff knew John loved Thunderbird Five from the moment it successfully found orbit in space, but he hadn’t ever thought the boy would take to spending so much time up there in recent years.

But then, once again, you haven’t been here for eight years.

------

It wasn’t until the week almost turned into the fourth one since his “return to earth” – as Alan and Gordon had begun to tell time on the calendar, using “before leaving earth” and “since returning to earth” to reference pieces of conversations (and it was helpful for him, not that Jeff would admit that to his trickster pair of children) – that he remembered he’d never asked about the garden.

They’d been swept up in Alan’s graduation and a proper catch up with Lady Penelope and Parker. The old chap never changed and told him all about how he’d taught “Mr Gordon and Mr h’Alan Sir, to drive”, both of which were interesting tales.

Then, Colonel Casey had finally dropped by to visit – after Scott bashfully explained how the island’s location got revealed to her, but Jeff assured him he didn’t care about all that. In all honesty, the woman was a family friend, and he should’ve told her long ago, and most importantly, he was just glad to hear his family came off safe from their encounter with The Hood finding the island.

He and Casey had spoken for a while up in the roundhouse and by the time he headed back in, he was surprised to still hear the chatter of the boys coming from the lounge. Not surprised because that was unusual at all – the five of them had always known how to make noise when together and that didn’t seem to have stopped. It was joyful, a cacophony that he missed in his solitary grey cavern. No, what was surprising about it was that the boys were being so loud so near to dinner time! If there was one thing he’d learnt since being home, it was that the boys were hard to find (unless there was a rescue call) in that dangerous hour their Grandma occupied the kitchen before serving.

So, curious, he carried on up past the kitchen and into the lounge, trying to see if he could earwig what was captivating the boys so, and that was when he heard it.

The sixth voice.

It wasn’t his mother, or Kayo or Brains. They were all voices he was familiar with. Even The Mechanic, who had remained with them for a short stay, had gruff tones that would sound less surprising to hear than the odd, chirp reaching his ears.

As he walked in, it was easy to see his sons gathered round; Alan lounging across the leather chairs with John sat on the sofa beside him whilst Virgil and Gordon sat across from him. Scott was perched on the table and, stood between the eldest and John, taking up the centre of the room, was a complete stranger.

‘Oh, hey dad!’ Gordon called, spotting him first with the vantage of being directly opposite him. Alan promptly dropped his head back as though to confirm that his brother was right, looking at him upside down before blinking in recognition and slinging himself back up with enough speed to give him head rush, Jeff was sure.

‘Hey.’ Alan waved, almost as a way of recovering his near plummet to the floor as he barely managed to catch his grip on the side of the chair.

Gordon and Virgil were sniggering, Scott and John smiling, and the stranger… well, he seemed to fit in amongst his sons… seemed amused at the scene before them also.

For all he seemed an odd fellow, there didn’t see to be anything immediately harmful about the man and from the conversation he’d heard on the way in, it seemed like the boys had met him before. But how did he get here?

‘Uh, dad?’ Virgil’s question floated over to him, and Jeff jolted himself back into the present in time to see his middle child levering himself from the sofa, ‘You ok?’

‘I’m fine, Virgil,’ He held up a hand to halt his boy from approaching. He knew they all worried about him since his return, but he genuinely couldn’t be better. But if Virgil got started now on vitals and temperature there’d be no stopping him. No, he was fine. He was just trying to understand the conundrum of– ‘There’s a man holding a pot plant in my lounge.’

‘Ha, yeah,’ Scott started, filling him with confidence (not), ‘That’s Gladys.’

‘Him?’ He knew it was 2063, and their world had come on leaps and bounds, but–but by the laughter of his sons he’d very much misjudged this one.

‘No, the plant.’ Virgil corrected, motioning to the pot which the man extended further from his chest in response.

‘The– Boys...’ Jeff drawled, lost beyond belief, and wondering a little if he could be dreaming. None of this was making sense.

‘Dad, this is Ned Tedford.’ Finally, he supposed his second son had seen his confusion and John made the formal introduction, rising to stand beside the darker skinned man. ‘He’s our gardener.’

‘Gardener?’

Maybe that made a little bit more sense of the design that seemed to have gone into the outgrow.

‘Yep! That’s me!’ The man – Ned – cheered again, voice loud and bright, before he seemed to stumble, eyes almost visually backtracking over his words. ‘Sir.’

‘You don’t have to call him Sir!’ Gordon chastised, but the gardener was already passing off the pot plant to Scott who fumbled a moment over gripping the ceramic and all the boys seemed to start at the possibility of him dropping it (and it didn’t seem to be over concern for the soil going on the carpet, for goodness sake) whilst Ned – completely unaware of the chaos behind him – held out a hand.

‘Ned Tedford, Sir, at your gardening service.’

‘Right…’

It would be rude not to shake the man’s hand, but he was still trying to process all of this information. Of all the things he’d expected his sons to do in the time he was gone, finding a gardener, hadn’t struck him as one of them.

‘Ned,’ John continued, pulling him back into the room once more, ‘This is our dad, Jeff Tracy.’

Quickly he reached out and shook the man’s hand. He could feel Virgil’s eyes hovering heavily on him with clear question.

‘Jeff Tracy.’ He affirmed, surprised to find that the man had a stronger grip than he’d expected.

‘Mr Tracy. Ned Tedford.’

‘Yes, you said.’

‘Oh, yes, I did, didn’t I.’

But maybe the man wasn’t as confident as he tried to be, given the current bashful display, his eyes suddenly searching round until they landed on his pot plant again, which Scott seemed hasty to return to him and the rest of the boys breathed a sigh of relief at it being returned to the gardener’s hands.

The next thing he knew though, “Gladys” was before his nose.

‘This is Gladys.’

Scott had said… but when the man seemed to feel a little awkward, that seemed a little rude to say. Besides, he couldn’t deny that he still felt a little baffled himself.

‘A geranium?’

‘Yep! The world’s best travelled geranium, Sir!’

Gordon’s palm hit his face, with the mutter of, “you don’t have to call him Sir” again, just about audible.

‘Travelled?’

‘Gladys goes everywhere.’ Alan explained. ‘Like everywhere.’

‘Like, boys?’

‘You know,’ Alan continued, ‘Space.’

‘Underwater.’ Gordon added.

Virgil nodded. ‘The military.’

‘Back to space.’ Scott’s eyes were almost rolling.

‘The North Pole.’ John contributed.

‘And back to space!’ Alan finished.

‘It’s a long story.’ Ned added for himself.

Jeff was just trying to keep up with the brief explanations bouncing between his sons, aware there were many stories he was missing concerning this Ned Tedford.

‘And now earth?’ He assumed given the man’s presence before them.

‘Firmly planted, Sir.’ Ned reassured. Gordon sputtered into laughter that needed Virgil to whack him on the back to steady. ‘It’s all gardening now for us, isn’t that right, Gladys?’

Jeff felt himself blanch. Scott had risen from the table and now passed beside him, close enough for him to mutter, ‘He talks to the plant?’

‘Ah, you get used to it.’ The eldest dismissed, like it was an everyday occurrence.

Scott’s exit didn’t go unnoticed by the youngest who was craning his neck to follow the elder’s steps, his eyes narrowing as the brunette turned towards the stairs before widening as he suddenly vaulted over the back of the chair and zoomed past him.

‘Scott, keep your hands off!’

‘I’m getting the plates, Alan. Just the plates.’

‘If I catch you with a fork in your hand…’

Jeff blinked again.

He knew his boys liked food – in all honesty, they’d probably inherited that from him – but this was his mother’s cooking they were talking about. And he’d been back for a good few weeks: if she’d learnt to cook, he thought he would’ve tasted the difference by now. Which begged the question why an argument seemed to be brewing over what, no doubt, was more “meatloaf surprise”.

‘Alright, have I missed something?’ He asked finally, knowing he had no chance of working this out alone.

‘Uh, yeah!’ Gordon cheered. ‘Ned, can cook.’

Well, that was another revelation he hadn’t been expecting, but it seemed to be something else his boys were accustomed to with the same ease as they were Ned being their gardener.

The man nodded, the pot plant swaying with the motion, still held tightly in his grasp. ‘I brought lasagna. It’s in the oven at the moment.’

‘Lasagna…’ Jeff muttered, feeling more like gravity had done a number on him in these last five minutes than in the five hours immediately after his first foot was back on solid earth.

‘Family favourite.’ Ned pointed out. ‘So I’m told.’

‘Right!’ Gordon cheered, ‘You can’t go wrong with lasagna.’

‘Unless it’s Grandma’s.’ Virgil added and Gordon’s nose scrunched up as the pair of them rose and followed Ned – and Gladys - towards the kitchen.

‘Should be ready about now.’ The gardener agreed as they headed for the stairs. ‘Oh, how’s Gloria and the family doing? Gladys has been wondering.’

‘Oh, they’re doing great!’ Gordon replied immediately, seeming to be well aware who this apparent “Gloria and family” were meant to be, ‘I’ve been following what you said about watering in tropical climates…’

Because that didn’t leave him with more questions than answers at all…

‘Come on dad,’ John encouraged, setting a hand on his shoulder, bringing him back to the world of the lounge. ‘Scott and Alan shouldn’t be left in the kitchen alone.’

No, that much he did remember.

------

It was, several hours later, when Jeff was laying in bed that he remembered the pink geraniums in the garden.

But no, surely… maybe he had to consider that the boys had named them.

Yes, Gloria and family indeed.

Although, it was also as he lay there, contemplating sleep, that he had to agree with the boys. Ned could cook.

And it seemed his mother – “do call me Sally, Ned” – didn’t seem to mind being outdone for once.

------

Ned, and Gladys, were still on the island the following morning and serving breakfast he discovered!

And breakfast seemed to be a civilised affair for once with china teacups, and plates of assorted cakes. Well – civilised besides from Scott swatting at the hands of the youngest two every time they tried to reach for a cake, insisting they needed to finish their breakfast first.

Ned seemed to be most in synch with John, but he had his own way of interacting with each of the boys and Jeff was surprised to see someone from outside the family fitting in so well. The air of secrecy to their lives and of living so far out from civilisation were both his doing, and though his sons had never seemed to mind, he’d still had reservations over their schooling and whether they’d have the chance to make any solid friends in life like he had found in Lee and Casey. But it seemed after all this, those reservations had been needlessly placed, for every son was a graduate and seemed to have found their own friends.

(Even if that was a grown man and a pot plant).

Each son was also highly skilled at what they did in the rescue business, yet that one went without saying or concern after all they did for him, to bring him back.

They’d never given up.

And he couldn’t be prouder of them for that.

Now, it felt foreign to eat food without worry or horror for the second time in a row, and to wonder instead at the taste of it.

He learnt that Colonel Casey had brought Ned to the island with her, the boys quoting that it was best for keeping the island secret. He could agree there, but he wasn’t born yesterday and sensed there was something unsaid. It was – when they were finally on the cakes (to Alan and Gordon’s delight) that he got the rest of that story.

Ned was something of a “magnet for trouble”, Gordon had explained, to which Alan had merrily chipped in, “more so than me”!

After initially being hired by John it seemed and working on the garden for a while to turn it from a “jungle-lawn” into what it was today, Ned had made fortnightly, then monthly trips to the island to manage the upkeep of the garden. Scott had explained that if Colonel Casey wasn’t stopping by, he tended to pick Ned up.

‘Can’t the man get a plane?’ He’d asked, and that seemed to be his foolish mistake, but even Ned was laughing.

Scott was outraged, ‘Dad, you’ve got to be joking! International rescue would only be called out to it.’

‘Ned here has a loyalty badge.’ Gordon quipped, and it was then Jeff realised there was clearly a lot more to his son’s acquaintance with this man than he knew, what with so many stories on hold to be told in full.

‘We are sorry about that, aren’t we Gladys?’

Jeff wondered if the man was actually thinking the plant would reply when he left these pauses.

‘We know, Ned.’ John reassured.

‘Besides, it is our job.’ Virgil added.

‘And we haven’t rescued you since you went back to gardening!’

‘Don’t jinx it, Alan!’

‘I’m just saying Gordon–’

‘Well don’t!’ The four elders chorused and even Ned seemed to blanch at the thought.

‘Okay, okay!’ Alan insisted, ‘I’m just saying–’

‘More cake?’ Ned offered quickly, holding a plate of Battenburg round to Alan who took one immediately, previous thought track forgotten.

‘It’s nice of you to bring all this every time you visit, Ned.’ Virgil praised. Jeff wondered just how many visits there had been for this to seem as easy as daily routine to the boys.

‘Yeah,’ Scott agreed quickly. ‘It’s gets us away from the mercy of Grandma’s cooking.’

‘I heard that young man.’ It was Scott’s poor luck it seemed that the very woman was on her way past as he spoke. Jeff saw the way the eldest’s eyes rolled as the youngest pair sniggered.

‘Why is it always me!’

‘Why do you put yourself in that position, Scott?’ John questioned instead, and he wasn’t wrong. For though the eldest could keep himself out of trouble, Jeff remembered Scott had always had a tendency to accidentally fall into the mix. Just like now.

Ned chuckled. ‘Well, after all you’ve done for us, it’s the least we can do for you. Isn’t that right, Gladys?’

The plant didn’t answer. The plant wouldn’t answer! It was infuriating and Jeff was trying to mind his manners not to roll his eyes every time. It was true testament that his boys were used to this as not one of them seemed to blink at the plant being drawn into the folds of conversation. Maybe more concerning should have been that his son’s didn’t tend to speak in these immediate pauses either…

‘I’m just glad you’re not hiding it all away on Thunderbird Five.’ Gordon stated, taking two slices of cake from the proffered plate.

‘That was one time.’ John answered firmly as Ned set the plate down and rose with the kettle to refill their cups. Jeff noted that the man seemed to know exactly how his sons liked their relevant teas and coffees, moving round them and serving faultlessly.

‘Um, I count Two.’

‘They’re never letting you live it down, bro.’ Scott murmured.

‘Its’s a good thing Thunderbird Three was refuelled!’

‘It was a good thing you didn’t crash it in your rush, Alan.’ Virgil stated, bringing the volume of the younger right down as Scott’s eyes flicked over also.

‘You guys wanted cake too.’ Alan mumbled in a moan, arms folding over his chest in a – compared to what Jeff remembered of him – contained strop.

‘How is Gladys’ good friend?’ Ned asked finally and Jeff blinked, frowning. What friend could a pot plant possibly have?

‘EOS is good, thank you.’

John’s AI. Of course. That only made sense, the father supposed.

‘Gladys can’t wait to come back up. Try out our space legs again!’

Jeff wondered if he should be worried about the man going up to Thunderbird Five – given all the stories he’d half-heard about the boys rescuing him, but John didn’t seem bothered by the man inviting himself back (which wasn’t like the red head not to bat an eye at) – because without needing to be told, he could hear it wouldn’t be the first time.

‘EOS will be glad to have you. She’s got a timer set to remind me about the plants.’

‘I still can’t believe you’re managing to grow space flora.’ Scott muttered, his tone saying everything he thought about it.

‘You’re just annoyed they’ve proved you wrong.’

‘Of course I am, Virge! It’s space and flowers. When have those two ever gone together?’

‘Well–’

‘I don’t need the science again, John.’ Scott ceased the younger promptly. ‘It gave me a bad enough headache last time.’

Jeff saw the way John smirked and sneakily accepted the homemade ginger biscuits from Ned as the gardener set the kettle back and snuck behind the second child on the way to his own seat at the table where Gladys still rested on her pedestal. Hmm, yes, whether it was because John was responsible for getting Ned the job (as he’d learnt) or whatever connection the plant and the AI shared, it seemed certain that of all his sons, Ned and John had the strongest of friendship. Jeff was honestly just pleased to see John have a friend outside of the family.

‘It will be one of my great achievements.’ Ned cheered. ‘Me – first gardener in space!’

‘Don’t forget first gardener for International Rescue!’ Gordon chirped in, sounding equally as excited about it, and Alan was nodding around his mouthfuls of cake.

‘International Gardening Services!’

Jeff blinked, confused, but relieved that Ned didn’t seem to be trading under that name. His confusion was clearly noticed as the youngest pair chuckled, and Scott waved it off as another “tell you later”, along with the myriad of rescues they’d clearly undertaken for the man in the years he’d been gone. Gordon – of all the boys! – was adamant it was rude to retell the rescues whilst Ned was with them. Virgil had later suggested to him that what Gordon actually meant was that it would be rude to retell them as they’d come to remember them. Jeff could only imagine what chaos they meant had been ensuing whilst he lived in another galaxy.

‘I am most thankful to you boys for the job.’

‘We’re thankful you took it.’ Virgil replied, and Gordon was all sniggers again.

‘Yeah, before any more plant murders happened.’

‘There could still be one Gordon.’ Scott seethed, but Ned carried on like the argument wasn’t occurring – as was most uncivilised – across the table between his two boys.

‘Oh, it’s been an absolute honour–’

If he spoke to the plant–

‘– Isn’t that right, Gladys?’

–that was it!

------

Jeff was surprised – though relieved - they’d managed to go without receiving a rescue call for the duration of Ned’s stay so far. It wasn’t so much the man knowing their secrets that concerned him at this stage. It was rather the fact that it was nice to see his boys being boys. Well – men for the elder half, but still. These were sights he’d missed for too long, and he’d happily be greedy for once in his life and soak them in as easily as Gordon did the sun when sat by the poolside.

After Scott and Gordon’s argument had been peace kept by John, the eldest had snuck off, insisting he needed to check all the maintenance was done on Thunderbird One, just in case of a call and Gordon had insisted it was time he went for a swim anyway.

“With the amount of cake you’ve eaten, yeah,” Alan had cajoled and Gordon had thrown a tea towel at the younger as he went by, causing the blonde to race after him. John and Ned had headed up to the lounge. John was itching to check in with EOS and make sure everything was okay, and Ned had decided to tag along because “Gladys would love a chance to say hello, wouldn’t you, Gladys?”. And just like that, he and Virgil were left in the quiet of the kitchen, and “with all the dishes too!” as Virgil had pointed out, his very tone sounding wronged.

 A few hours passed before they were all back together. Ned had been waylaid a little while by his mother insisting upon catching up with him also. Jeff soon realised their heading was the kitchen and that gave him some hope that dinner tonight could be edible also, especially when Ned came back with the idea that they would be eating fish pie – which his sons reassured him Grandma didn’t tend to cook.

By then tensions between Scott and Gordon seemed to have defused somewhat and Jeff was ready to be able to tour the gardens with them in peace.

The boys were pleased to show it off to him now, pointing out the places that had been remodelled and anything they’d done to assist. Virgil had drawn up a lot of the plans it seemed with John in charge of the calculations. Scott, Gordon and Alan had ended up on the supply runs, and Ned had done all the real work in telling them what to buy and what would or wouldn’t be plausible.

‘There were many options once I cleared away the jungle, Mr Tracy.’ Ned finally finished the explanation.

‘Was it that bad?’ He asked.

John shrugged. ‘We never took a photo.’

‘I knew we should have!’ Alan moaned.

‘There was nothing photo-worthy.’ Was Virgil’s returning argument.

‘It would have been interesting to look back on.’ Scott mused.

‘What? The results of your murder scene?’

‘Gordon I am serious about the Geraniums!’

‘You leave Gloria, Gillian, Giles, Gerry and Ted alone!’

Yes, Gordon was indeed pointing to the rockery family of pink geraniums, where the potted Gladys was also currently residing. Somehow, it didn’t surprise Jeff that Gordon was the one with the attachment.

‘Scott.’ John cautioned.

‘What? I didn’t start it!’

‘But you don’t have to antagonise him.’

‘Dad, you have to see what we did with the stairway!’ Virgil interrupted, latching onto him and dragging him forward.

‘Mine is the best!’

‘Shh Alan! Don’t ruin the surprise for him.’

‘It is very good, Mr Tracy.’ Ned insisted. The man had finally stopped trying to call him sir, but the formality of the address still hadn’t changed.

‘Oh boy, here we go.’ He heard Scott mutter from behind them as John and Gordon followed along. He noticed that unlike talking about the pond and the geraniums (as the youngest pair had happily done), that this interest seemed to be primarily Virgil’s and it made him wonder what they could be going to look at besides a set of stone stairs. Not that he wanted to say that when the excitement was so palpably felt by his sons and the gardener.

The boys led him to the end of the stone pathway within the garden lawn and towards the stairs on the far side and through the trees that obscured the staircase. And ready as he had been to see this “grand feature”, he’d truly not expected it to be… well, topiary.

And not the topiary you would expect to find in the average garden, he was sure.

It left him more than a little speechless.

Following the stairs up, rows of trees has been planted on each side and, in matching sets, topiaries of the Thunderbirds cut: Thunderbird One all the way up to Thunderbird Five up towards the top of the stairs.

Jeff blinked again but the sight didn’t change.

No, he was actually looking at what he thought he was.

Goodness help him.

‘What do you think, father?’ Virgil asked, face full of glee. ‘I made the Thunderbird Two’s.’

‘They’re very good son.’

‘We each made our own Thunderbirds!’

‘They’re all good, Gordon.’

‘But what if you had to pick a favourite, dad?’

‘Oh, I couldn’t possibly, Alan.’

‘Ned helped. He taught us how to make the shapes.’

‘Virge, you had a head start.’ Gordon grumbled.

‘I learnt nothing from that gardener like I learnt from Ned!’

‘Doesn’t change the fact you made a Thunderbird Two topiary before.’

‘It was smaller than this!’

‘It was still topiary.’

‘Yeah, and I still haven’t forgiven you for–’

‘Is this another long story?’ Jeff muttered to John beside him, for he was the only one (besides Ned) still close enough and of who would avoid the non-sensical answer: for Ned seemed to be torn between laughing and shaking his head, his arms folded as he looked on; Alan was lost to fits of giggles; and Scott had tried to intervene before it became a “scrap” only for Virgil to accuse “you’re just as much to blame!”. To which Scott had retorted, “What did I do? Gordon was driving”. Which had been promptly and unhelpfully followed with “you two always were Parker’s worst students”. And Jeff didn’t think much of anything had been avoided.

‘Yeah dad, it’s a long story about the topiary.’ John answered, ‘Although, the way this is looking, I may have time to tell you.’

‘I’ll save your brothers then shall I, and you can tell me later over cocoa?’

‘I’ll hold you to that, dad.’

Jeff nodded, looking forward to another late evening with the second child. It would remind him of when they used to stargaze together. But first, he was going to be reminded of the days his son’s squabbles were still for dad to resolve.

‘Alright boys, settle down. I don’t need any more “long stories” to add to the list.’

[lenna-z]

Hello everyone! Sorry in advance for the erratic updates, I'm typing at turtle speed right now...

I hope you enjoy this fic so far and continue to like it in the future!

Wish you a good day/night!

Previous Chapters: | -1- | -2- | -3-|

What Happened There?

Chap. 4 : Sister

"Don't tell me to calm down! This man has already crossed the line!"

Scott looked up as Gordon's shout made the entire hallway groan. His fish brother wouldn't yell like that for nothing, so he hoped.

Looking in the direction of the elevator, he saw Gordon next to his bodyguard, and Colonel Casey and several people he didn't recognize in front of them.

His head ached to the point of not caring how many there were.

"You can't just come here! I can get someone to get you out!"

The man next to Colonel Casey replied sarcastically. "Try it and we'll see, Tracy."

He got up reflexively, but when he looked the other way, he saw that everyone had already stood up.

"You can't talk to my brother like that," Still, he had to address him properly. At least he would know who he was. "Mr...?"

"Colonel Oliver Martinez." Was this man bragging about his rank as if he had done something good?

"Please note that you are allowed to be here as a courtesy, Colonel." said Colonel Casey coldly.

Casey and that man  were clearly on the edge.

"Scott! They said International Rescue was-"

"Gordon, this is something we really need to talk to Scott about."

Gordon didn't seem to agree.

"No! First you hint to the media that you are blaming our sister, and now you come here and for what? To blame International Rescue? Something that concerns International Rescue concerns us all."

"Huh? You call her 'sister', but you're not even related by blood."

That was just too much, this guy had really crossed the line.

He wasn't going to explain it to him, no, one sharp sentence would have sufficed.

"Family isn't about blood ties, Colonel."

Yet another answer followed.

"There is no need to be related by blood to be a family."

But the man's facial expression was still sarcastic, as was his voice. "What? Who told you that, the person whose her uncle was the Hood?"

"Know your place, Colonel! The things Kayo did to keep the Hood from seeing the light of day are indisputable."

At least Colonel Casey was aware of everything.

"I think you have relevant personal ties in this case, Colonel. I don't even have to warn you." Oh, is he going to play like this now?

"Yes, you can, Colonel, right after I report you for abuse of rank. I will ask you to get out of here, Colonel." Every word was spoken calmly. But the coldness in her voice was undeniable.

When the annoying man finally left, Colonel Casey's shoulders slumped noticeably.

"Scott, we really need to talk."

Although he really wondered what was going on, his brother was right. "Gordon is right, Colonel, it concerns them, I can't speak to you separately."

"Well..." She was clearly displeased, which made Scott even more worried.

Oh, and there was also the fact that Gordon was clearly very angry. His brother had his arms folded across his chest, waiting as if he knew what was coming.

"I'm really sorry to break this news, but you should know that International Rescue has been suspended indefinitely. This information has not been shared with the media yet and no one will share it except-"

"What is it based on?" Virgil was calmer than expected.

"Kayo is under investigation. Based on this, every mission including International Rescue will be reviewed."

This time, a murmur of swearing came from his brother behind Colonel Casey. "Oh, so what's on the news is true, you think she's guilty."

"I didn't want it to be like this, Gordon. I really tried, but in the end there was nothing I could do."

Everyone should have realized that Casey was doing her best before this turned into an argument.

"I trust Colonel Casey on this, do you really think someone did this on purpose and it could be her?" There was no answer to that, but there was still a question to be answered. "Colonel, what exactly is Kayo accused of?"

It was like a question she clearly didn't want to answer. Her shoulders drooped even more.

"Adam Smith, Loretta Rodriguez, Benjamin Stewart. Do these names sound familiar?"

All of them were owners of companies with their own surnames. "Company owners. I know them by name."

"Owners of companies closest to Tracy Industries." She took a deep breath. "Scott... you know there are people dying out there. Those company owners were killed there."

This means...

No!

"This is bullshit! Why would Kayo do that?"

"No, she didn't do that."

John and Virgil had figured it out long before he did.

"My daughter wouldn't do such a thing, Colonel."

"Do you realize what you are accusing her of? This is an insult to her and International Rescue." Did she really believe she could kill those people?

Because if the answer was yes, Scott would do anything to never see Colonel Casey again.

"Sorry. There is evidence that I can't tell. But I don't believe that either. It looks like there's something big that we don't see."

She seemed sincere about it.

"I really did everything I could..." She seemed to say it to Kyrano, but to all of them.

"I will ask you for records that you did not send to us, this is unregistered, what you send or not is up to you. There may be something in these recordings to support Kayo's innocence."

It was a difficult request. And he didn't trust GDF.

"John will give you everything about this event." Limiting it to today only made the most sense at the moment.

John was walking restlessly towards the Casey. "Look, Colonel. I'm tired of saying this now, but I sent her there. She didn't do it, and I'll send you those recordings with what I learned to prove it. Remember that she was injured too and why we are here now."

Casey took another deep breath. "How is she?"

"There is still no update. I even forgot how long we've been waiting here."

And as time passed, he began to think for the worst.

"She is strong. She will be fine."

"I'm sure you have more important things to do, Colonel."

"I'll let you know if there's any progress." She looked intensely at Kyrano.

Was there something he didn't know?

A hand touching his shoulder, and when he turned to the owner of the hand, he met aquamarine eyes.

"You did the right thing, Scott. To give all the records would be to throw us all out. She didn't do that, and they won't find anything in those recordings that says otherwise."

If Kayo were here, she would know better what to do.

Every moment he waited here, he was losing hope.

And damn how long had it really been?

"She will be fine."

He didn't want to think about anything else right now. That damn man could say whatever he wanted, the media could report whatever he wanted.

It was their sisters life at stake here. It was the life of the person he saw and valued as his sister.

Who cares about blood ties?

"She's one of the family. It doesn't matter who says what."

"Of course she is, Alan. That man was a presumptuous bastard." Right now he was too much of a headache to care about Gordon's frankness.

All he really cared about was someone coming out of that operating room door.

"So what will we do?"

The answer was simple. "Just leave everything to time."

"Scott, why don't we take a break for some air? Maybe we'll find something for your head, huh?"

This offer from John was especially tempting when he heard about painkillers.

But he didn't want to leave here.

"Come on, Scott, it won't be long."

It was clear from John's tone that how long it would take was up to him.

The sooner he went, the sooner they'd get here.

This reminded him of Virgil when they first arrived.

With just a nod of his head, he started towards the elevator.

○○○○○○

"Mr. Tracy! How nice to see you again! How can I help you?"

No. Same nurse. Guess they called him Des.

He didn't want her near him, not now, not ever.

How could they get rid of her?

As brazen as she was, neither Scott nor he could have done what she did.

Or Scott could do it right now because he was taking a deep breath.

"Des? We have received information that a new emergency has arrived, can you prepare?"

Thank god someone else took care of it instead.

"This is Desire. Yes I am interested in. With your permission, Mr. Tracy."

Oh please, was Scott the only Tracy here?

As that nurse was leaving, another familiar face was approaching them.

Scott didn't seem to notice.

"This time I was really close to doing anything. She acts-"

"Scott." At the warning, Scott fell silent.

Despite his efforts, the other nurse had heard about it. Her eyes were looking at them with understanding. "Whatever you say, you're right, I'm really sorry."

The nurse was indeed more understanding than the other.

"What brings you here again?"

Again? Was she there when Scott brought Virgil here?

"This is my head..."

At least he was still good enough to explain his problem.

"I hope it's a good thing it's not one of your brothers who needs help this time." And then her eyes opened like a frightened cat. "I didn't mean- I mean-"

"Oh, it's contagious, when one of us is bad, the other's are bad too." After John's attempt at comfort, her eyes seemed to have calmed down, but she was still looking hesitant.

"Including her, she's like our sister."

He seemed to emphasize the word 'sister' in particular. He understood why, and he was still angry with that man.

The nurse asked for a few seconds to get some necessary tools, and he turned his gaze to his brother with concern. No one was really talking downstairs, and when they did, it didn't seem to put anyone at ease.

He found Scott still staring at the woman. He wasn't sure if he was really looking, because of the headache, it was like he was just immersed.

Since the nurse didn't come in with just one medicine, Scott was startled, glanced at everything, including the blood pressure monitor she had brought with her, and then looked at the nurse uneasily.

"I don't want to stay here for long."

He wanted to be downstairs...

And then he gave John a quick, angry look.

"Scott, be nice to the nurse, she's just doing her job."

When the help he asked for didn't come from John, he turned back to the her.

"Please nurse-"

"I'm not a nurse, Mr. Tracy and-" She turned to address John, but was instantly silent.

Oh, finally someone realizes that Scott isn't the only Tracy here.

"This is John." He said in a gentle voice.

He hated being called Mr. Tracy just as much as Scott.

"And this is Scott, please. Sorry I didn't ask your name."

And she turned back to Scott again.

"Ava. I'm the doctor in charge of the emergency today." So that was the reason for so many encounters. But still, why was she wearing a nurse outfit? "As for why I'm wearing a nurse's outfit, it's a long story..."

"I think we have time for that." Said Scott, looking at the tools she had brought with her.

○○○○○○

I would love to know what you think!

[autisticvee]

Number 7 for the ask game pls :))

Thanks for the ask, @avengedbiologist ✨🏳️‍🌈

Question 7 -Share a queer headcanon for a background character

I have one, Aromantic Demisexual Lesbian for Colonel Casey

[animatronicappreciation]

As far as I'm aware! I've never actually BEEN to Babyland General, so I can't say with 100% certainty, but I haven't heard any news about him being removed! As long as he stays in good condition, he seems to be here for the long haul! He moves around from time to time when they redecorate, but he's usually spotted in the delivery nursery, which is employees only (with a viewing window). I don't think he's been out in the open where guests could potentially interact with him in a very long time, but I THINK I saw him in some old 90s footage being a lot more "up close and personal". But it's been some time since I saw that video, and I don't think I could find it again even if I tried.

As of this video, posted seven months ago (as of 3/13/25), he's still there! Looking back at the pictures from the original post, it looks like his beak has begun to deteriorate a bit (based on the wrinkles in his beak in the first and third photo), so maybe that's why he's kinda hidden in the back, but that could also be his positioning in those photos causing the wrinkles, so who knows? I truly hope that he's not starting to deteriorate, since he's an incredibly beautiful figure, even though he hasn't run in decades. But he's also decades old at this point, and even under the best conditions, nothing is permanent in this world.

I can only speculate on his condition, especially since the employees of Babyland don't seem to have much knowledge about the figure. I did ask at the time of the original post if they knew the manufacturer of the figure or had a manual for him or anything of the sort, but they came up empty-handed, unfortunately. I didn't really expect them to know much since that's not their area of expertise-- they've got bigger fish to fry, what with taking care of all the Cabbage Patch babies and kids all day and making magic for the REAL kids! But it's still a bit disappointing that we've come to a dead end when it comes to information about this figure.

If anyone ever comes across any footage of this figure in action, PLEASE send it in! From what I heard when asking longterm Babyland fans on FB, he wasn't active for very long at all, and we've never been able to uncover any footage of him in working order. I guess you could call this a lost media mystery of sorts!

TL;DR: Yeah, he's still there, and I wish I had any update or further information, but I unfortunately do not :(

-Mod Possum

OK UPDATE from like five minutes later, I did end up finding a more recent pic of the Colonel, and I'm sad to say that he IS showing signs of deterioration :(

Tumblr is eating the image quality but I'm gonna link the original source on the image, so just click it to be taken to a better quality version.

But two months ago, u/Bananabread365 on Reddit posted this image to r/LiminalSpace [here], and they were able to get a remarkable zoom quality on this image... and what we see isn't very encouraging. It looks like the dear Colonel's beak is beginning to crack. It seems like them positioning him toward the back of the nursery is very intentional to hide his deterioration.

I learned from a post from Mod Rat that, allegedly (Mod Rat didn't source this claim and I can't find anything to back it up, but I certainly don't doubt him), the reason the Colonel was ultimately powered down was because the repair costs would've been too great to maintain the figure in its functioning state. That's certainly understandable, but it's disappointing to hear, especially since that means that the Colonel's odds of his beak being restored are slim. I doubt that the original mold for the beak is around anymore since this is a 40+ year old one-off figure manufactured for a roadside attraction, and the cost of manufacturing a new one would likely be pretty hefty, since it would mean either taking a mold of the original (tough to do without completely wrecking it in the process) or sculpting a whole new one (takes a lot of skill and time that both need to be compensated).

I know that not many people think this particular character adds anything to the Babyland General experience, but I think he's a very unique piece of Babyland history! He's important to the lore of Babyland General and the Cabbage Patch Kids as a whole, and it's sad to see that time is starting to take its toll on him.

This is Colonel Casey, a stork that looks after newborns at Babyland General, the Cabbage Patch Kids “hospital” in Cleveland, Georgia, where Cabbage Patch Kids are “born”.

Although he no longer operates as one, Colonel Casey was at one point an animated figure! I just received confirmation of this via email!

You can find Colonel Casey looking after the newborn Cabbage Patch soft sculpts that are “born” at Babyland General every day! Although it’s a shame that he’s no longer operating as an animatronic, it’s still wonderful to see such a beautiful figure!!

Fun fact: the soft sculpt Cabbage Patch Kids that are “born” at Babyland General are hand-made by artists local to Cleveland, Georgia! Each one is a one-of-a-kind piece of artwork, and no two are alike! They’re quite pricey compared to your average Cabbage Patch doll, but rightfully so, since they’re hand-crafted works of art!

- Mod Possum

[pareidoliaonthemove]

Dialogue

Scott: So, about the security arrangements for the Hood and the Chaos Crew –

GDF General: That is GDF’s area of authority, Commander.

Colonel Casey: Let the GDF deal with them, Scott.

Scott: It may not be my circus, and those most definitely not my monkeys. But when those rabid little fuckers get loose, it’s me and my brothers they bite on the ass, so apparently I’m the one dealing with it. So, about the security arrangements for the Hood and the Chaos Crew …

Notes:

Yeah, it's been a week, fortnight, month, weird time.

The standard disclaimers, I do not own Thunderbirds, either the Original Series, the Movies (both Supermarionation and Live Action), or the Thunderbirds Are Go Series. (Although I do own copies on DVD.)

I do not do this for money, but for my own (in)sanity and entertainment.

[edutainer2022]

An angsty Bereznik-timeline-Jeff story snuck up on me. I got to write it out in the campus bomb shelter, awaiting the strike of Dagger-class missiles. But in the end, a glimmer of hope won over. As always, many thanks go to @janetm74 for incessant support.

MESSAGE

Colonel Tracy walked up to the GDF Headquarters. It was the military training, a familiar grid to fall back on, that got him there. Not through it. Nothing could get him through it. But he kept his back ramrod straight, looked ahead with glassy eyes, put one foot in front of the other and got there. Jeff Tracy was summoned to collect Captain Tracy's, status updated to KIA, personal effects, sent from the Airbase, so Colonel Tracy reported on time, as told. Because Jeff Tracy, the father, wasn't available. Captain Tracy's father, previously Scott Tracy's, Scooter's, and Scotty's father, was prostrate, still and numb, all out of voice or tears, or wits, or strength, or a will to go on, over the charred remains of an F-18 fighter jet, somewhere on the outskirts of a thick Moravian forest. Indefinitely.

They could have just mailed Scott's things home to Kansas, but for some reason his old combat friends Lord Hugh and Major* Casey were adamant he came in person. Not that there could be much classified about well-worn Yale t-shirts, a dress uniform and spare fatigues, faded jeans, Scott's favorite running shoes and, it could be presumed, a copious number of snapshots of little brothers over the years Captain Tracy kept in his locker and in every available pocket at all times. But his friends (and the boy's superiors) insisted, so he showed up. The empty hull of him, at least. It became apparent why when Lord Hugh offered him a seat and entered a personal passcode into a secure comm unit. Val Casey's face was stricken with anguish. Through the cotton cloud of numbness Jeff could distantly register his heart constrict - he could hardly process any more agony those days. Already hit and anticipating a takeover, Scott managed to send out the last message. Jeff knew the drill since the last war: the pilot would access a unique classified frequency they were to use only once - when chances of survival were zero to none. The message was to contain whatever usable intel the pilot could offer on the ground behind enemy lines. It would be recorded into a cloud, scrambled and bounced off different servers so as to not give away the pilot's or the jet location. Jeff was summoned to be played the "unclassified" portion of Scott's last ever holocall. He took Hugh up on his offer of the seat as his knees buckled.

Dark curls were plastered to the boy's forhead, drenched in sweat. Or maybe blood. Scott's face was covered in soot and there was a gush over his brow, but even that combined with the bluish tint of the holo couldn't hide the pallor.

"Hi, guys!"

The ready smile, ever there when Scott was talking or thinking of his brothers, faltered. Haunted eyes squeezed shut briefly against a painful grimace and reappeared, brimming with moisture.

"God! I love you all so much I wish I could just message my heart to you! Allie..."

His son's face mellowed at the mention of the baby brother and in an instant it was Lucy's hologram in a torn and blooded flightsuit, shivering from strain and emotion. And onsetting shock. Val Casey by his side was crying openly.

"Allie! You be good for me, alright?! Listen to Dad and Grandma! Know that I'll always be there for you! ALWAYS! Gordie, you go on training! I'm so proud of you! Go get 'em, Squiddo! Johnny... I know, I know... but hey! I get big brother perks! You're so smart, kid, you can do anything! I'll see you in the stars, I KNOW you'll make astronaut! Virg... Virgie, you listen to me - don't let ANYONE doubt you! Least of all yourself! You do what your heart feels right, ok? I believe in you, brother! Gosh, I could just hug you lot and never let go!"

Jeff's knuckles were white, his grip on the edge of the conference table so tight he could snap a slab off. The expression on the holo-tinged face shifted to something hesitant and so, so impossibly young.

"Dad! I'm so sorry! I let you down... I know you needed me for the Project. It's gonna be AWESOME! Dad... I'm scared... I love you!"

An explosion off screen distorted the signal and the feed was cut off. Jeff was on his feet by then, a flimsy office chair kicked to the side. That didn't last long, though, as he reached both hands to the empty space where a gossamer image of his son just revealed feeling guilty and afraid, all alone, seconds before dying. In a place he ended up only following in his father's footsteps. Jeff's battle with consciousness and gravity was lost before it even started and the hardwood floor rushed close in a flash.

***

[He was in the hallway of their Kansas farmhouse when a flash of auburn practically collided with his chest. Lucy was winded, eyes wild, hands twisting his shirt in a frantic grip.

"Have you found him?! I just checked the treehouse - he's not there! Jeff, we need to find him before dark! It will be too late!!"

He grasped his wife's shoulders instinctively to calm her, but Lucy was adamant, stepping out of his embrace.

"New plan! I'll take the basement - you go on and check the barn! We need to find Scotty!"

With that she was gone, feet pounding down the stairs. He took his cue and went out to the old barn. It was empty. Dark was gathering in the corners, making the bits and pieces of equipment look distorted, grotesque. Menacing. He knew better than just to call the boy's name. Overwhelmed or upset, or tired - little Scooter could hide with the best of them. He searched the nooks and crannies, checked beneath the crates, then made his way to the back wall. It was then that he heard the scream. His son's voice, calling for him. Pleading for Dad's help from beyond the wall. Old wood turned to dark filthy bricks beneath his fists as he tried to let the boy know Dad was there. No matter how hard he flung himself against the wall - it didn't budge as the voice calling to Dad got fainter.]

***

He came to Lord Hugh and Casey propping him from both sides, helping to sit up. Val's gaze was full of worry and reprimand.

"Hey, Jeff! Easy! When was the last time you ate anything? Slept?"

He didn't have time for any such nonsense! Sleep or sustenance stopped being remotely meaningful concepts since they told him his son was dead. But now? He needed to be in a hurry! The vice grip on his friend's hand made the usually cast iron Lord wince. Jeff needed to get up and rush. He needed to go find his son! Before it was too late!

----

*Sometimes I headcanon Casey (and maybe Lee Taylor) might have been demoted a rank for participating in a very off the books (and maybe not entirely smooth) black op of getting Scott out of Bereznik captivity.

[arwensarboretum]

One of my favourite absurd things about Thunderbirds will always be the TOS' crew according to the average civilian. Jeff Tracy is a well-known billionaire, astronaut, owns a company, and probably has his face plastered all over the news and internet frequently. Then, after the tragic passing of his wife - which DEFINITELY made headlines in a lot of places, he disappears and takes his 5 sons with him.

The thing is though, the sons are also well-known. It could just be the nepotism, but these boys definitely grew up with some degree of fame. They are the sons of wealth and fame and they definitely had a public presence growing up. They also all lead successful careers of varying degrees of fame. Scott was in the Air Force; Virgil, a well-known engineer, pianist and artist (of varying degrees of fame depending on the source); John is a published author in a respected field; Gordon is an Olympian with a successful career in WASP; Alan is an up-incoming race car driver with a promising career. At least two of the brothers would probably be in the headlines frequently and all of them were established in their fields.

And then tragedy strikes. And then they all just... leave. I know the books touch on the boys' perspective of some of these events, but from the outside perspective, all the rich and famous Tracys experience tragedy and just... move away to their father's private island, giving up their careers and lives to live indefinitely with their dad and brothers doing.... what? It's never specified. To visit the island would make you think it's to swim and play pool all day, drinking from glasses with little umbrellas in them. When the boys left, they talked about a project of their father's but nothing ever came from that publicly. No one really sees them around and they're always busy on the island, but when people visit, it's just hanging out, checkers and water mambas. It's all so delightfully ridiculous.

There's an argument to be made that Move and You're Dead implies that the brothers do go back to the mainland to take part in their old careers at least a little - to "make an appearance" if you will, but that almost makes it funnier because it implies they COULD come back. They're still out there, doing alright, obviously keeping up with their skills (if Alan won the race (I know Brains build a cool car but the driver still needs skill)), and yet, they don't come back. They stay on their island with their father and brothers playing pool. And that's delightful to me. It's just so absurd.

Because like, WHY?! They seem to have recovered well enough, but they just never re-integrated into normal society life. Maybe it was for privacy, but Jeff still runs the company and puts in an occasional appearance with Lady Penelope. The boys just disappeared from life for the foreseeable future, and we as the audience know that's basically forever in order to keep IR a secret. They really gave up their lives for this and we know it's deeply worthwhile, but to the outside world, BECAUSE it's so secret, they gave up their lives to play chess on the beach. I love it so much. Even Operation: Cover Up! Is to highlight that they aren't really do anything suspicious or anything. It's to hammer home that they are just living on the island, playing chess and swimming in the pool. Not even in the ocean! Everything about their set-up as seen from the unknowing eye is so ridiculous! And the worst part is they just play it straight! Like when Jeff's friend Colonel Casey comes to the island and praises IR for clearing him and comments how the boys probably wish they were a part of IR and Alan says, "It would give us something to occupy yourselves with. Nothing ever happens around here." (Alan - Edge of Impact) Like... he just AGREES! That they don't do anything! He doesn't even pretend there's a secret project! He just agrees they do nothing! Every time anyone's on the island it just plays into this absurd reality the Tracy's have built around them that only the audience knows is fake, but to the world, absolutely absurd.

And the best part is it's all true! Every time they're not on a mission, they literally do just bum around the house, nap, laze by the pool, play checkers, go on "exhausting runs around the island." It's all so frivolous and inconsequential. Take out IR and their lives are just lazing around, and for the rest of the world, there is no IR. And they all gave up their successful lives for it. Ridiculous!

[gumnut-logic]

How did I miss this!?! Stunning fic, totally love it!

Jeff’s reaction was perfect! I need more exclamation marks!

I could see it all in my head, an amazing moment in family. So much tense stuff for Jeff. And yes, he is just like Scotty - Virgil is going to start losing hair at this rate.

Thank you for your lovely words over lunch.

Nutty

(Love your stuff 😁💚)

Listen they can't genderbend a character from TOS for TAG and expect me to not believe she's trans lol so happy trans Colonel Casey Day!!!

Written for @thunder-pride <3

---

When Jeff stepped onboard the Zero-XL, the first thing he noticed was the bright lights that seemed to shine from all directions. Brilliant and blinding and perfectly mirroring the leap in his heart and the smiles on his boys’ faces.

His boys.

He couldn’t stop staring, hardly listening as they filled the atmosphere with hope and joy and laughter. Not even the Hood could bring the mood down as he glared daggers at them all.

Virgil and Gordon had strapped him down to a medical stretcher, preferring to keep him in sight while Alan ran through the pre-flight checks, Scott murmuring in his ear while John frowned at the navigational display beside him.

There was none of the friction he recalled from their younger years, each of his sons safe and secure and slipping past one another as though they rescued men from the stars every day.

Perhaps they did, he mused. They’d obviously not allowed the beautiful machines that he and Brains had built together sit idle.

He tried to ignore the way his knees buckled as he lowered himself into his seat, fingers trembling as he strapped himself in and trying to ignore his sons’ stares.

Adrenaline was one hell of a drug and he was coming down at last.

“Maybe you should get some rest instead, Dad,” said Virgil.

Jeff waved him off. “I’ve been waiting a long time to come home and I’ll do it on my own terms or not at all.”

“We won’t think less of you, if that’s what you’re worried about,” argued Virgil. “There’s no need to be proud.”

Jeff clenched his hands into fists, lips thinning as he furiously tried to control the tremor. “It’s not pride, son,” he said against gritted teeth.

He’d pay the price later, he was sure. But he couldn’t bring himself to leave, aware that he had walked the line between exhaustion and delirium before and that the presence of his boys – real and alive and so much more than his poor imagined imitations could hope to be – was the only evidence that this wasn’t a hallucination.

Information would keep the creeping tendrils of fear that this was the product of some fever dream out of his mind and so Jeff turned instead to Scott.

“How long?”

Scott straightened imperceptibly as he turned back to Jeff, radiating a surety he’d barely begun to grow into the last time they’d been together.

“Eight years,” he said.

Eight years!

Jeff exhaled slowly, trying to calm his racing mind. His reckoning had been off by more than three years, unable to mark the passage of time with the sun and stars above him. No wonder Alan looked so much like a young man. No wonder Gordon moved like someone recovered from old injuries that Jeff couldn’t recall. No wonder his older sons were starting to bear the finest marks of age, despite their youth.

So much could happen in eight years.

“And your grandma?” Jeff trailed off, not sure of what he wanted to know, remembering all the times he’d woken in the eternal night, sure that this time his mother was dead, that the thudding in his chest signified something worse than nightmares.

“She’s fine,” said Scott quickly. “More than fine. Still trying to bake us cookies.”

“She actually gave us some for when we found you,” said Gordon with a grin. “I incinerated them before we left.”

Jeff barked a laugh and leant back in his chair.

“And Kyrano? Kayo?”

“We haven’t seen Kyrano much,” said Scott. “He took it pretty hard when you… vanished.”

“He’s okay,” cut in Virgil. “Semi-retired and spent some time with family in Malaysia before Lady Penelope invited him to consult for Kew Gardens. Kayo says he’s enjoying it but he hates the weather.”

Jeff chuckled. “He did always despise feeling cold. Got into his bones, he said. What about Uncle Tim? I assume he’s stuck pretty close to you. We always said if something happened to either of us in the field that we’d look out for each other’s families.”

 There was a pause, a silence that gaped between them as his sons looked at one another. Jeff’s heart pounded, a cold sweat breaking out across his brow. His lips tingled, turning numb as he read what must have happened in his sons’ careful expressions.

“He’s not dead,” he asked, already knowing with an awful certainty that loomed over him. “He can’t be, I… I wasn’t there. How’s Lesley and the kids doing? When did it happen? Oh God, how–”

“Dad, breathe!”

He didn’t know who said it but he obeyed instantly. The air caught in his chest and he tried again, and again, losing himself to the slow count as his vision returned.

“What–” he began, but Scott held up a hand to prevent further questions.

“Dad, Lesley is fine. And T-tim…” He stumbled over the name as though it were foreign, looking over at his brothers for help.

“She’s Aunt Val now,” said Gordon, cheerfully. He shrugged at Scott’s glare. “No sense wasting time.”

He turned back to Jeff and grinned widely. “She’s not dead, but she’s a lot happier as far as I can tell. She told us a few months after you left.”

Jeff sat frozen, his fears vanishing so quickly that he felt a sense of vertigo.

Then he smiled.

“Well then, she finally told everyone, thank goodness for that!”

Scott blinked.

“You already knew?”

“I’m one of her best friends, of course I knew,” said Jeff, sill grinning broadly. “She told us years ago, didn’t want to make a fuss until she’d achieved her career goals because she didn’t want anyone to say they only gave it to her for a political statement. I always said that was ridiculous, but then she’d know better than me, I guess. I’m only sorry I missed the party.”

The atmosphere relaxed around him, the uncertain defensive wall dropping in an instant.

“She didn’t have one in the end,” said Virgil. “Said it didn’t feel right without you.”

Jeff frowned.

“First thing we do when we get home then,” he said. “Throw her a party.”

“After we’ve checked you out.”

Jeff waved a hand.

“I’m fine. I already told you.”

Virgil glared at Scott. “He’s as bad as you.”

Scott laughed. “Let’s go home.”

Jeff looked around the room one more time as they all steadied themselves for the countdown.

Five. John’s eyes darted back and forth across the navigational controls with a steel focus, wordlessly whispering unknown calculations.

Four. Gordon grimaced in anticipation of the jump ahead and glared at the Hood as he made sure he was still secure.

Three. Alan breathed carefully, and Jeff could practically see the checklist scrolling in his mind as he lay his hands on the thrusters.

 Two. Virgil was watching him, searching for any final sign of injury.

One. Scott looked out across the stars, his eyes settling on the far-off sun as he drew himself up to his full height.

Zero.

The jump blurred against his mind, the memory of the Zero-X launch achingly familiar against his bones.

And then, Jeff saw her with a hitching breath, blue and white and brown and green.

He was home.

[forest-falcon]

The Butterfly Effect

Chpr 11

🐦‍🔥🚒 💚👓👨‍🏫

"Keep her steady," Casey instructed on the approach to Tracy Island.

"Time to suit up."

Jonesy was all too-ready to strap into the exosuit.

Virgil and Brains had taken his measurements - so many measurements, to the point where it had become a borderline annoyance. That was, until the final suit had been unveiled. It wore like a glove - a state-of-the-art glove worth more than his entire flat. And oh...OH had it been fun to use in training.

Tam was strapping into her jet pack - the only one of them who had shown promise at mastering the bat-shit crazy device during training. Jonesy had given his own reenactment of Neville Longbottom flying a broom. The jetpack initially fired too much, and then, too little; dropping him a small height onto his rear.

"Just a tad more sensitive than the firetruck then?"

He gave an impish grin and rubbed his bruised backside.

Mac had passed on the chance to use the confounded contraption after that; but Tam, never one to shy from a challenge, had donned the pack, only to make it look easy.

"This is so much fun!"

"Looks it! I worked out all the bugs for you on my go!"

Jonesy smiled at the memory.

Her joy had been contagious, and it had been nice to see her elated smile mirrored on the Tracy brothers faces as they watched.

He'd only really met Virgil beforehand. It was at the Crystal Spire in London when brainiac, Yost, managed to set his own building alight.

Virgil had saved all their asses, several times, that callout.

"Say, Virgil? What was that badass Ironman suit you used to lift those rocks off Mac, in London?"

"You mean the exosuit?"

"Sure. Erm...do we get to try out one of those in our training?"

"I mean, I don't have anything against you learning how to use it-"

"I'm sensing a but..."

"But... it's made to my measurements, and I'm somewhat larger than yourself."

"Alright show-off," he'd grinned.

"I better get squeezing me some extra gym sessions in!"

"No objections here!" Mac winked.

"Oi, I'm gorgeous as is! Have to give the other guys a chance, is all."

*. *. *.

Jonesy had thought that would be the end of it.

Brains, the Island's resident engineer, inventor and down-right genius, had decided to upgrade their London fire uniforms. Their design was kept the same, as to not give cause for others in the firehouse to ask questions. Everyone in Phoenix had their measurements taken, so it had come as a complete surprise when his very own exosuit was unveiled.

He hadn't ever expected the need to wear it for real - well, a real life rescue.

Jonesy looked around the cabin; studious, contemplative, worried.

Tycho; typing God-knows what on his Tony Stark-esque device. Col. Casey and Captain McCready, busy analyzing a holoprojection of the island.

He leant towards to his best friend; Tam. Her worry was obvious. Perhaps not to everybody, but he knew her. He knew how much she had connected with the Tracy family during her training; their backstory not too dissimilar to her own. Not so much the rockets, and fantasy island; but growing up with only one parent, only to lose the other much too early in life.

He leant over and took Tam's hand.

"Hey. They'll be okay."

He gave her fingers a squeeze.

"How can you know?"

"Because I. am. Iron. Man!"

Jonesy whispered emphatically, flexing the suit with a small hydraulic whine.

Tam shoved him with a smile.

Mac rolled his eyes.

McCready glared at him through the holoprojection of Tracy Island.

[renegadesstuff]

HE SAID IT 😍😍😍

[lacontroller1991]

I finally have time to do some giffing of Oppenheimer, so if you guys have any requests please send them in and I'll gif them!!!

I, of course, already am doing all of Lawrence's scenes but if you guys have any others that you would like to see, please let me know.