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And that’s everything :) This year was our biggest yet!

Thank you to all the gift creators and those who comment and like and encourage and support. Thunderfam is what we make it, and we make it great!

We hope you enjoyed TAG Team Secret Santa 2024. Enjoy, reblog and share the many creations, …and until next year - see you in the sky!

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From @gumnut-logic

From @gumnut-logic to all of Thunderfam.

Author's note: I didn't know if I could write this year, so I didn't enter any prompts to avoid disappointing anyone. However, I did manage to write nearly 4000 words of something with a prompt from my Hubby. So please, everyone enjoy this for what it is, and I hope you have/had a wonderful festive time.

-o-o-o-

Scott was used to working in loud environments but this was ridiculous.

There were people yelling orders and running back and forth, hammering, power tools screeching, and worst of all, singing.

So much singing. He was glad Virgil wasn’t down here. The cacophony hurt.

“I’m sorry, sir, what did you say?”

“Commander Tracy, from one secret organisation to another, we need help.”

Scott blinked.

The old man frowned. “I said we need help!”

“I know that. That’s why we’re here.” He drew in a breath. “Is there anywhere quieter we can talk?”

Watery blue eyes stared at him a moment before turning and waving for Scott and Gordon to follow.

It had been an interesting half an hour since John reported this situation. They had received a call from Molloy Deep, basically a deep hole in the Arctic Ocean. This would have been a Tuesday call out as there were deep sea habitats all over Earth’s oceans (and unfortunately of varying funding and consequently quality - a bug bear of Gordon’s and the source of many a post-rescue rant on the part of the aquanaut).

However, there were no recorded deep sea habitats in or near Molloy Deep, mainly because it was so deep and because, well, Arctic Ocean, anyone?

But John was able to locate…something…at the requested geographical spot and as they were a rescue organisation, the rest was worked out en route.

Thunderbirds One, Two and Four sped across the planet until they reached the spot between Greenland and Iceland.

As per John’s report, there was something down there.

Scott had elected to go down with Gordon, something about this had him on edge and he couldn’t define why.

And it had absolutely nothing to do with all the times Gordon had gone down this deep and not come back in one piece.

No, not at all.

He earned himself a frown from both Virgil and Gordon, and Alan had to transfer over to One, but he went anyway, Commander’s prerogative.

And there definitely did turn out to be something in Molloy Deep.

The usual midnight zone darkness was gradually broken by spots of light on the cliff they were following down. Closer inspection revealed creatures hovering in the water column like Christmas ornaments.

Gordon was going nuts about new species discovery and the percentage of life that was unknown in the deep, etcetera, etcetera, but they had a mission. He could come back next time he had leave.

In any case, they quickly became less individually important as they navigated deeper, a golden glow emanated from below them, the glowing ornaments increasing in number until the midnight landscape was lit…well…like a Christmas tree.

The glow became a huge dome glittering in the water, surrounded by unique sealife that now had Gordon throwing a full-on fit.

But ultimately, they located an airlock and backed Four into a secure connection, and the pair of them embarked into a very strange world.

A world where it was gently snowing.

It was obvious that the area they entered was some kind of docking space. Several factory-like buildings were crowded about and it wasn’t long before they were grabbed by a young worker and hurried in the direction of a portly old man sporting a white beard and moustache.

He would have been totally cliche and straight out of a children’s story if it wasn’t for the Motörhead T-Shirt, jeans and sneakers.

But considering they were several miles underwater in a giant snowglobe, the list of unbelievables was already maxed out.

The old man led them out of the factory building and into the snow.

“I’m sorry about the cold. The environmentals aren’t happy at the moment.”

The man sighed, turned and stalked through the snow to a house…which might as well been made of gingerbread. Hell, Scott walked past a red and white striped candy cane a foot thick and, taller than him, sticking out of the snow beside the path.

“Scott-“

“Gordon.”

“Do you think-?”

“Focus on the mission.”

“But-“

They reached the house and were ushered into a warm living room complete with an open fire and…yes, a Christmas tree… in July.

“Have a seat, gentlemen.”

Scott hesitated. “We were called in for an emergency.”

The stocky man turned to frown at him, his bushy white eyebrows colliding with his nose - not unlike what Virgil’s did on a fairly regular basis.

“Yes, this is an emergency, but we have time. Just enough.” And as if to prove the point, he walked across the room to the mantlepiece, opened the face of the ornate clock sitting up there and pushed its long hand back by a good fifteen minutes. He closed it and turned back to Scott. “See? We have time.”

It was Scott’s turn to frown. Gordon nudged him and pointed to his diving watch on his wrist.

It matched the time on the mantlepiece.

What the-?

The old man gestured them both to the sofa. “C’mon, you have questions, I have answers, sit down so we can get to the meat of the problem.”

Of course Gordon moved first, practically bouncing across the room to take a seat. Scott moved a touch slower, eyeing everything, assessing and questioning.

“Sit down, Commander. I don’t bite.”

Scott had no choice but to obey.

The fire crackled and bounced as the old man sat in a large sofa chair opposite them He scratched his beard a moment as if pondering where to start.

“As the Commander of International Rescue, you are aware of the need for secrecy when working for the good of all?”

Those blue eyes held his own. “Yes, sir.”

“We both need that secrecy, Commander Tracy. So I am hoping we have the confidence of you and your organisation.”

“Of course.”

He paused a moment. “I have no doubt that you have your suspicions as to mine and my organisation’s identity.” Beside Scott, Gordon was fit to burst. “But I will ask for no extraneous questions.”

Gordon froze. “But-?”

Those cool eyes turned to pin the aquanaut. “Do you like coal, Mr Gordon?”

His fish brother gulped. “No, sir.”

“Neither do I. It is one of the reasons why I need your help.” His attention turned back to Scott. “The ice is disappearing and with it, its protection. We have to move, to find a new base of operations. I have a place in mind, but I need to get there.”

“How many are needing rescue?”

“Four million, five thousand and three.” A soft blink. “And myself and my wife.”

Scott’s jaw dropped.

“It’s a lot, I know, but from what I’ve seen of Thunderbird Two, it should be able to do the job.”

“Four million…sir…that would take years!”

“We will make time.”

“Sir!”

“We have less than six months.”

“Not possible.”

Those watery blue eyes stared into his soul. “Do you have dreams, Commander?”

Scott’s lips hardened. “I thought we weren’t asking extraneous questions.”

“Hmm, I guess it could be seen that way from your point of view, however, dreams do lead to possibilities, do they not? And I need to move our base of operations as soon as possible to these coordinates.” He reached down to a table beside his chair and handed a piece of neatly folded paper to Scott.

Opening it, he found a set of coordinates written in perfect copperplate cursive.

Cursive or not, the location was clear.

“You want International Rescue to help you move to Antarctica?”

The old man shrugged. “It’s land, it’s a geographical pole, and it’s basically empty. Though note it is East Antarctica - I fear West Antarctica will befall the same fate as the Arctic.” He looked up at the ceiling and glanced around the room. “I will miss this place.”

“Sir…” Scott sighed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”

“Nikolas.”

Beside him, Gordon twitched.

“Nikolas, I want to help you, but moving four million people is just not possible, much less in six months.”

“Five months and fourteen days.”

Scott sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “The logistics - Thunderbird Four can only carry a maximum of ten people at a time, maybe fifteen at a stretch. You are over five kilometres below the surface. Thunderbird Two can carry many more, yes, but getting them up there…four million…”

“Commander, the four million are the easy part. If I were you, I would be more concerned about the reindeer.” With that he pushed himself to his feet. “Come along, time is a-wasting.” He turned his back and walked out the door.

-o-o-o-

More to come @gumnut-logic in the next few days :D

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From @hebuiltfive

From @hebuiltfive to @misstb2

From the prompt: Snowmen.

Blizzard

A blanket of snow covered the High Plains. Spindly trees that had gone dormant for the winter looked like tall spiders in the shadows of early dawn, whilst patches of frost-covered vegetation peaked through the snowdrifts. The entire scene made the wintery landscape appear far harsher than it actually was.

The sun had yet to rise this morning, though it did not matter. Even under its winter warmth the snow would not yield so willingly; during the night it had fallen thick and fast, leaving a covering of crisp, fresh snow that most children would have dreamt of receiving during the week of Christmas. Years ago, when Gordon himself could still have been classed as a child, he too would have jumped for joy at the wondrous sight.

But, these days, jumping had become an impossibly dangerous action for him.

He hadn’t realised how much he had missed something so unimportant. Unlike walking and the general decline of his health, Gordon had not thought to grieve his lost ability to jump. He hadn’t even given the simple action a thought. His main priorities had been on learning how to walk again and learning how to live his life with the permanency of his injuries. He hadn’t cared enough to consider everything else that he’d be losing, both temporarily or permanently. Compared to living, jumping had been far too mundane, too trivial, to have even contemplated.

Until now.

Would he ever be able to jump easily again? Should he have been more concerned about that, as he had been with walking, with talking, with breathing, with living? 

Gordon stared out of the living room window. The scene could have easily been plucked from some sort of winter wonderland fairytale, only this one didn’t feel like it had a happy ending for him. The beauty was beyond words, yet all he could think about was how difficult it would be now for him to enjoy the snow.

He wouldn’t be able to run carelessly through the snowdrifts; his back had only just begun to tolerate him moving with speed. He wouldn’t be able to dive carelessly onto the ground and make snow angels; his muscles would scream at him, not only for submerging them into the ice cold snow, but simply because of the exertion.

Unlike a child, he wouldn’t be able to do anything carefree. No matter how enticing the white blanket of snow was, Gordon was unable to play and, in that moment, he hated that fact more than any other obstacle that had halted him during his recovery. 

The thoughts alone sent bites of chronic pain through his lower back. Gordon was slowly getting used to the twinges and had begun to learn the different warning shots that were fired by his nervous system when he accidentally twisted his body in the wrong direction. But he had ignorantly believed that pinches and stings of the more chronic aches and pains had long since gone. 

That they had left him when the nightmares had left him. 

That they were a product of the Before Recovery rather than of the After. 

Gordon winced and repositioned himself so he was no longer slouching in sadness. Now he used the window frame as support for his apparently still-frail body. If any of his brothers were in the room with him Gordon might have ignored his body’s request for help. He told himself it wasn’t because he was too proud to admit he still had bad moments, it was just because he didn’t want his family losing any more sleep over him. The last few months had been filled with nothing but worry on their part and Gordon would have been lying if he didn’t admit to feeling a little guilty. Besides, if they continued to fret over him every time he had a flare up, they would never stop. Whether any of them wanted it or not, whether they liked it or not, this was his new normal. The sooner they all came to terms with that, the better.

But his family weren’t currently in the same room as him.

As far as Gordon was aware, they were all still tucked up in their beds, fast asleep, and unaware that he’d been awake for the last half an hour. Even Penelope, who he’d left bundled up under the covers like a hibernating squirrel, hadn’t noticed his departure. Gordon had been extra quiet when he had left, gently pulling the door to the bedroom closed so as not to wake her from her peaceful slumber.

Part of him longed to return upstairs, to wrap his arms around her and hold tight, but he knew it would have been a pointless exercise. The fact remained that Gordon couldn’t sleep, too caught up in his thoughts and worries, and no amount of soft, early morning cuddling would solve it. He knew because he’d already tried, and, after nearly accidentally waking Penelope up, he wasn’t keen on trying again.

Gordon crossed the living room to the sofa and eased himself down. His boots took him longer than usual to put on thanks to the ache in his back, but after a few minutes of gentle wrestling with the laces, and once he slipped on a few more layers to protect himself from the cold, Gordon approached the front door.

He knew that going outside wasn’t the wisest option. He knew that, if his family were to wake up and find him outdoors, in the snow, alone, they’d be lecturing him about the risks. But Gordon was a Tracy and taking risks was one of his favourite hobbies. It had been like torture to only view the snow from behind a pane of glass. So, as long as he was back inside before anyone woke up, no-one would ever need to know he’d ventured out alone.

The usual path to the gates was covered with snow. Gordon took it slowly, savouring every crunch beneath his boots. Virgil’s idea of lining the pathway with festively decorated lanterns had come in handy; before he had left, Gordon had switched them on so they now offered a soft glow to light his way. He looked back only once towards the ranch, and it was only when he reached the main gates. Deciding to continue, he teased them open, gathering snow beneath the wooden panels as he did so.

With the nearest neighbours being a mile or two away, and with his family still in bed, Gordon’s feet were the first to step foot in this snowfall. There was something satisfying about it and the smile that emerged on his face was unapologetic. He might not be able to run and dive so easily anymore but one thing he could still do was stand outside and enjoy being present in the moment.

The snowman hadn’t been planned. Before leaving the warmth of the ranch, Gordon had been content to just breathe in the crisp, winter air. But the longer he stayed outdoors, the more the itch of playing needed to be scratched.

It started with a small ball. He convinced himself it was a snowball, one that he’d throw at the rocks as training for the next time he was fit enough to fight with his brothers again. His gloved hands pressed and padded the ball more and more until he was determined to make it into the perfect sphere. Mistakes were made and more snow was added until the ball became too big to hold in one palm. Gordon had placed it back on the ground and rolled more snow into the shape until the body of a snowman began to form.

He wasn’t sure how many minutes had gone by when he finally took a step back to admire his handy work. The dull ache in his back had returned, a warning that he was exerting himself too much, but Gordon could endure a little more if he just took a small break…

Crunch.

His eyes flicked down to his boots but they weren’t the source of the noise; he wasn’t the one walking.

Crunch, crunch, crunch.

The breeze carried the sweet scent of peonies and Gordon instantly felt regretful. She should have still been tucked up in bed where it was warm and soft, not trundling out after him in the bitterly frosty morning.

Penelope’s arms wrapped around Gordon’s padded jacket from behind, her chin coming to rest on his shoulder. Her lips pressed a soft, icy kiss to his numb cheek. “What are you doing out here?”

He knew that lying to her would have been pointless. Over recent years Penelope had become somewhat of an expert when it came to reading his tells. On the odd occasion, he’d been able to deceive her. The most recent example had been the other week when Penelope had almost uncovered one of the presents he’d bought for her. Using quick thinking Gordon had managed to convince her it had been a gift for his grandmother and, for the time being, he believed it had been a success. But those occasions were becoming rarer, with the gaps between them growing wider and wider.

Gordon didn’t like being an open book too often. He liked to imagine himself having some sort of mystery around him. Gordon enjoyed being mysterious. He’d given the tabloids a run for their money in his younger teenage years and it had been somewhat cathartic to see the vultures circle the rumours and the myths that had spread about him instead of them swooping and aiming for his brothers. Over time, the aura had stuck and now Gordon wasn’t sure who he was without it. No matter how much he tried to let it go, his mind would constantly ask the same question on a loop: if there was nothing about him to be curious of, why would anyone continue to bother with him?

It was especially worse when it came to Penelope.

Never before had a woman been able to gauge him so fast. For the longest time, Gordon had always assumed that it was just Penelope being Penelope. Her job required her to see past fake visages and the most ridiculous of lies, so it made sense that it had become a part of her, that she would use it on her friends without even realising.

He supposed that her ability to read him easily should have been a blessing; it meant that she knew him, that she cared enough about him to notice when he wasn’t quite himself. But sometimes Gordon wished she didn’t possess such talents.

Tonight was one of those times.

“You shouldn’t be out here, Pen.” Gordon untangled himself from her arms and turned to face her. He didn’t lift his eyes to meet hers. He couldn’t. As well as Penelope knew him, Gordon prided himself on his own ability to read her. He knew those bright, blue eyes would be searching him for answers, and he wasn’t ready to give them up just yet.

“Neither should you, Gordon.”

In his peripheral vision he saw her lift her arm. Gordon kept his eyes trained on the white snow beneath his feet. 

“It’s five am.” Penelope continued after a brief pause, evidently having just glimpsed at her watch. “It’s freezing. You should be inside where it’s warm.”

 Though there was a slight edge to her voice, Penelope spoke softly. Whether that was in fear of her voice travelling on the wind, back to the ranch and possibly waking the others up, or whether it was purely out of pity, Gordon did not know. He hoped it wasn’t the latter. He didn’t need pity, no matter if it came out of a place of love and caring. 

“I was building a snowman.” With a wave of his hand, Gordon gestured to the ball of snow that sat a few feet away from them.

As Penelope turned her head to take in the body of the snowman Gordon dared to glance up at her. A sad smile had formed on her perfectly shaped lips. She still looked half asleep and Gordon mentally kicked himself for making her worry so much that she felt obliged to come out and fetch him. In the poor lighting, her usually bright, wide eyes were dimmed and drowsy. The coat she had thrown on had been hastily zipped up and, without looking more closely, Gordon thought it might have actually been one of Kayo’s. She wore a cream coloured hat that sat at an awkward angle on her head, with strands of blonde sticking out over her face. They clung to her long eyelashes and balmed lips.

Not only had Penelope ventured out into the dark, frostbitten night for him, she had done it all in one hell of a rush.

“Were you worrying about me, Pen?” Gordon smirked. He might have been cold, achy and, despite the inability to sleep, surprisingly tired, but his mischievous spark still burned brightly. 

Perhaps if he could distract her enough, she’d drop the questioning and the pitying looks…

Penelope’s gaze returned to him. “You know I’ll always worry about you.” Before Gordon was able to respond, she continued. “Your snowman doesn’t have a head.”

Her quick statement wasn’t false and yet Gordon struggled to find the words for his reply. He spluttered, glancing back at the single ball of snow. “That’s because you interrupted me.”

“You were standing still, staring into space when I arrived.”

“No, I was… calibrating.”

Penelope arched a sceptical brow. “Calibrating?”

“Mm-hm. What I had to do next.”

“A head would have been a good start.”

Gordon couldn’t help but chuckle. “It was going to be the next step. My back just needed a break…”

He caught himself too late. All the bravado slipped and, once again, he didn’t dare look at Penelope. There he was, thinking he had been doing a good job at distracting her, when he had never really stood chance. She was too good. She knew exactly how to get him to slip up.

“Gordon, why are you still out here?”

The game was up. He’d been caught. There was no reason to continue lying to himself. Sullen and broken, Gordon shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and began to stalk back towards the house.

Penelope caught his arm as he passed her, holding him in place. “Where are you going now?”

“Back inside.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Gordon rarely broke. When he was down, he rarely allowed people to see his true feelings, even when they’d been accurately guessed. But now that he was cold and sleepy and feeling utterly torn apart by grief, his true feelings easily bubbled to the surface. He felt hot tears sting his eyes, he felt the tremble in his fingers as he tried to hold it together.

“My answer is pointless, just like coming out here was.”

“Gordon, wait.” Penelope pleaded, her fingers tightening slightly when he attempted to break away from her. She held fast, unwilling to let him walk away that easily. “Talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to talk about, Pen.”

“You always say that! Always. Stop trying to shut me out, Gordon. You know it won’t work.”

If he really wanted to, he could have tugged his arm out of her grasp. Penelope held on tightly but she would never force him to stay if he truly didn’t want to. If he really wished to leave, he could have done so easily, but Gordon didn’t want that. He wanted to stay. He wanted to hold Penelope and talk about all of it, until the sun rose and the birds sung and the morning settled.

He just didn’t know how to express that.

Gordon sighed. He tilted his head upwards, gazing at the puffy, grey clouds above. Swimming was second nature to him but right now all he wanted to do was experience the freedom of flight. 

Penelope’s grip loosened. It was her way of telling him she’d let him go, as if he didn’t already know that.

But Gordon remained rooted to the spot.

“I couldn’t sleep.” His admission was barely a whisper. “No matter how much I tried, I couldn’t get that image out of my head tonight, so I gave up trying. I went downstairs, saw it had been snowing and thought ‘what the hell?’ I know I shouldn’t have come out alone but… God, Penny, I can’t do it anymore. I can’t keep pretending it’s okay when it’s really, really not.”

Her arms were around him in seconds, embracing him tightly. She was mindful of his injuries but Gordon didn’t care about that. All he was concerned about was those hot tears that now leaked from his eyes and ran trails down his cheeks.

The nightmares were nothing new. Gordon had first started having them in the days following the accident. At first, they were brutal. His inability to recall the accident had him initially believing it to be a blessing but, as the nightmares had gone on to prove, it had ended up being more like a curse. His mind had conjured up scenarios of what truly happened that afternoon, of leering faces and blazing explosions. Virgil had been the first person he’d confessed the nightmares to, in a state of medicated euphoria and definitely not on purpose, and even though his brother had reassured him multiple times that those scenes he witnessed in his dreams were not real, it never stopped them from feeling real.

And, for Gordon during his slumber, the feeling real was enough to convince him it that is was.

But before he’d been able to consider receiving help, the nightmares had calmed. For a while his sleep was undisturbed. It only lasted long enough for his body to heal to the state it was currently in, however. 

For the last four nights the terrors had returned, and Gordon hadn’t felt strong enough to admit it to anyone.

He would have happily kept it hidden for longer if Penelope hadn’t seen right through him.

Gordon buried his face in her woollen scarf. If she had mistakingly picked up Kayo’s jacket, Penelope hadn’t made the same mistake with the scarf. It held her classic, signature scent and Gordon breathed it in, long and deep, as though it were a tool he used to calm himself. 

“I just needed to feel normal again, Pen.” He mumbled into the fabric. “I just needed one second so I could pretend everything was the way it used to be.”

He felt Penelope’s lips press against his cheek before she pulled away from him. There was a twinkle in her eyes, one that wasn’t unnoticed by Gordon who knew that look all too well.

“If we’re careful,” Penelope began slowly, “I don’t see why we can’t continue building this friend of yours.”

Her grin was contagious. She clapped together her mittened hands and, with Gordon in tow, advanced towards the ready-made body.

Penelope was surprisingly good at building snowmen. Though, after the stories she shared, he wasn’t sure whether it should have been surprising in the first place. As they worked, she recalled memories of winters back in England, of her experience creating literal armies of snowmen with her brother during particularly bad storms. In return, Gordon regaled her with tales of his own. Between the two of them, they had enough stories to exchange until sunrise.

Minutes passed by and turned into hours. Snowflakes had begun to flurry from the heavens as the sky soon morphed from onyx to indigo, and, just in time for the first rays of sun, the snowman was finally built.

While Penelope had volunteered to traipse back up to the ranch in order to find suitable clothing for their snowman, Gordon had ventured to the driveway to collect some stones. He spent a few minutes deciding between his hand-picked bunch, telling himself it was because he had to choose the perfect selection and not because he needed to rest his back again. With Penelope’s help, Gordon had been able to enjoy himself without putting his back out too much, but it still ached.

By the time he made it back to the snowman, his collection of rocks in his palm, Penelope had also returned. A carrot had been added as the nose, the scarf she’d been previously wearing was now wrapped around the neck, and a fedora hat that looked suspiciously like one of Scott’s favourites was currently being adjusted on the head.

Gordon chuckled as he approached.

“It was the best I could find. You don’t think Scott will mind?” Penelope’s lips twisted in worry.

He reassured her by wrapping an arm around her waist, pulling her close to him and pressing a kiss to her temple. “… You know what? I doubt he’ll even realise it’s missing. Here.” Gordon held out his hand and dropped three stones into her waiting mitten.

Reaching forward she added them to the body of the snowman while Gordon added the remaining to the face for the eyes and the mouth. Then, they both stood back to admire their handiwork.

“What are we going to do for a name?” Penelope asked.

“Frosty?”

“Isn’t that too unoriginal?”

He laughed. “Alright. How about Blizzard?”

Penelope tilted her head, assessing the snowman and whether the name fit. She nodded. “Blizzard it is.”

—————————————————————

The dining room was frantic at dinner. With the run-up to Christmas picking up speed as time flew by, everyone’s schedules had been full. The last couple of days before The Big One meant that the only time any of them had a chance to sit down together as a family was during meal times, and lately that had gone from three to one. From breakfast, lunch, and dinner, to just dinner.

Plates were dished and drinks flowed. The room, like most of the ranch, had already been decorated for the season. Lights glistened and tinsel sparkled. In the background, Grandma had vintage Christmas records playing on a low volume, mostly muffled by the voices of those sat around the table.

Most talk was filled with rants about their day: of corporate board members not playing fair; of shoppers in the local mall virtually fighting for the last gifts; of the snow becoming more and more of a problem, one that they’d need to keep an eye on in case International Rescue were needed for a call-out.

It was the latter topic that sparked the conversation Gordon had been dreading.

“So, who had enough time to go out and build that impressive looking snowman?” Virgil had asked the table.

Gordon tried not to look guilty. After years of claiming plausible deniability to most of the accusations of masterminding pranks (even when he was to blame), it was almost easy. His eyes darted across to Penelope who sat beside him. She seemed unfazed by the question, stabbing her vegetables with her fork with barely a shaking hand.

Neither he nor Penelope had uttered a word about the snowman they’d built earlier but only because no-one had seemed to notice… And, in Gordon’s case, because he knew he shouldn’t have done it.

“It wasn’t me.” Scott answered first. “I didn’t have time. Besides, do you think I’d have used one of my favourite hats? Whoever that was,” he pointed his empty fork around the table, “I will get payback.”

“Well it wasn’t me either.” Kayo was next to reply.

The other denials were voiced, but Gordon didn’t pay attention. Penelope had lowered her voice to a whisper so only Gordon could hear her.

“I thought you said Scott wouldn’t have minded.”

“No. I said he doubted he’d even see it was missing. Totally different.”

He could hear the exasperation in her sigh, saw the fond rolling of her eyes, and then caught sight of his brother’s deep blue pools examining him curiously.

“How was your day, Gordon?”

Gordon tried not to gulp. Scott might not have made for a great detective in most situations, but when it came to his brothers, he was rather like Penny; adept and very, very good at reading him.

“Did you go out in the snow at all?” Scott continued.

The others around the table glanced in his direction.

“Me?” Gordon attempted to appear perplexed. “The weather has been playing havoc with my back. I’ve not stepped foot outside all day.”

Scott’s narrowed eyes indicated he didn’t believe a word Gordon said.

“If it wasn’t one of us, then maybe it was those kids from the nearby farm who made it. They’re big fans of Alan’s.” Gordon suggested in the hope he’d shift the topic of conversation.

But, other than the youngest’s cheeks flushing red, no-one seemed to take the bait.

“Or,” Virgil posited, “it could have just appeared. Like a Christmas miracle.”

“Miracles like that don’t exist.” John shook his head, though a broad smirk had taken shape. “Snowmen don’t just appear. My bet is on those kids too. I’ll get EOS to check the security tapes…”

“You don’t have to do that!” Gordon practically yelled. When his family, including Penelope, offered confused looks, he quickly cleared his throat. “I mean, if they did it in secret maybe they’re too embarrassed to come forward?”

John pondered on Gordon’s statement for a moment. “I suppose you’re right.”

He wasn’t sure if John would refrain from looking at the tapes. Knowing his brother, curiosity would likely get the better of him. Gordon just hoped he didn’t tattle on him. Having had Penelope out with him, John would hopefully drop it if he did go looking.

Thankfully the rest of the dinner proceeded with no more talk of the snowman. Gordon excused himself for the night, citing his poor back as the reason he wanted to retire early. In truth, the lack of sleep from the night before had finally caught up with him.

Penelope had figured as much and had said her own goodnights before following Gordon upstairs. 

He’d already changed into his pyjama bottoms, his top laying discarded on the end of the bed. Once again he was looking out of the window, down at the snowy grounds below. In the distance, despite the lack of light, he could just about make out Blizzard, standing tall against the new snowfall.

“Do you think we fooled them?” He asked her without taking his eyes off the window.

“Unless John takes a look at that CCTV, I think you’re in the clear.”

Gordon heard her light footsteps cross the room. He felt her warm presence behind him, her fingers tracing the scars that marred his back. He suppressed a shudder. It never embarrassed him to allow Penelope to see his scars. They were apart of him just as much as the callouses on his hands or the emerging wrinkles by his eyes. But the touch reminded him they were there, it reminded him of the accident. 

“Promise me you won’t go wandering off again tonight.” Her lips were so close to his ear, her breath tickled his skin.

He turned to face her and tucked a stray strand behind her ear. “I promise I won’t leave until you’re wide awake.”

“I mean it, Gordon.”

“So do I, Pen. I won’t apologise for this morning because I had a good time, and I think you did too, but I promise you, I won’t do it again.”

Her hand cupped his face, her thumb gently over his cheeks. “Good. And I did have a good time.”

“Perhaps next year, once I’m fully recovered, you can show me how you and your brother used to make those armies?”

Penelope chuckled softly and nodded. “It would be my honour.”

[tagsecretsanta]

From @gordonthegreatesttracy

From @gordonthegreatesttracy to @vitanirigatoni

Chapter one: Christmas on the Range

“Oh give me a home, where the rescuers roam

Where the squid and the rocket boy play

Where seldom is heard, roars from the Thunderbirds

And Scotty’s not grumpy all day!

Christmas on the range

Where the squid and the rocket boy play

Where seldom is heard, roars from the Thunderbirds

And Scotty’s not grumpy all day!

How often at night when the heavens are bright

With the lights from the glittering stars

Has John stood there amazed and asked as he gazed

Does their wonder exceed Virgil’s art!

Christmas on the ra…”

“Gordon, shut up!” Scott demands. He is sure that his fish brother spends all year just thinking up new ways to annoy him, and this is one of his favourite methods. A new and irritating song on Christmas Eve, and surely seven in the morning is too early for Gordon to start being annoying!

This is the second Christmas after they got their dad back, and after last years disaster, where Gordon set fire to the tree and presents before running away and getting himself shot, they made a family decision to do things differently this year, and spend Christmas at the ranch.

“No Scotty, the song says you aren’t allowed to be grumpy!” Gordon tells him. “Gordy jr loves Daddy’s singing, don’t you” he says, turning to the seven-month-old baby resting in Lady Penelope’s arms. Gordon still can’t believe that this baby is his, and his love for both Lady Penelope and the baby grow bigger every day.

Everyone is sitting around the table having breakfast, grandma’s specialty of burnt toast and raw bacon is being ignored for a large bowl of fresh fruit, and an even larger pot of coffee, which they are taking turns wrestling from Virgil.

The early morning sunlight is streaming through the floor to ceiling windows, bathing the room in the pink glow of the sunrise, promising another perfect day in paradise.

The centre of the table is piled high with presents of all shapes and sizes, and Lady Penelope is subtlety eyeing them up, she is an adult, a mother, a secret agent for the world’s biggest rescue organisation but she still gets excited for her birthday! But her attention is dragged away from the gifts by raised voices.

“Dad, why not?” Virgil ask his father from the other end of the table, where they are having an intense discussion, which anyone else would call an argument.

“Because I am your father, and I said so!” Jeff replies, raising one eyebrow and glaring at his second eldest son, that gaze that would usually have all five of his children backing down in an instant, but Virgil has not had enough coffee to heed the warning.

“But dad, it isn’t fair! Virgil says insistently. “Before you came back Scott let me do it all the time”

Jeff trying not to laugh and still keep a stern expression on his face, leans his elbows on the table, and rests his chin on his hands. “Really, should we ask him?”

Virgil glares back at his father, defiantly, and rolls his eyes. “Don’t you trust me?”

“Hey Scott, stop yelling at Gordon for a minute, and answer this question. Before you rescued me from the Oort Cloud, did you or did you not let Virgil drink coffee straight from the pot?” he says calling down the table.

The whole room goes quiet, while they anticipate Scott’s answer.

“No I did not! That’s disgusting” Scott replies.

“Want to try again Virgil?” Jeff says with a grin.

Virgil knows when he is defeated and doesn’t answer, instead choosing to finish the coffee in his mug before filling it back up and starting on coffee number five for the morning. Just three more and he is ready to face the day.

“Are you going to eat anything Virg?” John asks, having watched his brother inhale caffeine for the last ten minutes.

“I am eating. I am eating a salad” Virgil replies, pouring another coffee.

“I thought you were drinking coffee?” John asks, lines of confusion cross his forehead as he frowns.

“Gordon!” Virgil calls.

“I got ya back, Virg” Gordon replies. “Coffee is made from beans, beans are a salad, therefore coffee is salad. Virgil is consuming a perfectly healthy breakfast!”

Jeff gives up. “Just don’t drink it from the pot” before giving his full and undivided attention to the unfinished coffee bean salad in his own mug.

Grandma uses the momentary silence to ask her own question. “What are everyone’s plans for today?”

“Horse riding, hoverbike racing, skinny-dipping in the lake while dad babysits” Gordon replies.

“Solid no on the skinny-dipping Fish, no one wants to see that!” John tells him

“Definitely no skinny-dipping Gordon, if I catch you, I will join you!” Grandma threatens, which just about stops everyone’s appetite!

Penelope can’t stand the wait any further. “Can I open my presents first?”

“No, you have to wait until tomorrow” Gordon replies rolling his eyes. His Penelope is the most impatient woman he has ever met, but surely she can wait another twenty-four hours. He has too!

There is a collective gasp among his brothers. Surely he can’t be serious? He can’t have forgotten that today is Penelope’s birthday, he just can’t.

Penelope stares at him in surprise for a few seconds before the words sink into her brain. He doesn’t even know that it is her birthday, how could he do this to her?

She get up from the table with Gordy Jr and storms from the room before he gets the chance to see the tears silently streaming down her face. He will not get the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

“What was that about?” Gordon asks in confusion.

“If you don’t know, we are not going to tell you” Parker tells him in disgust as everyone gets up and leaves until he is alone at the table with nothing but his own confusing thoughts.

*TB*

Lady Penelope is furiously packing, throwing all her clothes into the suitcase without bothering to fold anything, what is the point in perfectly laundered clothing when her whole life just fell apart. She thought that he loved her, but how can he do this? How can he be so selfish and self-absorbed that he forgot her birthday? She is going to make him regret this, one way or another Gordon Tracy is going to regret this.

*TB*

Gordon doesn’t know what to do, he has no idea what went wrong as he sadly gets up from the table and starts to walk towards the rear of the house and the patio where the pool is housed.

The early morning sunshine is warm on the top of his head as he contemplates just diving in fully dressed, into the inviting clear water.

The roars from the engines of FAB one overhead pull him out of his thoughts and he is forced to watch the love of his life fly away with their son, as he allows his own tears to fall.

“How could you?” a voice from behind calls, before he is shoved hard in the back and he falls into the pool. Gasping for air, his arms flailing wildly as he tries to find out who pushed him and finds himself looking into the angry aquamarine eyes of his immediate elder brother.

“J-J-John?!” he stutters as he drags himself up onto the side of the pool. His clothes are soaked and his shoes are ruined as he pulls them from his feet and pours the water out.

“She loved you. You were her person, and she never demanded anything but that love back, and you couldn’t even do that. You are the most selfish, spoiled brat I have ever met and I am so sorry that you’re my brother.” John says his voice is low and menacing with the threat of pushing him back in.

Gordon knows he has messed everything up, and he still has no idea how.

“It’s her birthday you idiot. Those gifts on the table were for her, from all of us. Even Old Joe got her a gift, but you, the so-called love of her life, forgot. I would not blame her if she never spoke to you again”

John turns on his heel and walks away leaving Gordon alone once more.

Gordon knows he should go after her, he knows that he has messed everything up. Penelope is the most stubborn person he has ever met, and usually he loves that about her, as she never gives up on anything, but he knows now that quality will make it impossible to apologise, once her mind is made up there is no changing it.

Sadly he takes the small gift box from his pocket, and opens it up, gazing sadly at the large diamond set in platinum and embraced in a golden ring that he was going to give her this evening after the fun day he had planned for her birthday, but this is one prank that has backfired on him in the worst way as he snaps the box shut and starts to run.

He runs down past the pool and out into the desert, the hot sandy ground is burning the soles of his bare feet as he gets into a rhythm and finds his heart steadying as he focuses on his breathing, and not where he is going.

He runs until he can run no more, and he sinks to the ground, his head buried in his arms and he lets out a painful howl that comes from deep in his soul. He stays in his spot all day, not moving until the sun starts to sink below the horizon to be replaced by a billion stars and a chilly night. He gets to his feet, and starts to walk slowly back to the ranch, where he knows that the chilly air outside will be nothing like the frosty atmosphere that will be waiting for him and he slows his walk even further as the sadness envelopes him once more.

*TB*

The house is ablaze with lights, the security lights on the outside are fully lit as Gordon pushes open the main door and slips inside. His feet are so painful from where the stones have cut and burned the skin, and he wants nothing more than to soak in a hot bath with the scented candles he picked out with Penelope.

Thoughts of Penelope invade his brain, and he realises that it isn’t true, he wants nothing more than to soak in a hot bath with the scented candles and Penelope. That pang of pain flashes through his chest again, and he can feel the hot salty tears threatening to spill over once more as he tries to make it to the stairs unseen.

“There you are. You came back then” John says, spotting him easily, as stealthy is not a word anyone associates with Gordon Tracy.

“Obviously” Virgil answers him rolling his eyes. “Are you okay Gordon?”

Gordon doesn’t reply, he wants to run away again, he can’t face his brothers, knowing that once again he has completely ruined their Christmas.

“Who cares” Alan says. “He ruins everything. We had so much planned for today and he’s destroyed it all. Again.”

“Alan. Stop” Virgil says demanding.

“You always take his side” John says rolling his eyes in disgust.

“Someone has too” Virgil says, his voice starting to rise.

Gordon wishes he could come clean, and admit that it is true that he has once again ruined their Christmas with a poorly thought-out prank, but he can’t. There is no way he can ever tell the truth it has gone too far already.

“Boys. Stop it, all of you, it is Christmas eve and I don’t want any more fighting” Grandma demands. she has had enough of their arguing, they have been doing it all day, and her patience has finally run out.

“We aren’t arguing, we are just…” Scott trails off.

“Arguing” Grandma confirms. “I want all of you upstairs into those matching pyjamas I ordered for you all, and back down here in the next five minutes where we will sit and watch a family Christmas movie and we will have a good time” she doesn’t have to add or else to that, they are aware that it is implied!

*TB*

Five minutes later there are five Tracys in the living room, gathered around the television, all wearing red pyjamas adorned with reindeers and slow flakes, Jeff has lit a fire and the room is warm as cosy and at odds with the frostiness emanating from the rooms inhabitants.

Jeff comes into the room carrying a tray with mugs of steaming peppermint hot chocolate with squirty cream and marshmallows, drizzled with chocolate sauce and rainbow-coloured sprinkles and a plate of Grandma’s freshly baked cookies. He places it carefully on the table, takes a mug, ignores the cookies and sits on the sofa next to Scott.

“Have you chosen a movie yet?” he asks, determined to keep the atmosphere light. He is not surprised that he gets different answers or that none of them met the requirement of Christmas move, he is however surprised that he only gets four answers.

“Top gun” said Scott

“Elvis” said Virgil

“The fast and the furious 37” said Alan

“Superman” said John

He looks at Gordon, who is sitting on the floor staring into the flames of the fire with a blank look on his face, and Jeff knows that he didn’t even know he was in the room, never mind that he asked him a question. “Gordon?”

“Huh?” Gordon replies, looking around with a startled jump.

“What movie should we watch?” Jeff asks.

“He doesn’t get a vote, as he doesn’t matter” Alan says. “He is only still here because he has nowhere to go now Penelope doesn’t want him, no one wants him”  

“Alan, stop it” Jeff demands, finally losing his temper. “We are a family and it is about time you all remembered that and started to act like one”

Scott opens his mouth to protest when there is a loud bang on the roof and the lights and fire are suddenly extinguished and the house is plunged into darkness.

“Oh great, now what did you do, Gordon!” John says in disgust.

Chapter two: helping deliver gifts

Gordon doesn’t answer, he didn’t do anything, but he knew that he would get the blame. He grabs his phone from his pocket, to turn the torch on, forgetting that it got destroyed this morning by his unexpected swim in the pool and isn’t working, which is just another thing he has messed up. Gordon can’t do anything right.

The lights come back on, and there is a shuffling sound from the fire place before there is a thump on the burnt-out logs and someone dressed from head to toe in red climbs out, brushes soot from their long white hair and straightens up.

“Sorry about that” they say sitting down on the sofa and grabbing one of Grandma’s cookies, and taking a large bite out of it, before spitting it out in disgust. Her cry of “What was that?” is drowned out by Alan’s shout.

“MRS CLAUS!” Alan cries in surprise.

They haven’t seen her since that fateful Christmas two years ago when Alan and Gordon crashed into Santa’s sleigh!

“Boys, I need your help” She tells them, turning the cookie over and over again in her hands, not daring to look at them, as she knows that this is a big thing that she has to ask. And she is risking ruining the family Christmas that was the only thing on Jeff’s Christmas list, and he was at the top of the nice list this year.

“What’s happened? I will do anything as long as I don’t have to dress up as an elf again” John says.

Mrs Claus decides that she doesn’t have the time for any small talk, and just gets straight to the point.

“Santa Claus has been kidnapped by the Hood and Chaos Crew. I have billions of presents at the north pole, and no one to deliver them. International Rescue, I have a situation” she tells the shocked room who after a moment of stunned silence descends into chaos as everyone starts talking at once.

“Missing? What do you mean, missing?” Jeff asks.

“The Chaos Crew? Asks Virgil

“The Hood?” Asks Scott.

“I thought they were in prison?” Asks Alan.

“Do I have to wear that awful outfit again?” asks John.

“Can I ride a reindeer?” Asks Gordon

“He has been kidnapped, the Chaos Crew and the Hood have escaped, yes you do Speedy Twinkle Toes, and no you can’t!” Mrs Claus replies. “Now if there are no more questions, we have Christmas to save, the sleigh is on the roof, come on, up the chimney”

“How are we going to get up there?” Alan asks.

“You need to get your outfits on, then you will have all of the magic of the north pole at your fingertips.”

“Awesome, I can’t wait!” Alan replies, bouncing up and down in delight. He loved being part of Santa’s workshop. “Gimme, gimme, gimme!” he hold his hands out for the bag of clothes that Mrs Claus bought with her, and starts to pull on the red and white stripped tights and green top and hat. He can feel his ears and nose changing shape as he is magically transformed into Gingerbread Happy Feet.

“Look at me dad, I am beautiful!” Alan says excitedly.

“You’re something” Jeff replies. “Where is my outfit?”

“You are going to find Kayo, and help her hunt down Santa for me, according to the nice list she is staying in England with Captain Rigby” Mrs Claus replies. “You can take Thunderbird one”

“I can?” Jeff replies, in disbelief, Scott would never agree to this!

“He can?” Scott asks. There is no way he is losing his Thunderbird.

“He can, Scotty Claus!” Mrs Claus replies. “Now, get your coat on and let’s get going, we are losing time here and we need to deliver ten billion gifts before tomorrow morning”

Up on the roof, Santa’s sleigh and reindeer are waiting for them, ready to take them up to the North Pole.

“How are we going to fit?” John asks, looking into the sleigh where there is only enough room for one.

“That’s easy, we ride the reindeer!” Gordon replies, leaping up onto the back of Blitzen.  “Come one everyone, pick a reindeer!”

“Snowflake Sugar Plum, GET DOWN!” Mrs Claus yells.

“You are no fun!” Gordon replies in disgust, sliding to the floor and climbing into the back of the sleigh, squishing himself in between Virgil and Alan.

“Stop sitting on me” Alan tells him, shoving him into Virgil’s lap.

“I don’t want him, go and sit with John.” Virgil replies, trying to wriggle free from under his brothers weight.

“You think I want him?” John asks. “I would rather eat my own liver than sit next to Squid breath”

“That can be arranged Space Case” Scott tells him from up front, where he is about to take the reins and fly into the night sky. Scott is getting announced with the constant bickering that has taken place since Lady Penelope walked out on them that morning, and unless they start working together this Christmas is going to be a disaster that not even international rescue can save the world from.

“Keep out of this Scotty Claus, this isn’t your battle” Virgil says, as he still struggles to get comfortable in a seat designed for one small elf and not two large humans!

Scott doesn’t see any point in replying, and instead concentrates on lifting off, the sooner he gets this sorted, the sooner he can go back to the ranch, and try so save the perfect family Christmas he so desperately needs. He had so many plans to make this day amazing, instead he is in charge of his wayward arguing siblings, delivering gifts, dressed as Santa and being forced to answer to Scotty Claus. Just as long as Gordon doesn’t start singing that awful song again.

“What awful song Scotty Claus?” Gordon asks.

“Huh, are you reading my thoughts?” Scott replies, confused.

“No, you idiot, you’re thinking aloud!” Gordon informs him. “I have Scotty Claus is coming to town, Johnny the red-haired Tracy or Christmas on the Range”

“None of them!” Scott replies, grateful that he has both hands on the reins and that Gordon doesn’t get the satisfaction of a face palm. Gordon isn’t worth it.

“You are no fun big brother” Gordon insists.

No, he’s serious, something you know absolutely nothing about. It is about time you grew up Gordon.” John is the one who answers him.

The atmosphere within the sleigh is as icy as the air outside as they race towards the North Pole and Santa’s workshop.

Scott lands on the snow-covered lawn, near the thirty foot heavily decorated tree, and the five brothers disembark the sleigh and trudge towards the front door. Which to Gordon’s disappointment now reads Santa’s workshop once more and not Satan’s workshop as that was one of his better prank ideas!

There is a flurry is frenzied activity in the workshop as they enter. Elves are running everywhere, panicking. There’s wrapping paper and ribbons and glitter and bows all over the floor, the naughty/nice list is pinned to the wall and there are three elves fighting over it, trying to figure out where in the list they got too before Santa disappeared.

Scott jumps up on the table and whistles through his fingers to get everyone’s attention. “QUIET!” he roars, in a voice so loud, Alan runs for cover.

“JOHN, TAKE OVER THE NAUGHTY/NICE LIST, ALAN YOU’RE IN CHARGE OF WRAPPING THE REMAINING GIFTS, GORDON YOU CAN SORT THEM INTO NICE EVEN PILES, VIRGIL GET THEM LOADED ONTO THE SLEIGH AND I WILL START DELIVERING.”

“Scotty Claus is back in the game!” Gordon says to John with a grin.

John just walks away without replying, just because he is stuck doing this with Gordon, doesn’t mean he has to start being nice to him, and he certainly isn’t about to forgive him. Gordon destroyed Christmas again, and this was the final time he is allowing this to happen, next year he is going to just spend it on thunderbird five, alone, just how he likes it.

 The naughty list seems to be even longer than the one from two years ago, and he puts it towards the back to start on the nice list, as he feels once he has gotten to his name then he will feel a lot better about this, after all he is sacrificing his Christmas for this, so he clearly belongs on the nice list.

 But page after page he sorts through, and he finds Alan, Virgil and Scott, but there is no sign of his name, and he is starting to get frustrated as he passes the names to Alan so that he can wrap the gifts.

Alan loves wrapping presents, and after all the criticism he received from the last time he did this, he has spent two years practicing and each gift is neatly packaged with a bright red ribbon and a glittery bow before he adds them to the next part of the process, where Gordon is sorting the boxes into neat piles, twelve feet high near the door so that Virgil can load them into the waiting sleigh.

The atmosphere is tense, and no one is talking as they focus on their tasks, determined to save Christmas this year.

Gordon is at the top of the fifteen-foot ladder when John finally spots his own name.

At the top of the naughty list.

“WHAT?!” he cries out in horror, causing Alan to jump in surprise as he jumps backwards into a large pile of gifts, which crash into the ladder and knock Gordon flying head first into the wall before he slides down to the ground and is buried in the rubble from a million shattered dreams from children who are now unlikely to ever get their gifts.

“GORDON?!” Virgil shouts in shock as he races over to his brother, to try and rescue him from the mess. “HELP ME!”

John is frozen in his spot near the list. What has he done?

Chapter three: A Christmas Miracle

Scott, Virgil, Alan and John start to move the broken packages out of the way, determined to get to Gordon, he is going to be fine, this is just part of the classic Gordon Tracy Christmas, he plays a prank, he ruins Christmas, then he does something silly and they all forgive him.

It is their thing!

Virgil feels a small amount of relief when he realises that Gordon is still breathing, but he’s unconscious.

Scott does the medscan which confirms concussion, a broken leg and three rib fractures, as they move him from the floor into the well-stocked med bay of Santa’s infirmary.

John sits down next to the bed, and starts to cry.

This is why he was on the naughty list. Accusing Gordon of being selfish, and ruining Christmas and all he has done is the exact same thing. If he hadn’t cried out, Alan would have never been startled, Gordon would have not fallen from the ladder and they would still be on track to save Christmas.

Gordon hasn’t ruined Christmas at all, he has.

“You okay?” Scott asks, placing his hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah, I am fine, Scott.” John replies, not bothering to lift his head up, he can’t look Scott in the eye and admit the truth. His little brother is in a coma because of him.

“We have to get back to work. He is fine here, Mrs Claus will look after him for us, but there’s a billion children depending on us John.” Scott’s voice is soft, and not his usual demanding self, as he helps John to his feet, and they leave the workshop’s infirmary and the slow steady beeping from the machines, the only sound in the room, keeping their Squid with them, and back out to the chaos of the main work shop.

Alan and Virgil are here, gathering the intact presents and rewrapping them, leaving the broken ones in a large pile in the corner of the room to be replaced with the other elves working feverishly to repair thousands of toys There is even a model thunderbird four!

“It is Christmas day in Australia, its time to go” Scott says almost an hour later, as he has been piling the toys into the sleigh ready for delivery.

“Can I go with you?” Alan asks, “Top of my Christmas list was to spend time with my brothers.”

John snorts with laughter. He read the nice list, Alan’s was a new games console, his siblings weren’t even mentioned!

“Why don’t we all go?” Virgil asks.

“What about Gordon?” Alan asks.

“He will be safe here, if we all go we can get back to him faster.” Virgil replies.

Scott nods. “Okay, but I get to fly the sleigh!”

This time there is no fighting over seats, as they all squash into the driver’s seat with Scott, as the gifts are taking up all of the room. John is on Scott’s left, Virgil on the right and Alan is on the floor near John’s feet.

“How is it still only Christmas Eve, it feels like this day has lasted about four months” Alan asks, as they fly towards their first destination.

“That’s the magic of Christmas Eve, Alan” Scott replies, remembering from his last trip delivering gifts.

“Yeah, but how does it work?” Alan asks.

“I can’t reveal all of Santa’s secrets Al!” Scott replies with a grin.

“Spoilsport!” Alan replies, sticking his tongue out at him.

“Maybe one day!” Scott promises, before slowing the sleigh down for their first delivery, landing the sleigh on top of the roof of a two storey brick building with a steep roof, which flattens down on their landing while Alan looks on in amazement.

“How did you do that?” he asks.

“Not telling you! Where are the presents for this one, I will pop down the chimney and deliver them” Scott replies.

“No way, I am going!” Alan says, grabbing the top three presents from the and jumping up on top of the chimney.

“ALAN NO! COME BACK!” Scott calls, as his youngest brother tries to fit in the chimney, only to get stuck in the chimney cap, up to his arms.

“HELP!” he calls, in embarrassment.

“I warned you!” Scott says trying and failing to hold back his laughter.

Scott and Virgil grab him under the armpits and heave him free from the chimney, and he goes back to the sleigh in humiliation.

“How does Scott do it? it isn’t fair!” Alan moans to John while they watch Scott shrink into mini Scotty Claus who fits perfectly in the chimney with the freshly shrunken gifts.

John doesn’t know, and despite his own misery he can’t help but feel intrigued by the mystery. “I don’t know, how does Scott do it?”

“Maybe he went to Hogwarts” Virgil replies.

“That is Scotty Claus’ big secret” Scott tells them as he climbs back aboard the sleigh and once more takes up the reins.

“Did you at least bring us the cookies and coffee?” Virgil asks.

“Sorry, maybe next time!” Scott replies.

“But Scotty I want coffee!” Virgil whines.

“You always want coffee!” John reminds him. “You are an addict”

“I am not, the coffee is addicted to me” Virgil replies.

“Did you really go to Hogwarts Scott? I thought you went to Yale!” Alan asks.

“Lumos” Scott replies, and to everyone’s surprise the lights on the sleigh are suddenly illuminated.

“No way!” Alan is impressed. “You’re a wizard?”

“Maybe!” Scott replies, as he ducks down chimneys, delivering gifts and taking plates of cookies, cups of coffee and bags of carrots and apples for the reindeer, as they are working just as hard as he is, and deserve treats too.

They traverse the globe for hours, but it is still Christmas Eve when they land on the lawn of the Creighton-Ward manor.

The house is dark, and there is no one home as Scott quietly lets himself in and leaves presents under the tree for Lady Penelope, Gordy, Sherbet and Parker before sadly leaving the house. He had hoped that she would be here.

“They aren’t home” he tells his brothers in disappointment, as he once again takes the reins and soaks up the change in atmosphere, as they were all secretly hoping to speak to Lady Penelope, to explain everything.

“Is it still Christmas Eve?” Alan asks, as they fly over the Atlantic towards America.

“It is” Scott informs him.

“How? We have been out here for hours” Alan asks, not knowing is the most frustrating experience of his life!

“Can you just believe in the magic?” Scott asks, he’s trying not to laugh, but it is getting harder as Alan gets more and more annoyed with him.

“Nope!” Alan replies.

As the piles of gifts get smaller, there is more room to spread out, but they don’t. instead they choose togetherness, even if it doesn’t feel right without Gordon. There is a squid shaped hole in all of their hearts, and now the sleigh is empty, Christmas has been saved, it is time to get back to the north pole and start to fix their own Christmas.

“Can I ride the reindeer on the way back?” Alan asks.

“What do you think?” Scott replies.

“Yes” Alan says confidently.

“Try again” Scott says.

“Maybe?” Alan tries.

“You get one more try to get the right answer” Scott says.

“Fine, I will just fly the sleigh instead, you can’t keep hogging all the fun jobs!” Alan tells him.

“Yeah I can, I am the big brother!” Scott says laughing, as he pulls the reindeer to the north and they start the final part of their journey.

It is snowing heavily when they arrive, and they take the reindeer straight into the stables so that they can rest.

“Your turn to play with the reindeer Al, they need their stalls cleaning out” Scott tells him and he turns with John and Virgil and they run back out into the snow laughing leaving Alan with a pitchfork and wheel barrow.

There are ten in total, and Alan turns his attention to the first one, but to his relief it has recently been cleaned, as have the others.

“SCOTT!” he yells as he stomps out of the stables and through the snowy grounds to the main workshop.

“Yes” Scott replies, laughing.

“You aren’t funny” Alan tells him.

“Yeah, but I am adorable!” Scott replies.

“Hi Alan” A voice calls from the other side of the room, and his attention is torn from Scott to a new arrival.

“DAD!” he calls in delight, running across the room and into his father’s arms. “Scott is so mean Dad. He wouldn’t let me do anything fun”

“You mean he kept you safe?” Jeff replies.

“No fun!” Alan insists.

“Did you find Santa?” Alan asks, remembering why they are here.

“Why don’t we check on Gordon first, then I will tell you all about it” Jeff replies.

Gordon is still unconscious, his broken leg has been set and is resting on top of the blanket, encased in a bright yellow cast.

“Is he going to be okay?” Alan asks. Shrinking back against the door. He hates seeing Gordon so still and quiet, two abilities everyone was certain that their fish didn’t possess.

“I don’t know. He has suffered a severe head trauma. We don’t know if he will ever wake up.” Jeff replies, sadly, his arms wrapped around Alan, who like John is feeling a significant amount of guilt over Gordon getting hurt.

“I thought if we went on the mission that everything would be okay. This was meant to finally be the perfect Christmas, and it’s been a disaster” Alan says, all the tears that he has been holding back start to spill out over his cheeks as he cries on his father’s shoulder.

Jeff leads Alan into a small office just off the infirmary and hands him a box of tissues.

“Tracy family tradition, worst ever Christmas. Every time you say next year can’t be worse it gets worse. Maybe the key is to not have any expectations” Jeff says. “How about next year we just plan the worst Christmas ever, and then maybe the universe will come through.”

“Do you think that will work?” Alan asks.

“Remember the year Gordon fell off the roof?” Jeff asks.

“Yeah, that’s the year Virgil reckons was his favourite ever Christmas!”

“Then there was the year he got your mum a pet squirrel!” Jeff says laughing.

“Niblet! I loved Niblet!”

“And you won’t remember this as you were just a baby, but there was the year he flooded the laundry room, steel wooled my desk, shredded all my important files, broke the hoover and set the kitchen on fire” Jeff says.

“All in one year?” Alan asks.

“All in the space of four hours!” Jeff replies. “It is why we love him, life with Gordon is never boring!”

“Can I go and sit with him?” Alan asks, suddenly realising that he is brave enough to be there for him.

“Of course, I am going to make hot chocolate I will bring you in some” Jeff replies.

Alan leaves the office and goes back to the infirmary, but Gordon is no longer alone.

Sitting next to him, is Lady Penelope. Her eyes are read from crying and exhaustion, as she holds his hand in hers, using her spare hand to gently stroke the hair from his face as she sings softly.

“Oh give me a home, where the rescuers roam

Where the squid and the rocket boy play

Where seldom is heard, roars from the Thunderbirds

And Scotty’s not grumpy all day!”

Gordon’s fingers start to twitch, to grip her hand, to let her know that he is there with her, that he is never going to leave her side ever again.

“Christmas on the range

Where the squid and the rocket boy play

Where seldom is heard, roars from the Thunderbirds

And Scotty’s not grumpy all day!”

Alan starts to sing too, as he enters the room fully, followed by his father, Scott, Virgil and John and they sing together. Finally united, as they should have been all of this time.

“How often at night when the heavens are bright

With the lights from the glittering stars

Has John stood there amazed and asked as he gazed

Does their wonder exceed Virgil’s art!”

“Do you take requests?” Gordon croaks.

“GORDON!” they all cry in unison as they race towards the bed.

“OW!” he moans. “My head hurts. What happened?” he asks.

“You got crushed by Christmas presents!” Alan says. “Sorry about that!”

“Penny, I didn’t forget your birthday, I just need to learn when pranks aren’t appropriate, but I got you a really awesome gift” Gordon says.

“I know you didn’t” Penelope replies. “And the answer is yes.”

“Yes?” Gordon replies in shock.

“Yes, I would be honoured to marry you. I love you so much Gordon, I don’t want to live another day on this earth without you”

“How did you find out about all of this?” Scott asks.

“I felt it. Here” Lady Penelope replies, holding her hand over her heart. “He needed me”

“Did you ever find Santa?” Gordon asks.

“We will talk about that later; you need to rest” Jeff replies cryptically.

“Dad, was he ever missing or was this to get us to stop arguing? I have played enough pranks in my time to know when I am being set up!” Gordon replies, the truth suddenly dawning on him.

“If I say yes, but you were never meant to get hurt and all five of you were supposed to be delivering gifts and learning to work together, it worked didn’t it!” Jeff said.

“I’m in too much pain for a revenge prank” Gordon announces.

“No revenge prank?” Jeff replies, in shock.

“It really is a Christmas miracle dad!” Alan replies laughing.

[tagsecretsanta]

From @thalassastra

From @thalassastra to @niffler-gold

Prompt given:

1. Scott comfort. 2. After Jeff's return. 3. Scott finally getting the weight lifted of him (could be mentally or literally).

Would rather it just be focused on the brothers and dad not really any other characters.

Only warning is um it discusses the existence of Santa?! 

The New Old-Fashioned Way

“Scott! Santa’s been!” Gordon bounced on teenage Scott Tracy’s bed, a present clutched to his chest and a cheerful grin on his face. “Uuuurggghhh. Too early Gordon.”

“But Santa’s been, look!” “Santa isn’t real,” Scott grumbled uncharitably, and tried to pull the covers over his head. Gordon wasn’t having any of that and pulled them back down.

“Of course he’s real.”

“You know it’s Dad. You’ve known that for at least two years now.”

“Yeah so? Dad’s real. Dad is Santa. Therefore, Santa is real.” He jabbed Scott with the still-wrapped present. “And he’s been. Look, you have one too!” He bounced to the bottom of the bed and picked up a shiny blue package adorned with cartoon Santas.

“Hey, gimme. That one is mine.” Fully awake now Scott took the present from Gordon and sat up, wiggling over so that his brother could climb in next to him. Grinning, they opened their gifts. Gordon squealed in delight as a cuddly fish fell from the package. Scott’s grin grew wider as a kit for a model airplane tumbled out. It was almost a joke present these days - he got a different kit each year, which he attempted to build and paint. Sometimes he even finished them. He always looked forward to seeing which model “Santa” had got him. “Come on, let’s go show everyone what we got!” Gordon jumped off his bed with a thump.

Scott finally glanced at his clock to see if he should be letting Gordon wake everyone up.

“Gordon, wait!  It's five in the morning!”

—-------------------------------------------------

Many years later… 

It was Christmas Eve. Sort of. When your work made you regularly cross time zones it was sometimes tricky to keep track. Still. Gone midnight on Tracy Island, so yes, Christmas Eve. Still the day before in New York, which was where Scott currently was, and still dark for another hour or so.

It was easy to think he had all day today and tomorrow to sort everything out. But the time he had gained going west he would lose again heading east. But he was in New York. Lots of shops! He could get those last-minute gifts. Head into the office to chase whoever was lingering out of it. Technically the office was closed as from lunch time for the Christmas break; they gave all their staff the week off. Some of them would hang about finishing things off though. Scott didn’t approve. They needed to get home to their families. He could finish up any paperwork and make sure that the staff got home on time. Or go to do their Christmas shopping. He really should have started that already. It was almost stereotypical, a man of his age leaving it until Christmas Eve. But he’d been busy. But Dad was home! He had to make this Christmas the best one yet! 

He gritted his teeth as the beam lying across his shoulders shifted. A trickle of dust poured down through his torchlight, glittering in a mockery of the season’s decorations. He glanced down at the shop workers huddled together in the narrow space he was holding open. He was under no illusions; he knew he wasn’t holding the whole shop up on his back, just keeping something in balance that was holding something that was holding something else and stopping the situation from getting worse… but it certainly felt like he was holding the whole building up.

“How’s it going there, Virgil?” he grunted through gritted teeth.

“Nearly with you. Hold on.”

“Holding on.” Don’t think about the weight. Think about other stuff. Like the orders that still need to be put through for the new year. Like that loose connection in Thunderbird One that kept telling him that the port light was out even though they’d checked it and it was fine, but what if the light really did go out and he ignored it thinking it was just a faulty warning? Like should he buy brussels sprouts cause no one except John and Virgil really liked them but it was kind of a tradition? Besides they would complain that it was the only time they got to eat them and they were nice. Nice. Huh. 

The beam shifted again, the weight pushing him down to one knee.

“Virgil!”

Light. 

The space that had been confined was illuminated in a bright white, the cold air of the night brushed past his fingers, and the weight was gone.

The shopworkers scrambled to get out.

Scott sat down with a thump and took a deep breath, feeling it filling his chest, stretching his aching shoulders, holding it for just a moment, before slowly breathing out the tension and relaxing. He’d done it. They were out.

“Hey, Scott.” Virgil put a hand on his shoulder; it was sore, but he welcomed his brother’s reassuring touch anyway. “Not a good idea to rest here, bro. Come on. Everyone’s out, and Two’s got our morning coffee waiting.”

Scott laughed.

“Morning? Was evening when we left the island.”

“Evening hot chocolate then,” Virgil gave him a gentle tug. “Come on, on your feet.”

He helped Scott up and they climbed over the rubble and away from the flashing lights and cameras, back up into Two’s module.

“I’ll clear up,” Virgil offered. “Take a break. You've been up for hours. In fact, get John to fly One back. I'll fly home and you can sleep.”

Scott yawned and looked at his watch. 

“No, the shops will be open in a couple of hours. I'll head to the office, grab a shower and get those orders in, then I can head over to the store-”

“Seriously, Scott? Take a break. We're all having Christmas day off. If you wear yourself out today you're just going to spend it sleeping.” 

“Yeah but I've still got stuff to do.” He ran his hand through his hair. “It's gotta be perfect, you know? Dad-”

“Dad doesn't expect anything other than for you to be there to celebrate with him. Awake. Come on, Scott. You don't have to do everything for him, you know. He's Dad.” “He was stranded in space for eight years, Virgil.”

“Yeah?” his brother started shifting some boxes, replacing tools and supplies that had been dragged out when he’d arrived. Scott leaned back on a crate, watching.

“You can’t act like everything is just going back to the way it was before.” 

“I don’t. I’m well aware of how far he’s progressed with the physio, how far he still has to go, and the physical damage that likely won’t be healed. But he’s still Dad. His mind is still as sharp as ever, and he hasn’t lost any of that determination that he had before.” Virgil grunted, lifting another box. “The problem is, Scott, that you are not letting anything go back to the way it was. He’s capable. He’s already not the same guy you pulled off that rock a few months ago.”

“I know. I’ve read his progress reports too.”

“Do you, though?” Virgil paused in his rearrangement of Two’s hold to stare at Scott. “‘Cause I get the feeling you don’t really believe them, and you’re not going to until you see Dad start to do more.” He shifted another box. “Which you’re not going to see until you slow down a bit and pay attention.”

“Yeah, well,” At a loss for how to argue against that, Scott pushed himself off the crate, stretching and ignoring the crack his shoulder produced. “I’m going to the shops. I’ll be back for bedtime.”

Virgil gave him a disbelieving look.

“I promise. Someone’s gotta go get your disgusting sprouts.”

“Fine. I’ll wait here to fly you home. If you’re not back in five hours I’m going to come get you.”

“You won’t need to.”

“Good. ‘Cause that would be very inconvenient. I still have to add more glitter to the card I’m making for you.”

“Uh, I said no glitter this year! It gets everywhere.”

“Tough. Christmas is sparkly. You shall have sparkles.”

“See you later, Virgil!”

“Five hours.”

Scott threw a wave over his shoulder as he departed for the offices.

A shower, a clean outfit and a coffee later and Scott was feeling… well, tired, if he were honest. But he had an hour to sort the paperwork and three hours to shop before Virgil would be after him.

Of course nothing was that simple, though, because the paperwork he thought he’d completed last week had been bounced back, and he could delegate it, but he wasn’t going to do that to anyone on Christmas Eve. Or Christmas Eve Eve. Still the 23rd here, he reminded himself. It wouldn’t take long.

Two and a half hours later he pushed the last of what he was going to do away and rubbed his eyes. There was more to be done, but it could wait. It might mean a bit of a crunch in the New Year, but he needed to do the shopping.  He needed to make this Christmas perfect for his Dad’s homecoming. 

Whenever John went shopping, it was a precise operation. He would look at the footfall trends, the weather reports and optimise the route to visit the shops he wanted to go to in the order that required the least doubling back. John would never, ever, have ventured into the shops two days before Christmas. Scott had to admit, his brother was onto something.

The crowds jostled and heaved, queues to check out stretched back into stores, blocking access to the shelves. It wasn’t so much that Scott minded crowds, certainly they didn’t bother him as much as they did John, but it was frustratingly inconvenient when he was in a rush.

There were some things he knew he had to get; A few fresh items that he hadn’t remembered to list on the last supply run; (bag of sprouts, some chestnuts, a bunch of fresh sage to make stuffing with,) some Eggnog, and chocolate after dinner mints, (because he’d always liked getting an extra sweet after dessert.)  

As he piled the food into his basket he tried to work out what time he’d have to start cooking in the morning to make sure everything was ready, then decided he’d figure that out later. He was too tired right now. He (eventually) checked out with his purchase and belatedly realised that it would have been far more sensible to leave what he knew he needed until last, because now he had to carry it around while he browsed for gifts.  

Luckily Kayo was easy to shop for; in the weeks leading up to Christmas she would always make sure to leave magazines or website pages open with things she wanted. It was just a matter of “stumbling” on what she had been browsing and coordinating with his brothers to make sure they didn’t all buy the same thing.  This year he had been allocated a kimono wrap style silk top with a turquoise and pink floral print, which he knew he could get from one of the big department stores, because he had actually checked that some time ago with the intention to call in and get it bought early. He hoped there would be something he could get to go with it there too, because he’d always thought it was more exciting to at least have something that was a surprise, even if it was just a pack of sparkly hair bobbles. (Kayo had actually declared that a very thoughtful gift because hair bobbles would frequently vanish.)

May as well start with that, he thought as he wound his way down the street.  He was still lacking a good present for Gordon, and had no idea whatsoever what he should get his Dad. What do you get the guy who both owned an island and had lived with nothing for nearly a decade? He’d had everything and nothing. A box of chocolates just didn’t seem to cut it.

A man in a tophat and tails opened the door for him as he entered and Scott nodded his thanks, giving a smile that was perhaps starting to verge on the side of a grimace. Tables decorated with whimsical Christmas scenes interspersed shelves of nuts, biscuits, chocolates and dried fruits. Further on makeup, bath bombs, soaps… He scanned the goods on display as he wound his way to the clothes department, hoping that inspiration would strike. 

He’d barely reached the silk tops, (stopping only to pick up a jumper for Gordon that he’d spotted on the way,) when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He fished it out to see Virgil’s name across the screen.

“It can’t have been-” a glance at the time told him that it had, in fact, been five hours since he’d set off from Two. He did consider ignoring it and pretending that he just hadn’t heard the ringtone in the busy store, but he wouldn’t have put it past his brother to suddenly appear out of the crowd, pick him up and carry him out. He reluctantly swiped to connect the call.

“Hello.”

“Time’s up. Meet me back at Two, I’ll fly you home.”

“I’ve still got to buy a few things…I haven’t checked out here yet. …and I haven’t got Dad anything.”

“Scott, he doesn’t need anything. Just grab him some food. Honestly, he’s still loving anything with a taste, he’ll appreciate it.”

“It just feels so impersonal, you know?” 

“You’re overthinking things again. Seriously. I’ll give you an extra twenty minutes. Look around the store you’re in, grab something that reminds you of Dad, even if it’s just a little toy plane, and come back.”

“Thirty minutes?”

“Twenty. You’ve got to allow time to walk back here and if we don’t leave soon we’ll miss the evening at home, Christmas Eve movie together, remember?”

“..okay.” He hung up and then marched as quickly as he could through the store thinking; something that reminds me of Dad, something that reminds me of Dad…

“You get something?” Virgil asked as Scott came jogging up to Two. 

“Yeah…” Scott ran a hand through his hair. “I’m not sure I did so well on the presents front this year. I should have started thinking about it earlier.”

“Relax Scott. All done now. We should be back before midday, enough time to get a sleep in before tonight. Try to have Christmas off from worrying.” 

Scott frowned as he followed Virgil to the flightdeck and settled into the co-pilot seat and tried to relax for the flight home. He couldn’t help but do a bit of worrying though. Christmas had always been a big deal in the Tracy household; and this was the first time in eight years that his Dad would have a proper one. What if it didn’t live up to the memories? He closed his eyes so Virgil would think he was trying to get some sleep while he ran through the dinner plans in his head again.

—----------------------------------------------

The lights on the tree were multicoloured, because everyone agreed that even though they were rich now, “classy” plain white lights were boring. The only other light was from the projector, playing the first movie of the night. They hadn’t been able to decide between “A Muppet Christmas Carol” and “Die Hard” so it was a back-to-back, with festive drinks and snacks. 

Scott was sitting on the sofa, shoulder to shoulder with Virgil and his Dad. It was warm, the lights were soft, the muppets were singing. His eyes were heavy. 

He couldn’t go to sleep yet. It’s not like he hadn’t grabbed a few hours when they’d gotten back earlier. There were still things to do. Still things he needed to prepare for the morning, presents as yet still unwrapped… 

“Might want to hold off on starting Die Hard, Virgil,” Jeff said softly as the first movie ended.

Virgil looked over to see Scott slumped on his Dad’s shoulder, mouth slightly open, eyes shut and breathing deeply.

“I’d leave him, but he’s not as light as he used to be. And he’s going to get a cricked neck at this rate. We’d better wake him and send him to bed.”

“Don’t wake him. I’ll take him. I’ve done it before.”

Jeff frowned at his son, then raised his eyebrows in surprise as Virgil stood and picked Scott up, with a smooth enough motion that the older brother slept through being moved.

“Does this happen often?” he asked the room at large as he watched Virgil carry Scott out.

“Does Virgil try to pick Scott up and take him to bed? Yes,” Gordon grinned. “Does it work? Most of the time, no.” 

“He normally wakes up, unless he’s very tired,” John clarified.

“Then they have an argument about it. Then Scott goes to bed. Then they make friends again in the morning when they apologise to each other,” Alan added, oblivious to his older brothers shooting him a look that said he could have left the arguing part out.

“I see,” Jeff frowned. The Scott he remembered was meticulous about getting enough sleep; always wanting to make sure he was fit enough for anything the day threw at him. That he didn’t always, well, that was news to him.

Virgil returned a few minutes later, giving a thumbs up.

Good he’s getting some rest now, Jeff thought, that’s something I’ll have to have to deal with. But for now, there were other things to think about. One son asleep, four more to go.

—----------------------------------------------------

“Scott! Santa’s been!” Gordon crashed onto his brother’s bed, no longer a small boy, but a rather heavy man. Scott woke up with a start as he was bounced off the mattress.

“What?! Gordon?” He rubbed his eyes sleepily. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” Gordon was grinning at him. “Santa’s been.” He waved a present in his face.

“Santa?” Scott repeated with a sleepy frown.  He didn’t remember coming to bed. In fact he was still wearing his clothes from the night before. He wiggled up onto his elbows and looked down at the foot of his bed. Sure enough, there was a blue gift, wrapped with a silver ribbon, and a label with his name in cursive attached to it.

“Well?” Gordon didn’t grab the present as he so often had in years gone by. This one was for Scott and he knew Scott needed to be the one to pick it up first. 

For what seemed like the longest time to an impatient Gordon, Scott just started at the present, convinced that he was dreaming. Eventually he sat up and crawled to the end of the bed. Picked up the package, running his fingers over the ribbon and re-reading the name on the label. It wasn’t his father’s handwriting - it was Santa’s. It was the same script his Dad had used to disguise his own hand when he took the role.

“Santa’s been,” he whispered. “Santa’s back.” He grinned and opened the present, pulling the ribbon free and ripping the paper off.

A model kit Tiger Moth fell out.

“This was the one I’d asked for when-” the tears started to run down his face, but he was still smiling.

Gordon’s eyes looked a bit glassy too, as he threw his arm over his brother’s shoulders and gave him a hug.

“Hey, shall we wake the others and show them?”

“Wake the… wait, Gordon, what time is it?”

—-----------------------------------------------

The sun was rising, golden light streaming through the windows and sparkling off tinsel and glass, causing the huge Christmas tree to glitter in a rainbow of colour. 

Underneath; a stack of presents, not all of which had been there the night before. 

Scott felt as if he were in a dream. It was the same, but different. Their childhood tree had been half the size, it would have hit the ceiling of their home otherwise. But the years-old paper and dried pasta decorations they had made at school, the over-glittered salt dough shapes they had made with their mom, still hung among the shop bought baubles. There were still candy canes that Alan claimed he didn't touch until Christmas day, yet were always fewer in number than at the start of the month 

He watched as Alan raced Gordon to the tree, sliding on their knees to stop among the presents. John and Virgil followed at a more leisurely place, having already obtained hot drinks. 

Virgil's hair was sticking up funny, and John was wrapped in an interestingly-patterned dressing gown. They were all smiling and laughing, and there was an air of excited anticipation. When was the last time they had tumbled into the living room in PJs to open presents? They’d left that long behind, always putting it off to get dressed first, because really, what was the rush? But now, Scott felt the buzz too, the remembered magic of the morning. His Dad had pulled up a seat with a good vantage point near the tree. He was dressed; smart shirt, not a hair out of place, and sipping his coffee with a knowing twinkle in his eye.

And just for a moment, he looked as he had all those years ago. Scott saw him dark haired and strong, a quiet presence while the rabble of boys dug through gifts, reading labels and pushing parcels to the recipients with enthusiastic calls of “this one's for you!” and “look what I got!” 

“Hey Scott!” Alan slid a present towards him, breaking his reverie. He grinned and forgot about the things he hadn't had time to organise, instead moving over to sit with his brothers and join in. There were gifts from his siblings, a fancy hamper of biscuits, jams, chutneys and chocolate from Lady Penelope, a jumper his grandmother had made, and, for the first time in eight years, a stocking stuffed with little gifts from “Santa”. He ripped the paper off patterned socks, a box of chocolates, a book, a puzzle and a bottle of colour changing bubble bath. Colours were compared, chocolates swapped, advice on puzzles offered and rejected. 

He dished out his gifts to his family, (hastily wrapped after Gordon had woken him), and tried not to squirm a little as he handed his present to his Dad over. 

“Get anything that reminds you of him,” Virgil had said. What had made him think this represented his Dad he had no idea, but it was what it was. 

Jeff opened the parcel to reveal a shirt with flamingos all over it, and laughed, a genuine, happy, surprised laugh.

“Your mother bought me a shirt just like this, when you were a toddler. You loved it. You'd sit on my lap and count the birds. I thought you'd be too small to remember it.” 

“I didn't,” Scott replied in surprise. “Not really. I just saw it and thought of you.” 

“It's perfect. Thank you Scott.” And he meant it.

Scott grinned. He’d really been enjoying the morning, living in the moment with his family, but the sun was getting higher and he knew he had to get on with things.  

“Well, I'd better get to the kitchen,” he looked at his watch, attempting to remember any of the timings he’d worked out on the flight home the day before.  “I think it might be a bit late starting…” 

“It's already started.” Jeff smiled and gave him a wink. “Don't worry, Scott. Santa got everything organised today.” 

“You did?” Scott blinked. “I mean… but… how?”

“I worked out how to survive on a rock for eight years and ran a multinational company for several before that. You think I couldn't figure out how to sneak a few presents home and sort a dinner?” 

Scott turned red. 

“Well, uh… I just thought…” 

Jeff laughed.

“I got some of it prepped yesterday and had a bit of help from Brains before he flew out with setting up the cooking timers. He left a little robot here, that’s quite a help in the kitchen. Honestly, it’s all in hand, and you can help me with dishing up when it’s ready.” He smiled.

“Why don't you go play some games with your brothers? Looks like Alan has a couple of new video games, and Gordon's setting up a chess board there.” 

Scott glanced over. Alan was starting up his console, while Kayo collected controllers and Gordon was carefully pouring something into a set of frosted glasses arranged on a board, while John and Virgil watched. John was seated in the opponent's chair and had a much more serious expression on his face than Virgil who was wearing a face-splitting grin.  

“Shots chess?” Scott realised. “Oh no, who got Gordon that?”  

By the time dinner was ready, both Gordon and John were tipsy, (they had had the sense to stop after one game, after all, Dad was watching), Alan had been permitted a go at the shots chess against Virgil using lemonade and cola, and Scott had found himself caught up in games and laughter and simply forgetting that he’d ever been worrying about how long to cook potatoes for. 

They settled around the big table, to roasted turkey and honeyed ham, crispy potatoes and parsnips, steamed carrots and (in Virgil and John's case) sprouts. There was sparkling wine to drink, pudding with brandy cream, for afterwards. Finally, they settled around the lounge with coffees and the after-dinner mints, allegedly to watch a movie, but in reality, to doze after having eaten slightly too much food. 

There was a pleasant lull in the afternoon; a pause where each member of the family took themselves off to have a bit of space and quiet. They knew they would come together again later, and it was in companionable silence that they arrayed themselves about the place each absorbed in their own task. John and Alan had stretched out at either end of a sofa, leaning back on the cushions, legs tangled, new Christmas socks on display.  The only noise coming from either of them was the flutter of paper as they occasionally turned a page in their respective books. Gordon and Kayo had gone for a walk, insisting that exercise helps with digestion. (John had claimed that it did nothing if you waited through a two-hour movie after dinner before you went for the walk, but was threatened to a rematch at shots chess instead, and so had conceded the point.) 

Virgil was painting on the mezzanine, trying out a set of metallic paints he had received. Scott had settled himself nearby, dragging a table into position and tipping out and sorting the parts of his kit airplane. 

He glanced down over the balcony railing to see his father sitting at his desk with a newspaper folded on his lap, and some magazines arranged before him. He was chatting softly with Grandma. It looked like they might be doing a crossword. Scott smiled, as a long-forgotten memory resurfaced of the pair of them doing word puzzles from time to time. 

Everyone was content, and calm. Scott returned to his model, concentrating on the immediate task, warm in the knowledge everyone was safe and happy and home. 

—-------------------------------

The sun set over the sea, and the stars appeared in the clear night sky. 

Scott found himself standing on the balcony outside, with a glass of whisky in hand, the salty ocean breeze mingling with the scents of the trees, and the lingering smells of pudding and cinnamon wafting from inside. Virgil was playing the piano, happily taking the requests that were thrown at him. There were a few old favourites, some classics and an ill-fated attempt at converting this year's viral Christmas hit into something that could be played on the piano. 

He took a deep breath, drinking in the scents, the sounds, the sight of the lights reflected on the pool below. It was only now he'd had time to reflect on the day he'd realised just how much he'd needed this. To let go, to be a child again. And it had been good, really good. It had, he realised, been perfect, without him obsessing over getting everything just right.

His dad joined him on the balcony, glass in hand. 

“Merry Christmas,” he raised his glass and took a sip. Scott did too, acknowledging the toast.

They stood in silence for a few moments more, his father enjoying the same sensations.

“When I was out there,” he tilted his glass towards the stars, “for a while, I thought it was the pageantry of Christmas that I missed. The lights, the colours, the food.” He shook his head. “It wasn't, really. It was seeing you and your brothers have fun.”

“It really has been. Fun, I mean. And I can't remember the last time-” he suddenly realised what he was saying and shut his mouth, then gave his Dad an awkward smile. “I hope you've had a good day too?”

Jeff laughed and clapped his son on the shoulder. 

“I've had a great day. Do you know how long it's been since I've gotten to order other people around?” He grinned. “I thoroughly enjoyed the challenge of getting all this sorted without you noticing. And to see it all come together…” He gave a short laugh. “It's so refreshing, working things out again.” 

“I thought you'd have had enough of working things out, after…well you know.” Scott nodded up towards the sky. 

“There was a lot to work out there, sure, to start with,” Jeff leaned on the balcony, next to his son and looked up at the stars. “I had to figure out how to make things work, how to get sustainable food, water, power…” He shrugged. “...and then one day I'd done it. Got everything working, everything running on cycles. Got a routine. And then that's what I did, day in, day out for years. I tried to keep my mind active, of course, drew stuff, wrote things. But actually using the skills I enjoy to organise, to face a new challenge. That's something I've not done in a long time.” He smiled at Scott. “To be perfectly honest a lot of the time I was pretty bored.” 

Scott smiled in amused surprise.

“I guess I thought you were working every second, up there.”

“It was pretty quiet.” He took a sip of his drink and then gave Scott a sideways look. “I missed working with others too. Letting them take some of the burden. Collaborating. Delegating.” 

Scott huffed a gentle laugh. 

“That wasn't subtle.” 

“Subtlety was never my strong suit. Virgil told me whenever you weren't sure what to do, you'd ask yourself what I'd have done.” 

Scott mumbled something about interfering brothers. 

Jeff laughed. 

“Well for the most part, you got it right, Scott. You've achieved more than I could have ever imagined. But you got one bit wrong…” 

Scott felt his stomach drop. What had he done wrong? 

“I never even tried to take all that on my own.”

“...But you built the company from the ground up, got it going-”

“With help. Your mother's for a start. Who do you think was earning a living when I was starting out? She loved her work, yes, but even so, I wouldn't have sat at home trying to launch a business if she hadn't agreed to it. And if it hadn't been for your grandparents helping to look after you boys, well it would have never worked. And even away from family, I had a budget to get things off the ground, and that included things like paying for an accountant to help with bookkeeping when necessary… and do you think I made the website alone? I mean, I had a go, but it looked like someone had made it at the kitchen table.” He patted his son's shoulder again. “I'm not superman, son.” 

“Oh. I just, I guess I'd never thought about that.” 

They settled on the balcony, a comfortable silence passing between them while they reflected on the past. 

Scott became aware of his Grandma requesting a song. Virgil launched into “Rocking around the Christmas tree,” and she started to sing, then his brothers joined in. He smiled to himself, memories of them all singing as his mother played the piano so many years before.

“You should be CEO again,” he blurted out.

“Scott, when I said you needed to ask for help, I didn't mean I wanted to take over from you. You've been doing an excellent job and I don't want to take that away from you.”

“No, I want you to.” Scott swirled his whisky around in his glass, watching the liquid spin close to the edge. “I really hate meetings.” He gave a half smile. “And I seem to remember you quite enjoyed them.” 

Jeff wondered if that was a dig at the family meetings he'd call whenever he was trying to work out which boy was responsible for the latest mischief. 

“I thought when you came back that things had changed too much to go back to how they had been. You'd been through so much, and we've all grown up… heck, the world is different in some ways too.” He furrowed his brow in thought. “And I don't think it will go back, not exactly, not to how it was before. And I think that's why I wasn't letting anything go back at all. I think I was scared because it wouldn't be exactly the same as before, it would be like, I dunno… grasping at trying to relive those days and then finding it coming up short. But I'm not scared of that anymore.” 

“What changed?” 

Scott grinned.

“Santa came back. And it wasn't the same but it didn’t matter that it was different. I still felt those feelings again, the excitement of a bit of magic in the air.” 

Jeff grinned.

“I was a bit worried you'd think it was a foolish old man trying to relive your childhood.” 

“No. It felt…happy. I feel happy.” Scott visibly relaxed, his shoulders softening and giving a contented sigh. 

“So… you really want me to take over TI?” 

“Yep.” 

He considered it for a few moments. 

“You know, I think I'd like that. I don't think I had even thought about the fact I could go back, really.”

“So you’ll do it?”

“We’ll work something out, together. But for tonight let’s just enjoy ourselves. Come on, I want to join the others.”

The group at the piano had gotten to the end of the song and belted out at the top of their lungs:

“Everyone dancing merrily, in the new, old-fashioned wayyyyyy!”

Scott grinned as his father went inside.

“Here's to doing things in the new old-fashioned way.” He took a drink, gave the starscape one last look, and followed his Dad inside to be with his family.

[tagsecretsanta]

From @ozzmatr0n

From @ozzmatr0n to @thundergirl007

[tagsecretsanta]

From @misstb2

From @misstb2 to @hebuiltfive

“You’re never cold. How are you never cold? The snow is two feet deep and you’re still a furnace!”

“You’re never cold. How are you never cold? The snow is two feet deep and you’re still a furnace!”

The snow was deep, the wind sharp and the air smelled like hot chocolate and chestnuts from market stalls selling goodies.

A merry-go-around chimed a little tune in the town centre, and a group of children laughed as they ran past a large Christmas tree nestled into the snow.

Scott rubbed his hands together before thrusting them back into the pockets of his bomber jacket, and John blew on his fingers as Virgil clasped his fiancée's in between his hands lovingly before taking off his coat and wrapping it around her shoulders. John shook his head in disbelief.

“You’re never cold. How are you never cold? The snow is two feet deep and you’re still a furnace!” He declared and Virgil smirked.

"I guess I don't feel it the way you guys do."

Scott laughed. "Come on John, we'll get you a warm mulled wine."

"At this point, I need a thermal blanket to walk around in."

Natasha snuggled into Virgil's coat. "He's right though, Virgil. You have your own climate."

"That's exaggerating a bit, Nat.

Scott chuckled. "She's not wrong, brother. How many times have we come to you for warmth?"

"Alright, point well made. Drinks are on me."

2. Lady Penelope going ice-skating with dealer’s choice of character/s. 

Gordon :)

[tagsecretsanta]

From @thundergirl007

From @thundergirl007 to @arwensarboretum

John and EOS

All 5 brothers spending quality time together (With John on Earth??).

I'm glad we're in this together" - said by any of the brothers.

Preferences: No shipping please. Rating: General Favourite character: John.

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

It’s strange, the way the heartbeat of Thunderbird Five almost blends into the nothingness when the space monitor is here constantly. A tranquillity that very few people will ever get to experience in the huge, wide universe.

The pulsing of the life support system, the humming of the radio, the hissing of the lights when the motion sensors activate as he moves around the space station.

Loud in its own right, completely silent in the best way.

And yet, from all the way up here - the vastness and emptiness of orbit - he can still hear the sound of what he believes to be Gordon blaring out Christmas songs around the Tracy Island villa.

“GORDON!”

The voice shouted down the radio grills, catching him off guard somewhat. Presumably to try and find the mischievous redhead through every available IR channel on our communications network.

“Scott sounds in considerable distress, John.”

“That he does, EOS.”

Weightlessly floating his way to the central control room, where the main communication centre is, EOS has already pulled up what appears to be Scott's irritated figure on the hologram.

The image was a bit hard to make out specifically what it was, but it looked like Scott was covered in dust. A fine white dust that caked him, like he'd walked into the worlds oldest building and fell right into a pile of old rubble.

A strange image for someone currently on Tracy Island.

"Everything ok down there, Scott?" John asked, doing his very best to suppress the laugh, as juvenile as that would be. He looked ridiculous.

"Can you find me our blond haired mischief maker from up there, John? I've got a bone to pick with him." He ruffled his hair and the dust flew off him in all directions.

"Scott appears to be covered in some kind of fine substance. For what purpose is unclear."

EOS' summary of the situation was apt, and he hoped that Scott hadn't heard her, although it would have been funny if he had.

"Why, what has he done now?" he asked, watching Scott's communicator signal move around the villa from Thunderbird 1's hangar to the lounge.

"Do you want to take a wild guess, brother?"

"Re-enacted the bathroom escapade from when he was 7?"

"Close, but not quite."

Scott's hologram then disappeared from the monitor, but John could practically hear him storming around on the island looking for the brother in question. Whether Scott knew he was in the lounge, "innocently" reading a book, is debatable. Either way, he was making his way there with a ruthless determination that he did not want to miss a single moment of. Gordon was certainly going to be in some serious brotherly trouble.

Now would be a seriously bad time for a distress call.

"Oh Scott!" said brother - sat on the lounge with his feet up - all smiles, was holding a comic book in front of him, "to what do I owe the pleasure this time?"

"Don't you act like you don't know!" Scott roared from the stairs.

"I swear, I didn't do anything -!"

"You made me look like the Ghost of Christmas Past, you stupid -!"

"Is this a situation that popcorn would be for, John?"

"Oh, yes it is EOS."

Virgil Tracy was just passing through Thunderbird 2's hangar to get to the lounge when he heard the sound of the space elevator docking in its place and decided to take a minor detour to greet the arrival.

As expected, John was still in his IR gear, with only a small bag of belongings brought down with him, and Virgil would bet money that they were books and underwear.

"Welcome home, John!" he greeted, opening his arms out for an embrace that John welcomed.

"Good to see you too, Virg. How was the journey back from Colorado?"

Virgil patted a hand on his stomach lightly. "Long, I'm definitely ready for some lunch. Running around a power plant really did a number on my appetite."

The pair made their way up the stairs and into the villa proper. The heat hit Virgil like a train as they entered the lounge on their way to the kitchen. It was something all of them had to get used to when they moved out onto the other hemisphere from where they were born and raised in Kansas. The scorching heat in the December months was something he just about managed to get used to in recent years, mainly because it was something of a family tradition to watch Home Alone and the Chicago snowfall was such a nostalgic sight that for just those moments, they forget that snow here in the South Pacific isn't possible.

Even if snow isn't a part of recent Tracy family holiday festivities, the lounge was still warmly decorated with tinsel and a tree up by the piano that everyone had helped decorate. Even MAX had helped put up the tinsel with Brains (although the less said about the methods, the better). Gold and red and blue trimmed the balcony and handrails, little bells hung from the lampshades on the wall, and a little singing robin statuette was situated with pride of place on the little table in the centre of the room. The poor little thing was their mother's, it was old and battered, the little "branch" it perched on has been broken and fixed, and Brains had tinkered with its mechanics to make it sing sweetly again, not the distorted noise it used to make years ago.

And lastly, perfectly placed on the tree, hanging from a middle branch, was the last family photo taken at Christmastime that featured their mother.

It's been put on that tree every year since she died, and that tradition will never change. The seven of them, smiling at the camera with a snowman in the middle of the frame. Little Alan barely as tall as the thing they had made, holding onto his hat and giving a wide, toothy smile. He probably doesn't remember that Christmas.

“Where is everyone? The kitchen’s just as empty as the rest of the house.” Virgil mused, noting that it didn’t even look like the automated kitchen module had been switched on to make anything for lunch.

John just shrugged.

“Oh well. I’ll put something on, we need to have a good catch up now you’re back with us.”

Lunch wouldn’t take long to prepare, especially given that all Virgil really wanted was a sandwich, and John probably didn’t want much more than that either. He simply took his spot at the dinner table, the one he always used down here, with a more careful than usual descent into the seat. Virgil made the pair the same thing. Ham and cheddar sandwiches, which they were both eager to dig into once Virgil brought the plates over.

It was nice, just the two of them. Aside from rescues and the occasional private conversation through their comms channel, Virgil didn’t often have one-on-one chats with John. Mainly because they were birds of a feather, very much enjoying their own company before anything else. John listening for distress calls, reading, studying the stars. Virgil playing the piano or painting in the lounge.

“Do you know if my packages arrived?” John asked.

“I’m not sure, I didn’t see anything yesterday, and today I’ve been in Colorado.”

“That’s a shame. No one is getting presents this year then.”

“I think we can live with that just this once John, it’s just good to have you earthside for a few days.”

“We’ll see if I feel the same way after 24 hours in gravity with both Gordon and Alan.”

“You mean you won’t even stay for Grandma’s Christmas disaster – I mean, dinner?”

“I think I can hear a distress call from 24 hours in the future, Virgil get to Thunderbird 2 –“

The pair laughed, and almost on cue, the sound of distant voices, running footsteps, and a crash from somewhere upstairs. Getting closer and closer with every passing second, the voices soon distinguished themselves to be Alan, Gordon and Scott.

“Come here! I will have my vengeance!”

“Gotta catch up first, slowpoke!”

The trio pounded down the stairs. Scott, then Alan and Gordon.

Scott looked like he had barely enough time to turn the corner from the stairs before the Terrible Two were on his tail. Not nearly as covered in whatever-it-was-powder as he was before, presumably all the running had dusted him off somewhat.

Right behind him were said terrible two, and they seemed to have suffered a similar fate as the eldest brother. From the smell of them as they ran past, whatever it was, was sickly sweet. Powdered sugar, perhaps? Either way they left a trail of sugar in their wake.

Scott had run around the kitchen island, and Gordon and Alan waited for him at either side, pinning him to his spot with an almost military efficiency that even Scott should have seen coming.

Did Brains invent a de-aging machine or something, what is going on with Scott?  He’s not acted like this since those boys were tiny terrors.

“Hi John!” Alan turned around and cheerily waved, before giving his attention back to the eldest brother.

“Good to see you Alan,” John chuckled, “and you Gordon. Scott”

“Not now, it’s payback time.”

“You started this, Gordon! Don’t dish it if you can’t take it!”

Virgil should not have been surprised that Gordon took advantage of his and Scott’s absence from the island to play a practical joke with Scott for him to find on his return. What was surprising is that Scott somehow fell for it regardless.

Finishing up the last of his sandwich, John stood up, ignoring the war games going on elsewhere in the kitchen. “Well, this has been fun. I’ll go get changed, can’t be looking like this all day, I’ll melt.”

“I’ll wash up then,” Virgil started to get up too, picking up both John’s and his own plate. “John.”

“Yes?”

“I’m glad we could all be here together for the holidays. Even if it seems that the house will be dusted with sugar for days.”

Virgil side eyed the footprints and trails of sugar from the kitchen floor to the stairs and dreaded to think what it was like upstairs in the living quarters.

“Glad to be here. Just like old times.”

Gordon was the one to break the stalemate over there, and he positively lunged for the eldest brother. Alan was quick to join him, and the three were all on the kitchen floor in a tangled mess of a pile.

Just like old times indeed.

[tagsecretsanta]

From @idontknowreallywhy

From @idontknowreallywhy to @womble1

My prompts were:

1. There's no such thing as a free lunch.

2. The sound of laughter.

3. Sirens blared, warning of the approaching...

Things went a little… bizarre 🤣 (Apologies in advance for the earworms)

A Refrigeration Situation

Sirens blared, warning of the approaching apocalypse.

Or at least that was the impression the sociopath who had chosen this frantic tri-tone screeching sound clearly wanted to inflict upon the eventual owner of their top of the range high tech appliance.

The very one Virgil was about to take a wrench to. A heavy wrench.

Except that doing so would mean he had to remove at least one of the hands he had clamped hard over his ears. And he was not ready for that yet.

His teeth vibrated at the frequency of unbearable and he yelled Brains’ name again. No way of knowing if there was a reply because he would likely never hear again.

Alright, deep breath. It was no worse than that time Gordo tried to learn the bagpipes.

He shuffled closer to the cursed thing and peered at the luminous green and yellow message flashing from the excessively complicated control panel.

TEMPERATURE WARNING!

Oopsie!!! Too toasty right now!

… what the?

Virgil prodded the “more info” button with his elbow and was rewarded with an error code and a string of screaming face emojis.

“EOS?!” He bellowed above the din “You have the manual for this thing? What is Error Code S1E11?”

‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

The first indication that everything had gone sideways was when MAX shot through the living room and out again bleeping frantically and waving his arms around. This didn’t cause much of a flickering of Tracy eyelids because it had happened so many times before when Brains had started musing about extreme upgrades to his mechanical assistant. As MAX’s personality developed, so it seemed did his sense of self and his attachment to his physical form. Brains did not share this attachment and thus MAX continued to evolve and generally came to enjoy the additions to his capabilities eventually. Virgil remained unconvinced that MAX’s new ability to hover 6cm above the floor was really worth the shrill daggers of noise produced by six tiny VTOL jets but most of Brains’ inventions came in handy in unexpected ways so he wasn’t about to argue.

What made today’s demonstration of those rockets weird though, was that MAX zoomed straight out of the glass doors, off the balcony and into the swimming pool.

Whereupon he sank like a stone.

And stayed there. His inflatable water wings remained inactive, which again was odd because the trigger was supposed to be automatic. They’d seen them in action on many sunny afternoons when Brains firmly refused all invitations to join the pool party but his robot assistant had attended in his stead.

Gordon promptly dived in to rescue him. MAX refused to be rescued.

There was no response on the internal comms so Virgil had volunteered to take the elevator down to Brains’ lab to let him know. And to check everything was… well… alright with their resident genius.

‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

The speaker by the ceiling crackled into life and Virgil’s digital niece appeared to be singing at him. Loudly. And just a fraction of a fraction off key:

“Why’d ya have to make things so complicateeeeeeeed?”

“EOS?”

“I see the way you’re acting like you’re someone else, gets me frustrateeeeeeeed!”

“Um… right.”

Virgil stood frozen in the confluence of two sonic hellscapes.

“We might have a situation!” EOS’s feed was suddenly cut and replaced with his brother’s shout.

John materialised with Brains at his heels.

“You don’t say.” Virgil yelled back.

“We have to shut it down.”

“Right! It’s painful!”

“Not the noise the whole…“ John waved his tablet at the fridge and continued at the top of his voice. “EOS is in defence mode - when she detects a hostile digital presence she sings at it and refuses to accept any incoming data. I suggested it as an improvement to the LALALALALALALA approach she took with me.”

“You suggested Avril Lavigne?!”

“She’s going through a… phase.”

“EOS is going through a pop punk phase?”

“Last week it was Irish boybands. There was… a discussion. My musical tastes were found lacking and I have deemed it prudent not to comment any further on the topic.”

Virgil was saved from working out how to tactfully respond by the remainder of his brothers thundering down the corridor.

‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

“Oh! It’s just Fridgey!” Gordon skipped up, confident he could save the day and double tapped the control panel in the top right, just like the saleswoman had shown him. The noise stopped. Virgil remained frozen in place, looking as though somebody had hit him with a spade.

Scott prised his brothers’ hands from his ears.

“Virgil, you with us?”

Scott patted the bear on the shoulder then shifted The Look at him.

“Gordon, did it come with a manual?”

“Pfft what comes with a manual these days? It’s all inbuilt…” he poked at the control panel again but the error code persisted. “Ok maybe we could Google it?”

John hissed.

“Or any search engine or hacking method of your preference, Johnny boy”

“Don’t call me Johnny. What’s the model number?”

“Ooh no idea err….” Gordon swept his eyes over the front face of the refrigeration unit until his eyes alighted on the embossed text on the bottom left.

“It’s called FRIDGLER 4000”

Scott’s head snapped up.

“YOU BOUGHT A FRIDGE FROM FISCHLER???!!!”

There was a silence.

“LANGSTROM FISCHLER???!!!”

Oh crap.

“I didn’t know it was him!!! I thought he just made weather stuff!! And stupid rockets! I just thought it was a cute name for a fridge! I… I was more focussed on the Features.”

“What feature could possibly be more important than it being made by that… by that…” Scott, aware of Grandma’s approach from the elevator, reached for an appropriate word but floundered.

“Rat-faced weasel?” Alan ventured and then blushed as he received his eldest brother’s finger guns of approval.

Gordon didn’t need those. He didn’t. But he did desperately need to justify himself.

“It was the biggest I could get for the budget you gave me! It was internet-linked to make the grocery run easier - Grandma liked that! And it had cool features like the snow cone maker, everyone has enjoyed those! And… and the instafreeze Virg and Brains have used that loads for their espresso cubes this summer… and there was that special humidity-controlled section to stop your pie crusts getting soggy, Scooter! You weren’t complaining about that!!!”

Gordon looked around at a full house of angry Tracy eyebrows.

“I DIDN’T KNOW IT WAS GONNA GET SENTIENT AND START FIGHTING EOS.”

John pointed one shaking finger at the sickeningly cute animation of a bubbling conical flask beaming happily at them all from the control panel.

“None of you noticed it either…” that may have been whinier than Gordon was proud of.

Maybe it was the reminder that his little brother appreciated the importance of a reasonably firm crust that softened the big brotherly heart. Maybe it was just the realisation that said crusts were unchilling… and fast. Either way? Scott intervened just as Alan opened his mouth to add his verbal interpretation of John’s silent scorn.

“Alright. This isn’t getting us anywhere. What we need to focus on is how to fix the situation. Our first priority has to be saving the food else it’s gonna be a lean, lean Christmas.”

Vehement agreement filled the air.

“What are our options? The kitchen fridge has limited free space. Hmmm. Brains, can we use your cold storage in the lab?”

“Ah w-well there are a f-f-few p-p-p-projects whose g-gaseous em-missions m-might interact p-p-p-p-problematically w-with items intended f-for human c-c-c-c-consumption…”

“You’ve been making new engine coolants again.” John stated with a sigh.

“Y-yes. Incredibly t-t-toxic.”

“We can’t risk a toxic turkey.” Virgil mused.

“Or a noxious nut roast?” Alan added tentatively.

“Or lethal lebkuchen dough!” Gordon accepted Alan’s high five.

“Or fatal figgy pudding” John added in a disarmingly perfect British accent.

“Or soggy crusts.” Scott added distractedly, poking cautiously at the twinkling control panel

Gordon was shook. His facepalm echoed down the corridor. “BRO… you wound me deeply! “Poisoned pie” was right there for the taking. RIGHT THERE.”

Scott was spared the shame of acknowledging this failure by a sickeningly cheery voice blaring out from a hidden speaker.

“Good Evening Insert-User-Name-Here! You have activated Voice Control, you clever sausage. Please speak your command loudly and cheerfully!”

Scott swore under his breath as his siblings chorused their disapproval.

“W-well it m-might work.”

Even as the words left his mouth Brains rolled his eyes at his own optimism. Gordon felt compelled to defend the indefensible.

“It might! He’s got to get lucky sometimes, right?”

Brains snorted.

“Well what choice do we have?” Virgil gestured at Scott to give it a go.

Scott nodded and visibly steeled himself as if about to leap into an abyss. He cleared his throat and used his clearest most commanding voice:

“Set refrigeration temperature to 2 degrees Celsius.”

“Oooh someone’s a grumpy pants. Give it another go.”

“What?!!”

“I don’t think it was cheerful enough bro.”

“You gotta be kidding me.” Scott rolled his eyes and tried again.

“Oooh someone’s a grumpy pants. Give it another go.”

“I’M PERFECTLY CHEERFUL! I AM A RAY OF SUNSHINE!”

“Scotty Scotty Scotty…” Gordon inserted himself between the control panel and the man who appeared ready to break it with his face. “Allow me.”

“Hey hey fridgey buddy! It would be awesome if you could maintain a steady refrigeration temperature of two degrees Celsius. Thanks a million!”

There was a slight pause.

“Hmm your accent’s a bit funny isn’t it but I think I got it. Switching to proving drawer mode. Target temperature 38 degrees Celsius. Your rise is going to be GLORIOUS!”

Ah.

“NONONONONOOOOOOOO!!” Scott howled and yanked on the handle which refused to budge.

“Uh uh! No peeking! Patience is the most important ingredient in bread making. I’ve cleverly applied the locks so you won’t be tempted!”

“You’re a fridge!!! Make it cold! Make it COLD!! Don’t ruin my crusts!” He sank to his knees and hammered on the door as if his beloved pastry might hear and open it from the inside.

Gordon, detecting a dangerous deterioration in his elder brother’s grip on sanity, shuffled hurriedly backwards. Virgil growled and ran from the room.

John stabbed at his tablet “Unbelievable! This thing is unhackable. The code is completely illogical. I think this part is the dna sequence of a banana…”

Alan nodded seriously as if he too could recognise the genome of any given fruit on sight. John sighed.

“EOS? It’s me. Please engage? This is an emergency situation.”

The AI passionately informed him that he was a skater boy.

Alan edged himself towards the control panel and peered at it thoughtfully. Perhaps it was something Game Theory could help with.

The happy conical flask bubbled innocently at him as if to say “Press me! Go on! What’s the worst that could happen?”

“I w-would advise against…”

Brains advice was interrupted by the sound of the door at the end of the corridor flying off its hinges and the familiar hiss-whine of an exo-suit powered by angry eyebrows. NOTHING and NOBODY would make Scott beg and remain in one piece.

Alan pressed the button. A twangy guitar riff was followed by the cheery voice crooning “oooh, baby”.

Alan took personal offence and punched it. The track increased in speed:

“OohbabyoohbabyIt'smakingmecrazyit'smakingmecrazyEverytimeIlookaroundlookaroundEverytimeIlookaroundeverytimeIlookaroundit’sinmyfacehowvbizarrehowbizarrehowbizarrehowbizzzzz”

Virgil emitted something akin to a war cry and tried to reach around his sobbing elder brother to rip the door from the cursed appliance when suddenly everything went quiet.

Kayo walked around the side of the fridge holding a cable with a plug dangling limply from the end.

Grandma gasped. Alan blinked. Brains’ jaw dropped. Scott sniffled. Virgil’s exo-suit wheezed as he sagged in relief. John head butted his tablet.

Gordon sat on the floor and laughed hysterically.

Kayo handed the plug to Virgil who crushed it with his pincers.

Scott scrambled to his feet and dragged the door open and the family feasted their eyes upon their festive bounty.

“Well, we’d better get all this upstairs to the other fridge then? hadn’t we?” Grandma decided to take charge.

“But there isn’t enough space in the upstairs fridge.” Alan whispered.

“We’ll have to prioritise.” Grandma’s tone shifted to that of a doctor giving bad news.

With a yelp, the Commander of International Rescue leaped forward, grabbed three boxes of pies and sprinted for the stairwell.

The others watched him leave.

“Shall we take the rest in the elevator?”

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True to his role as the resident genius, Brains’ suggestion that the best way to avoid waste was to eat most of it today had cheered the family up no end. Scott, John and MAX (who had finally emerged from the pool) cooked up a storm in the kitchen and created the largest and most eclectic Christmas Dinner Tracy Island had ever seen.

John had persuaded EOS to restore contact and she was providing a soundtrack of Christmas hits interspersed with her favourite festive jokes. Gordon and Kayo were competitively decorating a lebkuchen penguin army. Gradually the basement fridge was emptied.

Virgil and Alan did the last run which turned out to be armfuls of cheeses of indeterminate vintage. Trying not to breathe too deeply, Virgil kicked the door closed and Alan stuck his tongue out at the errant fridge before they turned their backs and walked companionably towards the elevator.

The control panel flickered.

Very faintly, at the very limit of human hearing, there was the sound of laughter.

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From @soniabigcheese

From @soniabigcheese to @thedryswan

Prompts

Regency Era AU

Scott/Havoc fluffy

Free choice

I think I've covered them all

Hope my recipient enjoys this

She felt a hand grip hers and her eyes widened as she felt him tugging her from behind the thick curtain.

"Why … Mister Tracy," she exclaimed, "what ARE you doing?"

He placed his finger up to his lips and winked.

"Getting you out of here."

She tried to feign mock surprise but knew that he saw through that facade, so she shrugged quite unladylike, grabbed the skirt of her dress and followed him.

As they approached the front door, attendants were nowhere to be seen as they grabbed some outerwear, regardless of whom it belonged to and headed to a waiting pony and trap.

The heavy coat was far too short in the arms for Scott but he didn't care, the thoughts of escaping that stuffy party, where everybody was playing matchmaker and gossips galore. It was becoming too much for him and he needed some fresh air. It was then that he spotted a slippered foot peeking out from underneath the hem of the velvet curtain. He recognised it as one Hannah DeVries, a rather stand offish woman who was very blunt with practically everyone. But he recognised that it was just a front. She was bored with all the rules of etiquette, like himself and wanted a taste of freedom.

So, now was his chance.

He grinned as she hastily jammed the bonnet onto her head and roughly tied a bow to keep it in place. He tried to help her with her cloak but she shot him a 'don't you DARE' look, so he waited.

"So … " she said finally, "where are we going?"

"Just for a drive out. Is that so bad?"

"You DO realise that this will cause such a scandal, an unchaperoned woman, out with the most eligible bachelor in the district?"

"I don't care."

THAT deserved an eyeroll and a snort.

"MISTER Tracy…"

"Scott …. my father is Mister Tracy."

He told the driver to just take a trip out into the vast acreage and grounds of the ancestral home of the Creighton Wards. Parker nodded, clicked his tongue and gave the reins a flick, and the filly moved forward. It was obvious that he'd done this many times before.

The skies were a gunmetal grey, thick and heavy with snow, it had been like that for much of the day. And now, flurries began falling, sprinkling the rebellious young couple with flakes of snow.

She shuddered with the cold, he wrapped the overly huge cape around her and covered both of their knees with a blanket.

"Feeling better?"

"Not really, I'm bloody freezing."

"Not right now … but … you know…"

"Oh … that … oh most definitely yes. Fancy, trying to marry me off to some brandy swilling oaf like that."

Ah, that explains why she was hiding behind the curtain. She sat back in the padded seat, folded her arms and pouted

"The very nerve of it."

The snow started falling thickly now, so the driver made a small circle and returned to the manor.

They expected faces pressed against windows and scowls of disapproval, but none came.

They'd managed to have a very short escapade and adventure without anybody noticing

How thrilling

Scott took her hand and kissed it lightly.

There was an audible gasp

Oh well, guess not

The End

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From @sailing-on-a-puddle

From @sailing-on-a-puddle to @coco9728

I'd been thinking about doing this crossover fic for a while, so when my first prompt was ‘Combine Thunderbirds with one of your favorite movies, tv shows or books’ I wanted to do this one! It stands by itself but it's possible there will be a further plot. 

I did start writing this before these two took over the entire BBC in the UK :D Thank you for the inspiration to write this and festive greetings! 

“The guests are h’arriving, milady.”

“Thank you, Parker.”

Lady Penelope turned to Virgil, who was laying on his side engaged in a very animated conversation with Sherbet. Admittedly there were no words from Sherbet's side, but both she and Virgil seemed capable of filling in the gaps and Sherbet's face was always expressive.

“Should we go and greet our guests for the inventor roadshow Virgil?” 

“Oh yes” Virgil replied, getting up off the floor. “I'm so excited about this. A showcase of inventions in your garden! Have you seen some of the inventions?”

“Yes I have. Has one caught your eye in particular?”

“Quite a few” Virgil swiped through various profiles emerging from a holoprojector. “They're so impressive. This guy in particular. He invented a knitting machine that takes the wool directly from the sheep, amongst other things. Oh they've missed his last name though. What a shame.”

Parker looked at the profile. “Ah no, I've heard of him. He just calls himself Wallace. Nobody knows his last name. And he’s never seen without his dog.”

As if on cue, Sherbet ran up to Lady Penelope and was scooped up in her arms. “Oh and apparently he had a version of your launch chute in his house” she added.

Virgil looked confused. “How does he know about my launch chute? And why would he copy mine? Alan gets comfy seats!”

“I'm don't know, but we'd better go else we'll be late.” 

Virgil followed Penelope outside into the garden where the roadshow was taking place. She was immediately accosted by a very pompous looking man who made at least one syllable in each word far too long. “Oh Peneeeeeeeeelope daaaaaaaarling”. 

Virgil decided he didn't really want to talk to Mr Syllable, and instead headed off towards the table occupied by Mr Wallace. 

He found Mr Wallace with screwdriver in hand working on his latest invention. His dog was sitting behind him, and Virgil could have sworn he was reading the newspaper, or holopaper, on the holoprojector.

“Mr Wallace, I'm very pleased to meet you. I'm Virgil Tracy.” Virgil held out his hand for a handshake.

“Pleased to meet you Mr Tracy. Call me Wallace. And this is my dog Gromit. Gromit lad, Mr Tracy is from International Rescue.”

“Virgil, please.”

Gromit looked up from his holopaper. He looked at Virgil, and Virgil felt he acknowledged him with a friendly nod. 

“Terrible business about this Hood villain, isn't it?” Wallace said, pointing to the front page headline on the holopaper. The headline read “Hood continues to lie low”.

Virgil gave a slight shudder. He didn't need reminding that the GDF had only managed to keep the Hood in prison a matter of weeks after his family had captured him aboard the Zero-X space rocket. He'd escaped but then nobody had seen him since. Kayo suspected he'd gone underground.

It was obviously a slow news day as clearly nobody had any better idea where he was than the previous week. 

“I know” Virgil replied, then quickly changing the subject, “I'd like to talk to you about your inventions though. You built a motorbike and sidecar where the sidecar turns into a plane?” 

“Oh yes. Yes, I enjoy inventing” said Wallace. Virgil was still trying to place his accent. He found Wallace very friendly and willing to talk. 

Virgil soon lost himself in conversation about inventions. He was as careful as ever not to reveal the secrets of International Rescue. He didn't even know absolutely everything about the Thunderbirds himself, preferring the mechanical elements to some of the computer technology Brains had created. 

Wallace, however, was clearly working by himself, though more than once Virgil was sure he said Gromit had solved something. He seemed particularly proud of an invention that enabled enough gravity to eat cheese and crackers in space.

Virgil thought the application of this technology might extend beyond cheese and crackers, but he was intrigued how Wallace had been to space to test this. Wallace responded that he had his own rocket that he and Gromit had built in his basement to sample the cheese on the moon.

Virgil decided that, however Wallace had tested this in space, he wasn't wanting to tell him else he wouldn't have made up such a bizarre story. He knew his own family assembled a rocket amongst other craft, but Wallace claimed to have built one from scratch in his basement. Even they had used some pre-assembled sections.

“Virgil? Virgil? Sorry to interrupt, but have you seen Bertie?” Lady Penelope was suddenly standing next to him, looking slightly alarmed but still putting her usual polish over the panic. “I thought he'd followed you when we came out to the garden.”

“Don't worry, your Ladyship” Wallace interjected. “Gromit will find … Gromit?” Wallace suddenly realised that Gromit had disappeared too.

He whistled for Gromit but he didn't return. “Oh dear. Oh dear. Groooooooommmmmmiiiiiiiiitttt? You don't think it could be the Hood do you?” 

“Mr Wallace,” Lady Penelope replied, still sounding calm even if slightly exasperated. “I’m sure there are many more reasonable explanations than a master criminal trying to steal our dogs.”

Wallace did not seem very convinced, and started shaking his hands at shoulder level as if waving in panic. 

“We will search the grounds until we find them. Both of them” Penelope declared.

“I don't think you'll have to” replied Virgil, pointing up at the sky. 

FAB1 had appeared, hovering overhead. It did several circles, some with colourful smoke blazing out the back, and some elaborate loop-the-loops before landing on a patch of grass at the edge of the exhibition area near Wallace's stand.

There in FAB1 were Gromit, Sherbet and a very worried looking Parker, somehow on the back seat.

“Bertie!” Penelope ran over to Bertie and went to scoop him up as she had done earlier, but Bertie seemed quite happy having a dialogue with Gromit expressed with eyes, movement of paws and the occasional bark. “Parker, what were you doing? You had me worried!”

“Well milady, I came to FAB1's garage for some peace and quiet and found these two with a book called H’electronics for Dogs, wiring the car to go for a drive. I thought I'd better go with them, you know, in case something went wrong.”

Lady Penelope looked at Parker incredulously. “I don't know where to start with what's wrong with that Parker. A book called Electronics for Dogs? Stealing FAB1 by hotwiring? It's 2064, not 1964! Come along Bertie” Penelope said. Sherbet gave a long look at Gromit and then followed Penelope towards the house. 

Parker was left looking very sorry for himself. “That dog always gets a better deal than me” he said, walking away hunched. 

Everybody seemed to miss the thumbs up Gromit had given Sherbet. Gromit then headed back towards Wallace.

Virgil didn’t miss that FAB1 had clearly had some electronic modifications underneath her dashboard. He’d always known Sherbet was bright, and from everything he'd seen Gromit was brighter than most of the people he'd met.

“Well Gromit, been on quite the adventure there haven’t you?” Wallace declared from behind Virgil. “Wonder if we can build something like that? Maybe not pink though.”

Virgil pretented he hadn't heard the idea. He felt Wallace and Gromit might be capable of building great technology, and he didn't think they had any malicious intent, but he hadn't seen any evidence of a Kayo in his corner to secure the inventions.

“Maybe green?” Wallace continued. “It'd look good in green I think.”

Virgil couldn’t help himself. “I’d better go Wallace, but it would look great in green.”

END

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From @rrodey

From @rrodey to @such-a-random-rambler

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From @arwensarboretum

From @arwensarboretum to @emtb319

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From @ajpendragon

From @ajpendragon to @cookidoughlilac

I had a lot of fun with this (and maybe made myself cry a little bit). I tried to focus on Jeff’s feelings about his first Christmas back with his boys, which was one of the prompts I received. Hopefully, it turned out okay!

Memory

He had forgotten just how comfortable this couch was in the last eight years. 

Jeff's boys were gathered around the tree, wrapping it in lights and ornaments in a show of teamwork that he could have only dreamed about the last time he had been here. Virgil sat at the piano, Christmas carols filling the room, his skills far better than Jeff remembered. Scott and John were working on the top of the tree, using their superior height to decorate without needing to find a ladder. Gordon and Alan were darting between their legs, hanging the most hideous ornaments they could find with peals of laughter. 

Jeff thought about getting up to help them, but no sooner did the idea cross his mind than his mother's arm tightened around his shoulders. "Don't even think about getting up." She ordered softly, passing him the chipped mug from the table next to her. The ‘World’s bestest dad’ in childish handwriting gleamed in the light. "Let them enjoy this. You enjoy this."

He took a long sip of his hot chocolate, enjoying the rich flavor as he swallowed. He had forgotten what chocolate tasted like. "I am enjoying this." He protested, unable to stop himself from savoring another sip before continuing. "I just want to help. I spent so long dreaming of this, and now that I'm back, I can't even join in."

"I know." She soothed. "But you need to rest. You're not up for it yet. Soon, but not yet. If you tried to help, they would just be worried about you. Just watch-"

The blaring of the emergency alarm interrupted her, all of the boys jumping together to listen as EOS quickly ran them through the situation. They quickly disappeared through their pictures, his mother retreating back to the office to coordinate, leaving him alone in the living room, staring at the half-finished tree.

***********************

It didn't take long after the boys left for him to get bored.  At least in space, there was always something that needed to be done: food to collect, repairs to make, watching for his boys on the ever-decreasing chance that they would come for him. But here, his only job was to rest and recover, relearn how to live on earth after so long. Honestly, it was incredibly boring. Not that he wasn't thankful. Every day he got to spend with his boys, with his mother, in his home, was a blessing he had honestly been so close to giving up hope of ever having again. But he was bored.

Rest and recover, according to his mother and sons, meant doing absolutely nothing. He knew they were right. After so long in space, earth was an environment his body had forgotten how to function in. It was difficult to walk, he was more tired than he could ever remember being before, he ached under the pressure of a gravity he had nearly forgotten the feeling of. But he wanted to do something. He needed to be doing something. His brain wouldn't let him rest while his family was out there, risking their lives for a world that had forgotten how much it owed them.

So, with a quick glance around to make sure no one was watching, he grabbed his cane and pushed himself to his feet. Pausing a moment to let his heart adjust to his body being upright, he slowly made his way to his bedroom. Once there, he carefully lowered himself to the ground, knees cracking as he settled in a comfortable spot on the plush carpet and reached under the bed.

The box he pulled out was old and dusty, left there for so long that even the cleaning bots had forgotten about it. He settled the cardboard carefully on his lap, blowing the dust off the lid and removing it to set it to the side, hands trembling as he pulled out the first of the box's contents.

**************

Thirty minutes later, one of his feet asleep from the unusual position, he set the box to the side and used the bed to leverage himself up. Taking a few moments to rest on the edge of the bed (and to shake his foot awake), he grabbed the box in his free hand and headed back to the Christmas tree. 

It took some careful maneuvering, and a lot of breaks, but he managed to finish his project before his boys returned. He was resting on the couch again when they came into the room, hair damp from post-mission showers, and clearly tired, although still in good spirits.

It took them a moment to notice the change, but one by one they each stopped in the middle of the floor, staring open-mouthed at the ornaments he had hung. He could see a suspicious sheen of tears in some of the older boys eyes.

On the front of the tree, hanging carefully from the sturdiest branches he had been able to find, were some of his most precious possessions: the ornaments each of the boys had made with their mother on their first Christmas. He had always kept them somewhere safe, refusing to trust such irreplaceable memories to the safety hazard that was their storage closet.

"I had almost forgotten about those. I thought they were lost." Scott breathed softly, his eyes never leaving the precious ornaments. He came over to the couch, curling his long frame up on the cushion next to Jeff, gently resting his head on his father's shoulder. Slowly, the rest of his brothers joined him, each settling themselves into a place where they could touch their father, seeming to need that reassurance. 

Jeff didn't mind. After eight long years, the reminder that he was no longer alone was something he desperately needed too. Eight years of his boys lives, eight Christmases, eight years of memories he had missed. He had forgotten what it felt like to be surrounded by love like this.

Sitting there, surrounded by the people he loved most in the world, the boys who had kept him going for all those long eight years, he vowed not to miss anything else. He would be there for his boys, no matter what. He could not, would not allow himself to forget this feeling. It was up to him now to make up for all those years, building new memories to move forward on. 

He was already forgetting the pain and struggle, the loneliness, of the last eight years. He could feel it slipping away, wrapped in the warmth of his family's embrace.

Memory was funny like that.

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From @janetm74

From @janetm74 to @the-original-sineater

Dodecuplet: 12 musical notes performed in the time of the same value.

Or: 12 Christmas Eves over the years.

With much help from @mariashades

Prompts: 1) SCIENCE!! 2) Holiday in the Tropics  3)Odd family food traditions.  

One:  Scotland

Lucille Charlotte Evans met Amelia Candice Barclay on a wet and windy day in late August on the steps of a large house in St Andrews.

It was an inauspicious meeting. Lucille – Lucy to her friends – had just climbed out of a taxi and was about to drag her suitcase up the stairs when a gust of wind blew it out of her hands and she suddenly found herself racing down the hill after it.

Amelia happened to be the one who stopped it, or rather, was sent flying by it, and the two women, both strangers to Scotland, found themselves seated together in St Andrews Community Hospital Minor Injuries Unit while waiting for Amelia’s ankle to be x-rayed.

It turned out to be only badly sprained and a very guilty Lucy offered to take Amelia back to her home only to find out they were neighbours, sharing the same student accommodation only on different floors.

They quickly became firm friends by the end of the day, fuelled on the rather unusual local delicacy of deep-fried pizza, chips and cheap red wine.

Lucy was studying Astrophysics and Computer Science. Amelia was studying Economics and Social Anthropology. None of their classes overlapped but they had sections of time that did, and they often sat together in the University library or camped out in one of the museums in an out-of-the-way corner.

That first Christmas they both should have spent with their respective families but heavy snow grounded airflight and so they holed up in Amelia’s room and ate the only food they could scrounge up on Christmas Eve – haggis, neeps and tatties with  a dessert called cranachan and good whisky.

It was the weirdest feast both women had ever eaten. And the beginnings of a tradition they both tried hard to keep while in Uni together – Christmas Eve was always holed up in one of their rooms with their Scottish feast.

Two: Kansas

Ruth bustled around the farmhouse, singing at the top of her voice. The radio was blasting the top 100 tunes from the 80s and she was bopping as she plated food and wrapped them ready for the party.

‘Grant, hun, do you want a drink?’

‘Thanks, Ruthie, that would be lovely.’

She took out a bottle of root beer and watched with a fond smile as he turned the ribs in the smoker. No one cooked meat like her husband did, and while his Kansas BBQ beef was legend locally, so good that even Miss Ella had said she’d buy any leftovers off him – there were never any leftovers with her husband and son – but what Grant was really famous for was his Sweet Southern Slow-Cooker Ham.

Giving him a quick squeeze from behind Ruth returned to the kitchen to finish prepping all the cold foods they would need. It might be winter and cold here in Kansas but their Christmas wouldn’t be complete without the mounds of potato salad, coleslaw, soul food macaroni and pickles to go with the ham and burnt ends.. They’d never really been a turkey kind of family, reserving that bird exclusively to Thanksgiving.

Once Ruth had wrapped all the sides and packed them away she set about cleaning the house from top to bottom. A spick and span house she could do, cooking not so much, not unless you liked burnt as a flavour and a texture.

The day passed on and as it did so did the excitement in the household. Jeff was coming home today from NASA and he was bringing his best friends Lee Taylor and the Caseys. They hadn’t seen Jeff since the spring and as the sun began to go down the sound of a truck in the driveway heralded their guests.

Christmas Eve had become the traditional day they ate their meal and had done ever since the day they had married, with Ruth’s commitments at the local clinic they had always put other families ahead of their own, letting the workers have Christmas Day instead. Jeff had grown up knowing no different and loved having their celebrations a day early.

Arms snaked around her waist as Ruth put the kettle on and a head rested on her shoulder.

‘Ma, I swear you get younger every year.’

‘Flattery will not get you out of the dishes, Jefferson.’

‘Mmm, I’ll happily wash the dishes if Pa’s made his Ham and Burnt Ends.’

‘Stop asking stupid questions and take the coffees through.’

Jeff laughed and took the tray his Mom indicated.

Three: Kent

Lucy and Amelia’s friendship lasted long past University. It lasted the distance of the Atlantic Ocean.

NASA had snapped up Lucy once they’d seen her dissertation but despite the distance they chatted regularly and met up at least once a year, and always on Christmas Eve.

This year was going to be different.

This year Amelia had married.

It Amelia’s turn to host Christmas Eve dinner, and Lucy had brought her fiancé. They hadn’t been going out long but from the chats the two women were having Amelia knew this was the one.

She was eager to see her best friend again and hopeful that Lucy would get on with her husband. She’d laughed a good solid 10 minutes when she’d found out that Hugh was actually Lord Hugh Creighton-Ward, 11th Earl of Kent and that plain old Amelia Candice Barclay was to become Lady Amelia Creighton-Ward.

Speaking of her husband, she put down the spoon she was using to mix the swede and carrot mash and went to find him. It came as no surprise that he was holed up in his office – that Stanley the butler insisted on calling his ‘study’ – even on Christmas Eve. Her husband’s work for the Home Office didn’t stop just because it was an international holiday.

Knocking, she waited for his call before entering, and Amelia broke out into a grin at Hugh’s rueful face.

‘You caught me, Me!’

‘I did, Hugh. Are you done? Our guests should be arriving shortly.’

‘And you want me front and centre. Understood.’

‘I want you to be your usual witty self, my love.’

Hugh laughed and put his file back away in his safe before following his wife out to the kitchen. He pulled up a seat at the table and watched his wife putting the final touches to the meal they would shortly be serving.

He couldn’t believe this beautiful, amazing woman had agreed to marry him. He was ten years older, in a stodgy job and a member of the elite British aristocracy. The day his chauffeur accidently crushed her bike while parking was the day his life had changed. She’d been like a spitfire, giving first Grandy and, when she found out he was ‘just the chauffeur’ Amelia had turned to him and given him such a mouthful.

No one had ever spoken to him like that and by the time the lecture had finished he was smitten. They were engaged by the end of the month. Amelia had been a breath of fresh air to the estate. For a start off she worked closely with the staff to bring them more in line with the 21st Century and after some sweeping changes life had settled into a new routine.

Amelia loved to cook and Hugh had suddenly found that he loved to be in the kitchen, a place he’d never really frequented even as a boy. He loved watching her at work. She danced and sang unreservedly and created magic. He’d never eaten such food, and some of their meals had a distinctly Scottish flair on certain days, and his introduction to the national dish of haggis had been…interesting.

Now he was being inducted into another of Amelia’s traditions, the Scottish Feast on Christmas Eve. Amelia’s best friend Lucille was coming over from America with her partner Jeff. He’d met Lucy a couple of times but he knew Jeff by reputation.

Jefferson Tracy, first man on Mars. Everyone knew him. And now Hugh was about to have the man stay at the house with him. It didn’t faze him, he’d hobnobbed with the cream of British aristocracy and foreign diplomats, he was sure he could handle a hot-shot American.

They were going to eat relatively quickly after they arrived, it was late already and just as Amelia placed the last prepared dish into the aga a knock sounded on the door. She grinned at Hugh, grabbed his hand and pulled him along behind her as they made their way to the door.

Opening it the two women may have squealed – not that either were going to admit that – and the two men shook hands before Jeff pressed a bottle of Pappy Van Winkles Family Reserve. Impressed at the gift, Hugh stood aside and allowed them entry.

‘Good evening. Hugh Creighton-Ward. Please call me Hugh.’

‘Jefferson Tracy. Please call me Jeff. Thanks for invitin’ us.’

‘My pleasure. I hope you know what you’re letting yourself in for.’

‘Lucy has been talking about nothing else for weeks.’

They settled into the kitchen rather than the dining room and Amelia passed around the hot toddies she’d prepared.

By the time dinner was over both men were firm friends and a new tradition had been created, with the invitation for the Creighton-Wards to come to Kansas next year.

Four: Dibrugarh

This Christmas Eve was going to be different.

Jeff, Lucy and their four children were off to Dibrugarh in India. Hugh, Amelia and their daughter Penelope had moved out early in the year ostentatiously to take on a job overseeing a tea plantation. The heat wasn’t really agreeing with Penny, but the ten-year-old was being a trooper.

The plane ride was long but enjoyable. They had flown from Kansas to Chicago and spent the day in the Windy City before sleeping overnight and taking the longest flight the boys had ever been on, 14 hours from Chicago to Delhi. With any other children it would probably have been difficult, but all boys had grown up flying, Scott starting at two months old. From Delhi to Dibrugarh, the last stretch being a little over three hours.

Hugh met them at the airport and drove them to a large villa on the outskirts of the town. It was obviously a new build but it was light and spacious and airy, just right for the temperature.

Drinks called Sherberts were given out and rather than collapsing in a tired heap Jeff and Lucy watched in amusement when the boys got a second wind, following Penny out and exploring while it was the adults who collapsed in a heap.

‘God, Hugh, I thought it would be hot in India!’

‘Not at this time of year.’

They laughed over drinks and chatted while the children ran in and out the rooms, even Penny coming out of her shell to join the boys in a game of tag.

Christmas Eve this year was not the Scottish Feast but an Indian one in the style of a Thali. Bhaat (steamed rice), Dal, Bhendir Sarosi (okra in mustard sauce), Lau Tenga (bottle gourd), Aloo Pitika (potatoes), Xaak Bhaji and the sides Kharoli – a papaya chutney and Assamese pickle, all washed down with a drink called Khar.

None of the Tracys were expecting a mild but highly spiced vegetarian meal, but they all enjoyed what was put before them, the boys in particular loving the open nature of the food and that they not only could help themselves from the central tray but that they could eat with their fingers. The meal was finished off with a selection of Indian sweets and glasses of Mango Lassi.

Scott declared that Indian sweets were almost as good as apple pie to the laughter of all. Lucy spent time with Amelia and the two woman who had helped cook the feast, taking notes and looking forward making some of these dishes once she’d returned home.

The evening ended with presents as usual and a happy puppy pile of Tracys and Creighton-Wards wrapped up tightly in blankets as fireworks lit up the sky.

Five: Fiji

Lucy rubbed her bump. She was getting big and pretty soon she’d have to stop flying. This was going to be their last holiday before baby number five was born.

Their Christmas vacation place this year held a double purpose. Not only were they holidaying in the tropics to give Lucy and John some much needed summer sun after both had been hospitalised with severe pneumonia, but they were here for a surprise Christmas present.

Jeff had been so secretive, the only indication of what he’d been up to was the location. Lucy looked out the window of their private jet as Jeff brought them into land. The ocean was so clear and sparkling!

Fiji was hot in comparison to Kansas, and for that first day Lucy just rested on the beach and baked. And boy did she feel better that evening! John too had some colour to his cheeks and Jeff relaxed a little, seeing that he’d made a good choice.

They had three days before the Creighton-Wards would join them. There was sadness at the thought. Penny had returned to England after a year in India, citing the weather as a reason, although Jeff and Lucy had their suspicions as to the real reason, but they would never ask and put their relationship under strain. It would be the first time Hugh and Amelia had seen their daughter for two years.

The boys understood to give the family room, and after an afternoon spent swimming and exploring the beach they returned to the villa to find the Creighton-Ward’s in their own puppy pile, evidence of tears long dried on all faces.

That evening they rested and just reorientated themselves around each other after missing last year.

Christmas Eve began with more swimming and sun lounging, with a thirteen-year-old Scott trying out some waterskiing for the first time. Lunch was going to be their Lovo Feast. Plates of Kokoda, Palisami, Fish Lolo and Vakalolo for dessert.

The food was some of the strangest they had ever eaten. Gordon’s face when he saw the raw fish made everyone laugh. But soon they had eaten their fill and rested and then Jeff was chivvying them all to the airport for his surprise.

The jet had been refuelled and was ready for them all but Jeff refused to say where they were going. He banned everyone from the cockpit…and that was when the Tracy family realised that the windows had been blacked out.

They had no way of knowing where Jeff was flying them…

It wasn’t too long a journey and they had soon landed. Jeff let them out and held Lucy close as she looked at where they were.

It was an island. Behind them a mountain rose up, in front and below them was a cove and a small patch of sandy beach. There was a gasp from every individual as they stepped off the plane onto the tiny runway. Her husband pulled her close and kissed her head.

‘Jeff?’

‘Do you like it?’

‘Like it…? What have you done?’

‘Done? Why, I’ve bought us an island to holiday on and eventually retire to.’

‘Oh.’

‘Oh? Is that all you can say?’

Lucy turned in his arms and kissed him soundly to the whistles and catcalls of their boys.

‘Was that enough words?’

‘Yes. Boys, Hugh, Amelia, Penny – welcome to Tracy Island.

Six: Kansas

This year Christmas was cancelled.

Scott tried his hardest but no one had the heart for it. With Alan still only a baby really at 21 months old there didn’t seem a point as he wouldn’t miss Christmas if they didn’t do it, and none of his other brothers had been able to muster up enough…drive, desire, want – Scott didn’t know what to call it – to do anything this year. And he couldn’t blame them.

They were never going to be whole again.

Seven: New York

It had been a battle Scott had lost despite fighting bitterly.

Jeff had sunk himself into Tracy Industries since their Mom and Grandpa’s death and the business had gone from strength to strength. And then earlier in the spring Jeff had hit a milestone, opening his headquarters in a new skyscraper in New York of all places as the first of many in an empire that was now beginning to go global.

This year had also seen changes at home, with both Scott and John leaving for their respective colleges and Gordon beginning to become a serious contender with his swimming. The Squid was going to go places – namely the Olympics – and he’d been pestering his Dad to let him attend a residential school that catered for Olympic hopefuls.

This Christmas Jeff had put his foot down. It was the first one since his boys had left and he was going to make the most of it.

Unfortunately, ‘make the most of it’ meant that instead of celebrating in a relaxed atmosphere at home they were all dressed up – suited and booted – and at Tracy Tower for the staff Christmas Party.

Scott had had words about dragging his brothers here, how it was unfair of Jeff to schedule the party on today of all days, but Jeff had held firm and dismissed him with a wave of his hand and the cutting remark that Scott didn’t know what he was talking about.

They had stopped talking for the last two days, but Scott was determined to give his brothers the best Christmas ever and had taken them all to Central Park that day and spoiled them rotten.

The staff party itself was actually fine, and Scott began to relax as it became clear that this was not one of his Dad’s networking meetings. A small band was playing Christmas pop tunes and people were dancing.

The food was…well, the food was delicious but there just wasn’t enough of it. Aware enough that if he ate as much as his stomach was telling him he needed to he’d probably get into trouble, Scott nibbled sadly as he wandered the room and looked out for his brothers.

John had brought a book and had curled up in a chair in the corner, resolutely ignoring all attempts at conversation. Virgil was currently under one of the tables, his sketch book out and another page being filled with whatever took the artist’s eye. Gordon was on his best behaviour, their dad making it absolutely clear that any discussion about him leaving home depended on his ability to show he was mature enough for it. And little Alan was with John, sitting under his chair and playing with the build-a-rocket kit that Scott had bought him earlier that day.

A hand on his shoulder had him freeze until a familiar voice sounded in his ear. Grinning, he turned and took in the sight of Penny, dressed in a…a…well, in a pink dress. Scott had no fashion sense; he had no idea what she was wearing.

But she looked stunning.

He took her hand and kissed it before offering her the floor, and at her slight nod Scott swept her up in a dance.

Maybe today wasn’t going to be a total loss after all…

Later that night the three eldest and Penny lay sprawled over the couch munching pizza and drinking pop as their fathers chatted over whisky in the kitchen. If Scott had his arm around Penny and if Penny was snuggling into his embrace well no one was going to mention it.

Eight: London

Penny hopped from foot to foot, much to Parker’s amusement. And he hoped that this Christmas would be a turning point for his ward.

They had buried Lady Amelia Creighton-Ward that spring and it had hit her daughter harder than expected. After spending so long apart, the news that her parents were moving back to England had filled Penny with hope for the opportunity to get to know them all over again, but they’d barely been back when her mother got sick.

The family that Penny was expecting had been instrumental in helping her through, and in particular the eldest, who would be arriving before everyone else since he was currently based in Germany.

She’d be lying if the thought of having Scott to herself hadn’t sparked something in her heart. Ever since that Christmas in Fiji they had been getting closer, and Scott had been calling her regularly since her mum…yeah, he knew how she felt, what she was going through. They would talk for what felt like hours even though each call was only around 30 minutes.

And there he was!

A head higher than everyone else, Scott strode confidently across the airport, looking for Penny. A shift in the crowd drew his attention, and Scott grinned as he saw Penny standing there, oblivious to the way the crowds parted for her – assisted in no small part from the grim expression on her guardian, Parker. He saw the moment she saw him, her smile lighting up the atmosphere.

Scott quickened up and, dropping his duffle at her feet, he caught her about the waist and swung her up and around, cherishing her laughter as she rested her hands on his shoulders.

They were staying in what Penny had called ‘the town house’. That term had not prepared Scott for the four-story house in the heart of Knightsbridge. Parker took Scott’s bag to his room and made his way to the kitchen where he prepared tea as slowly as he could. His Lady needed Scott right now.

He found them in the front drawing room, seated on the sofa. Scott was holding a sobbing Penny and he offered Parker a small smile as he tightened his hold. Parker sat the tray down and made a tactful withdrawal.

The next morning Parker drove them to the airport to pick up the rest of the Tracy family. He watched his ward and the boy through the mirror. She was looking brighter, and something loosened in his heart.

Parker watched as the boys gave his lady hugs and surrounded the pair before they swarmed through the airport to the car. They filled the space with a comfortable noise, both in the car and in the house, and they helped Penny relaxed even more.

Lil had made a light lunch so that the dinner could be the Christmas Eve feast Lord Hugh had asked her to prepare. After lunch Parker had taken Jeff to go and collect Hugh from his office and the rest settled down to watch some Christmas movies.

Scott and Penny were on one sofa, with Alan sitting on his brother’s lap and leaning back against him. John was sitting on the floor between Penny and his brother while Virgil and Gordon were curled up on the other sofa. All four brothers were asleep before the movie was even halfway through, their body clocks not yet adjusted to all the time they’d spent flying, and Scott and Penny let them snooze on so that they’d be fresh for the evening.

The smells from the kitchen soon roused the boys, and there was much amusement when Scott returned from there with red ears, red cheeks and a red hand. He slid back into his seat just as their fathers arrived home. There were more hugs and some chatting and then Parker returned to announce that dinner was ready.

Lillian had been given a very specific feast to create, a mixture of the family favourites. It was one of the most eclectic dinners she’d ever put together. It shouldn’t have worked, but for some reason it did. Lil reckoned it was because of who they all were, Parker wasn’t so sure, muttering under his breath about ‘boys’ and ‘cast iron stomachs thanks to Mrs Tracy senior’.

Haggis held court with baked ham with glazed vegetables. Plates of Fish Lolo sat next to Xaak Bhaji and sides of Kharoli and steamed Bhaat and to top it all off there were several desserts.

The families didn’t quieten down at all as food was consumed. And Parker was pleased to see his master and mistress begin to smile genuinely for the first time in a long time.

Nine: Germany

Jeff sat in the chair and sighed, rubbing the back of his neck before stretching as much as possible while still sitting in the ridiculously uncomfortable chair.

He must have made a sound he was unaware of as a low moan came from the bed and Jeff sat forward carefully, picking up Scott’s hand as carefully as he could, mindful of the canula and the still-healing digits.

But Scott didn’t wake fully and after he settled back to sleep Jeff sighed.

A nurse entered with a tray and set it down on the table before pulling out her pad and recording details from the machines still attached to his son.

He took a deep breath.

His son.

His son was here.

Scott was here, alive.

Scott was alive.

Jeff still couldn’t believe Scott was there, and he gently kissed his son’s hand and placed it back on the bed.

‘Mr Tracy?’

‘Uh…yes?’

‘I brought you a meal.’

‘A – a meal?’

‘It’s Christmas Eve, Mr Tracy. We don’t have much, it is a military hospital after all, but we have a little. I don’t know what you eat but I brought some ham, turkey and some vegetables. And I’m sorry but I could only get green Jello for dessert.’

‘Nurse…?’

‘Abby. Please, sir, call me Abby.’

‘Abby, I am very, very touched by this.’

‘You are more than welcome, Sir.’

He eyed the tray, not inclined in the least to try and eat anything and turned back to watching Scott. Jeff didn’t pay any more heed to the nurse, but as she left she paused in the doorway.

‘Colonel Tracy, I just want you to know that your son is in the very best of hands and we’re proud to be looking after him.’

‘Thank you, Abby. That – that means a lot.’

‘I know you don’t want to eat, but Scott needs you to be strong so please try and eat something.’

‘I – I will.’

The door closed quietly and Jeff looked at the tray again. Green Jello had been the dessert Virgil had loved the most, fighting his brothers for it, invariably being rescued by Scott snatching it out of Gordon’s hands. Scott’s was always the red one, much like Alan. Stifling a sob at the memory, Jeff picked up the Jello and ate it slowly as he watched his son’s chest rise and fall.

Ten: Argentina

It was a heavy feeling of déjà vu as Jeff sat at another bedside and held the hand of another son who he’d believed was dead, but turned out Tracys were determined people, for which Jeff thanked his Irish ancestors.

Another bed, another military hospital, another Christmas away from the rest of his boys as he tried to keep one alive.

He’d never believed that anyone could come back more injured than Scott. His eldest had been held and tortured in a supposed POW camp for three months and had his arm and leg bones broken. Many had healed incorrectly and Scott had needed multiple surgeries to reset breaks. But that had needed to wait until he was better – if the double pneumonia, sepsis and malaria didn’t kill him first.

But Gordon, in typical younger sibling energy, had outdone his eldest brother.

The hydrofoil crash had claimed the lives of all the crew, and for almost half an hour Gordon too, but the paramedics had been able to bring him back from the dead. And when Jeff had finally managed to get someone to talk to him he had found out that Gordon had broken almost every bone, including his spine.

Even as he sat stunned at the news Scott had corralled everyone he knew to try and look for a solution to get his brother walking again, refusing to believe that their Squid could lose that ability.

Brains had come up with the solution, working closely with the spinal surgeons and physios to replace the broken sections of vertebrae and nerves with a Cahelium scaffolding framework.

Gordon had had the first surgery yesterday. He was still under; the operation had taken all day and most of the night and the anaesthesia was yet to wear off. Jeff began massaging the hand he held, humming one of Lucy’s tunes as he did in an effort to both stir Gordon and comfort them both.

‘I haven’t heard you hum that tune for a long time.’

Jeff looked to the door where Scott stood, a bad in one hand and two coffees in the other. His cane was nowhere in sight and he frowned at his son. Scott half-shrugged, completely unapologetic and Jeff sighed in exasperation.

‘How is he?’

‘Same as he was before you left for coffee.’

‘Yeah…’

Scott trailed off. Being here in these circumstances…it was bringing back unwanted memories. He’d bolted a couple of times, but he was getting better at staying. Having a younger sibling who needed him was helping him cope better with the trauma he’d been through himself.

This time he’d left willingly, for coffee. And returned with more. He took something from the bag before handing it to his Dad. Jeff wasn’t surprised to see an apple Danish in Scott’s hand and one in the bag for himself.

They solemnly tapped their cups together.

‘Merry Christmas, Dad.’

‘Merry Christmas, Scott.’

‘Do…Do you think you can keep it down? How’s a Squid supposed to sleep?’

It was the first genuine smile either man had smiled for a long time.

Eleven: International Rescue

There was an air of festivities on Tracy Island the like they hadn’t had for a long time. Everyone was here, both family and friends.

International rescue had been operating for almost eight months, and in that time their reputation had gone from strength to strength. Lee Taylor, Tim and Val Casey and Jeff had been the founders, but the last four months Jeff and Lee had been training Scott, John and Virgil to take their roles in the organisation set up in honour of their Mom.

Christmas on the island was polar opposite to Kansas where they had grown up. December was quite warm – around 70°F compared to about 25°F in Kansas – and although they’d officially lived on the island for a few years now, this was the first Christmas all the Tracys, the Creighton-Wards, the Kyranos and Brains were together. Only the Caseys and Lee were missing, Tim and Val unable to get out of work at the GDF due to some top-secret test (that Scott and John absolutely did not know about, no sir, they did not know about the Zero-X at all) about to occur and Lee because he was back on Alphie, trying to persuade NASA not to destroy their beloved base.

Virgil had been acting oddly all week, and once John had come down he’d joined him, they immediately stopped whatever they were doing every time Jeff walked into the same room. He’d caught whispers about something lost, but to be honest Jeff was just revelling in having all five boys and Tanusha under the same roof for once.

Their Dad wasn’t the only one who had noticed John and Virgil’s odd behaviour. Both Scott and Gordon had, but Scott had his hands full with Alan, the eight-year-old had clung to his eldest brother like a limpet, not that Scott minded, but that meant leaving Gordon to find out what was going on…Gordon promised that he would behave but Scott knew better than to trust that kind of promise – there were many shades to “behaving” when it came to Gordon and Scott was well versed in his prankster brother’s ability to create loopholes. Both brothers would vehemently deny it, but when it came to finding loopholes in something John and Gordon were identical. Scott himself would deny that he and Gordon were the same when it came to pranks, but he’d be lying just as much as John would be…

Whatever they were trying to do also involved Virgil’s studio. The place was a strict ‘invite-only’ place, but Virgil had taken to locking the door – both when he was out of the studio and when he was inside – and had lived up to his “bear” reputation when Scott had tried to find out what they were up to. He had backed away quickly when Virgil literally growled at him.

As the week progressed the smells coming from the studio were mouthwatering, though, and as time passed more and more Scott found himself wandering past trying to work out what the two were up to.

All anyone could work out was that it was definitely *ham* that was being cooked, but why it needed such secrecy was anyone’s guess.

Christmas Eve dawned clear, bright and hot. Breakfast was a riotous affair with so many people, an eclectic mix of traditional American, English and Malay foods meaning everyone had something they enjoyed.

Dinner was due that evening, giving everyone all day for whatever activities they had planned. Games were played, films played in the background. Lunch was a spread of finger food for them to help themselves as they so wished.

Virgil and John disappeared back into the studio. Out of the kiln Virgil pulled the latest attempt at recreating Grandpa Grant’s Baked Ham. This was their fifth attempt but, as tasty as the ham was, it was missing something. Virgil sighed despondently as John’s hand landed on his shoulder and gave him s squeeze.

‘I really wanted this to be ready for tonight but – *sigh* – it won’t be.’

‘It would have been nice, I agree, but you’re really close!’

‘Not close enough, John.’

‘We can do this, Virgil! It’s just a matter of using science and all our taste and memories to work out what Grandpa’s secret ingredient was!’

‘The secret ingre….’

The klaxon drowned out whatever else was going to be said and both men legged to the lounge where the command centre had already been engaged.

‘There’s a problem with the Zero-X launch. Scott, suit up and meet me in One. John, can you return to Five and direct us from there?’

‘FAB Dad.’

‘FAB, Dad.’

‘Kyrano, you have the command centre. Thunderbirds are go!’

Later on, when Scott finally came home, dinner had been forgotten as had all thoughts of food. Once he returned to the lounge Alan all but launched himself at Scott, his other brothers following suit. The four collapsed in a huddle in the middle of the floor, with John’s holo looking on. Pretty soon they were joined by Penny and Kayo and then the older adults surrounded them.

For the second time in their lives Christmas was cancelled.

Twelve: Tracy Island – Together Again

‘What about this?’

‘No – I’ve looked in that box. What about that one?’

‘Hang on…yes! They’re in here!’

This year promised to be their best Christmas ever!

In early spring the five of them with Brains had done the impossible. They had flown to the Oort Cloud, rescued their Father and returned home. Jeff had spent the remainder of the year in a specialist rehab centre, but now he was due home.

Due home on Christmas Eve. What could be more perfect?

So Tracy Island became a hive of activity as everyone prepared for his return. Scott got busy making sure iR and TI could survive the day without them, Gordon and Alan took it upon themselves to decorate the lounge. Brains had muttered something about snow and Kayo was busy in the kitchen with her father and Parker cooking up a feast. Even Uncle Lee had been picked up from Mars earlier in the week by Alan and John.

Virgil and John took it upon themselves to spend the week perfecting Grandpa’s Baked Ham recipe in celebration of having their family all under one roof again. The villa soon filled with the delectable smell of ham.

Every day they tried a new combination in their quest. John had suggested using science to work out what they were missing.

So they started at the beginning by asking the question – AKA ‘interrogating’ Grandma.

Unfortunately Grandma knew nothing. Her husband had been protective of his recipe, not because he didn’t trust her, but because Grant knew what a terrible cook his wife was. It had been a joke that Sally could burn water for their entire married life, and she’d proved that to be the case so, so many times. It hadn’t occurred to anyone that there would come a time when he wouldn’t be around anymore…

So the two brothers formed a hypothesis and theorised that Grandpa would have used ingredients to hand, so they thought long and hard about the kinds of food flavourings they had seen around the old kitchen farmhouse.

Based on that hypothesis they gathered groups of flavourings to try as the predictions part of the scientific method.

Testing the hypothesis had been fun at first. They had mixed flavourings like some kind of kitchen wizards, testing combinations out.

Their family had appreciated most of the ham results. At first. After three days and seven hams even Gordon had begun to complain, but Scott remained oblivious to the amount of thick-cut ham sandwiches he was consuming as he worked.

Tests complete, they analysed the data and drew some conclusions. Nothing matched. They had come close a couple of times, but there was still one key ingredient they were missing, so they tried a different method.

They began searching for their Grandpa’s secret recipe.

They tore into the storage room in the basement, looking through old boxes of stuff that hadn’t been opened since they had moved here from Kansas. They had had to stop for the rest of the day when they stumbled on the one filled with pictures of their Mom and them growing up.

John picked up a heavy box to place it on top of another to make it easier to look into. He’d been down almost the entire week and so gravity wasn’t its usual problem, but the box was heavier than he had anticipated and in manoeuvring it he caught the bottom box. It was enough to make the bottom of the box he was carrying split open, spilling books all over the floor.

A particularly heavy tome flattened his toes and John yelped. Virgil abandoned his box to come and make sure his brother wasn’t too badly hurt, picking up an old tractor manual. It was for Grandpa’s old Deere, the tractor both he and a tiny Virgil had adored both – it was a giant green machine after all…

A feeling of nostalgia washed over him as he flicked through the well-thumbed pages, some still with Grandpa’s oily fingerprints on. As he browsed a yellowing slip of paper full of Grandpa’s neat, careful writing slipped out from between the pages.

With slightly shaking fingers John bent to pick the page up and read it aloud:

Sweet Southern Slow-Cooker Ham

“Ingredients:

1 bone-in fully-cooked ham, about 5.5lb

1 cup apple cider vinegar

½ cup of dark brown sugar

1/3 cup of Kentucky bourbon

¼ cup of honey

¼ cup Dijon-style mustard

4+ sprigs of thyme”

Virgil smacked his forehead. Bourbon? The missing ingredient was bourbon?? He picked John up and swung him around. Both men were laughing before carefully packing the box and putting it back away and returning to the studio.

Several hours later and Virgil was bringing Two into land.

They were all there to bring their Dad home and Jeff was revelling in just being here. He still used a cane to walk around, but he was so much more than the husk of a man they had rescued ten months ago. He’d put on weight, had almost got used to gravity again and was looking forward to sleeping in his own bed with his own children, his Ma and his friends all around him.

Christmas Eve. What a special day to return home. There were so many Christmas Eves that had been special for various reasons, but today was going to be the best ever. As they arrived in the lounge to the cheering of those who had stayed behind and to the smells of food ready to be eaten.

Jeff watched as his children and his friend’s children orientated themselves around him and each other. Huh…interesting. He’d known Scott and Penny had a bit of a thing for each other before…before that time, but now to see Penny sitting with Gordon he realised that ship had sailed. Instead, Scott had gravitated to Kayo, an unusual pairing to be sure, Jeff thought, seeing that they were potentially too similar in temperament, but if it worked then he’d be more than happy for both boys.

Ma, Kyrano and Parker were busy laying the table when John and Virgil brought in a covered dish. There were a few groans from Gordon and Alan which had Jeff raising his eyebrows at them and they quietened down.

The ham was uncovered with a flourish once everyone was seated and ready to help themselves. Scott, recognising the smell of Grandpa’s secret Baked Ham, insisted that Jeff have the first slice and that everyone wait until their Dad and friend had pronounced judgement.

The smell hit Jeff like a thunderbolt. He’d not smelt this particular aroma for…wow, was it really almost twenty years since they had lost Lucy and his Pa? Water welled but didn’t fall from his eyes as Jeff fought to keep his composure.

And then he tastes it.

Tears fell as memories of home, of being a child growing up on the farm, of that first Christmas he’d introduced Lucy to his parents, of the time a two-year-old Scott had managed to pull the tablecloth off the table and was busy hoovering up the food that had fallen, heedless of the adults’ cries of panic over the broken glass and China.

That first time Hugh, Amelia and Penny had come over for Christmas and then Kyrano and Kayo had joined them…and Brains too vied with thoughts of the dried astronaut food he’d sustained himself on when alone out there in the Oort Cloud.

All these memories rushed upon him and Jeff suddenly realised he’d dropped his fork and was just sitting there staring into space, his family looking on with worried faces.

Jeff cleared his throat and wiped his eyes.

‘Thank you. Thank you all. This is without doubt the best Christmas Eve I have had in a very, very long time.’

[tagsecretsanta]

From @the-original-sineater

From @the-original-sineater to @idontknowreallywhy

My TAGSS prompts were: Thunderbus Karaoke

Pie

Wee!Tracys adventures. Preferences: happy / fluffy

Two out of Three Aint Bad!

Virgil dropped into Two's pilot's seat with a marked lack of grace. Gordon on the other hand ganged up with gravity and launched an attack on the co-pilot's. Virgil wasn't sure if the resulting groan came from Gordon or the seat. 

As missions went, this had been mixed: an airship tour of the Sahara had engine trouble and had been drifting aimlessly around. Not the biggest emergency, but a haboob had been racing across the desert and headed straight for it. Add in a Thunderbird Two heading home from helping with a landslide on Corsica and you had a mess of a situation.

Virgil wiggled in his seat, grimaced, and started the pre-flight checks. 

"It gets everywhere, doesn't it?"

Virgil twisted to look at his brother, and snarled a little as the sand grated with friction of the movement on his neck. Gordon was still slumped in the seat with his eyes closed. He was beyond asking 'how'. It was Gordon. 

"Yeah." He went back to checking things and glowered at an orange panel. An orange panel that should be green. "I hate to ask this -"

"Then don't."

Virgil rolled his eyes."I need you to check the port side air intakes, while I monitor here."

"Why don't you check the intakes and I monitor?"

"Because the last time we tried that, you looked at the wrong info panel and I ended up getting doused with hydraulic fluid." Dark eyebrows drew in, "And you promised to check the air intakes in the future and in exchange I wouldn't rewire your room."

Gordon blanched at that and his hands came up, "I'm going, I'm going." He rose and headed for Two's innards. "But I'm activating 'Sonic Sanity'. We're both tired and the trip home is going to be long." He vanished into the depths of Two. Virgil sighed and turned back to the control panel and frowned at the alert. 'Sonic Sanity' sounded like a pretty good idea, but he didn't know if he had enough cognizant ability to make it through more than one song. Because if he muffed on the first try, he'd never hear the end of it from Gordon.

One cleared air intake and some cussing later, Two lifted off with her usual elegance, but not her usual speed.  Sand did indeed get everywhere, in this case into Two's fuel lines, which needed extra filters and  kept Two to half her speed. So it was an even longer trip home than Gordon thought. They could be farther from home, but that would require leaving the atmosphere.  He wrinkled his nose at his own smell. Yes it had been 'honest work', but he'd grown a lot since then. He brush at his sleeve, felt the sand under his fingers and decided that two showers were in order, maybe three. But he needed to remember to save enough hot water for Virgil, or he might have to learn to fly without a Thunderbird. Virgil ran his hand through his hair, snarled as sand dug into his scalp, and vowed to come up with even better filters for the suit helmets. Then he transferred his annoyance to the hologram in front of him and stabbed to the next one. 

"You flex those eyebrows any harder, you're going to need to charge admission."

Virgil jerked out of the numbers and glared at his brother, who was still drying his hair as he plopped into his seat. "About time." Virgil fought the urge to scratch at the sand and went back to trying to decide which flight path would get them home fastest. They were on the other side of the planet from the Island. He flicked another figure and lost his sight as something landed on his head. "HEY!"

"You, brother mine, are thinking so hard you 're going to catch your hair on fire. Go take a shower, grab a clean uni, and have some coffee."

Virgil pulled the damp towel off his head and snarled, "I'm trying to get us home!" "Virg, you're burning brain cells. Go get cleaned up, a clean uniform, a coffee, and some food. You'll feel better. I'll plot the course home." Gordon pulled up the navigation controls and started checking flight paths. There was an atmospheric river that could shave at least an hour of their time. However, there was an extremely loud scowl coming from the pilot seat. "Bro, go take a shower, don't scrub until you wash all the sand off, get a clean uniform, some food, and the coffee I just made." He kept his gaze locked on the numbers scrolling in front of him. "Do  I need to call Spacecase and have him lock you out?" His tone was as hard at the carnelian his eyes sometimes became.  

". . . you wouldn't."

"Keep pulling a Scooter and I will." Gordon's hand hovered over the comms button.

Virgil growled but pushed the pilot's seat back and headed for Two's small quarters with ill grace. When his fish of a brother got that tone in his voice, you knew he'd do whatever it was he'd said he would. It took three showers; once in uniform to get some of the sand off, one to rinse the sand, sweat, and mud off of him, and one last time as a proper wash before he finally felt clean.

 He'd still have to vacuum all of Two to get rid of all the sand, but he was clean. He was also caffeinated and fueled. Not that he'd call the chocolate orange protein bar 'food' but it was fuel and didn't taste too much like cardboard wrapped in sugar.  He really hated to admit it, but his little brother was right.

As he headed back to the cockpit, he hoped that Gordon had forgotten about 'Sonic Sanity'. Not that Virgil didn't enjoy it, he just wasn't sure if he was up to it. It had been a very long day. That hope hit the rocks with a 'splat', when he opened the cockpit door. Fiddle, pipe, and a fine tenor rolled out with and wrapped words around him. To me ri fol leather ol,

ri fol leather ol,

ri fol leather ol lay.

Rol a diddle i,

rol a diddle i,

to me ri fol leather ol lay.

Virgil's shoulders slumped a little, but he'd agreed. He plopped into his seat and kept dying his hair, he'd fix it when they got home. 

Gordon finished the shanty with a flourish and shot a grin at Virgil. "Feeling better?" Virgil wanted to snap, but Gordon had been right, but he had a standard to maintain,being an older brother. "What's our location?" "Hurmph." Gordon pulled up an interface. "We're about to pass over Costa Rica." Virgil blinked, his girl was good, but running at least then her best speed... "How?" "Sky river," Gordon smirked. 

Virgil strove manfully not to flick his towel at Gordon's head. "So we've got a tail wind?" "We're gliding along an atmospheric river." Gordon snapped back.

It wasn't worth fighting over and he shouldn't have said that. "Sorry. I'm running on fumes." He took a swallow of the coffee. "Did you still want to do Sonic Sanity?" Virgil refused to call it Thunderbus Karaoke, but it was a way for the two of them to unwind. 

"Yes! I'll go first!" Gordon cleared his throat. "You even think about starting with 'Great Green Gobs', and I'm dropping you off in the middle of the Arctic Ocean." Virgil stated calmly.

Gordon's mouth closed slowly. "Um… that's the wrong direction."

"I know, and I don't care. Start that song and you're swimming with the polar bears."

Carnelian eyes narrowed. "Is that a challenge?"

"It's a statement of fact." Virgil gave his hair one last rub and draped the towel around his neck. Gordon looked his brother over, running the odds about him singing the song and actually getting thrown into the Arctic Ocean. The ones that came back weren't in his favor. "Fiiiiiine. What can I start with instead O Choir Master?"

Virgil shrugged with studied ease. "Whatever you think won't get you booted off Two."

Gordon sent some serious side-eye Virgil's direction, then started swiping through the music choices. Virgil kept close watch on the starboard air intake and wondered if they shouldn't have replaced that one as well, when 'da da dada-da dum-dum' rolled through the cockpit on a full brass section. Virgil groaned a little. Let's go, girls

Come on!

I'm goin' out tonight

I'm feelin' alright

Gonna let it all hang out

Wanna make some noise

Really raise my voice

Yeah, I wanna scream and shout

Gordon's tenor did it justice, Virgil had to admit that. But if Gordon wanted to go down that path - well then, they were going to go down that path. Virgil pulled up his music file called 'Warfare'. 

Gordon held the last note, not part of the song, but hey, it felt good. He turned to Virgil, when trombones blasted through the speakers and Gordon's eyes got VERY big. 

She's into superstitions

Black cats and voodoo dolls.

I feel a premonition

That girl's gonna make me fall

She's into new sensations

New kicks in the candlelight

She's got a new addiction

For every day and night

Gordon watched in an impressed horror as Virgil shimmied in his seat as he belted out the lyrics. He gave a slow golf clap when Virgil finished. Virgil grinned and settled back in his seat with a sly grin. "Your turn." 

Which was just a blatant dare, but Gordon was ready to accept it and had his music queued up. He cleared his throat, hit play, and enjoyed the look of shock on his brother's face when the sad blues guitar turned into the banging piano intro. I got ketchup on my blue jeans, I just burned my hand

Lord, it's hard to be a bachelor man

I've got girls that can cook, I've got girls that can clean

I've got girls that can do anything in between

I've got to get ready, make everything right

'Cause all my rowdy friends are coming over tonight

"Like hell they are," Virgil muttered as he pulled up his play list. Gordon knew Virgil disliked this song. Well the lyrics mostly, the musicality of it was very good. But the lyrics were - very much a product of their time. If little brother wanted to play hardball, they were going to play hardball.

While Gordon bounced his way through the lyrics, Virgil worked on his breathing, not even really listening to his brother. He had to be loose and relaxed to pull this off. 

tooooooooooooooonight! Gordon sat back with a grin. 

Virgil just raised an eyebrow, made sure his chest was open, and hit the switch. 

The three taps on the drum rim furrowed Gordon's brow, then the heavy piano started, supported by the tambourine. "Nonononono." But it was far too late for that. 

Yo, I'll tell you what I want, what I really, really want

So tell me what you want, what you really, really want

I'll tell you what I want, what I really, really want

So tell me what you want, what you really, really want

Virgil couldn't stop bouncing his seat a little, the beat was just that catchy. Yes, this was one of his songs of aural mass destruction, but he also liked it! The lyrics really spoke to him. 

"How do you do that?" Gordon demanded as the song finished. 

Virgil swallowed some cold coffee. "Do what?"

"Dude, you're singing like an octave above your normal range, and it sounds good!"

Virgil inhaled some more drink. "It's an octave and a half, and it's just practice." He finished the cup. "Your turn."  He was hoping that was enough for Gordon to quit, his throat was starting to ache. 

Gordon was flipping through his holographic list at high speed. "A-HA Got you."

"Oh, in Timon's name, not A-HA." Virgil dropped his head back. 

Gordon cleared his throat several times. "You only wish it was A-HA." 

The acoustic guitar was nice but the first words had him sitting up and staring at his brother in open mouth shock. Porcupine pie, porcupine pie, porcupine pie

Vanilla soup, a double scoop please

No, maybe I won't, maybe I won't, maybe I will

The tutti fruit with fruity blue cheese

Virgil spent the next two stanzas being horrified that the lyrics worked on this and trying to find a song that would stop this. Gordon had to have been sitting on this one for ages. 

Gordon finished the last line with a cough. 

Virgil wasted no time starting his music, it had a long lead up. Which he spent reaching for an even higher falsetto than he did for his last song. Gordon looked confused by the big band opening with woodwinds and trumpets. Then concerned when Virgil hadn't started singing when a trumpet did a double trill and Virgil opened his mouth. 

Petootie Pie, Petootie Pie

You're my Petootie, sugar fruity, dreamy pie

I crave and cram your special jam

You underrated, solidated superman

Then he switched to his falsetto and sang.

And every gal who passes

Just looks and hollers 'ooh'

Like flies caught in molasses

They all get stuck on you

He was thanking all nine of the Muses for the instrumental sections because they gave him a chance to breathe.  He let the last instrumental fade before slumping in his seat. He'd forgotten how hard singing both parts of a duet were. 

Gordon made some inarticulate noises before settling on "Bro. Wow. Just wow, bro." 

"We good?" Virgil hoped so, he didn't have any more in him. 

"Yah, we're good." "Awesome. Wanna listen to some music?" Virgil leaned into his seat to relax. 

"Choice?" Gordon pulled up an interface. "Something instrumental. Williams or Phoenix."

"John Williams it is!" Gordon settled back to keep an eye on the controls as the crash of cymbals and fanfare of brass filled the air. 

… Song list in order The 23rd of February Trad. Sea Shanty

Great Green Gobs

Trad. Camp Song

Man! I Feel Like a Woman!

Shania Twain Livin' la Vida Loca

Ricky Martin

All My Rowdy Friends Are Coming Over Tonight Hank Williams Jr. 

Wannabe The Spice Girls

Porcupine Pie Neil Diamond

Petootie Pie

Ella Fitzgerald & Louis Jordan

Extra Credit Song

Two out of Three Aint Bad

Meatloaf

[tagsecretsanta]

From @cookidoughlilac

From @cookidoughlilac to @fishladishere

Ikea shark –

"There's fish on the wrapping paper, so this must be yours, Gordie! Looks like Santa got you a big gift this year!”

Gordon's eyes twinkled as Jeff manoeuvred himself under the tree, delicate wrapping paper crinkling under his hand as he pulled a large, squishy present from the pile.

True to his father's words, deep blue paper with little colourful fish appeared from under the tree skirt, complete with a snow-tipped name tag and Gordon's name in swirly red lettering. He reached out to take the present from Jeff, giggling at its size as he hugged it against himself. Despite its wrapped nature, Gordon could tell that it was soft. And big. Gordon had always thought himself to be quite tall for his age, but the mysterious gift was easily longer than him! 

Santa must have really liked his effort at being good this year. A present this grand would have been reserved for children on the nice list, after all, just like his brothers. They were always good, and Gordon wanted to be just like them.

"Would you look at that? The present's as tall as you, kiddo - what do you think it is?" 

Gordon turned to his grandmother, giving her the biggest grin as she took a picture of him. As keen as he was to open his gift, he couldn’t resist posing for a photo or two.

But what could it be? Gordon felt as though he was at a loss. He racked his little brain as best as he could, but his thinking on what was big and soft came up blank. He shook his head and shrugged, hugging the wrapped gift tighter to his chest.

"Why don’t you open it? Jeff asked, chuckling at his second youngest’s actions, “that way, you can hug it properly, no?”

Well, he didn’t need telling twice.

Gordon eagerly tore open the fish themed wrapping paper, practically squealing in delight as plush blue and white fabric peeked from underneath. Further unwrapping revealed the mysterious gift: a soft, and oh so big, shark, sporting the words ‘blåhaj’ on a label by the tail.

“Daddy! Daddy! Look!” Gordon exclaimed, spinning himself around from Sally so he could face Jeff, holding the shark high above his head, “Santa got me a shark! A real life shark!”

Gordon heard his brothers, Grandma and parents chuckle in amusement, but in that moment, all he felt was sheer excitement for his new favourite item in the whole, wide world. He bounced in excitement, grinning wildly as he hugged the shark against himself.

Best Christmas ever!

Beach Christmas –

Gordon regarded the endless expanse of ocean before him. Even though the sun was barely peeking up over the horizon, it was warm. Uncharacteristically so for December… or rather, by his standards. Decembers were usually cold, perfect for curling up by the fireplace with a thick blanket and a cup of hot chocolate. He was used to seeing snow gently pile up outside frosted windows, blanketing the world in a brilliant white that glistened in the moonlight. He was used to shoving freezing hands into warm pockets, face half obscured by a chunky scarf, mist visible with every breath.

He was used to the wintery Decembers of the northern hemisphere. The place he’d called home for his entire life.

This, though? The whole ‘standing on a beach at 6am in 25ºC heat with swimming trunks on and a towel draped over the shoulders’ thing? This was different.

There was a gentle breeze in the air, warm and inviting, gently swaying palm trees and colourful flowers in an almost hypnotic rhythm. The sound of water lapping at the shore seemed to lull the world – the island – into a peaceful sense of tranquillity. As though nothing bad could reach the shores of the oasis he found himself living in.

He wriggled his toes in the sand beneath him. It was soft, warmed by the sun, though not yet to the extent of burning skin. The heat was enough to spread warmth throughout his body in ways that melted stress and tension from tired muscles. If he hadn’t already been set on going for a morning swim, Gordon would have felt overcome with the need to curl up for a nap under the palm trees.

It was different, yes. But magical.

He knew his brothers, father and Grandmother wouldn't be awake for another few hours, which was perfect. It gave him plenty of time to go for a swim and dry off on the beach before the festivities of the day began.

He removed his towel from his shoulders and placed it over a palm trunk that had grown sideways over time, giving the wood a light push for good measure to watch it sway. Once satisfied with its swingability, Gordon turned back to face the ocean, pausing only momentarily to take in a deep breath. The smell of the sea was undoubtedly alluring – perhaps he’d suggest for the Christmas barbeque to move from the patio to the beach…

Gordon was quick to wade and submerge himself into the ocean, the feeling of water lapping over his skin immediately comforting. This was where he felt most alive – in a body of water with not a care in the world. The sun, still steadily climbing in the sky, cast mesmerising patterns across the water and ocean bed below, each colour more vibrant than the last.

He moved to float on his back, letting the sun warm his face as he closed his eyes. He let the water ebb and flow around him, gently drifting in peace.

Perhaps he could get used to hot Christmases. Naturally, the move to Tracy Island and the start of a new venture masterfully envisioned by his father meant that Christmas was unlikely to ever be normal again, but so long as he had his family and the ocean… perhaps it would all be alright.