The voice was familiar, but not. Or rather, it was a familiar voice that was warped by pain, hoarse and hurting.
“Why do you have to push just that little bit more?”
And it was quiet, little more than a whisper in the dark.
Scott shunned it and skittered away. It hurt to hear the hurt in that voice.
“It’s Dad.” The words were barely there and Scott had to strain to hear it. “I know it’s Dad. And sometimes I hate him for it. Because of what he does to you.”
That forced his attention. Hate Dad? How could the voice possibly hate Dad? The voice loved Dad as much as Scott did. So, so much.
“I know you won’t listen. Probably won’t even understand. Deny it if you do.” A sigh. “But you are scaring the shit out of me, Scott. You’re doing all of this for Dad as if he is some goddamned messiah or something. And each time, you’re risking more.” There was a strangled sound. “I’m trying to keep up…god, I am trying…to keep one step ahead of you, but I can only save you so many times and then one day…”
A rustle of fabric.
“Please don’t do this to me.” That was almost a sob and it had Scott clawing at the darkness, desperate to reach his brother and provide the reassurance needed.
But he couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak. His brother needed him, but he couldn’t respond.
The voice stopped after that for a long time. There was sound, but it was just more fabric and muffled breath that was more distress than anything else.
It made Scott struggle harder. What happened? Why couldn’t he move?
What had upset Virgil? Because it was Virgil sitting beside him. Each shaky breath he heard, proved that.
Virgil, please.
“I can’t do this without you, Scott. I don’t want to.” Another wretched breath. “Please…stop. Please.”
Scott realised he had a hand, because suddenly the grip on it was tight. Rough calluses, familiar with warmth, were clinging to him.
He tried to grip in return, but nothing.
What the hell was wrong with him?!
Hair brushed his fingertips. It was soft and slightly damp, a familiar texture lacking the usual hair product. It was enough information for Scott to visualise his brother post-shower, hair drying into the soft curls Virgil hid from the world.
His forehead touched to the back of Scott’s fingers.
Virgil.
Scott realised he must have been injured. Probably a rescue. What rescue was information he could not recall, but the thought did prompt him to locate the rest of his body.
He encountered medicated fog. There was muffled pain in his left leg. Hell, all down his left side.
Virgil was on his right.
Virgil was always on his right.
John on his left.
His younger brothers behind.
He was the eldest. Their leader.
But not right now.
Right now, chances were he was in hospital, injured, and more a source of worry for his family than anything else.
And he still couldn’t move. Couldn’t reach out to his brother to reassure him that everything was going to be okay.
“You know, sometimes I wonder what Dad said or did to you that inspired such loyalty and sacrifice. What set you on this hell-bent mission to be so much like the great Jeff Tracy.” A rough swallow. “He’s Dad, Scott. Our father. He’s not you and you’re not him. You will never be him!” The words were spat out. “I don’t want you to be him! I want you to be you.” An exhaled breath. “I want you to be happy.” An inconsolable sound. “To be safe.”
The fingers wrapped around his twitched a little tighter.
“Mr Tracy!”
Scott startled. But it became immediately obvious that the Tracy being referred to was Virgil as soft shoes hurried over.
“You are not supposed to be up. You put too much weight on that injury and you could do further damage.”
There was a groan from the side of the bed. “I just need to sit with my brother.”
“Your brother is healing and no doubt would not want you injuring yourself further on his behalf.”
“Please…”
The pain in Virgil’s voice had Scott clawing at the darkness.
“Sir, the doctors were adamant, not to mention your grandmother. You are lucky to be alive and they would like to keep you that way. Now back to bed.”
The hands holding Scott’s tightened enough that if it wasn’t for whatever medication was in his system, he’d be feeling that enough to yell. His fingers were rammed up against that forehead again, hair teasing their very tips.
Virgil.
He did his best to return that grip, to let Virgil know he was heard. To reassure a distressed little brother. But nothing…nothing! He wanted to scream. It was his job to look after his brothers and being able to hear but unable to help was the stuff of nightmares.
“Mr Tracy, your brother is very ill, but he is improving. He will get better. Please, look after yourself, if not for you, then for him.”
There was hot breath against the back of Scott’s arm as the smallest of whimpers tickled the hairs on his forearm.
And then his hand was gently placed back on the sheet and let go.
No.
Don’t leave me.
The thought escaped before he could countermand it.
Virgil was obviously injured. The groan at the scrape of a chair and hurried footsteps told him that much. The nurse muttered gentle encouragement as his brother grunted with obvious effort.
A bed creaked.
Virgil was safer in bed.
But Scott was left by himself, unable to move or speak or even open his eyes, and the combination of fear for his brother and fear for himself and the inability to do anything for either of them set his heart racing. Panic began to set in.
“Rest, Mr Tracy. Everything will feel better for sleep.”
Soft footfalls stepped efficiently on linoleum, and came closer to Scott. His heart thudded in his ears.
There was a tug at his left arm and a soft tut-tut from the nurse.
Something cold crawled up his arm and wrapped around his heart and his thoughts, disconnecting them. He lost the feeling in everything and oblivion took him.
-o-o-o-
Oh Virg… God, Nutty.
This is such powerful stuff. Every punch of emotion hitting Scott hit me as well, right in the chest. And it’s such a gorgeous hurt. Thankyou for the wonderful feels.
After 42 hours awake (it was a rescue give me a break) I had a dream that my doggo Skipper and I were spies on a mission to discover a smuggling ring intent on bringing camembert into the states.
We found them because Skip and I are the best at discovering things, but then we partied with them instead of turning them in.
So there I was with crackers and camembert, and I’d run out of one and need to get more of the other. And then I’d have an excess of the other thing and need to even it out again, but I never did.
And you know… now that I think about it the smugglers might have been the fae. Because that’s definitely how’d you’d trap me in a fairy circle and hold me for eternity. Via cheese.
Doesn’t even need to be the fancy kind
I can vouch for that ♂️
*wipes away a proud tear* I’ve finally brought one of you up well enough that the Fae want you.
Random thoughts, but i like the idea that Scott has reddish toned brown hair. I don’t know why, I just like the idea of Scott having somewhat auburn hair
Like if Scott spend a decent amount of time in the Sun, his hair becomes more of an auburn colour. Basically John isn’t the only one in that family with the red hair genes.
(Scott’s are just a bit more subtle lol )
Actually, imagine as a teenager/kid Scott had lighter, more auburn hair! Like not red like John but still a lot lighter than he has as an adult.
Imagine a young teenage Scott feeling somewhat self conscious about his hair, (because school kids are brutal) and wanting his hair to darken like his dad’s.
Because Scott is always trying to be like Jeff, which is probably why he styles it the way he does
But yeah, Scott with varying degrees of reddish brown hair
Random thoughts, but i like the idea that Scott has reddish toned brown hair. I don’t know why, I just like the idea of Scott having somewhat auburn hair
Like if Scott spend a decent amount of time in the Sun, his hair becomes more of an auburn colour. Basically John isn’t the only one in that family with the red hair genes.
(Scott’s are just a bit more subtle lol )
Actually, imagine as a teenager/kid Scott had lighter, more auburn hair! Like not red like John but still a lot lighter than he has as an adult.
Imagine a young teenage Scott feeling somewhat self conscious about his hair, (because school kids are brutal) and wanting his hair to darken like his dad’s.
Because Scott is always trying to be like Jeff, which is probably why he styles it the way he does
But yeah, Scott with varying degrees of reddish brown hair
“I told you it wasn’t safe. I told you not to go in. But no, you know better.”
Oh, yes, he had done it proper. He hadn’t heard Virgil go off the deep end like this since high school and the time Gordon had decided to not be where he was supposed to be at school pick up and the three hours of terror that followed.
Admittedly, Scott had been just as angry at the time. It was a whole new perspective to be on the receiving end.
“Virg-“
“No, Scott. I’ve had it. You obviously don’t trust my judgment. You think you know better. Well, newsflash, hot shot, you don’t!”
Oh, yes, this was going to go on for some time.
So, he kept his mouth shut. It would be worse if Virgil realised that not only had his jet pack run out of fuel, but it had dropped him from quite a height. Without warning…he must speak to Brains about that. Fortunately, he had rolled down a slope and into an underground lake.
Unfortunately, the slope had been jagged and torn up his uniform somewhat. There was likely some bruising.
Scott isn’t having much luck with his workouts, as he is constantly being interrupted.
☆☆☆☆☆☆
“I’m borrrred, ” Alan whined.
“Go find something else to do,” came the response.
“Like what exactly?”
Scott stopped midway through his warm ups and had barely even worked up a sweat.
“That video game you’ve been bugging us about.”
“Oh … that.”
Scott noted the tone in his baby brothers voice.
“Not to your liking then?”
“Meh, too easy. I finished it in two levels. That games creator needs firing.”
“Why don’t you create your own game?”
“Nah … boring.”
“I’m sure John would be happy to help.”
“Too busy, I asked.”
“There’s always homework.”
Alan laughed.
“Yeah, right. If I remember rightly … I graduated not so long back.”
“How about Gordon?”
“Nah, too wrapped up with hisgirlfriend.”
Scott had to smile about that one. Since they finally got together and made it ‘official’, Gordon had been a bit preoccupied. But their relationship didn’t affect his focus. Once a rescue was on its way, he was professional throughout.
“How about Virgil?”
“Tried that, he told me to buzz off because I wouldn’t sit still for his portrait. And Kayo is visiting her dad, Brains is on holocall with Moffie, discussing fractals and bosons. You know how those two nerds are, once they get going.”
“There’s always grandma.”
Alan made a horrified face.
“Can’t I just hang with you?”
“Here?”
A nod
“In the gym?”
Another eager nod. Scott reached out to feel Alan’s forehead but he ducked away with a ..
“Hey!”
“Just checking to see if you’re feeling okay.”
“I’m fiiine, what’s the big fuss? Geez, you’re worse than Virgil.”
Scott sighed.
“That’s true, by now he’d have had the med scanner out and checking your vitals. But seriously, are you feeling okay?”
Alan perched on the bench and sighed, picking at the lace on one of his well worn sneakers.
“Just … bored, that’s all.”
Scott cast a critical eye over his skinny little brother, pretty certain that those spaghetti limbs of his could do with a bit of toning.
“How about the treadmill?”
“Nah.”
“Well … there’s the rowing machine.”
“Pfft, seriously?”
Scott kept suggesting each piece of exercise equipment, only to be nixed at every step. And it was a fully stocked gym, with practically everything you need to keep fit.
“So … what do you suggest then? Marco Polo in the pool?”
“Nah, you don’t play it right … and that’s for kids.”
“I give in.”
“There’s is one more thing Scotty. Pretty please. Virgil let’s me do it.”
Scott rolled his eyes. He should have known this was coming up.
A sigh.
“Okay, fine.”
Alan squeaked and bounced to his feet, before poofing into a golden retriever puppy. He waited until Scott got into position, before climbing up onto his back and sitting there.
“Press ups … or plank?”
Alan yawned and replied sleepily.
“Don’t care, as long as I’m here with my big bro.”
Scott smiled, his dimples deepening slightly.
Yeah, that’s right kiddo
“Planking it is, but be prepared, as I’m not half as strong as Virgil.”
“Yeah yeah whatever.”
And with that, puppyAlan promptly fell asleep and started snoring.
Reblogging to main and written in the early hours of the morning. So no editing at all, just something straight out of the old noggin
I may die of the cute!!
❤️ I have no words! ❤️ Allie just wants to hang out with big bro
(I used to do the exact same thing with my big sister @m-calculus when I was a kid; just hanging out in her room, it was great )
Fandom:Thunderbirds Rating:Teen Genre:Family/Friendship Characters: Scott, Tracy Family
Look what I found on my hard drive this morning, whoops. I know my muses have currently fandom-hopped, but I do intend on finishing this one day, it just might take a while. This chapter marks the end of the introductory arc, at least. Sorry it took me so long to get it out!
Reminder that there’s now a discord server for all my fics, including this one! If you wanna chat with me or with other readers about stuff I write (or just be social in general), hop on over and say hi!
Other-Virgil suggested heading to the lounge first, and sure enough, the entire family were in there. Scott suspected they’d been waiting, despite the way they were scattered across the room. Other-Alan was with Tin-Tin on the balcony, while Other-Scott and Other-Gordon appeared to have pulled out another chess set from somewhere. Mrs Tracy was knitting by the window, and Not-Dad was on one of the sofas, reading an aviation magazine. Only Other-Brains and Other-Kyrano were absent, not including Other-John presumably still up on Thunderbird Five, and as Scott and Other-Virgil entered the room, all eyes landed on them.
“Say, are they done?” Other-Gordon asked eagerly.
“Yes, they are,” Other-Virgil told the room at large, heading over to the desk. Everyone floated over, chess game, magazine and knitting abandoned in a palatable curiosity. Scott hung back as the four drawings were laid out on the desk, already knowing what they looked like and undeniably curious how this family would react.
“Say,how old is this Alan?” Other-Alan demanded, and Scott mused ruefully that he could probably have predicted that the younger blond would be the first to comment. “He looks like a child!”
“Let me see,” Not-Dad demanded, and Scott watched his sons move around until the older man was standing by the desk. “He does look young. Is he still in school?”
