Virgil shivered from the intensity of the pain that began to radiate down his spine as he felt himself waking from his enforced sleep. Forcing his eyes open he breathed in and out as he tried to focus on his surroundings. Virgil could see and feel the chains that held his ankles and feet to the floor, he was still on his knees, his hands were still raised above his head and were shackled to the restraints that were hanging from the ceiling. Looking straight ahead Virgil could see there were two men in the room, the one sat behind the computer and the other was stood directly behind the other man. He could hear the men talking, the man who was sat at the console looked flustered, while the other seemed to be shifting about anxiously. Virgil tried to listen but was unable to make out what was being said. Eventually the man who had been standing hurried out of the room, while the other continued to work.
Glancing down Virgil felt a tear trickle down his face, when he noticed the open chain lying on the floor with the picture of his mother inside. The continuous visions of his mother’s death that the Hood had planted in his mind continued to stalk his dreams. Constantly reminding him of that day and the way she had been taken away from them all so suddenly. Now, he also had the added knowledge that their mother’s death had been planned and perpetrated by the Hood. She had been purposely ripped from them all and taken from them far too soon. Virgil felt more tears running down his face as the anger inside him began to grow. He was going to make the Hood pay for what he had done, he really didn’t know how, but he would make him suffer!
I needed fluff. Y'all need fluff. Have some fluff.
…
“Excuse me, is Nurse Malinda Russell on shift today?”
Nic turned, then readjusted their eyes downward. There was a maybe seven or eight-year-old boy with brown hair, bright blue eyes, and some killer dimples standing in front of them. There were also a pair of brown eyes peering around one side of the boy, and the most incredible green eyes they had ever seen on the other.
They got down on one knee. “Are you lost, little man?”
That got them a look. “We aren’t lost. This is the neonatal intensive care unit, and if Nurse Russell is on duty today, please tell her that Scott, Virgil, and John Tracy are here to see her.”
That got their attention. Scott Tracy was kind of a legend around the NICU. His art still hung on the break room fridge. Nic stood up. “If you’d wait over there, Mr. Tracy, I’ll see if she’s available.”
Scott, and it had to be Scott, gave him a nod, then herded his younger brothers over to the small waiting area. Nic headed back to the desk and called back. “Hey, Neil, is Mal busy?”
“She’s doing the draws. Should be done in about ten minutes. Why?”
“Because she’s got a visitor.” Nic was feeling ornery and decided to tease it out. The staff of the NICU took small joys whenever and wherever they could.
“Oh, Lord, now what? Not the Jamisons, again.”
Perfect opening. “Nope. Mr. Scott Tracy, and family.” There was a crash, and Nic mentally marked down making Neil drop the handset.
“WHO!?”
“Mr. Scott Tracy, and family.” They couldn’t keep the smirk off their face or out of their voice. Not that they tried very hard.
“You toadlicker. I’ll tell Mal as soon as she’s finished with the draws.”
Nic chuckled to themself and hung up. They kept a weather eye on the three boys. Not that there was any real reason to. Backpacks were taken off, and coloring books and pencils were produced. Juice sacks came out of Scott’s bigger bag for the littles. Scott himself settled down on the couch and started reading an actual paper book! Nic didn’t know many adults, let alone a seven-year-old, that could handle a physical book.
Fifteen minutes later, Malinda popped out through the doors. “Nic? Neil said I had -”
“MS. MALINDA!!”
That was what Nic had been expecting, as a small blue rocket crashed into Mal’s legs and glommed on.
“What! Scott!” Mal freed her legs and returned the hug. Then pulled back. “My word! Look at you. You’ve gotten so big!”
Nic revised their opinion of Scott’s dimples. On a serious face, they were distracting. When paired with a glowing smile, they were devastating. Good God Almighty, that boy was going to be a heartbreaker when he got older without even trying. They shook their head, hopefully, that power would be used for good. Otherwise, the world was doomed.
“Ms. Malinda, you might not remember Virg -”
Mal knelt down to be on eye level with the two younger boys. “Of course, I remember Virgil. I never forget one of my babies.” She held out her hand. “How do you do, Virgil?”
Huge brown eyes stared at her. Scott reached over and held out Virgil’s hand. Which she shook gently. “You’ve gotten big too. You were small enough I could have held you in one hand when you first came here.”
“This is Johnny.”
Who was slightly braver and held his own hand out to be shaken.
“It’s very nice to meet you, John.” The formalities dealt with, she turned to Scott. “As thrilled as I am for the visit, why are you here? Where are your parents?”
“Momma and Daddy are upstairs waiting for Gordon. He’s late.”
“Oh, Sweet Baby Jesus. Nic, call up to maternity and let Col. Tracy know his boys are down here.”
Nic busied themself with that and missed the next part.
“It’s loud up there! Johnny and Virg were getting scared.” Scott stood straight. “I brought them down here because it’s safe.”
Oh, if that didn’t rip the heartstrings, nothing would. Though it said a lot of what Scott thought of the NCIU.
“Sweetie, thank you. But you can’t stay here. Your momma and daddy are going to be worried.”
“Daddy’s in with Momma,” Scott said, then lowered his voice, “there’s yelling in there.”
Mal turned back to them. “Nic?”
“Mrs. Tracy is in hour 10 and holding at 6. Dominic said they are looking at a C, if she’s still like that, at hour 14.” They grinned. “Col. Tracy said, ’Oh thank GOD. I owe you all dinner.‘”
“See! Daddy knows we’re here. I told him before we left. First rule!”
Nic had to laugh at that. “Mal, it’s just for a few hours. I think we’d be willing to give up the nap room for Misters Tracy.” They grinned. “After all, one of them is ours.”
-o-o-o-o-
Nic was still working the desk six hours later when an exhausted father staggered out of the elevator. Not an uncommon sight in the NICU. But usually, they knew all the parents.
“Excuse me. I was told that my sons were down here?”
Damn, if Scott got the voice to go with those dimples, he was going to rule the planet.
“Col. Tracy?”
An exhausted nod.
“Come along, I’ll take you to them.” They led him back into the NICU. “So, everything alright with the new baby?” Nic was pretty sure it was, or they would have heard.
“Yeah. 6 lbs, 10oz, 15 inches. Perfectly healthy, just tiny and stubborn.” He gave a rough chuckle. “I don’t blame him for wanting to stay where it’s warm and safe.”
Nic frowned, that was a damn small baby. They had a cat that was bigger. But maternity would have called if he had needed the NICU. Nic held a finger to their lips and opened the door to the nap room. There, curled up on the bed, were the three boys. Scott had cuddled both his brothers in a contortion only available to very young children.
Their dad leaned on the doorframe and just looked at them. “My hostages to the future.” He looked at Nic. “Would you all mind if I stayed with them for a bit?”
“Not at all, Colonel. Shift change is at five. It will get pretty noisy then.”
He waved his hand. “Can’t be any worse than these three on sugar.” But there was a tired grin to go with the words. He walked in, laid down, and brought all three boys into an embrace.
Nic smiled and started to close the door. “Oh, Colonel?”
“Hmmh?”
The man was half asleep already. “Congratulations and Happy Valentines.”
This is everything I needed right now. Beautifully written!
Synopsis (as written on Ao3) It’s 2040 and the Global Conflict has begun. Jeff has been recalled to the airforce. He and Lucy have 3 sons. Scott is 6, John is 5 and Virgil is 4 years old. Can be read as individual stories.
Synopsis (as written on Ao3) When a mission goes wrong Virgil is ripped away from his family in an abrupt accident. Those who love him do all they can to find him and hopefully bring him home.
I’m so proud of him, he’s growing into a wonderful young man. Although, sometimes when he’s in one of his hyper moods it’s difficult not see the little boy that used to speed around the house, the one who would come and crawl in my bed for cuddles after a nightmare, or during a bad storm. I used to refer to him as my blonde-haired munchkin. If I called him that now he would probably try to tickle me, although he would have to catch me first.
Gordon: My light in the dark.
Watching Gordon win an Olympic Gold Medal was one of the best things I’ve ever experienced. Nearly losing him after his hydrofoil accident was one of the worst. We should have realised though that our squid wouldn’t give up that easy. He’s a fighter, the one who will never give up despite the odds. He’s the joker of the family and our bringer of joy and fun. Penelope is one lucky lady to be dating him!
Virgil: My gentle giant.
He’s big, broad and his outer exterior presents him as the tough sporty guy who you wouldn’t want to cross. However, he’s really the complete opposite. One of the kindest guy you could ever wish to meet and will always there to pick you up when you fall. I know his brothers refer to him as their Switzerland. To me, he’s the one who calms me at the end of a long day, either through a song he plays on the piano, his warm voice, or via one of his famous bear hugs.
John: My kindred spirit!
We have a weird ‘twin’ connection, though in terms of blood we are not actually related. Seriously, he’s always catching me out on stuff and I’m always catching him. If one of us is down, then the other knows. I broke my wrist once and his wrist swelled up! If I believed in reincarnation, I would have said we were twins in a previous life.
Scott: My everything!
I don’t refer to Scott as my brother anymore. That would make what we are weird, but I know what we have isn’t wrong. He’s able to make my legs turn to jelly with a single look followed by one of his dimpled smiles. What we have is special, it’s magic and I really don’t know what I would do without him.
A selection of mini fics featuring Alan and John. *Joined these two lovely lads together as I don’t seem to have many stories in this collection featuring them*
Touching the Stars: Part 1 - Alan.
“John… Can you hear me?”
A crackle of static…
“Well if you can hear this, then please listen…”
Another crackle…
“Who am I kidding… You’re always listening…”
A pause…
“I… I wanted you to know… My earliest memory… It’s of you… We’re in Kansas, I’m sitting on your lap and we’re staring up at the night sky… The stars John, they… They were so sparkly… I remember trying to reach out with my tiny hands… But no matter how hard I tried, I never could reach… I vowed that one day I’d just be like you and dad. I would fly out in a rocket and touch those stars that sparkled…
“Well… I did it… I flew a rocket,” a blink, yet tears still welled at the sight of Thunderbird 3 in the distance, “but I kind of wrecked her, and I had to get out… And now…”
He floated… Alone… Eyes wide, Air thinning… His hand reaching out…
“I’m doing it Johnny, I’m touching the stars…”
Part 2 plus 3 more prompt mini fics beneath the cut…
For@burningcowboyhoagietaco who asked about my work in progress file: The Games. (See pinned post @cg29 to see other file names & ask questions)
Concept: An alternative universe. Thunderbirds Are Go mixed with the concept of the Hunger Games. However only Thunderbirds characters will be making an appearance.
This was meant to be a one-shot story and I’ve posted the 1 chapter (on A03 & FFNet) The story wouldn’t leave me alone and I now have a little bit more written and have the beginning of a plan forming for the rest of the story.
Here’s the 1st chapter
The Games
Climate change, famine, war. Millions dying. Protests leading to riots and yet more people dying. In the end another major war lead to the richest creating the Global Defence Force and ‘order’ was restored. To maintain that ‘order’ two things came into being:
The first was to separate according to wealth. Therefore, the masses of people who were still alive were split into sanctioned areas. Here they were forced to stay and work, if they refused death would be quick.
The second act was brought in to celebrate the end of the war, the rise of the Global Defence Force, and of course to make sure those sanctioned remembered their place. Therefore the Hunger Games were created, and each year one young woman and man would be reaped from each region.
This was the 100th games…
…
Scott paced the small room. Back and forth, back and forth. His mind swirling with each step. Last year had been his last opportunity to be reaped. Usually that would be a good thing, something a family would celebrate. However, for him that final year meant it was the last time he’d been able to step forward and volunteer if one of his younger brothers had been called. Unfortunately this year there was an even higher chance of that now Gordon was old enough to be added to the draft. Thankfully, Alan was still too young. A shuffle behind him caught his attention and he swirled around to face his three brothers, all in their smartest outfit, two of them looking freaked out, John more relaxed with a knowing smirk on his face. “Is it done?”
“Yep!”
His own mouth turned upwards. His middle brother was a genius, especially when it came to hacking systems. Each year since Scott had first been added John had infiltrated the system and made sure their names only appeared in the draft once. (Requiring food rations or first aid meant your name appeared more times on the list. Growing their own food had helped, but with their mothers recent passing followed swiftly by their father’s disappearance had seen them needing emergency aid) Unfortunately removing their names completely would be noticed, but at least this was something.
“Boys?”
All turned to regard their grandma, stoically standing in the doorway her hand firmly in a shaking Alan’s.
“Time to go.”
… …
The parade and subsequent announcements had lasted the usual two hours, all designed and deliberately used to build anticipation and fear for the families and those who were awaiting their fate. Finally, and thankfully for a fidgeting Scott who had been scolded several times by his grandma for not keeping still, the final announcement was made. (Including the shock statement that due to it being the 100th games ‘kindness’ from the Global Defence Force would be shown: Only one person would be reaped and even if they didn’t win immunity from any future games would be given to their family) Next, the draft and the usual young woman, no older than Gordon, with cascading blonde hair and a small pug held tightly with her one arm stepped forwards. Her free hand waved to the crowd in order to silence then silently waved to an older looking man who came forwards with a clear box filled with small slips. Scott held his breath when her hand reached in, continued to hold it when one was pulled out, and his heart dropped with pure fear when Gordon’s name was read. Everything fell apart two seconds later when Virgil shouted, “I volunteer!”
EOS sent me this asking for an explanation after John saw it and immediately scheduled “essential maintenance” in which he would be “unreachable” up on Five from April 30th to lunch time on the 1st of May…
I’m not an expert on gardening and couldn’t find much to verify this tradition, but John seems to be playing things safe…
It’s all a lie, he’s not unreachable because of this, he’s unreachable because I have another workshop at a festival and he doesn’t want me to drag him to it again. This one isn’t a small one for my local groups, it’s a federation run one, so it’s thousands of people. The cucumber is an excuse, he knows I don’t grow vegetables.
*heaves a deep sigh and picks up her comm* EOS? you don’t need to worry about cucumbers or why they were planted like that. In the old days the men worked the fields and they sometimes did it naked so that they wouldn’t get their clothes dirty.
*turns back to Scott, checking her comm was off* That’s a total lie, the tradition is there because of the peen. Apparently, if a woman or an old man planted them the cucumbers would be small and useless. If they were planted by a young man in the prime of his life the cucumbers…well, let’s just say that you’d pick the young man who already had an impressive… cucumber…as a way of showing the seeds exactly what they were supposed to be measuring up to. Their “visible virility” I believe was the term used.
I’m sure you wouldn’t want me to go into more detail about your brother in that way so it’s probably best we just let it go, yeah?
Happy birthday to my bestie. He’s the best big bro in the world and he deserves all the good things in the world. But instead he’s going to get a day off (we hope) a cake not made by Grandma, and John turned off his morning alarm. What ever else he gets is determined by him.
The wine was sweet. A little too sweet if he was honest, but he was open-minded.
The woman across from him smiled a little nervously and took another sip before clearing her throat. “So, Mr Tracy, thank you for inviting me.”
Virgil smiled over his glass. “My pleasure.” It was his turn to take a sip. This was usually Scott’s gig. Virgil wasn’t one to wine and dine anyone.
Not that he couldn’t be the suit in Tracy Industries. He had no problem with that, it was just that usually he was talking to other engineers and brainstorming, not taking them out to expensive restaurants.
But Lila was different. Or he hoped.
She joined the New York office early last year and had caught his eye during one of their crisis meetings.
Crisis meetings were specialist sessions Virgil held himself when a rescue involved faulty infrastructure. Faulty infrastructure that needed an immediate solution that Tracy Industries might be able to provide.
International Rescue saved the day. Tracy Industries saved the future.
The first time he met her, she had been yelling at him across a holocomm from the other side of the Pacific plus at least one continent. She had called him out in front of everyone.
It was morning in New York. It was also morning on Tracy Island…3am the next day, and Virgil was on his last straw after a very long rescue involving a bridge collapse that should never have happened.
She had far too much energy and was calling him out on both stress and financial calculations.
And she was right, which derailed him even more.
But all through that, she was wearing a bright cherry pink lipstick that set off her chestnut hair just perfectly. Her lips were distracting. They were the perfect colour.
“Mr Tracy?”
He shook himself, both in the past and the present, and took another sip of wine.
Definitely too sweet.
He cleared his throat. “I felt I owed you dinner after my poor conduct last week.”
She blinked before smiling a little nervously and looking down at her lap. “I think I’m lucky I didn’t get fired, shouting at you like that.”
Virgil put the wine glass down. “You had every right to say what you did. I was at fault.” Was it bad that he was happy she was wearing the same lipstick today? That he was quite mesmerised by her nervous smile?
He wasn’t one for physical attraction much. Sure, he looked, who didn’t? But the true lure was intelligence and personality.
If he was honest with himself, Lila’s outburst had reminded him more of family than anything else. Telling him he was being stupid when necessary.
It didn’t happen very often, Virgil was far from reckless, but there were times where his passion overwhelmed his sensibilities and took him a step too far.
This had been one of those times.
The team at Tracy Industries knew him as a Tracy. Sometimes Virgil wondered if Scott and their father had accidentally created some kind of cult with their workers. Their employees were often devoted to them in ways that Virgil didn’t quite see anywhere else. It spoke of far too many pedestals.
But then there were the team members like Scott’s executive assistant who pushed the employee/employer relationship to its boundaries by either yelling across the Pacific or alerting International Rescue that they had a situation in their own villa and could someone please put Mr Tracy to bed now?
So Lila.
At 3am.
With cherry red lipstick.
Had inadvertently joined a select group of Tracy herders in being the first one willing to yell at Virgil Tracy.
And he was having a minor quandary as to what to do about it.
