Exploring a snapshot where Jeff's disappearance is the catalyst for starting International Rescue.
AN: Written before we knew about Zero-X etc. Or at least before I knew :P
Jeff Tracy was a man of few words who knew how to make them count. Gordon, by contrast, knew he spoke far too frequently and thoughtlessly. But when his Dad fell off the face of the world, he left behind a well of silence in his wake.
Gordon took a moment to assess his family, sprawled across couches and curled up under blankets, sleeping together in the living room like they were all kids again. Scott looked tired, the lines of exhaustion and worry not leaving his face even in sleep. His arms were loosely wrapped around Alan, who had fallen asleep on top of him, his face squashed into Scott’s chest. Gordon could see a puddle of drool seeping through Scott’s shirt – and jeez, had Scott fallen asleep in his clothes again?
Gordon wished he could tease his brothers about this, make them smile again. He knew better after his first attempts at levity had ended with a screaming match with Scott, then Virgil, and finally Grandma. It had taken Alan bursting into tears at the sight of them for them to come back into themselves and end the escalated argument. No-one could stand to apologise and the memory sat sour in Gordon’s stomach whenever he pulled it out for examination.
Virgil was awake. There were shadows dark as bruises under his eyes and Gordon remembered with a pang that Virgil hadn’t yet put down his holoprojector when he had finally fallen asleep.
“Hey Virg,” he said quietly. “Got anything?”
Virgil looked over at Gordon and shook his head.
The worst part was not knowing. Not knowing what had happened, they had each invented their own version of events. Early on, Gordon had been hopeful, he believed his Dad had been abducted, held against his will, that they’d just have to pay someone something and he’d be back and they could laugh it off as another misadventure to add to his autobiography. Now, as no ransom note materialised, he had accepted Scott’s version of events, his Dad crashing into the sea and never resurfacing.
On his best days Gordon dreaded the sea, dreaded coming across the wreckage, his Dad’s body lifeless in the cockpit of a plane he loved so much.
On his worst days, he feared he would never see the wreckage because there was none to find, and he wondered if his Dad could ever have walked away willingly.
Alan snuffled slightly as he made himself comfortable. In the moonlight, Gordon could see the way the corners of his mouth turned downwards. He wondered if he’d ever get to see Alan’s smile light up his eyes again.
It was the way the small things had changed with his Dad’s absence that Gordon hated most. It didn’t seem fair to be reminded of how entangled their lives were, how easy it was for a family to fall apart without their Dad holding them together, steady as a rock.
John’s not sleeping either. Or Gordon rather doubts it at any rate. He’s certainly not here.
He’s staring at the neatly folded blanket, wondering how John could stand to leave, when Virgil spoke up.
“He left right after you dropped off.” His brother didn’t look up from the holo as he spoke, one hand tapping at the projected keyboard under his fingertips.
“He needs to be back soon,” said Gordon. “Alan will flip if he wakes up to find John gone too.”
“That’s not fair,” said Virgil. “Alan isn’t John’s responsibility.”
“Well, who’s is he then?” asked Gordon. “In case you haven’t noticed, Dad’s not here. And I don’t want another meltdown when he discovers that John just left.”
Virgil said nothing, only tapping away at the keyboard.
Gordon narrowed his eyes. “You’re talking to him now, aren’t you?”
“He says hi.”
“Tell him to get back down here.”
“Alan needs to get used to John being gone.”
“Like hell, he does!”
“John doesn’t live here, Gordon. You can’t ask him to uproot his life so that you feel better.”
“This isn’t about me, this is about Alan!”
“Shut up,” hissed Scott, glaring at them from the couch. He had propped himself up on one elbow, the other arm holding Alan in place. “I am not interested in your stupid arguments right now, at four o’clock in the morning.”
“Sorry,” they mumbled together, shrinking away from the scowl on Scott’s face.
“Where is John anyway?” asked Scott.
Virgil pointed, jabbing a finger up towards the ceiling.
“Of course he is,” muttered Scott. “I don’t suppose locking him out will do much good.”
“He wrote those programmes,” said Virgil mildly. “I doubt it would do anything.”
“It would make me feel better.” Scott paused as he shifted Alan’s weight. “Is he coming back down?”
“He said 6AM when he left.”
“Fine,” said Scott. “Don’t wake me again.”
Gordon doesn’t know how long they sit in silence, letting the melancholy wash over them as Scott falls back asleep.
“He didn’t really say that,” said Virgil after the seconds stretched into minutes and the dark of the night had lightened into the grey of pre-dawn light.
“What?”
“John. I lied. He didn’t say when he’d be back.”
In retrospect, Gordon had already known this. The truth about his family is they’re all liars. Scott will lie to protect others, John will lie to protect himself, Alan will lie to get out of trouble, and Gordon will lie to tell a better story. Virgil lies because he genuinely cares about people, cares about making their worry go away, cares about making them feel safe.
“What’s he doing up there?”
Virgil glanced over at Scott, before leaning closer towards Gordon.
“Dad’s plan for the Thunderbirds. Did you ever know what it was?”
Gordon shook his head. “Not really. Figured we were just trialling prototypes for him really. Honestly, some days I thought he just wanted a reason to shoot Johnny into space and be done with it.”
“Well, putting aside your deep-seated resentment for our brother, take a look.”
Gordon shuffled over to where Virgil was sitting, looking curiously at the image hovering above his hand. A logo spun lazily around in the projection and Gordon could see a number of files linked below.
“IR?”
“International Rescue. Dad wanted people to use the Thunderbirds for rescue operations. Land, ocean, and space – he had them covered.”
It’s because Virgil cares about his brother, that he lies.
But it’s because Gordon needs to understand, that he corrects the lie.
“Dad wanted us to use the Thunderbirds for rescue operations. That’s why we were trialling – no, we were being trained.”
A beat of silence passed between them.
“You agree with him. You and John. That’s what he’s doing right now, isn’t it? That’s why he’s up there. You want to get this pet project of Dad’s off the ground.”
Virgil had the good sense to look a little abashed as he nodded.
Gordon opens the file labelled “Aquanaut” and begins to read. He can’t deny that the concept is alluring. Saving the day, rescuing people, making a difference in the world. He’d made a dashing hero as a boy playing in a field.
“If there’s even a chance that we can stop people from feeling like this,” said Virgil, gesturing around the living room. “Don’t you think we should, Gordon?”
John’s up on a space station trying to watch over the planet and Virgil’s got a heart that’s breaking for those that live on it. Gordon has his sense of fairness, of responsibility, and a touch of romantic heroism.
He has only one question for his brother, to bring the count to a majority three out of five when they approach Scott in the morning.
“If International Rescue had been ready for Dad, d’you think we’d have been able to save him?”
And because Virgil cares about his brother, he lies.