648Yes, I'm late. I'm sorry. There are some weeks when college work is really tough, and this week was one of them. I am SO glad that it's the weekend. I've had so much work to do, it's ridiculous. Plus my gran had to have surgery the other day, so that kinda added to the stress. Don't worry, she's recovering nicely in hospital, so everything's alright now.
Thanks again for all the awesome reviews, they really made me feel appreciated.
Anyway, here's chapter four! Enjoy!
John sat on one of the beds in the infirmary, dressed in a light shirt and a pair of shorts. Although the shower he had just taken had left him feeling less out of sorts, it hadn't really helped with most of the aches and pains all over his body. And, to top all that, everything still seemed to be moving up and down as though he were on a see-saw.
"John?"
The blond-haired astronaut glanced up at his younger brother and smiled. "Yeah?"
Virgil held up a penlight and raised the index finger of his other hand. "Follow my finger," he instructed softly.
John rolled his eyes and sighed in exasperation. "Virgil, this is ridiculous. I've already told you, I didn't hit my head."
"Mmm-hmm," Virgil replied absentmindedly, moving his finger to the side. "John, you're not following," he admonished lightly.
"That's because there's nothing wrong with my head!" John complained. It was true, his head felt fine. It was the rest of his body that didn't feel so good. And he was tired. So, so tired. Why couldn't Virgil do his check-up later? It wasn't as if he was going anywhere.
Virgil frowned at his older brother, reaching forward to tilt John's chin up. John glared at him and swatted his hand away.
"Would you please leave me alone?!" he grumbled. He knew he was being unreasonable, but he couldn't help it. He felt like crap.
"Uh-oh! Is somebody being a grouchy patient?" a voice teased from the doorway. Turning towards the sound, John managed a weak smile.
"Hey Tom," he greeted softly. "Please tell me you've come to rescue me from 'Mr. Medical' here?"
Thomas laughed, stepping into the room and walking up to the bedside. Standing next to Virgil, he peered into John's face and smiled brightly, his green eyes sparkling. "Sorry, pal," he apologised. "But I'm actually here as backup for your younger brother. From experience, I know how difficult a patient you can be."
John groaned and shifted his gaze up to the ceiling. "Two doctors at once?" he murmured. "Now that's just cruel. Who planned this, and why do they have a personal vendetta against me?"
Virgil and Tom both chuckled, and John looked back at them with a small smile of his own. Glancing at his younger brother, he sighed in resignation. "Fine, I'll cooperate."
"Good man." Tom grinned, stepping to the side so that Virgil could stand directly in front of John once again. The brown-haired Tracy raised his index finger as he had done before, and John dutifully followed the moving digit with his eyes. After a few minutes, Virgil seemed satisfied.
"See, was that so difficult?" he questioned lightly, setting the penlight down and leaning on the edge of the mattress. John smiled wearily, blinking his heavy eyelids in an attempt to keep himself awake. Virgil noticed this, and his smile lessened somewhat. "You still feeling tired?"
"You could say that," John murmured, rubbing at his sore wrist as he yawned. Suddenly, the doors to the infirmary opened with a 'swish', and three figures stepped into the room. The shortest of the three swiftly went to the bedside, putting his hands on his older brother's arms.
"John, are you alright?" Alan demanded worriedly. "Sorry I wasn't here to meet you when you arrived. Fermat had a little trouble with one of the hover-bikes."
"Is he alright?" John asked, waking up a little more. Alan nodded and smiled.
"He's fine. Dirty, but fine," Alan assured him. Then his face became serious once more. "How about you?"
"I'm good, Sprout," John replied wearily, rubbing a hand over his face. "I just need to crash for a few hours."
"You sure?" Alan asked, looking sceptical. Over on the other side of the room, Scott and Jeff - who had entered the room with Alan - tried to hide their smiles. However much the youngest Tracy tried to deny it, he was becoming more and more like Virgil by the day.
"Positive," John smiled, looking at the young teenager fondly. "Now, aren't you gonna say a proper 'hello' to me?"
Grinning, Alan pulled John into a tight hug, which the older blond reciprocated. As they broke apart, Alan stared more intently up at his older brother.
"You're absolutely positive that you're okay?" he asked again. John sighed and rolled his eyes, shooting Scott and amused glance over Alan's shoulder.
"Yes, doctor," he joked, unable to suppress a grin. "I'm fine. Promise."
"Good," Alan replied, before slapping John lightly on the arm and frowning at him with an expression John was usually only subjected to when under the care of 'Virge the Surge'. Alan's eyes were serious as he gazed straight into John's face."Don't scare me like that again, alright?"
John stared at the teenager incredulously, before turning to Virgil and glaring at him accusingly. "Virgil, what did you do to him?!"
Virgil and Scott laughed, and Alan looked from one brother to the other in confusion. John smiled and patted Alan on the head gently. "Don't fret, Sprout." he soothed. "A couple of days with me, and we'll be able to reverse this whole 'brain-washing' thing he's obviously done to you."
"But," Virgil interjected, stepping forward to John's side and holding up a hand-held scanner, "in the meantime, I've got an examination to finish. Now hold still."
Sighing, John allowed the young doctor to run the scanner up and down his body, listening to it beep and whir shrilly. Looking over at Alan, he smiled at the teenager fondly. Alan grinned back, and John mused that, perhaps, the malfunctions on-board Thunderbird 5 had been worth it. True, they had made him feel nauseous, and his body was as bruised as a fallen plum, but what did that matter now? He was home, and everything seemed right with the world.
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Alan looked down at the sheet of paper in his hands and sighed. Dad's never gonna agree to this. He's way too overprotective. And the other guys won't like the idea, either. Scott'll be too paranoid about me having an accident, so he won't want Dad to sign it. Huh, I can hear is response right now. He'll give me that sympathetic look of his and say, "Sorry, Sprout, it's too dangerous. We just don't want you to get hurt." It's a pointless battle. Should I even bother asking Dad to sign it? Maybe I should wait until later, when Dad and I can get some time on our own. If I say it in front of Scott and Virgil, there'll be no hope of me getting his permission.
Sighing again, Alan stood up from his desk chair and walked towards the bay doors that led out onto his balcony. Pushing open one of the doors, he stepped out into the bright sunshine and sighed, breathing in the fresh air. Leaning against the rail, he gazed at the permission form in his hands, caught on indecision. He would be returning to boarding school in just over four weeks, and the permission forms had to be sent off to Wharton's before the new semester started. He needed to ask his father about it sooner or later. He had been putting it off ever since the beginning of the Summer break, and it had been constantly tugging at the back of his mind. However, he never seemed to be able to find the time to ask. It wasn't that his father ignored him, quite the opposite, actually. Ever since his 'brush with death' earlier that summer, the Tracy patriarch hadn't yet left Alan on his own for more than a few hours. Yet still, Alan hadn't mustered up the courage to ask him.
Frowning at his own cowardice, Alan allowed his gaze to wonder out to sea, inhaling in the heavy tropical scent that wafted up from the jungle nearby. The late afternoon sun shone down on him, and he squinted slightly against its harsh glare, inwardly urging himself to swallow his feelings and just ask his father outright. For goodness sakes, Alan, suck it up. This is ridiculous! Why am I so worried about asking him to sign his name on the dotted line? It's not like it's anything illegal!
Turning around so that his lower back was leaning against the rail, he successfully shielded his eyes from the sun and blinked the dots out of his vision. Folding the form into quarters, he stepped back into his bedroom with the intention of putting it back in his sock drawer, away from prying eyes.
"Hey, Sprout!"
Alan jumped, startled, as Gordon clapped him on the shoulder, having been pressing himself flat against the wall beside the bay doors so that Alan could not see him as he entered the room. Grinning, the copper-haired Tracy ruffled Alan's hair.
"Aaw, did I scare little Allie-wallie?" he teased. Alan frowned at him and swatted his hand away.
"Knock it off, fish-feet," the younger teenager grumbled, hiding the permission forms behind his back in the vain hope that Gordon had not already seen it. Who knows? I might be in luck this time.
"Whatcha got there, Al?" Gordon asked lightly, plopping down onto Alan's bed.
Alan winced. Darn.
"Nothing, just school stuff," he answered hastily, stuffing the papers into the large pocket of his shorts.
"Boring," Gordon sighed, glancing over to where a book lay at the foot of the bed. Picking it up, the red-head pulled a disgusted face. He looked up towards Alan and raised an eyebrow. "Please tell me you weren't reading this before I came in?"
"And what if I was?" Alan countered, plucking the text book out of his brother's hands and tossing it onto his desk.
"It's science, Alan!" Gordon elaborated in exasperation. "You're not supposed to do that stuff at home when you're a teenager. It's - it's just wrong, okay?"
Alan laughed, sitting down on his desk chair and pushing off with his feet so that it rolled over to the bed. "What's the matter, Gordo? Ashamed to have a younger brother who's smarter than you?"
Gordon's face suddenly grew serious, and Alan's smile slid off his face. "Gordon, I was only kidding," he said, sincerely. "I mean, you're way smarter than me when it comes to mechanics and hydro-technology, and-"
"Alan, relax." Gordon smiled reassuringly. "I knew you weren't being serious. That's not what I was thinking about."
Alan spun around on his chair a few times, frowning slightly. "What were you thinking about?" he asked, putting his feet on the floor and shaking his head to get rid of the temporary dizziness that he was experiencing.
"I've just been wondering about some - stuff, that's all," he remarked, speaking softly. Alan refrained from making any sarcastic comment at this point, realising that for once the prankster of the family was trying to be serious about something.
"When we were growing up - you know, before Dad first put International Rescue into business a few years ago," Gordon began, "do you remember what I told you every time I went off to boarding school without you?"
"What, 'See ya, squirt. Don't kill my fish, or I'll make you wish you'd never been born' ?" Alan asked lightly, smiling.
Gordon laughed, shaking his head. "No, the other thing."
Alan thought for a moment, trying to recall what else Gordon had said to him at the beginning of each semester. After a few moments, he shook his head. "Sorry, nothing springs to mind. It was years ago, Gords. My memory isn't that good."
Gordon smiled and leaned against the wall. "I used to tell you that, no matter what, you'd always be just as smart as me."
Alan grinned. "Yeah, but you were referring to our pranks, not to school work."
Gordon looked at him steadily. "Actually, I wasn't, " he said softly. "I knew you were smart, Sprout. Heck, with a mind as cunning as yours when it came to pranks, there were bound to be some half-decent brains up in there, too. You're a lot like Virge, you know. He never realised how smart he was, either. John's genius was far too obvious to ignore, of course. I mean, how many nine-year-olds could read Shakespeare and actually understand it? No, his was a different kind of brainy. But you - I never wanted to admit to it, but I knew that one day you'd be smarter than me."
"I'm not-" Alan tried to argue, but Gordon just smiled and shook his head.
"Alan, I barely scraped C's in almost every subject during high school, except in navigation and marine biology. It wasn't that I didn't try, it was simply that I couldn't understand half of it. You see, stuff I didn't care about, I didn't understand. Because I wanted to join WASP as a junior navigator at sixteen, I only took an interest in the subjects that actually mattered to the course. Everything else..."
He broke off, shrugging. "Well, anyway, I never had the same kinda brain capacity as the rest of you guys when it came to school stuff," he concluded. "That's one of the reasons why you bugged the hell outta me last year. I knew that you were capable of getting top grades, but your report cards were almost as bad as mine had been, sometimes even worse! But after Spring break - darn it, kid, you must've worked your socks off."
Alan nodded slowly. "I just wanted to prove to you guys that there was more to me than just rockets and 'raging hormones', as Virgil put it. I wanted to show Dad what I was capable of. He deserved that much from me."
Gordon leaned forward and smiled. "I know this is gonna sound weird coming from me, and feel free to freak out if you think I'm being too mature, but-" he paused, sighing deeply and looking Alan straight in the eye. "I'm proud of you, Al."
Alan blinked in surprise, not quiet knowing what to say. "Thanks," he said softly, finally finding his voice again. Gordon grinned.
"Don't mention it. Now," he slapped his thighs and stood up, "I was supposed to be coming up here to tell you that it was dinner in five minutes. But the five minutes have gone, so I guess it's dinner now, huh?"
Smiling, Alan wheeled himself back over to the computer, flicking a switch on the underside of the screen to turn the device off, and then leaped out of the chair energetically. "Let's go. I'm starved."
The two teenagers jogged out into the corridor and down towards the stairs, descending them two at a time as they picked up their pace and broke into a sprint, shoving each other as they fought to be the first one to reach the dining room. Grinning, they burst through the doorway, nearly tripping over their own feet as they all but collapsed into their chairs.
"Yes!" Gordon cried triumphantly, panting as he held up his fist in victory. "And the crowd goes wild!"
Thomas, who was sitting in the seat that Brains usually occupied, raised an amused eyebrow. "Well," he commented lightly, taking a sip from his glass. "I'm glad to see that you haven't matured, Gordon."
Gordon pretended to look affronted. "And what's that supposed to mean?" he demanded.
"Nothing, nothing," the older man smiled, running a hand through his dark brown hair casually.
"He means you act like a toddler, Gordo," Scott elaborated. Alan, who had been in the process of taking a sip of his coke, coughed and spluttered as he accidently inhaled a mouthful.
"Now look what you've done," Gordon admonished, whacking Alan in between the shoulder bladesa little harder than was necessary. The younger teenager winced, arching his back as he turned away from his brother's hard hand.
"Ow!" he croaked, still coughing slightly from the inhaled liquid. "Geez, d'you have to hit so hard?!"
Gordon held up his hands in self-defence. "You try to help a guy," he muttered. "And this is the thanks you get."
"If you'd like to help somebody, Gordon," a soft voice called from the door of the kitchen. "You could come and help me bring the dishes onto the table."
"Sure thing, Onaha!" Gordon called. Grinning, he slapped his hands on his thighs once again,standing to his feet and walking swiftly around the the table. He stepped around the serving counter and into the kitchen, disappearing from view. Alan shook his head and took another sip of his drink, flexing his shoulders. The centre of his back still tingled from where Gordon had struck him. Gordo's the greatest brother a guy could ask for, but he can be a real jerk sometimes.
A few moments later, Gordon and Onaha entered the dining room, each carrying a large dish of lasagna. Setting her burden down on a heat-proof mat at the bottom end of the table, Onaha smiled at the grin that was plastered across Thomas' face.
"Onaha," he said softly. "If I hadn't already tied the knot, I would marry you."
Laughing, the Malaysian woman took a seat beside him, shaking her head. "I think that both my husband and your wife may have had something to say about that if you had tried."
"True," Thomas agreed, sipping at his lemonade. "Say, where is Kyrano? I haven't seen him yet."
"He and Tin-Tin went shopping for supplies on the mainland," Jeff answered, indicating for everybody to start helping themselves to the hot food. "They should be back sometime tomorrow morning."
Once everybody had been served, they all tucked into the delicious meal. Thomas' face softened into an expression of bliss, and Alan couldn't help but laugh at him. Lasagna had always been one of the doctor's favourite foods. Listening to the old family friend as he told amusing stories about his time in Peru, Alan was able to forget about the permission forms in his pocket. Well, at least for a little while.
"So Alan," Thomas said suddenly, smiling at Onaha as she served him another large portion of lasagna. "When do you and Fermat go back to Wharton's?"
"Four weeks on Monday," Alan replied, pouring himself another glass of coke. Beside him, Fermat nodded his head in agreement.
"Hey Al," Scott interjected, looking thoughtful. "Don't you get to choose an out-of-school activity course this semester?"
Alan froze momentarily, suddenly remembering the papers in his pocket. As he had not yet answered the question, Fermat nodded his head again and took a sip of his drink.
"Yeah, he does," the younger boy replied. "Ap-ap-technically I'm not old enough, so I have to w-wait until next year. But Alan's already p-p-chosen his activity, right Al?"
"Um-" Alan murmured, taking another bite as he stalled for time. Then he shrugged and looked back down at his plate.
"What are you thinking of taking, Alan?" John asked, having noticed the way that his younger brother tried to avoid eye contact. Alan glanced up at him and shrugged again.
"C'mon, Al, I know there's gotta be something that you're interested in," Scott pressed. "Why don't you join the mechanic's club like Virgil did?"
"Yeah," Thomas agreed. "Or you could join the 'nerd-herd' like John did."
"Hey!" John protested. "It was not a 'nerd-herd'. It was an astronomy study group."
Thomas grinned. "Same thing," he teased. John tried to glare at him, but the smile on his face belied to fierce gaze of his eyes.
"I already do workshop," Alan began. "And I don't think I have the same brains as Virge does when it comes to re-wiring cars, so I doubt there'd be much use in me joining the mechanic's club."
"Don't be ridiculous, Al," Virgil protested. "You know the structure of internal compact circuitry better than I do!"
Alan raised an eyebrow at him, but did not comment. True, he was good at hot-wiring bikes, and he could fix just about any piece of mechanical equipment, but Virgil was still far better than he could ever hope to be. Glancing back down at his plate, he pushed a piece of lettuce around with his fork, feeling the light pressure of the permission form against he leg whenever he shifted in his seat.
"So what are you gonna do, kiddo?" Thomas inquired, twirling his glass around in between his fingers.
Alan paused, battling against his instincts, and slowly reached into his pocket. Come on, you wuss, don't be such a girl. It's a stupid form. They won't freak. Maybe the guys won't even care. After all, their activities each had an element of risk, too. Well, except John's.
Closing his fingers around the carefully folded sheets in his pocket, he pulled out the form and silently handed it over to his father. Jeff raised an eyebrow, taking it from him.
"What's this?" he asked casually, unfolding it and beginning to read.
"A permission form," Alan answered quietly, glancing over at Fermat. The younger boy stared back at him quizzically, mouthing 'What is it?' as he nodded his head towards the papers. Alan didn't answer, but looked back over to his father, who was wearing a rather surprised expression.
"A motocross team?" he asked finally.
Scott, who had been in the midst of taking a bite of his food, froze with the fork centimetres from his mouth. Virgil swallowed his mouthful so loudly that Alan could actually hear the food as it was gulped down. John's right eyebrow slowly began to make its usual ascent in the upwards direction, although the rest of his face remained neutral. Gordon wore the expression usually referred to as 'fish-slapped', and stared at Alan as if he had grown another head.
Alan grimaced. This was exactly what he had been worrying about.
"Motocross?" Thomas repeated, sounding pleased. "Nice choice, Al. Your dad and I can give you some tips in that area, we used to be pretty decent riders back in the day."
Alan was glad that he had just swallowed his mouthful of coke, as he was sure he would have choked otherwise. He turned shocked eyes towards his father, his mouth hanging open slightly. What the- Dad used to do motocross? Since when?!
"Dad?" Scott began, sounding equally as shocked. Jeff held up his hand.
"Yes, I was a member of the Kansas junior team when I was a teenager," he sighed. "Only for a year, though. I never really had a passion for it like the other guys did."
"You were still good, though," Thomas interjected. When the rest of the table looked at him for an explanation, he smiled. "My older brother owned a couple of dirt bikes when I was growing up, and he taught me everything I know. During the first six-month rotation aboard the NASA space station, I discovered that Jeff also knew how to ride, and I dared him to race me when we arrived back on earth. "
Alan didn't think it was possible to be more surprised than he was right now. He turned back to gaze at his father, a hopeful expression plastered across his face. Scott saw it and shook his head.
"Nuh-uh," he stated. "No way, Sprout. It's far too dangerous."
"So's sky-diving!" Alan protested. "And that didn't stop you! You were only a year older than me when you took your first jump."
Scott opened and closed his mouth for a few moments, before turning to his father. "Dad, you're not seriously thinking of letting him race, are you? Do you realise how many people get injured in motocross races?"
"Scott, it's run by the education board," Alan stated. "They have health and safety standards, same as every other subject I take. I'll be in just as much danger as you used to be on the soccer pitch."
Alan took a calming breath and looked at his eldest brother steadily. "This is the first year that Wharton's has offered this course to kids my age," he said softly."And I really wanna do it. I know I'll be good at it - Mr. Richmond thinks so, too."
"Who's Mr. Richmond?" John asked, leaning forward in his seat and resting his elbows on the table as he studied his younger brother's face.
"He's the guy in charge of workshop," Alan explained, gaining confidence. "And last term, he helped me and the rest of my class make a dirt bike from scratch. We tested it out in short bursts, but we agreed that we couldn't really see how well the engine ran unless we tested it to its limit. So I volunteered to try it out. Mr. Richmond used to do motocross before he taught at Wharton's, which is one of the reasons why he's so good at mechanical engineering. Anyway, he was the one who recommended me for the school's motocross course. In fact, he practically begged me to join it the team."
Alan smiled at the memory. Richmond had always been his favourite teacher, so laid-back and friendly, and he had gone as far as to threaten Alan with his resignation if he wasn't on the motocross team after the summer break.
Gordon grinned, thumping Alan on the back. "Dude, that's awesome!" he congratulated. Turning towards their father, he nodded his head. "You've gotta let him go, Dad. It's only fair. You let me join the state swimming team at his age, remember?"
"Gordon, swimming and motocross are different things entirely," Scott argued, looking distressed at the thought of his baby brother participating in such a dangerous sport.
"Not the way I see it," the red-head countered. Alan grinned. Okay, so I've got Gordon on my side. One down, three to go. But Scott's gonna be the hardest to persuade, and I don't think he's gonna give in without a fight.
"I agree with Gordon," John said calmly, twirling a fork around as he spoke. "Alan's old enough to make his own decisions. And besides, if his teacher recommended him for the course, the Sprout's gotta be good."
"But Scott's right, it is a dangerous sport," Virgil argued. "The chances of him sustaining a serious injury are very high."
"Yeah well, the same can be said for any sport, Virge," Gordon added. "After all, Scott nearly tore his knee in half playing soccer when he was about Alan's age."
"It wasn't that bad," Scott muttered. John snorted in amusement.
"Scott, you lost almost a pint of blood!" he exclaimed. "You needed surgery to fix the skin grafts over the wound. That's probably about as bad as it gets."
Alan, who had been watching his father silently for a few minutes now, finally managed to make eye contact with the older Tracy. Jeff smiled at him, and suddenly all the butterflies -the ones that had been fluttering in Alan's stomach - died down. Jeff leaned over the table and handed the form back to him.
"Remind me about it tomorrow, and I'll see what I can do," he said softly. Alan blinked in surprise.
"Wha-? You mean I can join the team?" he asked excitedly. "Are you serious?!"
Jeff chuckled and nodded. "Yeah, kiddo, I'm serious. However much I hate to admit it, you're growing up. And I can't deny you this, especially since I did it myself when I was your age. But you have to be responsible when you're riding, son. It isn't a sport that you can mess around with. A small mistake due to foolishness can land you in hospital. I know that from experience. If I agree to this, you have to promise me that you'll be sensible."
Alan nodded, completely serious. "I promise."
"Good." Jeff smiled. "Then I see no reason why I can't sign my signature on the form. Bring it to me tomorrow morning, and we'll talk about it some more."
Gordon clapped Alan on the shoulder. "Way to go, Sprout!" he grinned. "Now, I expect you to win every race or I'll disown you, got it?"
Alan laughed with the rest of the table, feeling happier than he had done in a long while. He had never expected his father to give in so easily. Although, come to think of it, he had never expected his father to have admitted to having once raced as part of a motocross team.
Well, he didn't really admit to it. Tom kinda blurted it out. Man, I owe that guy a huge favour. He's probably the reason why Dad gave in without a fight. Tom would have backed me up all the way, I'd forgotten how much he loves bikes. Hmm, I'll need to ask him for some tips later on.
Alan took another bite of his lasagna and smiled. He glanced across to where his eldest brother sat silently, wearing a rather serious expression upon his tanned face. He looked at Alan and smiled softly, nodded ever so slightly. Alan grinned back and nodded in understanding. He knew what that smile meant. It meant that, although Scott did not approve of the sport, he was still proud of Alan for standing up for what he wanted to do.
Alan sat back in his chair, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he listened to Thomas recount another amusing tale about his experience in Peru. Taking a sip of his coke, he sighed in content.
At the present moment, he was quite sure that he was the happiest teenager on the planet.
So everything is as it should be on Tracy island. But how long will it last? For there is always danger lurking around the corner, and the Tracy boys are known for being danger-magnets. Will Alan be reinstated as a member of the Thunderbirds team, or will his brothers still insist on smothering him? Find out in the next chapter!
PLEASE REVIEW and tell me what you thought of it. I'm trying to give this story a nice steady pace, but I also don't want to bore you. Let me know if it's working.
Laters!
xoxoxoxoxoxoxox