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It’s Virgil, not Scott, who John alerts when the silent alarm in his bedroom door and the one in his filing cupboard both get tripped in quick succession - “No, it’s not paranoia Virg,” John had scowled, “Laser trip wires are preparation.” He doesn’t seem panicked about his intruder though, just concerned. After all, Thunderbird Five knows it was Gordon; he’s got footage from the Island’s closed circuit television cameras to prove it.
What Gordon has been doing in his room, rifling through his drawers, however, is less certain. John doesn’t keep paper records of many things; most of it is digitally stored. There are diagrams and notes and folders of situation reports that may be useful for them to review in training. There are hypothetical situations and ‘bird specs and… and a singular lever arch file. A file that’s full of all they know about their Father’s disappearance. It’s slimmer than any of them would like it to be.
“I think he took Dad’s file.” Their spaceman’s voice is very soft at Virgil’s wrist. “The rescue wasn’t a… it wasn’t an easy one today… you’d better go find him. I… There’s not much I can do from up here for him.” John’s hologram shoots him a pleading look. “Let me know how it goes.”
They’d been running rescue crew on at the site of a colossal mud slide - an avalanche of rubble and dirt following the recent heavy rains in New Zealand. Gordon, cabled to Thunderbird Two, had been tasked with the extraction of a little boy, not older than twelve, who’d been screaming and screaming around a mouthful of dirt for his Father. They’d… International Rescue had never found another man and John had been on the other end of the open Comms as Gordon had found the evacuee camp held no relatives for the small child in his arms. He… He knows how close to home it had hit for their aquanaut. He’d heard.
He also knows that Virgil is the best man for this job. Delegation; that’s John’s role. He can delegate this too. He can help by setting things in motion, as he always does.
Virgil finds his little brother curled over the papers at the smooth, polished surface of their Father’s desk. Gordon, against regulations, has just abandoned his helmet in full visitor view. He’s curved forward, spine arched, fingers curled around the corners of the papers. Eyes blank and staring at a tiny paper cut on his thumb. He looks a lot younger than he should. Little and lost and missing something all too vital. Gordon’s a lot like the sea he loves so much, Virgil thinks. His emotions flow fast and harsh and when the waves come crashing in it’s like he gets left, dissociative, to drown. A broad arm loops around little brother’s shoulders; gently turning his chair away from the owner-less desk and letting those thin little fingers slide off the file.The hug is tight. Thin shoulders shake.
“It’s ok.” Virgil says, even though he knows it’s not. It won’t be until their Father is the one back, home and safe, behind this desk.“It’s ok Gordon. I understand. I… I miss him too.”
The fingers that grip his t-shirt make the hug a little too tight, but big brother isn’t going to be the one to tell him to let go.

On Tumblr: lenle-g.tumblr.com/post/160304…

[please do not re-post, pin or use without permissions]

Description

It’s Virgil, not Scott, who John alerts when the silent alarm in his bedroom door and the one in his filing cupboard both get tripped in quick succession - “No, it’s not paranoia Virg,” John had scowled, “Laser trip wires are preparation.” He doesn’t seem panicked about his intruder though, just concerned. After all, Thunderbird Five knows it was Gordon; he’s got footage from the Island’s closed circuit television cameras to prove it.
What Gordon has been doing in his room, rifling through his drawers, however, is less certain. John doesn’t keep paper records of many things; most of it is digitally stored. There are diagrams and notes and folders of situation reports that may be useful for them to review in training. There are hypothetical situations and ‘bird specs and… and a singular lever arch file. A file that’s full of all they know about their Father’s disappearance. It’s slimmer than any of them would like it to be.
“I think he took Dad’s file.” Their spaceman’s voice is very soft at Virgil’s wrist. “The rescue wasn’t a… it wasn’t an easy one today… you’d better go find him. I… There’s not much I can do from up here for him.” John’s hologram shoots him a pleading look. “Let me know how it goes.”
They’d been running rescue crew on at the site of a colossal mud slide - an avalanche of rubble and dirt following the recent heavy rains in New Zealand. Gordon, cabled to Thunderbird Two, had been tasked with the extraction of a little boy, not older than twelve, who’d been screaming and screaming around a mouthful of dirt for his Father. They’d… International Rescue had never found another man and John had been on the other end of the open Comms as Gordon had found the evacuee camp held no relatives for the small child in his arms. He… He knows how close to home it had hit for their aquanaut. He’d heard.
He also knows that Virgil is the best man for this job. Delegation; that’s John’s role. He can delegate this too. He can help by setting things in motion, as he always does.
Virgil finds his little brother curled over the papers at the smooth, polished surface of their Father’s desk. Gordon, against regulations, has just abandoned his helmet in full visitor view. He’s curved forward, spine arched, fingers curled around the corners of the papers. Eyes blank and staring at a tiny paper cut on his thumb. He looks a lot younger than he should. Little and lost and missing something all too vital. Gordon’s a lot like the sea he loves so much, Virgil thinks. His emotions flow fast and harsh and when the waves come crashing in it’s like he gets left, dissociative, to drown. A broad arm loops around little brother’s shoulders; gently turning his chair away from the owner-less desk and letting those thin little fingers slide off the file.The hug is tight. Thin shoulders shake.
“It’s ok.” Virgil says, even though he knows it’s not. It won’t be until their Father is the one back, home and safe, behind this desk.“It’s ok Gordon. I understand. I… I miss him too.”
The fingers that grip his t-shirt make the hug a little too tight, but big brother isn’t going to be the one to tell him to let go.

On Tumblr: lenle-g.tumblr.com/post/160304…

[please do not re-post, pin or use without permissions]