Finally, the last chapter. Thank you so much to everyone who's supported the story - I really do appreciate it. Whirlgirl, Pippalina, Pipe Dream and Guest, I can't reply personally, but thank you for the reviews.

Chapter Eleven

Finishing his tale, Gordon leaned back and closed his eyes. Let his father make of it what he would. Gordon knew the truth, as did all his brothers. He'd have to ask his father how he'd known there was a story to be told, though. Hadn't he mentioned something about Alan letting something slip? Typical. Then again, his brother had been little more than a baby at the time. Gordon was actually quite impressed that he'd managed to keep the secret at all. He himself had been convinced they'd have been found out right away, but the days had gone by, turning into weeks, then months, then years, and nothing had ever come of it. He'd barely given Kurt Morten a thought in the past few years.

He was so sleepy. At least his father had stopped nagging at him to keep talking. Now if only that cow would quit its noise - it sounded as though it was right outside the plane. He could hear Virgil, too, his raised voice adding to the racket...

Gordon opened his eyes and started to take an interest in things once more as the plane's door opened and Virgil dived in, tripping over his feet in his haste. Slamming the door, he muttered something about over-friendly cows, before realising that both his father and brother were laughing at him.

"It's dangerous out there," he told them.

"You should get Gordon to move her," his father said drily and Virgil blushed.

"How are you doing?" he asked the invalids. "Shouldn't be too long before we get some help."

"You got the radio working?" Jeff asked.

"I'm nearly done. As soon as that cow moves on I'll finish the job."

"Why don't you just phone them?"

Jeff snapped his head round to look at Gordon, reddening as he realised they'd overlooked the most obvious means of communicating with the outside world. His mortification had nothing on Virgil's, though, the middle brother absolutely scarlet. Virgil steadfastly refused to look at his father and brother, though he couldn't avoid hearing Gordon's laughter.

"Seriously, Virg?" Gordon asked, fully alert again. "You forget something as simple as that? I've got concussion for an excuse, and Dad's been worrying about me, but you're supposed to be prepared for all eventualities aren't you? Some boy scout you are."

Virgil really didn't have an answer for this, muttering something unintelligible, but, as Jeff made the necessary calls, Gordon continued to tease his brother. Virgil put up with it for a few minutes, telling himself his brother needed something to keep him alert, but finally he'd had enough.

"Shut up!" he snapped. "I've had a shock too, you know. If you'd avoided those birds we wouldn't have crashed in the first place."

"If you hadn't called Dad away he'd have been there to-"

"That's enough!" Jeff interjected. "I know you boys can work together when you want to, don't go ruining it now."

"You heard it all then?" Virgil asked, more than happy to give up the fight. He lowered himself down to his knees and reached around to pick up the pieces of the engine he'd been working on.

"I did," his father told him.

"Oh."

Virgil was clearly desperate to know what his father thought but Jeff wasn't going to give him the satisfaction. If he was honest, he didn't really know what to think about it all.

They sat in silence until help arrived. Virgil stayed to handle the moving of the plane, whilst Jeff and Gordon were taken off to a nearby hospital.

A couple of hours later and Gordon was enjoying the comfort of his hospital bed. It could have been worse, he supposed: a mild concussion, requiring an overnight stay, plus severe bruising to his knee. The accompanying swelling would go down soon enough, but the doctor advised complete rest for at least a week, and that, for Gordon, was a disaster, tied as he was to such a tight training schedule.

The Olympic team coach wasn't happy when he heard, either. Jeff, his arm in a sling and also under instructions to rest, endured an uncomfortable telephone conversation with the man in which he was not only made to feel like the world's worst father but a traitor to his country too.

"Flying!" the man practically spat. "What's the point of that?"

Jeff could hardly give him the real answer. Anyway, given Gordon's reluctance to fly before the crash, it was unlikely he'd show much enthusiasm now.

They finally made it home the next day. Virgil would have welcomed the chance to catch up on some sleep, but Grandma had looked so disappointed when he'd suggested it that he'd downed three cups of strong coffee before taking her off to her church social, where he played with finesse, if not enthusiasm, for the next couple of hours.

With Alan off go-karting with a friend, Jeff and Gordon had the house to themselves.

"Get some sleep," Jeff suggested.

"I slept in the hospital." It was an unusually curt reply from his second-youngest son.

"Do you want anything to eat? Grandma left that cake."

"No! I can't train, Dad, so how can I eat cake? All I'm going to be doing for the next week is piling on weight and watching my muscle mass disappear. Do you know what my rivals will be doing? That's right, exactly the opposite - while they're laughing about me being taken out by a flock of stupid geese."

Jeff let him rant until he'd run out of steam.

"Well?" Gordon asked.

"Well, what?"

"Aren't you going to give me a pep talk? Or is that Grandma's job? Or Scott's? Hey, maybe Johnny can send me a message from his alien friends."

Jeff had been going to do exactly that. But now, given Gordon's black mood, he wondered if there was any point. Maybe it was time for a story of his own...

Jeff's story wasn't from the past, of course. It was all about the future - a very different future for the Tracy family than anyone had envisaged back in the days of Kurt Morten. Parts of it were based in the present too, as Gordon was presented with the real reasons for Virgil's sudden interest in first aid and helicopters.

Jeff had been through this three times now, and all of his oldest sons had reacted in similar ways, incredulous at first, then gradually buying into the idea until they were sitting on the edges of their seats interrupting him every few moments with suggestions of their own.

Typically, Gordon had to be different.

He'd listened far more quietly than Jeff had expected, his expression completely blank. Even when Jeff had finished, with the hope that Gordon join the team as its aquanaut, he said nothing.

"Gordon?" Well, Jeff couldn't blame him for being stunned. Who wouldn't be? Depending on how you looked at it, it was either an act of genius or of madness. He wasn't quite sure which himself!

Finally Gordon gave his response - even if it wasn't what Jeff had expected.

He laughed.

And once he started he couldn't stop.

"Well, you cheered me up, that's for sure," he finally gasped. "Nice one, Dad."

"Huh?" Jeff was genuinely confused.

"Spinning me a story like that. I get it. Revenge for what I told you about Kurt Morten, right? But that was true, this is just crazy. See, if you're going to tell a tale like this, you've got to-"

"Gordon, it's real."

"Sure it is."

Jeff's next words were said so quietly that he wasn't sure Gordon would even hear them. "I've never forgiven myself for not being able to save your mother. I've been trying to make up for it ever since."

Gordon stopped laughing immediately. For once in his life he simply didn't know what to say. Put it like that and suddenly his father's plans made perfect sense.

"I'll show you." Glad of the chance to compose himself, Jeff disappeared for a few minutes, returning to the lounge with his laptop. After tapping a few lengthy and complicated passwords into it, he passed it over to his son.

"The craft we'll be using."

Gordon was silent as he carefully studied page after page of Brains' designs. When he reached the submarine, he spent even longer on each page, his eyes lighting up with longing. Jeff smiled. He'd finally done what he'd hoped: given Gordon something to think about other than his own woes, and, just maybe, enticed his son onto the team. Not yet, of course - there were medals to be won first and he had no doubt that Gordon could quickly overcome this setback - but maybe one day.

"For real?" Gordon still couldn't quite believe it.

"For real. John's our communications expert, Scott's going to fly the recon plane and Virgil will bring the heavy-duty equipment. Wait till you see what else Brains has come up with, Gordon. It's like nothing the world has ever seen before."

"I bet it is. And no one will know it's us?"

'Us'. Jeff liked that.

"No. They can't. Remember, I told you why we need to keep things secret."

"Yeah. And all this is going to be based on that island you bought last year? The one you said was going to be your address for tax reasons? Kasa... Kapa..."

"The one you can't say and I can't spell?" Jeff smiled. "That's right. I'm going to call it 'Tracy Island'."

"Tracy Island? That's a bit... "

"Territorial? Arrogant? Unwelcoming?"

Gordon nodded.

"Good. That's exactly the impression I want to give. No visitors welcome, Tracys only." He looked at his son. "You don't like it?"

"It does the job I guess, but it's a bit plain. Like the name for this organisation. 'International Rescue'... It's not very exciting."

"It's not meant to be exciting, Gordon. It's meant to be reassuring."

"Guess so."

"So what do you say?"

"It's something to think about," Gordon said slowly. "If I can't swim..."

"Gordon!" Jeff said warningly. "I thought you didn't want the pep talk."

"I don't. Sorry I was such a grouch. Guess there are worse things in life than missing a competition."

"Not when it's the Olympics," Jeff said. "Follow your own dreams, son, not mine. But if you do want to get involved one day, I'll be proud to have you."

He got to his feet. "I've got to make a few business calls," he said. "Get some rest, Gordon."

But Gordon's head was too full of what he'd just heard for rest to be a possibility.

He was quiet all through dinner, retiring to his room afterwards whilst his grandmother perused her recipe books in search of something nutritionally suitable for a convalescing athlete, whilst Jeff and Virgil completed the repairs to Dylan's van. Virgil was delighted that his father had told Gordon all about International Rescue, insisting Gordon wouldn't want to miss out.

When he'd cleaned up - in typical Virgil-style he'd managed to get more oil over his hands and face than he'd poured into the engine - he went up to his brother's room. Gordon was delighted to see him.

"I can't stop thinking about what Dad said."

Virgil couldn't help the smile which immediately lit up his face. "I know. When he first told me I was in a daze for hours afterwards."

"At first I thought he was having me on," Gordon confessed. "You know, in revenge for that story about Kurt Morten. Then he showed me some of Brains' designs. They're incredible, Virg."

"I know. My plane... it's like nothing on Earth."

"Never mind the plane. That sub..."

"I knew that would get your interest. You want to be part of it?"

Gordon nodded. "Of course I do. I wish Dad had told me sooner."

"He didn't want to distract you from your swimming. It's going to be a big commitment. We'll all have to give up whatever we've got going on in real life - for a while at least. And competitive swimming isn't something you can go back to when you're older, not if you want those medals. It's going to be a big change for you, Gords. Scott will still fly, John will be up in space, I'll have all those machines... But you'll have to accept a completely new way of life."

Gordon shrugged. "Can I tell you a secret, Virg?"

"Another one?"

Gordon looked down at the covers of his bed as he spoke. "You know I always said I'd go into coaching after I finished competing?"

"Yeah." Virgil couldn't quite see where this was going. Surely Gordon wasn't going to choose that over life with International Rescue?

He wasn't. "For a while now, I've been having second thoughts. I look at my coach and he's the best there is: double Olympic medallist, world record holder... he had it all. But what does he do now? Just paces up and down with a stopwatch - he's hardly ever even in the pool. And when I race, I can see he wants to be in my place."

"It must be hard to step back from it," Virgil agreed. "Especially when you don't have any real alternatives."

"Yeah. I know I have fun teaching the local kids to swim, but I really didn't want to do that for the rest of my life."

"So why did you say you did?"

"Well, I'm not really cut out for much else, am I? Working for Dad's official business didn't really appeal to me and I haven't got the brains of the rest of you guys-"

"Gords! Come on, who remembered the phone yesterday? You've got more common sense than me and Dad, that's for sure."

Gordon couldn't help smiling. "Well, maybe. Anyway, that's why I worked so hard at the swimming, at least at the start. It was the one thing I could do better than any of you. But I've been wondering lately... And after what Dad said today..."

"Go on."

Gordon took a deep breath then brought up a window on his laptop, angling the screen to show Virgil.

"WASP."

Virgil stared at him in surprise. "You in the military? You've got to follow orders, Gords. There's no place for a clown on board a submarine."

"I'd take it seriously. Especially now. I think it would be perfect training for life in this rescue organisation."

"You've got a point."

How long until we're up and running?"

"A few years. Maybe more if there are any problems along the way."

"The timing works. Olympics next year, then WASP for a couple of years. Perfect."

"It is." Virgil held out his hand. "It's good to have you on board, Gordon."

Gordon shook his brother's hand, thinking how formal the act was - certainly they'd never done this before - and yet how appropriate. They were brothers, but in the future they'd be comrades as well, their relationship - everyone's relationship - entering a whole new dynamic.

Finally Virgil got to his feet. "I need to pack. I'm leaving first thing in the morning."

Gordon smiled. "Have fun. Got your phone?"

Virgil grinned. "Yep. You take care, Gords. You'll be back in the pool in no time."

He'd reached the door when Gordon called him back.

"Virg?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you really going to fly that monster all by yourself?"

"I'm going to have to, aren't I? A co-pilot would be useful but there's only Alan left and to be honest, I'd rather walk home than let him loose on my plane."

To his surprise Gordon neither smiled nor joined in the traditional brotherly insults.

"What about me?"

"You? I thought you'd decided flying wasn't for you."

"Yeah, well, that was before I knew about all this."

"I don't know, Gords. Like you said, she's a big girl," Virgil said. "If you were struggling to handle the jet..."

"I didn't take it that seriously. Anyway, I was having too much fun trying to scare Dad. Yesterday kind of cured me of that though..." He was silent for a moment, remembering the terror he'd felt as the plane had dropped from the sky. "I bet if I put my mind to it I could be a good pilot."

"You're a Tracy," Virgil told him. "Flying's in your blood."

"Let's hope so."

"Dad will be thrilled. And don't forget Scott will be home in a couple of weeks. He'll take you up. Between the pair of them you'll get your wings."

"So there you are," Gordon said, leaning back against the headboard. "We're going to be quite a team."

"We certainly are."

"Now all we need is a better name..."

Later that evening, after a long and satisfying talk with his fourth-born, Jeff relaxed at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee, relating Gordon's story about Kurt Morten to his mother.

"Do you think he's having me on?" he asked tentatively, not sure what to make of her increasingly grim-lipped expression.

"No," she finally said. "I think it happened exactly the way he said."

"You knew?" Jeff was surprised he'd never heard about it if this was the case. His mother didn't tell tales and she certainly didn't pass the buck when it came to disciplining errant grandsons, but she didn't keep him out of the loop either, and she'd surely have made sure he knew about something like this.

Grandma took a sip of coffee then placed her cup back down before giving her son the one reply he'd never expected. "John told me."

"John told you? I thought maybe Alan... He said something just after Kurt Morten died that got me wondering, but I could never get anything out of him. I'd forgotten all about it. To be honest, I don't even know why I thought about it when we were in the plane. John...?"

Grandma shook her head and smiled. "I badgered him about the state of his clothes and his wrist. Oh, he came up with a few tales before realising that I wasn't buying any of them. So then he told me all about the boys' escapades at the Morten Farm. That poor old man..."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Jeff asked. "Why don't the boys know you know? Didn't you punish them? And what about Morten? You surely didn't think it was okay for him to go around threatening kids with guns and locking them up?"

Grandma laughed bitterly. "I didn't believe him. Well, Jeff, would you? I scolded him for being smart and sent him to his room with no dessert. I can't believe he played me like that."

Jeff had to laugh. "The little... Just as well it was eight years ago. What can I do about it now? Can't ground him, not when he's going to be in space half the year."

"I suppose not."

"He's not going to get any apple pie next time he comes home, is he?"

"No, he's not. Jeff, you'd better make sure the boy has plenty to occupy himself up on that satellite because if he gets bored with all that technology at his fingertips..."

Jeff had to admit it was a scary prospect.

The pair were silent as they drank their coffee.

"Gordon's thinking of joining WASP," Jeff finally said.

"So he's going to be part of your team, after all, is he?"

"Yes. I'm so glad, Mom. I need him."

"So that's all of them."

"I haven't told Alan. I won't - not until he's older."

"He won't say no. That boy lives for speed and danger. In fact, I'll be relieved when he gets away from those racing cars and does something a little less dangerous."

"It won't be safe, Mom."

"I know, Jeff."

"I'm asking a lot of the boys. Not just the danger, but the things they'll be giving up."

"I know." Grandma had always been worried about this aspect of the plan.

"It's not forever, though. Just for a year or two, to see if the thing will actually work. Then we can look at expanding."

"Of course it will work, Jeff."

"You're very sure of that."

"Aren't you?"

"Well, the machinery's a given. Brains is a genius and these are his greatest creations. But the rest of it. The secrecy, all the deception it involves... Do you really think we can do it?" Jeff had always been such an honest, up-front man that he'd had more than a few sleepless nights worrying about all this.

"With John on your team? Oh, I don't think you'll have any problems there."

Jeff had to laugh. "I don't know where he gets it from."

"Oh, that's easy, Jeff," his mother said, topping up his coffee.

"It is?"

"Of course. He gets it all from you."

"Me?" Jeff spluttered through a mouthful of coffee.

"Yes, you. Look at what you've cooked up over the last few years. Secret bases on remote islands, a mysterious organisation appearing from nowhere and disappearing again, a network of secret agents... John's an amateur compared to you."

Ignoring her son's indignant denials, she got up and moved over to the oven to take out the batch of cookies she'd baked for Virgil and his friends.

"Oh yes, Jeff," she smiled. "No wonder you want your boys on your team. You're all as bad as each other."

There was no answer to that!