Scott woke early, wincing slightly from yesterday's black eye. He tenderly pressed the line of bruises on his face as his thoughts drifted to his battered jetpack in the hangar. A stray piece of debris had nearly severed the pack in two mid-flight. Thankfully, he'd only been eight feet off the ground when the device malfunctioned, but the force had still sent him crashing into the undergrowth below. A stray rock was to blame for his black and blue appearance.

He padded softly downstairs, lest he wake any slumbering brothers, and made a beeline for the kitchen. John raised a coffee cup in way of greeting.

"Howdy."

"John! When did you get here?" Scott clapped John amicably on the shoulder and took a seat next to him at the table.

"I got in about a half hour ago. EOS is running a few updates this morning, so I figured I'd take a break and stretch my legs," John said with a shrug. He glanced at Scott's face. "You look a little worse for wear."

"I'm more upset about my jetpack," Scott admitted. "I'll have to talk to Brains later and see what he can do about repairs."

"About that, Scott…the mission…it was a close one, huh?" The question caught Scott off-guard. He frowned, recalling the two-person rescue.

"I don't know about that, John. We got the civilians to safety. Job well done," the pilot replied. He scrutinized the redhead as he took a sip of coffee. "Everything okay?" It was then that Scott noticed his brother's disheveled hair and weary face. "Or maybe the better question is, 'Did you get any sleep last night?'" John laughed.

"More or less. Emphasis on the 'less' part." Scott waited for the redhead to elaborate but John merely tapped the side of his mug in thought.

"If you say so, Johnny," Scott said with a shrug. He bypassed the coffee pot and poured himself a glass of chocolate milk. "So, what are you gonna do with your few hours Earthside? And if you mention anything about stargazing or space, I'll throw you in the pool. Personally."

"Nah, I have something better in mind," the second eldest brother replied. Scott put a hand to his heart in mock surprise.

"Something better than black holes and Thunderbird Five? It can't be!" He earned a shove from John in response. "So, can I ask what your big master plan is?"

"You'll see," came John's cryptic response. He rose from the chair and put a comforting hand on Scott's shoulder. "Hey, I'm glad you're okay, Scott."

The duo suddenly heard the soft notes of piano keys lift and fall at Virgil's command. Scott gave John a nudge.

"Music with breakfast? This is new." Scott and John entered the living room and spotted their younger brother at the piano.

"'Mornin', Virg. Did you finish that new song you were working on?" Scott made the mistake of peering over Virgil's shoulder and frowned at the incomprehensible music sheets, littered with symbols reminiscent of Alan's homework equations. Music and math, two foreign languages his brain had no hope of ever understanding.

"Nice timing. I'm just adding on the finishing touches. I call this the Thunderbirds March!" Virgil said triumphantly. His hands drifted effortlessly across the keys as he played the up-tempo ballad. As the last notes faded, Scott found himself beaming. A smile tugged at John's lips as he shared a nod with Virgil that the eldest Tracy failed to see.

"If we had a theme song, that would definitely be it," Scott said.

"And if we had a TV show, I'd be the main character," Virgil continued with a laugh. "The dashing, daring pilot of Thunderbird Two. It has a nice ring to it."

"Shouldn't the unofficial leader of International Rescue be the main character?"

"Not with a face like that," the pianist replied. "A busted face doesn't really suit you." Scott brushed his fingertips against his swollen eye.

"Can't argue with that."

They were interrupted by the sound of dueling footsteps as Gordon and Alan emerged from their bedrooms and swarmed the piano. Scott raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Up before lunchtime? I'm shocked."

"We have to start our zombie shooter marathon early, Scott," Alan said by way of explanation.

"Followed by a calming, relaxing afternoon in the pool. Or on the beach. I haven't decided yet," Gordon added mischievously. Virgil snorted.

"Yeah right. There's no such thing as calming or relaxing around you little devils." Alan continued to squabble with Virgil while Gordon approached Scott and John. The slight frown on his face contrasted with his vibrant, yellow shirt.

"So…Scott," Gordon ventured. He wrung his hands as if unsure. "Does it, you know…hurt?"

"Oh. My face? It's not bad," Scott said truthfully. "Give it a couple days and I'll be good as new."

"More like a week or two," Virgil clarified from the bench while slapping Alan's hands away from the keys. Scott was about to take a sip of chocolate milk when he suddenly paused. Something was off. He studied his the three youngest brothers with a practiced eye. Virgil stifled a yawn. Alan rubbed his bloodshot eyes. Gordon ran a hand through his already messy hair. He set his cup on a nearby table and crossed his arms. The eldest tried to keep his face passive but he couldn't help a small smile.

"Okay, what's going on?" A chorus of 'nothing' and 'why do you ask' met his ears. Kayo approached the guilty party from the hangar and leaned against the piano.

"Give it up, boys. Nothing gets past Scott," the operative said with a laugh. "I think it's time we told him."

"Told me what? Hey!" The Tracys guided their oldest brother to the couch. They took seats around him, as though preparing for a mission briefing from Thunderbird Five.

"Scott, it's my fault. I didn't realize the flaw in your jetpack design." John spoke up first, the words a sudden contrast to the cheery atmosphere moments before.

"It's no one's fault," Kayo interjected before Scott could voice the same. "But it's true that the jetpack needed an upgrade."

"Besides, what happened to you…Well, I mean, it shouldn't happen to…you, know…YOU." Virgil added. "You're the leader. You're not supposed to get hurt!" Scott turned from one face to the other, perplexed.

"It was only eight feet, Virg. Hardly enough to—"

"You could've been twenty feet off the ground. Or a hundred," Gordon said.

"And that jetpack was nearly torn in half!" came Alan's exclamation. He gestured wildly with his hands. "I mean, that thing was in, like, five different pieces and—" The blonde cleared his throat after John cast him a dark glare. "Well, you get the idea."

"That could've been you, Scott," John explained with a long sigh. "If things had been different, you probably wouldn't have walked away from that accident."

Scott was usually the one doing the comforting, fussing over minor injuries and keeping the "what if" nightmarish scenarios at bay. This unexpected role-reversal nearly rendered him speechless. And, a small part of him realized, he hadn't even given his jetpack malfunction a second thought, had never considered the fact that the crash could've been much, much worse.

"Guys…" he managed. "It all worked out. I'm fine."

"This time, fortunately," Kayo observed. John took the lead and projected a holographic image into the space above the circular couch. Scott recognized the swirling debris as the crippled remnants of his jetpack.

"The debris hit you from the back in one of your blind spots. After the rescue, Brains and I developed a way to add sensors to the outer casing so you'll be notified of dangers from above and behind," John explained. As if to resolve this fact, he added, "And with these modifications, this kind of thing won't happen again." Scott's eyes roved to the space monitor's disheveled appearance.

"Don't tell me that you and Brains worked through the night on the new design! John—"

"I think fixing a problem that could potentially save your life is a little more important than my beauty sleep. But just a little," John replied, allowing himself a small smile. Scott cracked a grin.

"So that's why you came down from Five. To protect this beautiful face."

"Don't push your luck," John said with a roll of his eyes. He threw a pillow at Scott for good measure. "Besides, I'm not the only one who pulled an all-nighter. Isn't that right, Kayo?" Kayo pretended to brush something off her shoulder.

"I met up with Lady Penelope and got the supplies John and Brains needed for the repairs. Nothing strenuous," she said, but her hunched body posture said otherwise. "Anyway, Virgil was the one who stayed up the longest."

"Only because of the Terrible Two," Virgil groaned. "They kept pulling me into the kitchen to help them so that they wouldn't catch the whole place on fire!"

"Hey! It's not our fault! Did you SEE the cooking instructions? Making cookies is way harder than it looks!" Alan pouted.

"And we had to make the dough by scratch!" Gordon added. "And then the mixer kinda-sorta-almost blew up. I think I still have flour in my hair."

"You made me cookies?" Scott leaned forward in excitement like a kid on Christmas morning. Alan and Gordon exchanged nervous glances.

"Well, uh…YEAH, but…"

"You might not want them, Scotty…" After minutes of begging, they finally withdrew a pockmarked tin from under one of the pillows and handed him the box. He tore it open with enthusiasm. "Chocolate chip? My favorite!" He took a bite out of one of the cookies—thankful that it was missing the layer of ash that Grandma Tracy was famous for—and had to force himself to swallow. Those weren't chocolate chips. RAISENS? Ugh. To their credit, the youngest Tracys looked apologetic.

"Grandma didn't exactly have chocolate chips in the house…so…yeah."

"It's the, uh, thought that counts," Scott said. He discreetly slid the rest of the traitorous cookies to the side. "And let me guess. Virg, you were working on your song all night?"

"Theme song, bro. Theme song," the Thunderbird Two pilot corrected him. "But, really, it was no big deal." The others nodded in agreement, quick to downplay their roles.

"No big deal? That's not true! I can't believe you'd do all that for me."

"You're our brother, Scott. Of course we would," Kayo said matter-of-factly.

"And maybe…just MAYBE…we don't enjoy seeing our big bro looking like a bruised mess," Gordon said.

"I don't exactly enjoy it, either," Scott admitted with a chuckle.

"And now for the big reveal." John pulled a wrapped present from behind one of the couches and placed it in his lap. The eldest erupted into a fit of laughter as he eyed the obnoxious bow and 'Happy Birthday' wrapping paper.

"I think you guys are a couple months early to my birthday party."

"Think of it as a 'congratulations you didn't die' present," Gordon suggested. Virgil leapt from his feet and dashed to the piano.

"I'll play Thunderbirds March while you open it!" The dark haired brother started to press the keys while Scott ripped open the paper and looked inside the haphazardly taped box. He withdrew the object and his laughter almost turned into tears. His jetpack. Improved. Repaired. Complete.

"You finished it," he stated lamely. The theme song reached its crescendo. "You guys really did it. Thank you. I can't even…" He was too touched for words.

"Well since it's Scott Didn't Die day, let's celebrate!" Alan declared. "I vote beach party!"

"And every party needs some catchy music, don't you think, Virg?" John said.

"One step ahead of you, John. I went ahead and recorded this new masterpiece so that I can play it anytime I want. Don't worry Scott! We're gonna play Thunderbirds March over and over and over again! Just for you!" Scott's laugh was drowned out by the ebb and flow of the piano keys as he started another round of the Tracys' new favorite song. True to his word, Virgil repeated the song at every waking moment, well into the night, as Scott and the others sat exhausted on the beach after a day of fun and prank-filled wars. Scott watched the moon drift over the lapping waves and thought to himself how lucky he was to be part of the Thunderbirds family.