Disclaimer: I do not own Thunderbirds. The following story has been written purely for entertainment purposes - no profit is being made by the author.

A huge thank you to everyone who has reviewed and supported me throughout the duration of this story. Your comments have consistently warmed my heart, and from an author's perspective, there is no greater reward. :) Whirlgirl, I'm greatful for your feedback, thank you so much.

Well, this is it, folks. The final chapter. I hope you enjoy it.

Chapter 8: Busted!

Several minutes had passed since Alan and Tin-Tin retired for the evening, their desire to be alone together too strong to resist. John should have gone to bed, too. He was exhausted. Over-tired, in fact. And he knew he would have difficulty sleeping because of this. He usually did. But he wasn't particularly concerned about that right now. He had a more pressing issue on his mind…

It all makes perfect sense. Virgil's got an eye for Tin-Tin. He's always had a soft spot for her. I remember teasing Alan about it on a few occasions. In hindsight, maybe that wasn't such a good idea. It's pretty clear Virgil's feelings for her run a lot deeper than mere fondness. And if that's the case, news of Alan and Tin-Tin's engagement must have dealt him one heck of a blow. Oh, man, this is awful. Poor Virg. And Scott knows. It's obvious he does - it explains why he looked so tense earlier. Maybe I should say something. Maybe I should tell him that I know...

John steered a glance over to where his brother was seated. Scott appeared to be wrapped up in his own thoughts. His posture was slack and his expression oddly vacant; unblinking eyes transfixed in a distant stare. John frowned to himself, plagued by a sudden doubt.

I can't just blurt it out, though. What if I'm wrong? I need to be subtle here…

He cleared his throat softly so as not to startle his brother. "Scott?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you think Virgil's okay? Only, he seemed a little edgy tonight, like he was upset about something."

Scott sat quiet for a moment, the same look of anxiety John had previously witnessed shrouding his features once again. But this time, it was fleeting.

"Nah," he said, pushing himself to his feet, steadily stretching out his muscular form. "He was just a little tired, that's all. Like you said earlier, it's been a long day…" He trailed off, overcome by a sudden yawn. Looking mildly perplexed, he added, "For all of us, it would seem."

John's brow creased. Virgil, tired? He would've preferred Scott to have been a little more specific than that. He decided to dig deeper.

"But it's not like Virgil to suddenly up and leave like that," he insisted. "Even if he is tired. Something's bothering him, Scott. I'm sure of it."

Scott regarded him doubtfully, then sighed. "Look, John. I know you're worried about him, but there's no need to be. Really." He smiled reassuringly. "Trust me, everything's fine."

John looked on as his brother started busying himself with collecting empty glasses.

Damn. Scott doesn't wanna talk about it. And there's no way I'll be able to get him to open up. I'm gonna have to take a risk and tell him what I think. I know there's a possibility I could be wrong, but unless I say something, I'll never know for sure. Come on, John, you can do this. Tell him. Just come straight out with it. Get it over with. It'll be okay. It'll be fine…

He got up and tracked after his brother. "Listen, Scott, I-" A loud, intermittent beeping noise abruptly cut him off. Gordon's timing sure was lousy. "Dammit!"

Scott looked back over his shoulder, eyebrows raised.

Realising he'd expressed his frustration a lot more brashly than he should have, John grimaced. "Sorry." Now wasn't the right time to address the matter. The opportunity was lost.

"Go ahead, Gordon."

Gordon's image instantly appeared on the video screen. He seemed a lot happier than he did earlier. This had John worried.

"Before you say anything, Scott, I know Dad's already gone to bed. You could set a watch by his routine. So you've no need to lecture me on the risk of calling, okay? Besides…" Gordon locked eyes with John, an ominous grin curving his mouth. "This can't wait."

John's stomach instantly dropped. Oh, God, he knows. He knows!

"All right, kiddo," said Scott. "Make it quick."

Gordon sat back, arms folded. "I had a very interesting chat with Brains a little while ago and…" He paused, face closing in thought. "Gee, that's something I never thought I'd hear myself say…" He shook his head. "Anyhow, I was telling him all about my space sickness and I asked him if he could help. Those darn meclizine tablets weren't working, so he told me to run a full systems check on the environmental controls and, after twenty minutes of troubleshooting, we finally hit the jackpot…"

John gulped, colour swiftly draining from his cheeks.

Gordon stared at him for a long, agonising moment. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about the lack of pressure on the gravity compensators, would you, John?"

John's mouth went dry. "Gravity compensators?" he repeated innocently, scratching his head.

Scott began to snigger. John caught sight of him in his peripheral vision and threw him a venomous glare, only to have it further fuel his brother's amusement.

"Yeah," Gordon drawled, eyeing Scott warily as he spoke. "You know, the ones that need adjusting manually. Brains told me they'd been tampered with. He said, and I quote: 'The pressure levels have been effectively modified to contradict their established parameters'." Gordon's eyes narrowed dangerously. "So, John. How d'you explain that one, huh?"

John felt a tremor of dread run full length down his spine. "I…uh…have you asked Alan?" he offered, praying the diversion would work.

It didn't.

"Yeah, just now," Gordon confirmed. "But he was too busy goofing around with his fiancée. Don't get me wrong, I'm happy for 'em. But Alan was acting all love-struck and mushy, and he didn't have a clue what I was trying to say. So, knowing you guys were still up, he said to ask you."

"Oh," John murmured sullenly. He looked over at Scott, putting on a pained expression in a desperate bid for assistance and mouthing the words 'help me'.

Scott succumbed to his laughter. "Sorry, John. You're on your own with this one." He gave his brother's shoulder a consoling pat. "It's been nice knowing ya, buddy."

John panicked when he turned and quickly stalked off. "Hey! Where are you going?"

"Bed!" Scott called over his shoulder, chuckling as he left. "G'night, fellas!"

"G'night, Scott!"

"Scott, wait! Don't leave me!" But it was too late. "Darn it." John sighed. He then became aware of Gordon's eyes burning into the back of his skull. He cringed and slowly turned to face him, lips trembling into a nervous smile.

"Well?" prompted Gordon, a sinister half-smirk strategically in place. "I'm waiting."

John cursed inwardly. The innocent routine failed, so he tried a different tactic...

"Oh, boy," he said, glancing at his wristwatch, "would you look at the time. Well, as much as I'd like to stay here and chat with you, Gords, I can't. I'm sorry. I gotta be up early. I, uh…I promised Grandma I'd help with breakfast."

"But-"

"Goodnight!"

Before giving his brother a chance to retort, John broke into motion and made a beeline for the exit. He hurtled down the corridor at breakneck speed, barely maintaining traction when he took a right-hand corner a little too sharply. But no matter how far away he got, he could still hear Gordon's menacing voice echoing throughout the quietness of the villa.

"You can run, John Tracy, but you can't hide! Just you wait 'till I get back down there! Older brother or not, your ass is toast!"

~The End~

Author's Note: The end. Well, for now at least. I have a couple of short companion stories in the works, and I intend to post them at a later date. So, until then, I hope you've enjoyed reading this story as much as I've enjoyed writing it. And please don't forget to review! Thank you. :)