Author's Notes: First Thunderbirds fic. Based on the 2004 movie because it was easier to write to that than to the series. I'm not sure if this will be one chapter or more. If there are any editing mistakes they are mine alone and I apologize.

Note: This starts off from the perspective of a dream Alan is having (hence the italics), but that very quickly ends and the story moves to reality (which is not in italics).

Warning: There is literally about one curse word in here. Only one. I'm not fond of bad language, myself, which is why I'm posting this warning.

Disclaimer: I own nothing at all related to the Thunderbirds. I claim no rights to it and I am only writing this for fun, not for profit.

"What's the matter, Sprout?" Gordon asked, his voice mocking, teasing, antagonizing. Above his head he held a school report card – Alan's school report card. How he'd gotten it was beyond the younger boy, but it hardly mattered. "Dad ground you again for failing history?"

"Gordon, give me that," Alan demanded, beginning to feel truly aggravated.

"Just let me look at it, Sprout!" Gordon, still holding the paper out of Alan's reach, opened it and began reading through Alan's grades. The younger teen deflated, feeling oddly violated. "Wow, kiddo! You actually managed to pass everything this quarter! Dad's gonna be surprised!"

"Gordon, you asshole!" Alan chose the wrong moment to speak, however, as his father walked into the room.

"ALAN TRACY!" the man hollered. "Do NOT talk like that in this house!"

"Sorry, dad," the blonde began, but his apology was tossed aside.

"Don't 'sorry' me, Alan! Grow up! You say you want to be a Thunderbird? Then act like it! You know why we haven't let you train yet? Because you're not ready. You're not mature enough. Act your age." Jefferson Tracy stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him as he went. Alan glanced at his brother; Gordon, for his part, was rolling around on the sofa, holding his sides as he shook with silent laughter. Eyes filling with angry tears, Alan turned and bolted from the room, not caring enough anymore about his report card to grab it from where Gordon had abandoned it on the floor.

As Alan retreated up the stairs and locked himself in his room, not allowing tears to spill over, he repeated his father's words over and over. "You're not mature enough. Act your age. You're not mature enough. Act your age." Tortured beyond belief by his family's apparent disappointment, Alan fell onto his bed and stared into space, willing himself not to think.

Alan Shepherd Tracy woke up with a start, dismayed to feel the hot moisture of tears rolling drop by drop down his face. He'd hoped that with the stress of dealing with the Hood the previous day, he would've been too tired to have any nightmares. Unfortunately he'd been mistaken. He really should've realized by now that his life never worked like that. The teenager spent another twenty seconds lying still in his bed, trying to get back to sleep, before he decided it was a hopeless venture. Every time he closed his eyes he saw the Hood's bright red gaze burning a hole in his own.

Pushing himself slowly into a sitting position (and wincing more than a few times when his sore, painful side reminded him of the previous days' events) the youngest Tracy son brushed the last traces of tears from his face. It would do no good to let his brothers see him like this; they'd only use it to mock him even more than they already did. Alan rose to his feet, taking in a slow and painful breath. He really should get Virgil or Brains to take an x-ray of his ribs…

That thought brought an uncomfortable reminder of the last time he'd gotten hurt, though, and how his brothers had smothered him with brotherly concern one day only to turn around and mock him for his "clumsiness" the next. Okay; no talking to Virgil or Brains. Decision made. He'd deal with it in silence.

Alan had hoped that his actions during the Hood's attack would have been enough to at least make his brothers proud of him. He'd hoped that they would've laid off on the teasing, at least for a while. He'd hoped that maybe they'd finally see him as an equal, as someone who could be trusted. Unfortunately he'd realized the error of this line of thinking almost as soon as the family had gotten back to Tracy Island. John had been taken to the infirmary, and in the frenzy of worry over John, everyone had completely ignored Alan. Only when John had been deemed more or less alive had anyone spared a thought for the youngest Tracy, and even then it had only been to lecture him on the necessity of following orders and the benefits of looking before leaping.

Stepping out into the hallway of the very large villa, Alan glanced around with an almost paranoid expression. Seeing no one and not spying any suspicious items or potential booby traps, the blonde made his way, catlike, down the hallway, down the stairs, and into the kitchen. He hadn't thought to check the time before he'd left his room, but it was light enough out to be just after dawn. He hoped he wouldn't wake anyone up.

Onaha appeared in the kitchen. Alan froze as the woman startled him, momentarily thinking that she was the Hood or one of his minions.

"Good morning, Alan," the motherly woman smiled, getting to work on breakfast, and Alan pondered the theory that she had some sort of sixth sense when it came to one of the Tracy boys being up and about and ravenously hungry.

"Let me help you, Onaha," he offered, only to be waved off by the Malaysian woman.

"No, dear, don't be silly. Sit down. You look exhausted." Alan didn't comment, but he did as the woman commanded and sat in his accustomed spot at the table. The woman continued, looking Alan up and down. "What do they feed you at that school, boy? You're thin as a rail."

"Well, the food's not nearly as good as yours," Alan sighed, shrugging. The woman smiled softly, finishing the bacon and heaping more scrambled eggs than Alan could possibly eat onto a plate.

"Thanks!" The teen dug in immediately, though he found that wolfing down his food like he usually did was uncomfortable. He settled for eating more slowly so that he was able to take slower, deeper breaths. His side was really bothering him.

"Alan!" a deep voice called fondly. He turned to see his father walking into the kitchen. The man gave Onaha a kiss on the cheek as she handed him a plate identical to Alan's. "You're up early today, son." Jeff watched his youngest closely as the blonde shrugged. Alan, for his part, suddenly felt the need to get out of the room as soon as possible. He scarfed down the last of his food, took a moment to catch his breath, and then stood.

"I wasn't very tired, dad." Then, louder, "Thanks for the breakfast, Onaha!" Not waiting for either adult to reply, Alan briskly walked out towards the swimming pool. Kyrano had already cleaned up all of the glass and put the furniture back where it belonged, but it wasn't likely that anyone in the Tracy household would forget what had happened here any time soon. Alan shuddered to think of what had almost happened to his brothers, and had to remind himself that they were all safe and sound in their rooms, sleeping.

Walking aimlessly, lost in his thoughts, Alan walked along the beach. He didn't notice where he was going until he got there, and it was with an unpleasant mental jerk that he realized where he was: he was standing in the exact spot he'd been standing yesterday when the Hood's submarine had emerged. A shiver ran down the blonde's spine as he remembered the Hood's deadly voice in his ear. Open the door, Alan.

Forcing himself to remain still, Alan closed his eyes as he mentally relived the fruitless chase around the island. His stupidity and arrogance had almost gotten himself, Fermat, and Tintin killed, and that wasn't something he could easily forgive. Sure, it had all turned out okay, but it almost hadn't. No wonder his brothers didn't want him on their team. He was useless.

The oppressive feeling of being watched brought Alan back to his senses, and his eyes nervously scanned the horizon for any trace of the sub. Was it still out there, circling the island, spying on him? Maybe he should tell his brothers… but no, they'd only laugh at him, tell him it was impossible that the sub was still there. Unable to stand the prickling hairs on the back of his neck or the way every sound in the jungle seemed dangerous and a hundred times louder than usual, the teen turned on his heel and bolted, running at a dead sprint back to the villa – back to safety.

By the time he got there he was wheezing, gulping for air, clutching his side in agony as his ribs protested the movement of his lungs. He made it as far as the pool before it occurred to him that his brothers might be up; he really didn't want to deal with their lecturing today. A bird squawked somewhere above him and suddenly his brothers didn't seem like such a major threat anymore. Bursting through the patio doors and into the kitchen, Alan immediately doubled over and fought to catch his breath. He was safe inside; surely he was safe inside.

"Alan?" one of his brothers questioned. The worried tone instantly got Alan's back up. He knew what that particular tone usually meant: poking, prodding, questioning, and a whole lot of trouble over nothing. No way was he going to go to the infirmary to be babied by the smother hens.

"I'm fine," he snapped, still gulping in air. It took another thirty seconds for the teen to regain himself, and then he stood up straight and looked directly into ten pairs of eyes. Sighing inaudibly, he surveyed his family as he made a conscious effort not to show the pain he was feeling. Some, like Tintin, Fermat, Brains, his father, and Scott, were looking at him in concern. Others, namely Gordon and Virgil, seemed confused and a little surprised. John, Kyrano, and Onaha simply seemed pitying. It was these last three who made it so hard for Alan to fully enter the room and join his family; he didn't want anyone's pity, and he certainly didn't deserve it.

"Alan, are you alright?" It was Gordon who spoke, albeit hesitantly, as if afraid that Alan would snap. The question was reflected in every face at the table, and Alan, relaxing as he realized that there was no malicious intent, nodded.

"I'm fine, Gordon," he repeated. Slowly but surely the Tracy family and its friends turned back to their breakfast. Alan joined them, sitting in the only leftover space at the table between John and Virgil. Not paying attention to any of the ongoing conversations, Alan cringed every time someone let out a laugh or raised their voice in enthusiasm. He kept waiting to hear his name; surely his brothers would tease him today as they always did.

"Sprout!" Gordon's voice called, and Alan's heart sank. There it was.

"Yeah, Gords?" even to his own ears he sounded dull.

"Why the long face? It's spring break. It's not like you can start a fire in the dormitory or accidently blow up your laptop while you're here." The reminders of his latest boarding school misadventures – neither of which had been entirely his fault – made him flinch. The usual snickering from Gordon, Virgil, and Scott accompanied this latest quip at Alan's expense. The teen was forced to bite the inside of his cheek so that the irrational tears wouldn't show. He'd long ago stopped showing any outward hurt at his brothers' bullying.

"Yeah, Alan. You can't cause anything to go wrong around here, with the Thunderbirds here to make sure nothing gets out of hand." The mocking comment from Scott was meant to be light and teasing, and if it hadn't been so entirely out of character for Scott, Alan might have just brushed it off. As it was, the blonde took a deep breath to calm himself – hurting his ribs in the process – and ducked his head.

"That's enough, boys," Jeff said sharply, causing all five of his sons' heads to snap in his direction. Alan exchanged a look of gratitude with his father and then ducked his head again, trying not to be seen. The middle-aged man stood from the table and made his way to his office.

"What do you suppose that was about?" Virgil muttered when the sound of the door clicking shut could be heard throughout the villa.

"What do you think?" Tintin snapped, exasperated, sounding as though she'd been waiting to say so for a while. "You're horrible. You call yourselves big brothers, but you bully Alan day in and day out until he's got nothing left of himself –"

"Tintin," Alan interrupted softly, cutting off the end of that sentence. Then, rising from the table, avoiding the decidedly guilty looks of his older brothers, Alan made his way up the stairs and to his bedroom.

It wasn't long before there was a knock at his door.

"Alan?" It was Scott.

"What do you want, Scott?" The adolescent was not in the mood for more mocking, which is surely what he would get as soon as he opened the door.

"We need to talk to you," John called through the door.

"Why?" Alan called back in the same dull, empty, careful tone he'd used at the table.

"We have some things we need to clear up," Virgil explained.

"And we can't do it through the wall. We need to do it face to face." Alan wasn't sure that Gordon didn't have a trick up his sleeve, but quite frankly he wasn't in the mood to be alone, either. Thoughts of the Hood were beginning to intensify in his mind, now that he was in his room by himself, and even a fight with his brothers would be preferable to those glowing red eyes….

"Fine," he sighed, flopping onto his back on his unmade bed and staring up at the ceiling so that he didn't have to look at his brothers. They four older Tracy boys, all over eighteen now, entered the room quietly. Alan mused that he was really and truly the baby, at least in their eyes, and there was probably nothing he could ever do to change that opinion. It really wasn't fair; they'd always consider him the weakest link, even if they eventually did let him join International Rescue.

Virgil and John perched on the end of the bed. Alan ignored them at first, but their staring became too much for his weary, uneasy nerves and he lashed out.

"What are you looking at?" he demanded. "Stop that!"

"Alan," John sighed. "Have we really been bullying you?"

So taken aback was Alan by the question that for a brief moment his mouth flopped open and shut like a goldfish as he contemplated the answer. Finally, averting his eyes, he nodded. The collective guilty grimace that went around the room would've been funny if he hadn't been the topic of the conversation.

"Why didn't you say something, Sprout?" Scott asked from his position by the doorway, which he was apparently blocking in case Alan decided to make a run for it.

"How could I?" Alan asked, irked by the fact that Scott was blocking the door as well as by the fact that his brothers all seemed to think Alan was responsible for this problem. "It was always, 'What have you done now, Sprout?' Or, 'What did you blow up this time, Alan?' Or, my personal favorite, 'Did you fail another class, Sprout?' And you'd laugh at me and I just… How could I tell you what you were doing to me, when you wouldn't even take me seriously enough to listen to what I had to say when I wasn't trying to criticize you?" There was a short pause. "I'm not strong like you, Scott. I'm not smart like John. I'm not clever like Virgil. I'm not perfect like Gordon. I'm never going to get a PhD or an MD or fly to the moon or win an Olympic medal. I'll never write a book. I'm just Alan Tracy. I'm a waste of space."

To his intense embarrassment, his tear ducts chose that moment to betray him. Years of pent up frustration and anger broke through. Alan rolled onto his stomach and buried his face in his pillows as he cried. He couldn't even get this right. He was finally getting a chance to tell his brothers how much they'd hurt him, and he'd burst into tears like a baby and proved them right.

"Alan, I'm really sorry," Gordon spoke after a pause. "I didn't mean… If I'd known I was hurting you that much, I'd never have teased you like that. I'm sorry, kid."

"That goes for all of us," Virgil piped up. Head still buried in the pillows, Alan nodded, accepting the apology.

"Things will be different from now on, Alan," Scott promised. "We were in the wrong. I'm sorry it took an attack on our family to show us that, but it's true. Forgive us?"

"Of course," Alan choked out. Sucking back a gasp of pain when he rolled onto his bad side, Alan looked at all of his brothers. They seemed truly sincere and he smiled.

"Alan," John started, and the youngest Tracy got the feeling that he wasn't going to like this new change of topic. "Are you… how are you? After yesterday, I mean." Alan froze, a grimace stuck on his face as he shook his head. He wasn't ready to go there yet.

"I was afraid of that," Virgil murmured.

"Is there anything we can do?" Gordon asked. Alan sighed.

"I just need time, Gordon."

"You can have all the time you need, Alan," Virgil said. "In the meantime, is there anything you need?"

Alan pondered that for a moment.

"I'm actually really tired," he admitted. "Um… nightmares. Would one of you please…."

"Stay with you?" Scott filled in with a soft smile. Alan flinched but nodded resolutely.

"Of course, Sprout," John agreed, and before Alan knew what had happened his bed was crammed full of his four adult brothers. He was left at the center of the group, where he knew he'd be protected while he slept. The Hood might still come back, nightmares would surely plague him for a long time to come, his ribs really hurt, and he still wasn't a Thunderbird, but for the time being, at least, he was safe.

Exhausted but content, the teenager fell asleep, surrounded by his brothers.

That's all… for now. I'm honestly not sure if I'll add more chapters or not. It depends on the response I get to this. You'll have to let me know. I don't want to add more if more is not wanted, but I've left the ending in such a way that if enough readers want more I can always add on. I hope you enjoyed it. Please feel free to review, as reviews are greatly appreciated. Constructive criticism is welcomed and appreciated. If you do review, please let me know what you think: write more, or leave it as it is. Also, if you have a suggestion for a chapter, feel free to PM me or leave it in a review! Thanks!