So, hello everyone! Thank you to Parimalik for the Fic prompt! I know this is late, but hopefully it's what you wanted!

Apologies for the really bad title, I didn't have any ideas on what to call this, so I went with my brother's suggestion!

And to everyone else, a quick note: this is movie-verse, which I don't normally write, so sorry if you're a major fan of the 2004 version and I've got things that are really simple wrong! This is based a year before the movie, so Gordon's just joined IR fully, maybe for like six months now, and Alan's thirteen, and is at home in Tracy Island for the holidays.

Oh, and yeah, another thing: For some reason my writing style keeps changing and then doing weird things, so if this is a bit different to my usual style, then sorry! Anyway, hopefully you'll like it.

Enjoy!

The entire villa was silent, something which was highly unusual. Outside, the first few streaks of sunlight were appearing in the sky above the horizon, and the sea was lapping at the rocks on the beach, indicating that it was high-tide. A few lone birds began their songs outside, perched in their branches of the trees that made up the jungle.

Inside the building, quiet footsteps padded through the corridors, and a door creaked open as a figure entered the kitchen, wincing at the high-pitched noise. Several members of the house-hold were light sleepers and the slightest sound could wake them. Keep his steps light so that he didn't create much noise, he headed through the kitchen, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl as he passed the table.

Dawn was fast approaching, signalling that he needed to act quickly. Especially if they got a rescue call in, which considering it was getting daylight, was more of a possibility than not.

Heading through the hidden doorway, Gordon closed the door behind him and jogged down the steps into the hanger. It was pitch black, and he spent a couple of minutes trying to figure out whether to turn the lights on and risk being caught out, or to take his chances. He knew the hanger like the back of his hand most of the time; he didn't think there was much that could go wrong. But then again, he needed to see what he was doing which would involve the lights, and he could always take cover in Pod 4 if Virgil woke up. Which - when he considered the fact it was hard enough to get his brother out of bed when there was a rescue call - was not very likely.

Taking a bite of the apple, he tapped his watch and activated the light systems. The spotlights flickered into life with a soft hum, revealing Thunderbird 2, her green paintwork gleaming in the light since Alan had been forced to wash her yesterday as payback for a prank.

Now to do what he'd come here for, which wasn't just to collect his diving equipment from Thunderbird 4, even if that was on his to-do list. The year before, around his official Prank Week, normally set in July, he hadn't got round to checking out the areas where he'd be setting up his practical jokes, which had resulted in what was in his eyes, some pretty lame pranks. It hadn't been as fun as usual. This year, he was planning to make a comeback. Besides, Alan was getting better at the jokes, and that was not to be allowed. Only he was allowed the title of Crown Prankster.

What he hadn't been betting on was for the lights to be malfunctioning in Pod 1 as he entered it to survey the Mole. He'd been considering painting it or something as a small joke to start off with. Instead, it was pitch black, something which his eyes only just realised after he'd closed the door behind him.

Oh gee, thanks eyes. I clearly need glasses, and then I'd look ridiculous.

Gingerly placing his foot forwards, he closed his eyes, waiting to knock something over. Relieved when his ears were met with silence, he let out the breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding.

Uh, okay. Maybe this isn't so bad after all.

He cast a rueful look over his shoulder in the direction he guessed the exit should be.

Of course, I still have to get the heck outta here, which might prove easier said than done. Jeez. This wasn't one of your greatest ideas, was it Gordon? Oh no, just waltz in the Pod, check out the Mole, and waltz out again like some freaking ballet dancer!

That made him snigger, as an image popped into his head of that particular scene.

Yeesh. Bad mental image. Very bad mental image actually.

Placing his hand out, he whistled as he felt the cool metal of the Mole under his palm. He'd made it. Now all he had to do was double check there was no damage the paint he was using could do, and he could head back to Prank Planning Central, aka his room. Or the Fish Tank Suite as John had nicknamed it. Weirdo.

Feeling his way along, he was satisfied there was nothing that could go wrong with the idea, and turned around. And then turned around again. And again. And again.

Ah. Yeah. About getting out of here...I have no idea where to go...

Taking another tentative step forwards, his foot hit something. Right. Toolbox. Okay, since when did Virgil not let me know when he was doing work on the Pod Vehicle? I'm his co-pilot, he's meant to tell me.

That was when he accidentally knocked over the tool box, and everything went crashing to the floor making so much noise he seriously wondered if it was the tool box, and not a tornado dropping out the sky on top of him. Kneeling down, he hastily attempted to sweep everything into a massive pile and then began kicking it under the Mole. After a couple of moments of waving his arms about in the slim hope that he might actually somehow clear the mess up, he sighed. Right. Now it really was time to get out of the Pod...actually, out of the hanger full stop, and to go have a swim. For a long time. A really long time. Like, at least three hours. Jeez.

But, obviously, nothing was ever that simple and as he took his first step forwards, it was only then he figured that, hang on a sec, that was a toolbox, and don't toolboxes have nails in them? And he didn't remember sweeping any nails under the Mole? Then again, he couldn't remember what he'd had for dinner the night before, so that was hardly surprising. But he was certain there should have been nails and goddam it! Yeah, there were nails.

No. He had not just screamed. Really. Okay, yes, he had. Letting loose a steady muttering of certain colourful words that a certain younger brother really shouldn't be allowed to hear; he closed his eyes, and then focused on breathing.

Yeah. This was on the top of his newly formed damn, this is a day that really kinda failed list and he was really regretting even getting up this morning. Okay, so last year's pranks had failed, and had been kinda lame (Seriously, Alan had laughed at him. Not cool man.) but at least he hadn't ended up with a freaking nail in his foot.

Hello? Just mentioning that hey, maybe being able to breathe without feeling like his foot was going to spontaneously burst into flames would be actually kinda...you know...nice...great...fan-freaking-tastic. Seriously. Breathe.

After a couple of moments of focusing on breathing as dying really wasn't on his bucket list, he managed to take notice of his surroundings. Right, so it would probably be a great idea to get out of hanger. Considering how loud he had yelled, oh alright then, screamed, it was a surprise that he hadn't woken anyone else up.

Okay, what time was it? Tapping his watch lightly with one finger, he grinned as the inbuilt light systems on the device kicked in and illuminated the pod.

Yeah, it's official. I am a complete idiot. Why didn't I think of this in the first place?

Limping towards the exit, leaning heavily against the Pod wall, he opened the door and stumbled outside into the light of the hanger. Blinking in the bright spotlights, he stared across the open floor over to the stairs. He was so getting the lift back up.

Now he had a choice. He could stay here, and wait to be found and then look like a complete fool, or he could go and find Virgil and tell him what he'd done, both of which involved being smothered and then yelled at. Not his style. So instead he could just hide the injury. Just for a few days, he figured. It wouldn't do him any harm, just until his father was off the island on a business meeting and Scott was meeting Penelope in London. He'd only have to deal with one smother hen then, as John would up on '5 within a week.

Right, plan of action decided.

-FAB-

With several pairs of thick socks on his injured foot to try and hide his limp, Gordon attempted to enter the lounge casually, keeping an eye out for Virgil who would be able to tell there was something wrong in an instant.

It was unusually quiet for once in the Villa – Tin-Tin was swimming, Virgil was fixing something on '2, Scott was talking to Brains, who was up on '5 whilst John was still recovering from the flu – that rescue out in the Alps had a nasty bite to it – and Fermat was attempting to beat Alan's high-score on the most recent video game.

Half collapsing and half jumping onto the sofa, he grabbed the tablet and scrolled through the latest rescue alerts sent through from Thunderbird 5. There'd been a serious car crash on the Westminster Bridge, England, but rescue services were already dealing with it – he didn't have to worry about any rescue calls for the next few hours then. Thank God.

"Hey Gordon," Scott called over to him, casually sprawled across the other sofa, one leg crossed over the other and looking decidedly guilty about something. A quick glance at the empty chocolate wrapper on the coffee table revealed he'd been stealing John's sugar supplies again.

Gordon attempted to give him a wave, which turned more into creepy little salute type thing and he quickly withdrew his hands. "Hi," He shot back.

There was a crash from the doorway, and a familiar strangely tall (had Alan grown yet again whilst he'd been away at school?) figure was sent flying.

"You okay Allie?"

There was a muffled yelp from the ground, and Scott shrugged, satisfied that having a brother collapsed on the carpet was relatively normal as far as a Tracy was concerned.

Alan sat up; his blond hair ruffled with what looked suspiciously like cobwebs – oh God, had Alan been in the attic again? – and sidled over to Gordon, who gave him a look.

"What?"

"Oh come on, aren't I allowed to just come and sit next to my favourite brother?"

There was an annoyed squeak or was it a cough from Scott's direction, and Gordon glanced out the window to hide his smile. Obviously his younger brother wanted something – which was worrying.

"What's up?"

"I'm bored." Alan admitted with a dramatic sigh, flopping back against the cushions and folding his arms behind his head with a glance over at his red-haired sibling. Gordon waited. And waited. And waited. And-

"Will you go diving with me, 'cos Virg has banned me unless someone's with me." Alan announced quickly, and then ducked down to tie his shoelaces and Scott shot an incredulous look at his youngest brother.

"Yeah-uh, um…" Gordon began, feeling the throbbing sensation his foot deciding to go up a notch. That was considerate of it. His pain tolerance was just beginning to reach its limit. To be honest he felt sick – certainly not up to going diving with an over-excited teenager.

And yet – when he glanced over at his brother, the kid looked so goddamned cheerful, with wide shining blue eyes that he was attempting to look somewhat undeniable with – although, granted that would probably work on Scott – but oh come on. He felt his resolve begin to crumble. Anyway, it was swimming – water was his element. And plus – it wouldn't be for long. Onhana was already beginning lunch and the moment Alan smelt food then he'd be out of the water faster than Thunderbird 3.

Besides – wasn't salt water good for wounds? He was pretty certain there was something he'd read – yes, read: it had been a rainy day, Scott and Virgil had been on that railway rescue in Germany, and he'd been bored – that had said about the salt in sea water.

Alan gave him a wide-eyed look. Heck, why didn't the kid just stick a sign on his forehead. A neon green one. Wait, no orange and red. Those were Al's favourite colours still, right? An orange post-it note saying – hey, look at me, aren't I freaking adorable now go swimming with me before I unleash the terrifying temper-tantrum that I last had about a month ago and freaked John out big time?

"Fine," Gordon sighed, with the strange feeling he was signing his own death-warrant. He couldn't have said no though – heck, Scott was on the sofa just there, and Gordon Tracy turning down the opportunity to go swimming? If that hadn't set the alarm bells ringing in his older brother's mind, then there was something wrong with all of them.

"Whoo! Yeah, thanks Gordy!" Alan leapt to his feet, and Gordon stared at him for a few seconds.

If the kid starts dancing, then I'm outta here.

-FAB-

"What happened to you?" Virgil called across the table in disbelief, a sandwich frozen in mid air half way to his mouth as he stared at the exhausted looking brother who had just limped in through the sliding doors.

"Virgil – I cleaned that floor today and I'd appreciate it if you didn't get crumbs everywhere," a stern voice announced, and he froze, slowly turning round to face the motherly house-keeper.

"Sorry Onhana," He replied meekly, and lowered the sandwich onto the plate again, before ducking past her and snatching one of the freshly baked cookies, sprinting off as her annoyed cry echoed after him.

Skidding to a halt – no, he really had not just run into a wall – he cast a curious look at Gordon. If he didn't know better, he'd have said his brother had just come back from a nine-hour rescue or something strenuous, like climbing Mt. Everest. Actually, knowing Gordon, that wouldn't surprise him.

"I'm fine." Gordon shot back, not sounding very convincing. Virgil eyed him suspiciously, and then spotted his sibling was limping and, wait, why was he l-

*CRASH*

"Ow," He squeaked from the floor. Gordon looked mildly amused, standing above him as Virgil scrambled to his feet. He really needed to stop walking into walls. He'd already hit his head and almost given himself concussion when working on the Firefly earlier, and yeesh that had hurt. Still, he didn't seem anyway worse for wear.

"Why are you limping?" He asked, noting the way Gordon cast a guilty look down at his foot – and wait, what the hell? "Are you wearing five pairs of socks or something?"

"I was cold," Gordon whined.

"Dude, we live on a Tropical island. It's never cold. Unless you're in Thunderbird 2 and the heating's gone wrong when you're on your way back from a mountain rescue…and – whoa, Gordy!"

Now struggling to keep upright – oh come on, he could fix almost as many engineering problems as Brains but he couldn't carry his lighter – even if only slightly – damn Gordon needed to stop swimming so much - younger brother?

Great. Trying not to roll his eyes, or have a face-palm moment waaay too much like his older brother, he leant against the wall, keeping one arm wrapped firmly round his sibling's shoulders to stop the swimmer from crashing to the floor. Damn this was embarrassing.

"Scott! John!"

-FAB-

"Of all the stupid, idiotic, crazy things you have ever done, this has to be in the Top 3."

Yes, it was probably more than safe to say that Scott Tracy was annoyed. Actually, he was past the annoyed stage, and was kind of now entering the 'punching a wall and yelling at a brother' stage, that sadly he seemed to reach quite frequently now days – normally because Alan did have to be so annoyingly accident prone.

"What were you thinking?"

Annnd yep. Pacing up and down the floor of the Infirmary, of course he had to throw in a furious glare for good measures, because what good telling off wasn't complete with one?

Of course, when he'd first been told about his brother's injury by Brother Medic #1, he'd been more freaked out and in full 'oh my god, what if he dies or something' Smother Hen mode, and then when Gordon had decided to regain consciousness, realised they knew what was wrong, and then try to run away – well, Scott had freaked out. Angrily. Punched a wall in his room, next to his wardrobe where there was a growing number of small dents – quite why he always punched there, when there was a perfectly good gym downstairs he didn't even know himself.

He stopped pacing, and turned around. To be perfectly, honest, Gordon looked more scared than anything. Scott got it. He just wasn't used to see that look on the prankster's face that often. He'd last seen on Alan's, when John had caught the flu pretty damn bad, and well, it was that all too familiar, 'Scotty, please fix things 'cos I'm scared' thing that he'd gotten probably too used to seeing over the years.

Gordon watched the series of emotions play out on his sibling's face, before offering a peace-making smile. Like, hey bro, I'm sorry, I know…yeah…I get it….I suck. Fancy watching a film later?

John, still scarily pale – he looked like a vampire normally as well – was curled up on a chair next to the bed which Virgil had ordered Gordon onto like he was some sort of dog. In typical Tracy style, he'd protested, but Virgil could look pretty scary when he wanted to – plus Gordon knew that irritating their Field Medic wasn't the smartest of moves.

Alan was in full on over-protective little brother mode – damn Allie, that was far too cute for Scott to deal with – and was stretched out acting like some sort of teddy-bear next to his brother, with a far too serious expression on his face as he watched Gordon intently.

"Virg, he's gonna be okay…right?"

The question mark that was somewhat unspoken, but everyone knew was there – Gordon knew what his brother was thinking – was an quiet reminder, that hey, guess what, Alan was only just thirteen for crying out loud. Seeing his brothers unconscious was probably becoming all too much of a regular occurrence for him – Gordon knew that couldn't be good.

Hey, who cares anyway, he needed the hug just as much!

Sitting up slightly, and grimacing as another wave of nausea washed over him, he secretly thankful of his younger brother's supporting arm around his shoulders. He glanced down, and Alan looked up at him, and smiled as the unspoken words of thanks were exchanged between the two. They had a bond from before Lucille had died thanks to being the two youngest, and Gordon didn't need to question his brother's concern for him.

"You realise I'm gonna have to take that out…you know that?" Virgil spoke quietly from the corner, his ankles crossed. If anyone else had looked at him, then they might have thought he was relaxed, but to his brothers, it was obvious he was beginning to get stressed.

Not that Gordon could blame him. If something went wrong, or anything happened to make the injury worse – then it was all on the Middle Tracy brother. Their father wasn't there, and oh for crying out loud – why had he gone into that stupid pod that morning?

"W-what?" Gordon blinked wide green eyes at his immediate older sibling, and Virgil averted his glance.

John frowned, leaning forwards and ruffling the copper haired teenager on the bed, a smile drifting across his features as Gordon rolled his eyes. "Hey, c'mon kiddo, it's not that bad," He promised.

Gordon pouted. "Don't call me kiddo." Then, with a thoughtful expression, and because he just couldn't resist poking fun and the blond brother who was leaning against him at that moment, he added: "That's the Sprout's nickname."

Alan – wow that kid was perceptive – didn't react, instead hugging him softly – a quiet reminder that hey, he got it. He knew that making a joke out of things was Gordon's way of dealing with stuff, and if that involved teasing the youngest Tracy, then Alan would deal with it.

John sat on the edge of the bed and Gordon frowned. When had his brother moved from the chair to the bed? Was he some sort of ninja? Oh no…oh damn it…now he had a mental of image of John dressed in black with his hair dyed, waving chopsticks in mid air….wait, chopsticks? Huh? Aww, c'mon, now he had the giggles.

Quietly confiding in Alan this important joke, he grinned at the smile that now threatened to take over his brother's face.

"Gordy…I'm sorry, okay? It is your own fault though." Virgil murmured to him.

He shrugged, trying to act tough, and accidentally catching John's gaze…and his brother just…he just knew. John got it. John understood he was freaking out. Mind you, John had that phobia of needles anyway, so he got the entire…I'm scared but I won't admit it kinda thing.

Sitting up next to his younger brother, John casually draped an arm round his sibling, and grinned as the younger Tracy leant against him, relaxing into the embrace. Meeting Scott's concerned gaze across the room, he nodded. It's fine Scotty. I've got this one. Then, with a wry glance down at the ruffled blond head resting on Gordon's chest, he thought to himself: Alan's doing a pretty good job as well.

"Virg…?" Okay, so that sucked. He sounded like a five-year-old kid. Gordon glared at the floor like it held all the problems in the Universe. Considering how light-headed he felt, he was having a hard time trying to figure what was real or not, so he was allowed to think that it was the centre of everyone's problems.

"You know, why don't you just turn over, and face me and Johnny?" Alan suggested, his voice muffled from where he was still hugging his brother. "You won't be able to see what Virg is doing, and if he numbs your foot or something then you won't feel anything either?"

Scott tried hard not sound as surprised as he felt. Damn the kid was good! Why hadn't he thought of that?

"That might just work," Virgil thought aloud, casting a questioning look at Scott: Give me the word bro, and I'll get to work.

Yawning – why did he feel so light-headed and tired all of a sudden anyway? – Gordon closed his eyes, resting his head on John's shoulder. So what if he was sixteen? He still secretly liked the hugs and comfort that came whenever one of them was hurt, or ill.

He was feeling pretty comfortable actually. John made a good pillow. And then there was the Alan half strangling him in a hug that was an unconscious attempt to protect him from further harm - and yep….Gordon was pretty happy with the way things were going.

He was just going to close his eyes for a second or two…

-FAB-

"Gordy?" The bright spotlights of the infirmary blinded him for a few moments, before everything began to swim into focus and he frowned up at the familiar blond haired figured leaning above him.

"Jo'n'y?" He croaked. How long had he been unconscious for, anyway? "Wha' happened?"

John grinned, leaping up onto the bed with agility of the kitten Virgil had fallen in love with on the rescue of the school kids at that animal shelter last year. Alan, now fast asleep, was curled up next to Gordon, using his brother as a pillow.

"Good to see you awake at last, Fish." John whispered, conscious of the sleeping teenager next to them. "You had Scotty freaking out for the last day or two."

Gordon – since rediscovering his voice thanks to the cup of ice-chips by the bed (thank you Brother Medic!) – blinked. "Huh? Last day or two?"

"Yeah. Dad cancelled all his business meetings when Virg told him what had happened. Because you decided to be an idiot and not tell anyone, the injury got infected, and, from what I could gather amongst Virgil's medical jargon stuff that gave you a high fever and you were unconscious."

"Whoa." Gordon muttered, running a hand through his hair. "Hey Johnny?"

"Yes?" John grinned as he saw the questioning look on his brother's face.

"You're not…" Gordon frowned, glancing down at Alan who was still sleeping. "Are the guys really angry at me?"

"Yeah, I thought Scotty was gonna turn into the Incredible Hulk." John laughed at the terrified expression Gordon gave him, and leaned forwards, wrapping the teenager up in a firm hug. "No kiddo, they were just worried. But please don't do that again."

Gordon yawned, in no hurry to move from his siblings' hugs. "Believe me, I won't."

So, how was that? Anyone? Sorry for any mistakes by the way. :)

You know what would make me really happy? Yeah, you guessed it! Reviews! They keep the plot bunny happy anyhow, which means a lot more stories for you guys :)

Kat xx