Hello, folks, and welcome to my latest story.

It's a sequel to Outta Time - a crossover I wrote between Emergency! and Thunderbirds Are Go (TAG 2015). If you want to read that story first to set the scene for this one, you'll find it under my TAG name of TheFABFive2015.

To me, the boys of Station 51 were very much the International Rescue of their day. Then the plot bunnies got hold of this idea, and went a bit mad with it. So, with more help from Brains, the Tracy boys are going back to 1975, to pay their 20th century brothers a very special visit.

The first part of the story takes place on Tracy Island. But after that, it's 1975 Los Angeles, and Station 51 all the way.

A special thanks, too, for Madi and Champ, who have become such wonderful friends through these fandoms. This one's for you, girls. Enjoy!

Back To The Future

5 November 2065 - Tracy Island

Aaah, peaceful quiet. A luxury on Tracy Island that Scott always savoured. When, and if, he had the chance.

Of course, just thinking how nice it was to enjoy his coffee undisturbed was enough to put a hex on it. Still, so far so good. No callouts. Virgil was using his down-time to give his 'bird a quick check up, while Gordon and Alan were stretched out on the floor in front of him. He couldn't see what they were playing on Alan's holo-pad, but right now, he really didn't care. Anything that kept them out of mischief was fine by him.

"Hey, Scott!"

'Aww, damn it!'

Yes, he should have known it was too good to last, as both his younger brothers leapt to their feet, and pretty much bounced onto his couch

"Scott! Scott! You're never gonna believe it! Look at this!"

Yeah, like he had much choice. He barely had time to put his own pad down, before his youngest brother's was shoved into his hands.

About to point out that he was trying to work, Scott's protest fell into a silent 'Wow!' Okay, so he'd lost his place in those reports, but - yeah, they could wait until later. Because now he could see why Alan and Gordon were still bouncing with excitement beside him.

A news story from nearly a hundred years ago wouldn't normally have caught his interest. But the firefighters that it hailed as 'Our Modest Heroes' certainly did.

Yes, they were covered in dirt, and soot, and... well, God knew what else. But from their helmet numbers alone, Scott still recognized them instantly.

His other brothers, from another time, and another place. Back in their own, more familiar surroundings, here they were. The crew of Station 51.

Captain Hank Stanley. As commanding in his own time as when he'd been thrown ninety years ahead of it. Next to him, another firefighter, who he guessed was Marco Lopez - the only one who hadn't been caught up in their little 'trip.'

Then Roy, and Johnny, and Chet. All more comfortable in front of the camera than the figure who stood more shyly beside them. But with his hands cradling one of her hoses, Mike's pride in both his engine and his brothers still shone through his eyes.

Back where they belonged, they looked so happy together. Tired, too, by what he could also empathise with. Whatever time you were in, saving lives from such dangerous situations was exhausting work. By the state of their faces and gear, they'd all had one hell of a day.

Still huddled beside him, Gordon and Alan were just as entranced by this tiny hologram, that again connected two families through nearly a century of time. So much so that Virgil's arrival had passed unnoticed.

"Hey, am I the only one doing any work around here?"

Wondering why the image of his brother as a secret agent ninja had just popped into his mind, Scott just grinned back at him.

"Hey, it was your choice, Virg. But since you're on a break now, take a load off. You're gonna need to be sitting down when you read th-... oomph."

"Why, thank you, Scooter. Don't mind if I do."

Ah. Yes, maybe he should have been more specific, and told his brother to take the opposite couch. Not use his lap as his personal armchair. If it had been Gordon or Alan, then - yes, fine. He could cope with either one of the tinies. But a built like a barn Virgil? Not so much.

Shoving him onto the armrest beside him, Scott still grinned as his youngest, smallest, and still most excited brother explained its cause.

"I found this old news story, about Captain Stanley and the others, and... see there, Virgil? That's them, just after a rescue! That's Captain Stanley, and there's Roy... and Chet... Mike, and Johnny. And that's got to be... oh, yeah... Marco."

Never to be outdone, not least by his younger brother, Gordon took up the story that, to Virgil's amusement, he didn't need to bother reading himself.

"They saved this whole family, Virg, can you believe that? They got all of them out, just before their house exploded. And before that, they were at a brushfire for over ten hours!"

Now fully caught up, Virgil nodded as he pointed to the engine that Hank and his crew were standing beside.

"Yeah, that must have been one happy and thankful family. And that's... what did Mike call her now... Big Red, right? Hey, for her day, she was pretty impressive."

Watching Scott nod in agreement, Virgil then frowned. Yes, he was clearly as proud of their fellow brothers as Gordon and Alan were, and just as happy at their discovery. Yet there was a seriousness in his eyes now, that hadn't been there before.

Even if they already knew its cause, Gordon and Alan were still too excited to recognize its significance.

"But you haven't seen the best part, Virgil! The family they rescued from that house..."

"Yeah, Virg! Look at their name!"

"Like so many others caught in these wildfires, the Masons and their daughter owe their lives to these brave, selfless heroes."

Reading this headline through again to himself, Virgil now knew why Scott had become so serious. Even Gordon and Alan had now realized why this rescue among countless others held such a personal meaning.

Again, he studied the holographic image of a dishevelled but smiling family. The young girl, whose features he still recognized. And when he spoke again, his voice matched his brother's equally sober reply.

"That was Grandma's name before she got married, and... you know what this means, Scott? If they hadn't rescued her and our great grandparents from that fire, then Dad wouldn't have been born, and..."

"...neither would we..."

They were all silent now, staring at each other as the full depth of those words sunk in. Still lost in his own thoughts, Scott then sighed, his eyes still fixed on the friends who'd crashed so dramatically into their lives.

Their own were long since passed, of course. Only their memories lived on, through those of their families. The thought that all of them were now dead brought a real catch into his next, quiet words.

"I just wish we'd known this before they came here. Even if they didn't know it at the time, they saved our lives too that day, and... boy, I wish we could see them again, so we could thank them before they-"

As one, they all stared at each other. The same thought that lightbulbed through their minds turned grief and sadness into broadening smiles of hope.

As Alan never tired of telling them, they were International Rescue. They made the impossible happen every day. Thanks to their resident genius and his own ancestor, they'd even defied the laws of physics, and brought two worlds of time together.

All they needed was the right person's help to make it happen again - his name now yelled in perfect unison, as all four of them rushed for the stairs.

"BRAINS!"

7 November 1975 - Los Angeles

"Okay, guys, now just hear me out here, okay? It's a great idea!"

An announcement that would normally cheer and inspire. But for the crew of Station 51, those last four words brought out a collective groan. Anything that involved the family baby and one of his 'ideas' never ended well. And with something so special as celebrating Roy's birthday, the last thing they needed right now was one of Johnny's infamous 'ideas.'

Glancing around the table, Hank soon realized it had been left to him to talk him out of it. Chet and Marco had both decided this was the perfect moment to make a fresh pot of coffee, while Mike had tortoised back behind his magazine.

Ah, yes. The joys of being Team Dad to this bunch of overgrown toddlers just never stopped. And if anyone was going to be first in line for a cup of that coffee, it was him. Yes, being Chief Nut in this nut-hutch had its upsides too.

"John, I appreciate your enthusiasm, pal, but... look, you heard what Roy said. All he wants for his birthday is our meal out tonight. Just a quiet little get together. I don't think he'd want to trade that for a roller derby. And Joanne would kill us if he got hurt."

Met with more 'if we ignore him, he won't drag us into this' silence, Hank sighed. One way or another, he was going to get some back up here. And since he was the closest, the eldest, and his ever trusty second in command - yes, time for Number One Son to provide it.

"What do you think, Mike?"

As one, three other heads turned towards their (mostly) silent pillar of wisdom. When that pillar put his magazine down and leaned forward, frowning in thought as he crossed his hands in front of him, they all did the same. When The Wise One spoke, everyone listened.

"I think we should learn from what happened last year."

When The Wise One spoke so many words of both wisdom and warning, everyone cringed. Like spectators at a tennis match, all heads now swung back to the other end of the table, for that all too familiar yelp of defence.

"Hey, look, it - it was an accident, okay? How was I to know there'd be a freakin' storm through that weekend?"

Mutters, eye rolls and grinning headshakes pretty much answered that. From behind the sanity barrier of his magazine, The Wise One tossed his two cents in too.

"Apart from the weather reports we had for three days before it?"

With all these zingers piling up against him, Johnny needed some of that back up too now. Choosing that perfect moment for his latest coffee of the day, it arrived in the ever suffering shape of his partner.

"What was an accident?"

"Your little 'birthday surprise' last year," Chet grinned, too busy smirking at Johnny to see the 'Shut up, Chet!' glares beside him, that also brought out a classic facepalm from his captain.

Ever the diplomat, Roy just shrugged as he leaned against the worktop, and sipped his 'safely-out-of-Johnny-range' coffee.

"That was not a surprise, Chet. That was Johnny. It had 'disaster' written all over it."

Waiting for the laughter and mutters of 'I want a new partner' to die down, he then realized he'd joined into a debate that he wasn't meant to have heard. Still, he had just the right solution for that too. Sensible, logical, and practical, with a nice touch of sanity preservation on the side.

"So, you want me to step out again, so you can go on planning this year's?"

Grinning too, Hank finished his coffee, then glanced at Mike to see his reaction to this battle of bantering wit - only to roll his eyes when all he found was an empty chair.

Yes, these were the times when he was sure his engineer was a damn ninja in disguise. Either that, or he'd built his very own time machine, where he could beam himself away from all this madness. If that was the case, his captain had first dibs on the next one.

More realistically, of course, he'd just legged it out to the vehicle bay while no-one was looking. No doubt to tell his beloved lady that the nuts he had to work with had truly taken over the asylum.

Yes, the Wise One was wise. Not to mention downright sneaky. Today, however, his usually impeccable timing sucked. Big time.

It started with a flash of light, that prompted a startled question from Hank -

"What the hell was that?"

- and a rather less serious reply from Chet.

"Probably the sun hitting Big Red. Hey, Mike? Ease back on the waxing and buffing, will ya? You're burning our retinas."

Silence. More than they were used to from their 'so quiet we forget he's there' engineer. The kind that kicked Hank's 'Team Dad' instincts into their higher levels of 'uh oh.'

"Michael? You okay, pal?"

Then realization dawned. For him, and Roy, and Johnny, and Chet... yes, they'd seen a flash like that before. But a chorus of yells, Mike's included, was new enough, and alarming enough, for all of them to shove back their chairs, and run into the vehicle bay.

Expecting to see empty space where their engineer had been standing, they found him instead... under a pile of bodies. Four of them, who now scrambled away from him, in a tumble of arms, legs, and apologies, and helped him to his feet.

Just as they'd done then, everyone just stood and stared, at another impossibility against the rules of time. Even if they'd flattened his engineer in the process, Hank still had to admit - those Tracys sure knew how to make an entrance.

"You sure you're okay, Mike? Oh, uhhh... hey, Cap..."

Scott.

"...ooh, that's gonna bruise... sorry, Mike..."

Virgil.

"... yeah, we'll make sure Brains gets that right for next time..."

Gordon.

"...we sure will, and... yeah. Umm. Surprise?!"

Alan.

As shock turned to laughter, and rounds of delighted hugs, so Chet made the most of the once in a lifetime miracle beside him. An open mouthed John Gage, totally lost for words.

"Beat that, babe."

This was a birthday that Roy DeSoto wouldn't forget in a hurry. Okay, so his original plans had flown out that metaphorical window, but this - oh, yes. This would surely go down as the best birthday ever.

Beside him, Johnny was pretty happy about it too. This literal bolt from the blue had taken all the attention away from him, and focussed it instead on the guests who'd taken the term 'drop in visit' to a whole new level.

That slight 'malfunction' aside, Brains had given them twenty four hours with their 20th century brothers. More than enough time to deliver their very special message, with plenty left over to just enjoy their company.

Needless to say, that special message had left all of them stunned. To Hank's amusement, there'd be no 'let's leave this to Cap' this time, for the game of verbal ping-pong that was still bouncing around him.

"...so just to get this straight here, Scott..."

"...we saved your great grandparents...

"...and your grandma..."

"...two years ago..."

"...and you found this old news-reel..."

"...that you've used Brains' time machine..."

"...to come here to tell us about it?"

Answered with four beaming grins, Mike couldn't help but add a wry thought to his own as he rubbed his neck.

"Well, next time you drop in on us, try to flatten Johnny instead of me, okay? He's used to it."

A fair point, of course. Except that the only person who wasn't laughing didn't quite see it that way.

"Hey, what is this?! Dump on Johnny day?!"

Another fair point, that would surely bring out some of that famous Station 51 brotherhood. Right?

"Cheer up, Junior. I get dumped on too. Remember?"

Wrong.

Oh, yes. Payback for that 'special weekend' he'd spent fighting torrential rain, a collapsed tent, a twisted ankle, and his partner's battle with a cactus plant was sweet indeed. So was that partner's equally waspish retort.

"Oh, go ride a hose."

So tempted now, to send them both to separate rooms, Hank held up his hand to try and restore some kind of order.

"Okay, boys, now settle down, or I'm turning this time travelling bus right around."

For Scott, too, he had his own kids to try and keep under control. And Alan was still too excited about his discovery to remember its laws of science.

"Yeah, we found it all on my holo-pad here, and... aww, Scott! I must have left it at home, and now I can't show them!"

"It's not that you left it at home, Alan. It just doesn't exist here," Scott explained, using the same gentle tone for a quick bit of Time Travel 101. "Don't forget, this is 1975. All the technology we take for granted hasn't been invented yet."

"Well, aside from that," Alan pointed out, still disappointed by this downside of time travel as he pointed to the box of wonders that had first brought them together. "At least that works."

"Yeah, and just think, Alan... it's given you a whole day with us... loads of time for me to show you our version of your hover-board!"

Johnny this time, trying to cheer up his fellow family baby as he rose from his chair - then sent straight back onto it by Roy's hand on his shoulder, and a chorus of voices.

"Sit!"

"And after showing us your rides, we get to show you ours," Mike chipped in, a glare towards Chet warning him that any more comparisons of Big Red to a Dinky toy were likely to be his last.

Ah, yes. There was nothing like a good old fashioned boy's toy to turn this boy's frown upside down. And as Scott had already pointed out, she was the same colour as his equally loved Thunderbird.

With the others all tagging behind, Mike was the natural choice to show them around - answering all their questions with a thoroughness that prompted another, wisely hushed observation.

"Yeesh, he's said more in a minute than he usually does all week. Hey, you think he needs a shot of something to slow him down?"

Thankfully for Chet, this slur on his character went unheard as Mike continued his tour. In his happiest element, he was clearly enjoying it as much as they were - giving their very special visitors the privilege of sitting on his seat.

He even let them 'test' the lights. And the sirens. Let them climb onto her hosebed, forcing himself not to follow on behind them with his waxing rags. And in Virgil, he'd found his kindred spirit of the future. Without a cat or a kitten in sight, Hank was convinced he'd heard them both purr while they listened to her engine.

Just like their coffee breaks, though, it was ended by another, unmistakeable sound.

"Station 51, report of plane crashed into cliff. Benton Canyon viewpoint. Benton Canyon viewpoint. Time out, 11:10"

Like a well oiled machine, the crew of Station 51 slid into gear. In the same movement, Mike grabbed his coat and climbed into his seat, while Hank acknowledged their response with a bit of inspired quick thinking.

"Station 51, KMG 365. We'll... uh, also be taking a visiting rescue team with us for backup."

Just the words that their 'visiting rescue team' wanted to hear. Even without the robots that would normally do it for them, they'd never geared up so fast - though Alan's turnout was so big for him, he almost disappeared inside it.

Under Hank's direction for safety, Scott and Virgil joined Marco on Big Red's tailboard, while Alan took his seat, and Gordon sat on the floor between him and Chet - with strict orders from all their brothers to "Hold. On."

With one last check that everyone was ready, Big Red rolled out of her bay - already gathering speed as she completed her turn, and slid into traffic. In her cab, both Hank and Mike grinned as several joyous whoops joined the wail of her sirens. For Chet, though, the grin vanished as a quiet voice warned him that he was in serious, serious, trouble.

"Oh, Chet? Thanks for the concern, but I don't need any kind of shot. I'm in perfect health."

Pause.

"Especially my hearing."

For twenty exhilarating minutes, the Tracys forgot all about their usual rides. Even Scott, who was more used to Mach 10 than a mere fifty miles per hour, loved every second of what Virgil had yelled as 'the world's best workout.'

When they arrived on scene, though, all grins of boychild excitement disappeared. On the cliffs below them, a Cessna lay broken over its rocks, while faint screams for help were as much cause for relief as they were for concern. Where there was life, there was hope. But as all of them knew, all that could so quickly change.

Miraculously, it hadn't caught fire, but fuel still reeked through the air. And Gordon's instincts had already homed in on something that none of the others had noticed.

"Cap! Scott, look! Down there, we've got two in the water!"

Within seconds, two leaders reached equally vital agreement. Yes, this was Hank Stanley's command, but every one of his extra rescuers were going to be needed too. Now all he had to do was get them to where their skills and expertise could be put to best use.

"Right, Gordon... you rappel down with Scott and Virgil, and go get 'em. But get a lifeline on you first, okay? I know you're one hell of a swimmer, but those tides can be lethal. Roy, Johnny, Marco, take a reel line down to the plane, and lines to secure it to the front of the rig. Alan, you stay up here with Chet and Mike, and help pass down our gear. Right, boys, let's go."

And 'go' they went. For the crowds who'd gathered to watch them, it was an impressive, if puzzling sight. These kids who'd come with one of LACoFD's finest clearly weren't your usual, helpful civilians.

With or without Hank Stanley's direction, they all knew what they were doing. And for the news crews who'd joined them, this two for the price of one story was the front page scoop that every editor in the city wanted for their next editions.

From the quirks of human nature, disasters sold papers. But disasters with heroes and happy endings sold even more.

For Hank, of course, it was all part of the job. To answer their often intrusive questions, while also directing his rescues. This time, though, it wasn't his own boys that were drawing their attention, but the others who'd entered his life two months earlier, and never fully left it.

Their turn, this time, to join a rescue operation with none of their own equipment, they'd still pitched in with no thought for their own safety. To cheers of applause, Gordon had reached the two swimmers he'd spotted - not part of the family who'd been in the plane, but two surfers who'd tried to help, and then become caught in those tidal currents.

With them both now safely ashore, he'd joined Scott and Virgil at the crash site. And considering he'd never seen a Bio-Phone before, let alone used one, he was relaying Roy and Johnny's calls back to Rampart like a pro.

All the casualties were out now. A succession of thumbs up from Roy and Johnny were everything that Hank had hoped to see. Bruised and battered, but with no serious injuries, the Alden family had survived every pilot's worst nightmare.

As a convoy of Stokes carried them to safety, so their hands held those of the rescuer who climbed alongside them. Whether they were dressed in turnout coats, lumberjack plaid, or the most garish Hawaiian shirt they'd ever seen, it didn't matter. The face that smiled down at them was still that of a hero. And for Becky Alden, hers had the eyes and dimples that every teenage girl dreamed about.

Watching them being loaded into the waiting ambulances, Hank was smiling too. Damn, these boys of his. Time and again, they'd take on a seemingly hopeless cause, and turn it around, and - yes, he was proud of them. As proud as any father would be, and just as determined to make sure their courage was recognized. But that wasn't going to be as easy as he'd thought, as one of his regular newshounds frowned back at him.

"Those boys of yours have done it again, Hank, and... now, who'd you say these other kids were? International... Rescue, you say? Nope, never heard of 'em."

Clapping him on the shoulder, Hank's smile grew into the broadest, proudest grin that his face could hold without cracking it.

"No, Ed, you won't know about them yet. But take it from me, pal... your grandkids will."

His 'quiet little dinner' was everything that Roy had hoped for. Well, maybe not so quiet, with all the laughter and stories that were pinging around him. But it was a night to remember, in every possible way - made all the more special by having four extra brothers to share it with.

Yes, he'd wondered why Chet had asked to switch his seat, and why he kept watching Mike at the end of the table. Whatever his fellow big brother was plotting behind that Buddha-like smile, Roy just hoped it didn't involve him. A Mike Stoker with mischief in mind was almost as scary as Johnny with a good idea.

He couldn't take the credit for this one, of course. Not even his puppy-nut of a partner could have planned for the Tracys to 'drop in' for his birthday. But that didn't stop him from draping his arm around Johnny's shoulders, and telling him, yet again, that... yes, this year's surprise was going to take some beating.

All good things, though, had to end. For two bands of brothers, that time came at 08.11 the next morning. And just as it had been on Tracy Island, it was a bittersweet moment for all of them - some more than most.

While the line of hugs continued around them, Scott drew his other father figure aside, for a thank you that came from the depths of his heart.

"We, uh... don't know how many more times we'll be able to do this. But when we found out how you saved our family, and us... well, we had to say thank you, while we... you know, had the chance."

Recognizing the poignancy of those last few words, Hank nodded. Every instinct he had as a father had connected itself to this remarkable young man, who carried the weight of the world on such slender young shoulders. He was a son who'd make every father so damn proud. So yes, if his voice held a bit of a hitch to it now, he wasn't ashamed to show it as they hugged each other just that little bit tighter.

"Well, for every time you do, Scott, you know you'll find family here..."

"Yeah, one with the best ever fire engine!"

Ah, yes. Nothing like a mistimed moment to get you through the awkwardness of another. From somewhere inside the turnout that Mike had given him, Alan just had to the one to provide it.

Reminded that he had a very special gift to give them in return, Hank grinned too while he and Scott traded 'what do you do with 'em?' glances.

"Yes, Alan, we sure do. And just so you remember the day when you were part of her crew... well, take this back with you. A bit of history from our time, that will still exist in yours."

Staring down at the paper in his hands, Alan's eyes lit up - all disappointment over his holo-pad forgotten as he threw his arms around Hank's neck.

"Wow, cool! Thanks, Cap! Wait 'til John and Grandma see this!"

A wait that would only last for a few more minutes. With more of that 'not yet' timing, a blur of sparkling energy in front of them grew steadily brighter. For every brother, every surrogate father and son, there were just enough of them left for one last hug. One last, heartfelt message of strength and hope.

"Keep looking for him, son. Wherever he is, I know you'll find him."

His eyes shining too, and not just from gratitude, Scott nodded. Stepping back with the rest of his brothers, he hugged Alan with one arm, while the other returned a fellow commander's salute.

With a final burst of light, they were gone - leaving six oddly subdued firefighters to stare each other, in the same 'now what?' silence. But as the best Team Dad he was, Hank had a little surprise for his own boys too. A cheering memento, that he now herded them into his office to see.

Draping his arm over each in turn, he grinned at their reactions as each parcel was unwrapped. Yes, he'd bought these extra papers for a reason. One for each of his boys, and another that would take pride of place in his office.

Hot off the press, this was a very special edition - headlining the courage of another, very special family.

"INTERNATIONAL RESCUE - WHO ARE THEY?"

Sipping his coffee, Hank smiled at the headline in front of him. With the few details he'd had, Ed Bains had done his usual fine job. Front page too, and... yes, those Tracy boys had made one hell of an impact. Nearly as big as the one they'd made on his engineer.

"Morning, Cap."

Ah, talk of the devil. Or should he say the Crash Mat Kid? A thought he wisely didn't say at all, as Mike returned with his coffee, and sat down beside him. Chet was still on his payback list, nervously wondering when it would strike. His already neurotic captain had no intention of joining him.

Johnny, on the other hand, had no such sense of self-preservation. These were the times when said captain wondered how he'd lived into adulthood.

"Hey, Mike? Look what I found for the next time you get landed on!"

Silence, as he studied the rolls of bubble wrap that Johnny held in his arms. A brow arched above its disdainful eye. Then he smiled. That slow, dangerous smile, that made whoever was on its receiving end want to pack a bag, and travel ninety years into the future.

Finishing his coffee, Mike pushed back his chair, and rose just as ominously to his feet.

"Excuse me, Cap. I'm gonna go practise my knots."

Uh oh. Yes, trouble was brewing now, like their ever re-filled coffee pot. Or whenever it was Johnny's turn to cook. And was Team Dad going to intervene to stop it? Was he hell. He had a paper to read.

"Go to it, pal. Just don't dent him too much, okay? I still need him for the rest of the shift."

With no extra height to his advantage, Johnny was now backing through the door - those rolls of bubble wrap a scant defence against six foot plus of evilly grinning engineer.

"N-Now, Mike... I was just kidding, okay? I - I mean, we can all take a joke, right? Right? Okay, so just put that rope down, okay? Just put it... Roooooooy!"