FERRARI

By Spense

Disclaimer: Don't own, no money made.

TV-Verse

"I can't believe that you let them go – together, no less!" Scott Tracy exclaimed at his father's news.

"Why?" Jeff Tracy said reasonably. "They're both adults. And they both deserved a break. Besides, it's just a simple errand."

Scott snorted. "Adults? Are you sure? There's a reason that we still call them the Terrible Two," he pointed out.

"Just because you're a 'stiff', as Gordon has been known to point out, doesn't mean that our younger brothers are," John noted via the vidphone from Thunderbird Five.

"I am not a stiff!" Scott turned on his brother, surprised at the attack.

Sensing blood, Virgil moved in, smiling at his prey. "Of course you are. That's why you're Dad's second in command. You have no life."

John chimed in, two predators circling their chosen victim. "So don't blame Alan and Gordon just because they get tired of being cooped up on the island all the time."

Before Scott could dive into battle, Jeff put a stop to it. "Stop it. You're all as bad as the two bothers you're accusing of being irresponsible."

Jeff turned back to his paperwork. "Alan just got back from Five, and Gordon has been testing the modifications on Four. They've been putting in more work than the three of you, I might add." He looked up sternly. "They both deserved a break. Besides, wasn't it the three of you who were complaining that Gordon was driving you crazy?"

An uncomfortable silence descended. Touché. Jeff grinned to himself. He still had the touch. "Besides, they're just picking up some papers for me in our San Francisco office. How much trouble can they get into doing that?"

Three slightly accusing sets of eyes met his own, and Jeff felt a slight chill. That was probably not the right thing to say. Hoping he didn't have a touch of clairvoyance, he dismissed the thought and told his sons to get back to work.

TB TB TB TB TB

Alan drove the cliff road at top speed, the wind whipping around him. The hot red Ferrari convertible hugged the curves closely under the youngest Tracy's skilled hands.

"Hey Alan, last I saw, this wasn't the Perola Sans race course!" His brother Gordon shouted over the sound of the wind and the engine.

Carrying on a conversation in an open convertible while going top speed wasn't easy, so Alan didn't even try. He smiled and didn't even need to look over at his brother, having already noted how relaxed he was in the speeding car.

Gordon sat back causally, elbow resting on the edge of the door, sunglasses perched on his nose and a slight smile on his face. The water may be his real element, but he certainly enjoyed riding in a fast car, especially with Alan driving.

Alan really knew how to get the most out of an engine. Sometimes Gordon thought it was a shame that Alan had decided to retire from the racing circuit to work with IR. He had already made quite a name for himself, and could have been on the pinnacle of the circuit by now.

But that was then, and this was now, and what ifs were a long way away. And it was a truly perfect day. They were off the island, out from under older brothers, and had a day off. And to find the Ferrari at the San Francisco hanger had been an added bonus.

Alan was enjoying himself as well. He really liked this car. It was an amazing machine. Sometimes he truly missed racing, but then, there wasn't much that measured up to flying Thunderbird Three. Although, at times like this, driving a high performance car could run a pretty close second.

The two raced on along the cliff road in contentment, until Alan had to gradually reduce speed as they entered the city. Normal conversation was possible again.

"So, what do you think Virgil's going to say when he knows you took his car?" Gordon asked casually.

"What do you mean 'me'?" Alan asked incredulously. "As I recall, Virgil wouldn't even tell 'ME' where the key was. That was all your doing, Tonto."

"Oh, right," Gordon said thoughtfully.

"I'm not sure why he told you where he hid the key anyway. Besides, who's going to know. I'm not telling anybody," Alan finished pointedly.

Gordon shrugged good-naturedly. "Well, I'm not either, if that's what you mean. And he didn't exactly tell me where the key was."

"Really," Alan said interestedly. "And exactly how did you find it?"

"Oh, just my clever deduction," Gordon said innocently.

"Uh-huh."

Besides, like he ever drives it anyway." Gordon turned the conversation, successfully diverting his younger brother.

Alan wove skillfully through the lunchtime traffic. "Isn't that the truth. Besides, who would have ever thought Virg had this kind of taste in cars? I mean, he's always been 'the bigger, the better'."

Gordon snickered. "There's some truth in that. Think about that monstrosity he has out at the hanger in Colorado."

Alan gave a heartfelt groan of true pain, leaving Gordon laughing outright. He knew that would get his younger brother. Worked every time.

"That monster truck of his, you mean? You need a ladder to get into that thing, and it's lit up like a Christmas tree. Rows of lights on the running board, lights on the cab, lights everywhere! I mean the tires alone are bigger than Thunderbird Two's, and it has more chrome on it than a Harley!"

Gordon was in hysterics at this point. Alan just glared at him.

"How did our older brother develop such lousy taste in cars?"

Gordon pulled himself together enough to answer coherently. "Just think about the normal stuff he drives. Think Thunderbird Two, and all the stuff in the Pods. But he can't have such awful taste – he bought this baby."

"Oh, yeah," Alan said thoughtfully. "He said he was impressed with the engineering."

Gordon laughed at that, remembering the day Virgil had announced he bought the Ferrari. Well, maybe 'announced' wasn't quite the right word.

"So, Virgil, did you pick up the car?" Scott asked as he walked into the lounge. Gordon and Alan, deep in a shoot 'em up video game, causing equal parts of mayhem, looked up in confusion. Jeff had the same look on his face as he looked up from the desk. Virgil, however, turned a couple of different shades of crimson in about ten seconds, and looked like he'd like to fall through the floor.

"Did you get a new car, Virgil?" Tin Tin asked in interest.

"Well, ummm," Virgil trailed off incoherently.

"Yeah, Virg," Alan piped up. "I didn't know you were looking for a new car. What'd ya get?"

Scott grinned. Going car shopping without Alan tagging along was like trying to run International Rescue without the Thunderbirds. He still wasn't sure how Virgil had managed it. He looked at Virgil again carefully. "You didn't tell them?"

"Tell us what?" Jeff asked.

"Ummmm, not yet." Virgil stammered.

Alan and Gordon looked at each other, then back at Virgil. There was more going on here, and they wanted to know about it.

"Tell us, Virg!" Gordon demanded. "Why the big secret?"

Jeff looked at his two younger sons, who were beginning to sense that this might be something worth worrying Virgil about. Sighing internally, he girded himself up for the fight. Sometimes his sons seemed like a pack of wolves about to devour each other at the first sign of weakness. He supposed it was normal for the two youngest to always be looking for ways to assert themselves to the leaders of the pack. Together, they did make a formidable pair.

But looking at Virgil, Jeff saw too that there was more to this than just buying a new car, and he was interested.

"Virgil? Why the secrecy?" Jeff asked.

Virgil sighed. "It's not a secret. I just didn't really want to announce it to the world. I bought a Ferrari."

The reaction was instantaneous.

"You bought WHAT?"

"When? Why? When can I drive it?"

"What on earth for?"

"What color is it?"

"Why did you need one?"

Finally Virgil had had it. "ENOUGH!"

There was dead silence in the room, except for Scott's laughter.

Virgil looked at each of the astonished faces in turn, then said succinctly, "I bought it because the workmanship and engineering in the machine was incredible. I bought it because I liked it. And no Alan, you don't get to drive it. I'm not even telling you which hanger I have it at, and even when you do find out, I've hidden the key."

Alan looked mutinous, as Gordon said under his breath, but still clear enough to hear, "He only bought it because Alan called him a boring stiff, and I told him he had no adventure in his soul."

Jeff tended to agree with Gordon, but the reasons really didn't matter. It was Virgil's choice. "That's enough, let it go boys." He looked at Virgil. "Congratulations son. That's a great choice. Ferraris are really fine automobiles."

Virgil smiled in relief. "Thanks Dad."

Catching Alan opening his mouth out of the corner of his eye, Jeff continued, "No Alan, if Virgil says you can't drive it, that's it. You have your own cars." Seeing Alan's look surprised, he grinned to himself. Sons were convinced that fathers really did have eyes in the back of their heads. He had been sure of it with his own father as well. Seeing Alan draw in a breath, he turned and looked directly at him. "No. It's up to Virgil." Alan gave in.

"I still can't believe he won't let me drive it," Alan grumbled.

Gordon started to laugh again. "Alan, you may be the best driver of the family, but you are also the current record holder of the most number of wrecked vehicles. How many is it now?"

"Shut up, Gordon," Alan glared at him. "Besides, the race cars don't count."

"Even ignoring the race cars, you still hold the record," Gordon snickered.

"We're here, so can it, will you?" Alan finished with a pout, setting Gordon off in a fresh spurt of hysterics.

Alan finally just ignored him and turned the flashy car into the underground parking garage of the Tracy Building in San Francisco.

TB TB TB TB TB

"Hi, Mrs. Jenkins," Gordon greeted his father's assistant. She was another long time Tracy Enterprises employee. She had been a friend of their mother and had been with the company from the beginning. However, even she knew nothing about International Rescue.

"Hello, Gordon, Alan. Come to pick up the documents your father wanted?" She asked with a smile.

"Yes, Ma'am," Alan answered politely, accepting the package of documents.

"Anything else you needed?"

"No, Ma'am," Gordon smiled. "We're just enjoying the day. We thought we'd just catch lunch down at the beach before we headed home."

"All right then. Stay clear of the marina though. There is a big fire, it's tying up most of the traffic."

"Will do. Thanks!" Alan responded.

The two headed out, heads together, trying to figure out where to go for lunch. Mrs. Jenkins watched them go with a smile. Lucy would have been proud. Turning back to the office, she noticed that a large number of assistants, all female, had gathered in the office. Fixing a glare on them, they dispersed quickly. Frowning, she turned back to her work. Jeff didn't know what he did to the productivity of the office staff when he sent his sons in. She'd get nothing out of them for the rest of the afternoon, with the women hoping the two good looking Tracy sons would come back.

TB TB TB TB TB

They drove the cliff road out of town towards the airport at an even greater clip. Only this time they weren't nearly so relaxed.

"Boy, Gordo, you sure know how to pick 'em." Alan groused above the noise of the engine.

"Hey, don't blame me. You've got to admit she was gorgeous!"

"Yeah, she was. So was the one I was talking to. And she didn't have a Neanderthal boyfriend! And I was just getting her phone number when your 'friend' showed up," Alan moaned.

"Keep your eyes on the road," Gordon commanded. "And the Neanderthal is still behind us. So step on it, will you?"

"He's driving a pickup truck. Don't be stupid."

"Yeah, but that pickup is gaining on us. Funny, it looks kind of like Virgil's."

Alan looked in the rearview mirror. It was gaining on them. He mentioned something unprintable. "What's he got under the hood?"

"Dunno. Just drive faster. You know, he looks kind of like Scott . . ." Gordon said thoughtfully, turning to look behind him.

Alan snorted in amusement, and stepped on the gas.

Unfortunately, so did the driver of the truck. As they pulled into one of the hairpin turns, the large half-ton truck pulled up alongside them. All Alan could see was the running board at eye level. Huh, it did have lights, just like Virgil's . . .

The superior handling of the Ferrari, and the equally skillful driving of Alan were no match for the brute force of the truck. It didn't take more than one good, hard bump to send the lighter weight sports car and it's passengers through the guard rail and over the side of the cliff.

TB TB TB TB TB

Gordon burst out of the water, taking a lungful of air. Looking around in a panic, he could see the wreckage of the Ferrari on the rocks at the base of the cliff, steaming as each breaker of the surf hit it. How he had managed to get clear of not only the car, but all of the rocks dotting this stretch of water was unbelievable, but there it was. He looked frantically around for Alan.

"Alan!" He yelled, tossed in the white water as he looked. Finally, a head broke the surface about twenty feet away. "Alan!" He bellowed again.

Alan turned toward him, and motioned to the shore. Nodding, Gordon followed. It was an interesting swim. They both managed to get up to the rocks at the base of the cliff, getting battered among the uneven coast line. Finally, they both were up above the level of the water, and sitting panting on the rocks.

"You okay?" Alan panted.

"Yeah, amazingly. You?"

"Yeah. I'm going to have a huge crop of bruises, but that's about it."

Gordon nodded agreement. "Me too. Can you believe we missed all that?" He looked out at the churning foam of the water and the rocks dotting the coast line well out into the water.

"No," Alan said disbelievingly. "I can't. What are the chances . . . "

"I don't even want to know how many lives we used today . . ."

"Me neither."

They were quiet for a while, taking in the fact that they were still alive. Then, as one, they turned their heads upwards to look up the shear cliff wall. It seemed to go up forever.

"I don't think we're going to get back up that way," Alan commented, still craning his head up.

"Nor that way," Gordon looked back at the water.

Alan looked that was as well, and agreed. He then looked at the steaming wreckage of the car, a ways down on the rocks. "Virgil's going to kill us."

Gordon looked at it, then pointedly back at Alan. "Us?"

"You produced the key."

"Oh. Well, yeah, I guess." He paused for a moment, then continued with renewed energy. "But you were driving."

"With your girlfriend's pet in pursuit."

Gordon gave in. He was culpable as well, and he knew it. So much for shifting the blame. Oh well, safety in numbers. "How about we just get home?"

"Great idea. How?"

Gordon looked around. They would definitely need help. "So what do you want to do? Wait for rescue from the locals, or call home on the wristcomms?"

Alan looked at him like he was nuts. Gordon nodded. "Right. Stupid question. Wait for the locals."

TB TB TB TB TB

It wasn't a very long wait before help was on the cliff above. At the sight of people far up above, Gordon and Alan were on their feet waving to get their attention. A few waved back, indicating that they had seen them. But there seemed to be an awful lot of people milling about, and not much happening.

"What's the holdup?" Alan muttered, shading his eyes and looking up. "Let's get this show on the road." He glanced at Gordon.

"Yeah, if we can get out of this, and fly back home at the normal time, Virgil might never know." Gordon added.

"Huh?" Alan looked puzzled, and glanced at the steaming remains of the Ferrari.

"Well, when's Virg going to get here next anyway? You can have the car replaced by then."

"Me?" Alan looked at him pointedly.

"We,' Gordon amended with a sigh. Then he added, looking up at the cliff side towards the road. "No flashing lights. That's kind of odd . . . "

"Hmmm, you're right," Alan agreed, shading his eyes to look up the same direction.

As they watched, there was more milling around on the shelf where the road was. The brothers looked at each other, then sat back down again.

"Good thing we're not hurt," Gordon observed.

"No kidding," Alan concurred. "Well, at least it's a nice day," he commented as the threw a rock out into the pounding surf.

Suddenly a shower of pebbles made them both duck and look up. A rope was descending towards them, with a small closed knapsack attached. Looking at each other for a moment, they got up, ducking more falling pebbles from the unstable cliff side and reached for the knapsack when it finally skidded within reach.

Fumbling with it, they withdrew a couple of water bottles and wonder of wonders, a cell phone. The phone immediately began to ring.

Gordon answered with a tentative "Hello?"

The voice at the other end began to speak immediately, and Alan watched in fascination as his brother's face went through a variety of expressions in an amazingly short time. It started with puzzlement, then he spoke, assuring the other party that they were just fine, then changed to confusion, followed by disbelief, and finally consternation. Slowly Gordon hung up the phone and sat down, looking out at the water.

"What?" Alan asked in trepidation.

"The rescue workers are all tied up with the marina fire. So is the Coast Guard. The cliff face is too unstable for the authorities to allow anybody to climb down to us, or for them to allow us to climb up. And ditto for the approach by water. The Chief of Police himself has called International Rescue."

Alan's jaw dropped. "Your kidding, right? Please say your kidding."

Gordon shook his head. "Nope. The authorities were adamant that this stretch of coast is far to dangerous for anything but a professional rescue, and they have nothing to spare. International Rescue was called as soon as they got the report of us going over the cliff. By the way, they caught the guy who forced us over."

"Great," Alan said absently, his mind on the more important of the issues. "I just don't believe it. So how do you want to play it?"

Before Gordon could even open his mouth to respond, the two heard the distinctive whine of Thunderbird One's engines.

"Shit," was Alan's short, concise comment.

"Seconded," Gordon said with a sigh.

Together they watched as Thunderbird One made it's way towards the ledge that was the highway.

"This day just keeps getting better and better," Alan muttered.

"Guess we just wait for the phone to ring," Gordon said in resignation.

TB TB TB TB TB

Scott exited Thunderbird One and headed for the gap in the guard rail of the cliff highway. This didn't look good. From what he'd seen from the air, the briefing he had on the conditions had been right on. The surf was really heavy at this point on the coast, and the water was dotted with rocks. The cliff was unstable as well, he'd been told. Well, they had known they'd have to do this one from Thunderbird Two.

Too bad Gordon and Alan were out. They could use them. He supposed they could always recall them. They were just in San Francisco anyway. They were practically here. But Scott really hated to do that if he didn't have to. They both really had been working hard and did deserve a vacation – even if only for a day.

Reaching the crowd, and not seeing anybody standing out as an authority figure, he asked, "Who's in charge?"

A man held out a cell phone to him. "We're talking to them on this. We lowered a phone down the cliff. They said that they're fine, and frankly, that in itself is a miracle right there." He shook his head. "Some yoyo in a big truck ran a Ferrari off the road. Got to be road rage for sure."

Scott winced at the sound of it. Somebody was not going to be happy, having their Ferrari totalled. He leaned out carefully over the cliff, looking in disbelief. The surf was pounding on the rocky coast line below, foaming white, and crashing with a violence that was amazing. A quick look at the shear cliff side told him that it was about as unstable as it got. The steaming wreckage of the red crumpled mass of metal told it's own story. The clouds of steam grew bigger as each massive wave washed over it, obstructing his view of the scene below. But it didn't really matter. He'd seen enough. The people who had been in the car were lucky beyond belief.

Keying his wristcomm, he spoke. "Thunderbird One to Thunderbird Two, do you read?"

Virgil's face replaced the watch face. "Thunderbird Two here. Reading you clear, Scott."

"How far are you from the danger zone?"

"Five minutes. Where do you want me to land?"

"You aren't. We're going to have to use the rescue platform for this one." Scott proceeded to brief Virgil on the particulars and the conditions.

"F-A-B. I'll let you know when I'm in position."

"Ok. I'm not bringing out Mobile Command. I've got my earpiece on, so keep in contact that way. If I need too, I'll get TB One in the air if you need more eyes. I'm contacting the survivors now by cell phone."

"Got it. Thunderbird Two out."

Scott leaned over again. He just couldn't get a good look. Dialing the cell phone, he waited until it rang. Two rings, then three. Pulling it from his ear, he looked at it, then returned it to his ear, and listened again. Still ringing. He looked at the man who had handed it to him. "Are you sure . . .?"

Before the man could answer, a voice answered on the other end, saying faintly, 'Hi . . ."

"This is International Rescue . . . " Scott began the familiar spiel, only to break off as a familiar voice said his name tentatively.

"Uh . . . Hi Scott."

Scott thought he must be hearing things. That sure sounded like Gordon. Thinking fast, he continued with his normal commentary, all the while moving casually away from the crowd towards another part of the guard rail. ". . . we're on the scene and I need your condition . . ." He was thinking at lightening speed all the while.

Finally, as soon as he was out of earshot, he hissed into the phone. "Gordon? What are you doing down there. Maybe you could have contacted base or my wristcomm to warn me! Remember, your not in uniform. I'm glad you're there, I could really use you on this one, but we need to keep anybody from knowing your IR. Is Alan with you? How are the victims?" It finally dawned on him that Gordon had been trying to break into his flow of words the whole time he'd been speaking. "What?"

"Um . . . Scott. Well, we're, um, the victims." Scott could hardly hear Gordon's voice. Surely he must have heard him incorrectly.

"Say again?" Gordon sure sounded like Brains. "What did you just say?"

"I said, we're the victims!" Gordon snapped.

'We' Scott's mind supplied, then added 'Alan' and 'Ferrari'. He closed his eyes in pain as he said intensely, "Please tell me that Alan didn't just drive Virgil's Ferrari off a cliff."

"He didn't do it on purpose! We were run off the road, and we're fine, thanks for asking!" Gordon reported.

"Oh man . . ." Scott said in dismay, thinking fast. "I've got to get to Virgil. He's almost here!'

Too late, the big green workhorse was on the scene. Almost as though he had conjured him, Virgil's voice came through his earpiece, sounding just as professional and workmanlike as ever. "I've reached the danger zone Scott. I'm in position now. How do you want to handle."

Scott raised his eyes in horror to Thunderbird Two. Gordon's voice on the cell phone had gone silent. Any second now, Virgil would look down . . .

"Uh, Sir?" A voice broke into his nightmare, as one of the bystanders approached him. At the same time, Gordon finally spoke again over the cell phone.

"Ummm, Scott – Virgil's here. Have you told him yet? Alan's about ready to jump back into the ocean."

Scott snapped a terse 'Good' into the phone, earning a funny look from the Samaritan, and effectively shutting Gordon up again. Pasting a smile on his face, he turned to the bystander.

"Yes?"

"Is there anything we can do to help?"

"Scott . . " Virgil's voice.

"Hang on a sec, Virg," Scott commanded. He turned back to the bystander. Others were looking at them now as well. "Not at the moment, thank you though. Please just wait back out of the way. Stay well clear."

The man nodded and moved back as Scott turned his attention to Virgil's questioning voice in his earpiece. "Scott? Scott! What's going on?"

"Virgil . . . there's something . . ."

Virgil interrupted. "Scott, that looks like Gordon and Alan. What are they doing? They aren't in uniform . . . Wait a second. That looks like . . ." There was a long pause. Scott closed his eyes in horror.

When Virgil spoke again, his normally mellow tones were harsh. "That wreck sure looks an awful lot like my Ferrari." There was a guttural growl, then the sound of Thunderbird Two's engines changed, as the great craft began to pivot in the air, turning to head back towards the Pacific.

Rocks began to slide down the cliff side in response to TB Two's jets, sending Gordon and Alan ducking for cover, but it didn't stop Gordon's voice from erupting into Scott's ear. The growing comments from the crowd watching were escalating as well.

Scott said desperately into his earpiece, "We'll deal with it, Virgil. Trust me, their asses are yours."

Turning to the phone he uttered a quick, "Shut up Gordon."

Taking a deep breath, Scott turned to the crowd of bystanders. "It's alright folks, he's just getting into position to effect the rescue."

Then, back into the earpiece, "Virgil. Virgil!" he hissed intensely. "Get back here and pick them up. Now! We'll throw them on Dad's mercy first, then you get the pieces. I'll mop up what's left."

Silence, but Thunderbird Two stopped moving out to sea.

"Virgil – I promise."

Thunderbird Two swung back into position to Scott intense relief. A grudging "All right" came through Scott's earpiece. He gave a sigh of relief. He hadn't been at all sure that Virgil would come back, or how he was going to explain it otherwise.

Muttering into the cell phone, "You owe me big time," Scott watched as Thunderbird Two moved into position. Then in disbelief, he watched as a large magnet dropped, hovering over the steaming wreckage of the car.

"Virgil!" Scott hissed, horrified. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Rescuing my car," Virgil growled in a tone that brooked no argument.

Scott swallowed hard. He was beginning to wonder if his two youngest brothers were going to get out of this alive. He watched, aghast, as the giant magnet latched onto the remains of the Ferrari. A low mutter from the crowd caught his attention. 'Oh man, now what?' Then he realized that they were pointing at the car, which was slowly lifting off the rocky ledge.

Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself, then walked over to the next ring of the three ring circus he was navigating. "Calm down folks," he soothed as he caught their attention. "It's all right. He's just clearing the area. Between the rocks, water and the wreckage, it's more than a little hazardous down there."

Scott decided that he could lie better than he'd ever guessed as the low muttering rumble subsided. Stepping back, he said in a low tone, "Just get on with it Virg. The bystanders are starting to ask questions."

He heard mumbling in his other ear, and said a short "Shut up Gordon" in that direction. He was gratified to hear the voice on the phone cease.

A loud crash, followed by a massive splash made Scott close his eyes in pain. Virgil's shout of rage in his ear confirmed his first fear. The amount of fiberglass in the sports car had not allowed the magnet to get a firm grip and the wreckage of the car had dropped into the water.

"Leave it, Virgil," Scott said firmly.

"No! I'm not going to . . ."

"Virgil," Scott said dangerously, his patience with all of them wearing very thin. "Pick. Up. The. Boys." He paused. "NOW!"

There was a pause, then a muttered "F-A-B."

Scott opened his eyes in relief at the change in the sound of TB Two's engines. Sensitive to every nuance of all of the Thunderbird machines, he watched in satisfaction as the rescue platform was dropped. He then turned his attention to the cell phone and Gordon.

"Gordon, whatever you do, don't go near Virgil on the trip home if you want to live. The same goes for Alan."

Gordon's sense of humor came to the fore as he snickered and said, "Does that mean I can't use Alan to distract him?"

Scott's pained "Gordon . . ." clashed with Alan's faintly heard "Hey!" of protest.

Gordon laughed, then turned serious. "No problem, Scott. We're not suicidal."

"Really. I would have thought you were when you decided to take Virgil's Ferrari out for a spin." Scott said pointedly, then paused, listening to the silence with a grin. He continued. "The gloves come off when you get home. I'm joining Virgil in pounding you two into the ground."

Scott could hear Gordon's gulp in the background with satisfaction, followed by his hasty, "Got to go Scott, the rescue platform's here."

"Fine," Scott said succinctly and hung up. He watched as the platform, complete with the indistinct forms of his brothers was loaded up. Heaving a sigh of relief as the platform was retracted back towards TB Two, he called Virgil.

"Virgil, don't kill them until Dad gets done with them."

"Okay," his brother muttered reluctantly. "But they'd better stay out of my cockpit, or all bets are off."

"Okay. And Virg . . . ?"

"What?"

"Fly slow."

Virgil's laugh echoed in his earpiece. "You have a really evil mind Scott. That will make them sweat."

"Exactly," Scott grinned as he set about closing down the accident scene.

TB TB TB TB TB

As the platform slowly raised, Alan craned his head over the edge, staring down at the foaming water, swinging the platform slightly.

"Hey!" Gordon protested, looking away from TB One and the road. He'd been staring, hand on his forehead shading his eyes, watching the ascent of the knapsack and cell phone they'd been using, and trying to locate Scott.

"Where'd the car drop?" Alan muttered anxiously.

"Why?" Gordon asked curiously.

"Because you don't want to lose a Ferrari – even one that's crunched!" His brother answered, still scanning the water.

Gordon looked at him puzzled for a moment, then remembered what a whiz his younger brother was with any kind of car – no matter how banged up. He grinned slowly. "Yeah! We can call a salvage yard to pick it up." He joined Alan in scanning the water. "There!" He pointed.

Together they noted landmarks, grinning at each other. That is until the platform exited the sun into the dark underbelly of Thunderbird Two. Then their expressions turned sober.

"Time to make ourselves scarce," Gordon commented.

Alan agreed wholeheartedly.

TB TB TB TB TB

As TB2 settled gently to a stop in the hanger bay, Gordon and Alan looked at each other from deep inside the pod where they'd ridden out the ride home. It had seemed to both of them that it taken forever. Alan had commented that it seemed like the ride to an execution, it was going so slow. Gordon could definitely see the truth in that.

The engines changed in tone, and they both knew without looking that it was the fore and aft sections rising, leaving the bay door of the pod free to open.

"Ready to make a break?" Gordon finally asked.

"Oh yeah," Alan agreed with feeling.

The two of them quickly made their way to the large door of the pod, ready to escape to parts unknown as soon as it cleared. As soon as the sounds indicated that the bow section of TB2 had cleared, Gordon hit the button releasing the door.

A scraping sound made both of the brothers wince as apparently TB2's bow hadn't 'quite' cleared the top of the door.

"Nice going ace," Alan commented. "Now Virgil will really want us dead."

"Look, dead is dead. You can only be killed once. What does it matter?" Gordon replied brazenly, all the while mentally recoiling in horror. The Ferrari was bad enough. But he could truly blame that one on Alan, he'd been driving, all the while conveniently ignoring his part in the debacle. But injuring TB2 right down to the bare metal would be enough to really send Virgil over the edge. The Ferrari was a toy - TB2 was his baby.

Alan didn't even answer him, he just looked at him knowingly, exceptionally glad to have a partner in this one. There truly was safety in numbers.

As soon as the door cracked open enough to let them out, Gordon and Alan jumped through the 'V' shaped wedge, clearing the pod. They hadn't more than touched ground before a dangerous voice stopped them in their tracks.

"Going somewhere?"

Looking worriedly at their oldest brother, the two youngest Tracys thought he sounded as mean as he looked.

"Uh, no Scott, not me." Gordon tried to brazen it out. "Alan's just really jumpy. He was making a break for it. He knew Virgil'd be really mad about his wrecking the Ferrari."

"ME!" Alan said in indignation, forgetting his menacing oldest brother in the unforeseen betrayal from his partner in crime. "I'm not the one who found the keys! I'm not the one who damaged TB2! I'm not the . . ."

Gordon turned to argue back, knowing from experience that he could twist his little brother into knots when he was this worked up. However, he never got the chance.

"ENOUGH!" Scott yelled, shutting them both up with audible snaps of their jaws.

Gordon had enough presence to still think with a far back corner of his mind that Scott was getting far to like their father every passing day.

Scott held them frozen with his narrowed eyes, while lifting his wrist to activate the wrist-comm. TB2 had just finished clearing the pod and the engines had completely shut down, allowing Gordon and Alan to hear Virgil with perfect clarity.

"You were right, Virg, they tried to make a run for it."

"Which of the half-wits tried to open the pod door early?" Virgil's growled voice was almost unrecognizable.

'Shit' was Gordon's thought. Virgil was STILL really, really pissed. A sideways glance at his younger brother showed an expression on his face similar to that of a person staring down the gullet of a hungry shark.

"That would be Gordon."

"Thanks for the info," was all Virgil said. That made Gordon's heart sink further. He was royally screwed.

"And they tried to turn on each other like rats," Scott continued.

"Figures," Virgil said dryly.

"I'm taking them to Dad. Meet you there."

"Oh, I can't wait."

Scott dropped his arm and moved one step forward to grab each of his younger brothers upper arms in an iron grip. "Come on. We're going to go tell Dad all about this little adventure." With that, he frog-marched his unwilling captives up to the house.

Jeff looked up in surprise as Scott marched his two youngest brothers up to his father's desk. The look of total fury on Scott's face, and chagrin and fear in his two youngest told him immediately that something was up. His words earlier that day came back to haunt him: 'How much trouble can they get into . . . ?' Apparently, from the look on Scott's face, quite a bit.

And a closer look at his two youngest made it apart that they'd been into something. Something to do with water. Their clothes looked as though they'd gone swimming in them. And, they looked more than a little disheveled. And was that a black eye beginning with Alan . . .?"

Jeff's attention returned to his oldest as Scott opened his mouth to speak, just as Virgil skidded into the room at full speed. The two oldest Tracy brothers spoke at once.

"Dad, they've really done it this time."

"Dad! They WRECKED my Ferrari!"

"The rescue was to save these two clowns."

"You wouldn't believe what they did to TB2."

That sparked the two younger brothers to their own very vocal defense.

"Dad, it wasn't my fault, Alan was driving and . . ."

"Dad! Gordon's flirting really screwed us up, and besides, he found the keys!"

Jeff just watched his four adult sons reverted to the level of a school yard fight within seconds. It was a complete juxtaposition of the International Rescue flight suits his two oldest were wearing - symbolizing professional rescue in the worst possible situations - and the ultimate in childish behavior. A part of him wondered when John would join in.

The noise brought Grandma, TinTin and Brains to the doorway where they watched the melee', TinTin and Brains openmouthed, Grandma grinning knowingly. Jeff could practically read her expression - 'you were the one who wanted lots of sons; I, at least, had the sense to stop at one!'

Jeff turned back to said sons, and watched with fascination the tableaux in front of him for a few moments more. It was truly amazing how his intelligent, capable and mature sons could regress from being the men he knew them to be, to children in mere seconds. Unbelievable.

However, he'd finally had enough. He needed to get to the bottom of this.

"QUIET!" He shouted, noting with satisfaction the dead silence the echoes left in their wake. TinTin and Brains were looking at him in awe. He grinned to himself. He still had the touch. He traded a covert look with his mother, who nodded her approval at his ability to handle his grown sons.

Before he could go any further, the eyes on John's portrait flashed, to the accompanying groan from Gordon. Glaring at him for silence, he activated the link.

"Yes John?"

"Father, I've never got an answer from Scott on the rescue . . ." He trailed off, as he looked at his four brothers lined up in front of his father's desk.

"Neither have I, John, but I'm about to. We'll find out right now." He turned to Scott. "Okay, Scott. You didn't keep John in the loop. That's a breach of protocol. So I want to know about the rescue first. We'll take it piece by piece. But first, are you two all right?" he asked his two youngest. He was right, Alan was going to have a real shiner, and Gordon didn't look much better.

A chorus of subdued "Yes Sirs" greeted him. Hmmm. That in itself was interesting. Whatever happened was serious enough that they weren't trying to use injuries to get themselves out of trouble. He nodded at them, and turned back to Scott. "Go."

Scott released his youngest brothers, knowing they wouldn't be going anywhere, and drew a deep breath and began to speak. Absently, he noted Alan rubbing his upper arm where he had gripped it. He guessed he'd been holding pretty tightly. Good. They both deserved it.

"Okay, father. It went like this . . ." Scott told the story quickly and concisely and as unemotionally as he could.

Jeff listened in absolute amazement as he was told that the call they'd gone out on was to rescue two of the members of International Rescue itself. Idly, he noted the shuffling of feet, and uncomfortably meeting of eyes from the two culprits. He'd deal with them later.

Scott didn't leave anything out - from Virgil picking up the car first with the magnet (although Jeff got the feeling Scott was soft-pedaling Virgil's true involvement and lack of cooperation), to his triage at the accident site itself as he dealt with Virgil, the crowd and his two younger brothers, to Gordon turning on Alan in TB2's bay.

Jeff hid a grin at the last revelation. All of his sons were remarkably intelligent, but Gordon had a gift for covert manipulation that rivaled Jeff's own, had Gordon but known it. That gift was developing nicely, to his brothers detriment - most often Alan's.

When Scott finally ended his report, Jeff's look stopped the other three brothers from speaking as they would have liked to. "Thank you Scott. Virgil - your turn."

Virgil not nearly as calm about it as Scott had been. But then again, that wasn't surprising. Although normally, very calm and able to defuse situations, this time, he'd just had a very expensive car wrecked, so Jeff thought he could probably excuse him to some degree.

When he finished, Jeff looked quickly around the room. John's jaw was on the floor, as were Brain's and Tin Tin's. Grandma was just giving him a little smile. Jeff recognized the challenge. 'So Jefferson, how do you intend to handle this one?'

Jeff finally turned his attention to his two youngest sons. Absolutely unbelievably. How on earth could they turn a nice, normal day off into a fiasco like this? He sighed. He didn't even need to ask. They'd been doing this since they were two and three years old respectively. As soon as Alan had been old enough to walk and talk, the two had been inseparable, and usually up to no good. Both boys looked like they were ready to drop into the floor and let it swallow them up. Good thing, too.

They'd really done it this time, Jeff thought in disgust. They'd taken Virgil's car without permission. Wrecked it. Jeff was thankful that they hadn't been hurt, although from the looks of things, their older brothers weren't. But the list didn't stop there. They'd lost the documents they'd been sent to retrieve. Didn't call home when they were trapped. Had IR called out to rescue them. The list was long and impressive. Jeff just couldn't believe it. All in one afternoon!

After letting the silence drag on for a long moment (probably felt like forever to Gordon and Alan), Jeff took a deep breath, and unconsciously steeled himself. Talking to the two of them together was like trying to decipher an unbreakable code. Then, sternly, "Alright boys, what do you have to say for yourselves?"

Whereas Scott and Virgil had been all disciplined narrative, Gordon and Alan spoke together in an unorganized mass. Narrowing his eyes and holding up his hand, Jeff gave them the look and both boys immediately subsided.

"Now - slower."

As he waited for them to begin, he reflected that he really didn't need to know what they had to say. They were both guilty in all senses of the word. Jeff felt a tendril of anger growing. What on earth had they been thinking? They both knew Virgil didn't want them to drive that car. For exactly the reasons that had followed. And to sit at the base of the cliff and not give Scott any warning was so far beyond the training that all of his sons had as to be unbelievable. He was going to need to come down on them, and but hard. This streak of deviousness had to be dealt with now. They weren't children anymore.

Scott recognized the look on his father's face with satisfaction and exchanged tight smiles with Virgil. Their father was furious, and was about to lay down the law to Gordon and Alan. About time too, in Scott's opinion. He and Virgil had both felt for sometime that Jeff was far to lax with the two youngest members of the crew.

The voices of his two youngest sons began, desperate and worried.

"Well, it was like this Dad, we landed, and there was the Ferrari," Gordon started.

"Neither of us knew where the keys were, and we were just admiring it, when Gordon suddenly said he thought he knew where they were . . ." Alan continued.

"Virgil has no imagination, so it took just seconds to find the keys," Gordon added, studiously ignoring Virgil's narrowing eyes at that comment.

"It was a gorgeous afternoon, and we thought Virgil would never know," Alan continued, then winced as Gordon stepped on his foot. He amended himself immediately. "The car was just begging to be driven . . ."

Jeff listened impassively as the tale spun out. Listening to the two culprits talk over each other, spinning the tale, Jeff was suddenly transported back to another time, several years ago. This time it was Jeff standing nervously in front of his own father.

"But Dad . . ." Jeff had whined. "It was a beautiful day. Jennie and I wanted to enjoy the afternoon, and a convertible is really the only . . ."

Grant Tracy crossed his arms and glowered from his position looming over his son, listening as Jeff justified taking the family's new car. Josie watched in disbelief from the doorway of Grant's study. Jeff had been a conceited, full of himself BRAT all year. His senior year in high school, and all he'd done was act like he was the cock of the walk.

The brand new car was Grant's prize possession. He had been proud of that car, driving it only on nice days.

Grant didn't let his son finish. "Jefferson, you were told you could drive the other car. I give you a great deal of freedom. You may drive the other car whenever you would like, unlike most of the other young men in this community who walk." His father growled. "Now, explain to me why you felt it necessary to take my new car?"

Jeff gulped. "Because . . . " he began defensively, but then trailed off. There really wasn't any defense. He'd wanted to show off – plain and simple. There just wasn't anything he could say.

Jeff looked at his two youngest sons, standing downcast in front of him. It really was ironic. Now he was the father, listening to his sons. History was repeating itself. His father would have been busting a gut laughing right now, if he were still alive. Jeff tried studiously not to look at his mother as he remembered his own father's reaction to his own misdeed.

Jeff dropped his eyes. "I'm sorry, Sir," he said quietly. "I wanted to show off. I didn't think about the consequences of my actions." Jeff swallowed hard at the thought of the burned out, twisted hunk of metal that was now all that was left of the brand, spanking new car – his father's prize possession. He considered the situation some more, and came to a conclusion. He sighed. "Sir, please use my college money to replace it." He looked up seriously to meet his father's eyes. "I'll work until I have enough saved, and then I'll go to school."

For Jeff, this was the ultimate sacrifice. School was his dream, the beginning of the realization of his ambitions, the first step on the road. But he knew he needed to do this – as hard as it was, it was the right thing to do.

Josie covered her month. She couldn't believe what she heard coming from Jeff's mouth. She had thought this would be World War III. Two strong minded men who had done nothing but fight for the last year – it had been a battle zone in this house. Maybe, just maybe, Jeff was finally growing up. She could but hope. 'Grant, please, PLEASE, think before you speak.' She needn't have worried.

Grant closed his eyes for a moment, drawing in a deep breath. The he opened them, meeting the eyes of his son, and spoke different words than he'd originally planned. "Son, that car was important to me. But do you really think that anything is more important to me than you? What if you'd been hurt instead of that car? Or what about Jennie? You need to think about what that would have done to your mother and me, and to Jennie's family. You'll work alright – but to replace the car. You'll go to school as planned. That is far more important than any piece of metal. Summers you'll work for me until the car is replaced."

Jeff's eyes widened. "But Dad . . . that will take YEARS!" All his plans. Jeff gulped, then took a deep breath. Yes, he owed this to his father. "Yes, sir."

Grant finally smiled faintly. "Yes, son, it will take years. But, as I said, what is more important to me is you. You will know the consequences of your actions, and you will still get your education. You will be a better man because of it."

Jeff watched and listened to Gordon and Alan as they told their tale. Five sons were never easy, but Jeff still remembered his father's words as if they'd been spoken today. He could practically see the grin on his mother's face, and avoided looking at her in order to keep a straight face himself. He waited until Gordon and Alan had wound down, revising his thoughts as he focused again on things spoken to him by his father. When his own sons were finally silent, he looked at them a long while before he spoke.

"Boys, first off, you will replace the car for Virgil. That is a given. And not from your trust funds. You will pay for it from your salaries from IR. In addition, I will hire both of you to work directly with Brains in order to develop more equipment. Since both of you have excellent engineering backgrounds, although you both tend to ignore that fact most of the time, you can be of use. In your spare time, you'll be working for me in the office, trying to keep up on the paperwork for both IR and Tracy Enterprises. I can certainly use the help. This means you will be working double jobs for quite some time, but that will also serve to keep you out of trouble – which has obviously not been the case lately. We will work out a schedule of payments to be made directly to Virgil. He may replace the car with the money, or not – as he chooses. But you will definitely pay for it. And if he chooses to replace the car, you both will do the leg work with the dealership."

Virgil shifted as though to speak up, but Scott quickly stepped on his foot in order to shut him up. Scott didn't know what was going on, but he'd watched his father's expression carefully, and it had changed. Time to wait and listen. He had a feeling that their father would be surprising them once again. Virgil, ever in tune to Scott, shut his mouth before uttering any words.

Jeff continued, watching his subdued youngest sons. "In addition, you will both repair the damage done to Thunderbird Two to Virgil's specifications. No arguing, no whining, no complaining. Virgil will tell you when the work is satisfactory. Understood?"

Two nods confirmed a bleak understanding. Virgil was perfection personified and both boys knew it. Repairing TB2 to his specifications was going to be a long process.

Virgil hid a gleeful grin. He was going to milk that one for all it was worth.

Jeff looked at Gordon and Alan carefully before speaking again. "What bothers me the most about this whole situation, is not the blatant disregard of Virgil's wishes - although that is bad enough - but your complete disregard of the feelings of this family. You were in a serious accident. Both of you say that you're alright, and you look okay. But what if you weren't? How would Virgil feel if the two of you have been badly injured, or even killed in his car?"

Gordon and Alan both looked surprised, then thoughtful.

Virgil felt like a bucket of cold water had been thrown over him. His father was right. He may feel like throttling them now, but these were his brothers. One missing member would leave a very large hole in the fabric of this family. Two would be devastating.

"Virgil would never have known if it was carelessness, or a defect in his car. He wouldn't have known of the situations which had led up to the wreck. All he would have known is that you both had died in his car. Would you want him to have had to live with that?" Jeff continued sternly.

Gordon and Alan both felt like they'd been punched in the stomach.

"Was an afternoon's fun really worth what you two could have done to this family? The accident was deadly. The odds of survival were incredible. You both have been to enough rescues to understand what might have happened in that situation. The cliffs were unstable, and the rocks on that coastline are killers." Jeff paused, looking at both of his younger sons carefully.

"Dear God, then you both let Scott and Virgil come to the scene without any warning. Your brothers could have been peeling you off those the cliffs with God knows what kind of injuries without any warning what so ever. Did you possibly think about what they might have felt in that situation? What if you hadn't been fine? Of course they were both angry when they got in contact with you. They had a right to be. The selfishness you both showed is hard to believe."

Jeff shook his head and exhaled heavily. "Family is far more important than possessions. Haven't I taught you that? God knows, I've tried. I hope that working double jobs until the car is paid for gives you time to think about that. And hopefully, time to get over your selfishness and grow up. Do you understand?"

Two very downcast 'yes sirs' answered him. Looking at them, Jeff felt he'd gotten through to them, and that his words had hit their target A glance at Scott and Virgil showed him that they both had food for thought as well. But a look towards his mother showed approval on her face (as well as amusement), and as they shared, unspoken, the memory of the watershed event that had turned Jeff from a conceited, somewhat self-centered young man, into the father he was now.

'Thanks Dad' Jeff thought with a hidden smile, knowing his father was probably laughing up a storm at the irony of the whole situation.

Epilogue

Virgil landed at the private San Francisco airport where the Tracy Enterprises hanger was located. His father had given him the day off. Finally, his Ferrari was here. Jeff had told him after the original incident, that he would buy him the car immediately, and let the boys pay him if Virgil wanted it that way. There was no reason Virgil should have to be punished by the lack of his car because of his brother's actions.

Virgil had declined, having listened to his father's words as well, and taken them to heart. He felt the impact would be better felt if Gordon and Alan had to see the effects of their actions. Virgil had been pleased by his father's clear approval of his decision.

Things had been different around the island, that was for sure. Gordon and Alan had been too busy to get into trouble. They were either working, or sleeping. They didn't have time for anything else. They had also sobered up. Both had come separately to Virgil and Scott and apologized for both the car, and for not warning them about the accident, without any prompting from their father. Apparently, his words had taken root deep. Talking later, Virgil and Scott had agreed that although surprised by the direction their father had taken, the result was what they had both desired. Gordon and Alan were much more focused, and weren't causing anymore trouble.

But as much as Virgil had delighted in the outcome, he had to admit to himself, that life was pretty quiet around the island. Downright boring, as a matter of fact, if he was forced to concede the fact. Scott had said something to the effect as well. And Virgil missed the humor. With Gordon and Alan working so hard, it seemed that the older boys never seemed to let down. The 'Terrible Two' apparently had been the spark needed to get them to loosen up.

Shrugging, Virgil went with anticipation to the garage attached to the private hanger. He couldn't wait to see his car. As he opened the door, he grinned. It was as pretty as he remembered. Gleaming red, all sleek lines and thoroughbred elegance. Running his hand over the door, he admired the leather seats. Of course it would take awhile to get them broken in just right, like the old one, but that was all right. Bending to look inside, he realized with a start, that Gordon and Alan had upgraded the stereo and also, apparently the whole interior package with asking him. He grinned. They'd learned their lesson all right. Maybe they'd both really grown up – catching up in maturity to their age finally!

Another gleam caught his eye. He straighten up and looked in puzzlement. Another Ferrari was parked next to this one. It was black, with . . . . flames? Yep, subtle flames, all right, painted on the side. He moved over to look at it. He recognized Alan's handiwork in the customized Ferrari. Had to be. He'd seen enough restored cars that Alan had done. A flicker of suspicion hit him, and he popped the hood and looked at the VIN number.

"DAMMIT!" Virgil slammed the hood down in fury.

He was looking at his own, original wrecked (and restored) Ferrari. Now owned by Gordon and Alan, because of the brand new vehicle parked next to him. Virgil seethed in fury. He just was never going to win with those two. The Terrible Two were back.