For those of you who still have story notice for "Phoenix Rising," its sequel, "Sheltering Arms," is started on ff(dot)net.

Enjoy!

Meercat

TITLE: Sheltering Arms

AUTHOR: Meercat ()

SERIES: Thunderbirds

RATING: PG-13

CATEGORY: drama, angst

SYNOPSIS: TV-verse. Jeff Tracy suddenly finds himself a father again--times three. Will IR survive?

SPECIAL THANKS: A very special thanks to Sam Winchester, beta extreme!

Chapter 1

Dying Declaration

Tracy One landed at JFK International Airport at ten minutes to eight in the morning, Eastern time. No one outside of the control tower made note of its arrival. This was not surprising, considering the atmospheric conditions. Shrouded in pea-soup fog, the silver jet and its equally silver-haired pilot might as well have been the only moving things on the face of the planet.

Using instruments to overcome zero visibility, Jefferson Tracy taxied Tracy One through thick fog until he reached the corporate hanger. Once there, he concluded post-flight checks before exiting the craft. The billionaire head of Tracy Enterprises signaled the men on duty to refuel even as he turned to the motor pool area and examined his choice of vehicles.

With a private grin, he chose the Thunderbird Maxim--a pre-production model based off his son Alan's initial design--for the short trip to Tracy Towers. He tossed his briefcase and overnight bag onto the passenger seat, gave the mechanics a final wave, and left the hanger, headed for the airport exit and the main city arteries beyond.

Because of the fog that shrouded the new Throughway connecting the airport to the financial district of Manhattan Island, Jeff activated the car's automatic navigation. Leaving the instruments to maneuver him through the hazardous conditions, he sat back and triggered his telecom.

"Jeff Tracy to Thunderbird 5. Come in, Virgil."

The face of his auburn-haired, second-born son filled the round face of his watch. Jeff grinned--the sight of his boys in their blue International Rescue uniforms never failed to give him a kick of pride.

"Thunderbird 5, receiving you strength five, Father. How was the flight?"

"Smooth, as always. I've arrived in New York and am on my way to headquarters. The traffic on the Throughway is unexpectedly thick due to fog, but the auto-nav is working fine. Remind me to thank Brains for improving the program and the scanners' sensitivity. I should be at the office in around 30 minutes." His attention focused on the white sling that supported Virgil's right arm. "How are you feeling?"

The face on his watch grimaced. "I still don't see why I couldn't stay on the island. I could have manned the base as easily as any of the others. I'm not that fond of satellite duty, you know."

"I never would have guessed. Son, you're in no condition to respond to a rescue, so we need Alan to fly Thunderbird Two. If a major alert comes in that requires four men, well, John is quite capable. And physically able-bodied, something you currently are not. It's only for a few weeks, son, until that gash on your arm heals."

Virgil sighed and looked down. "I know, Father. I do understand, and if I were in your place, I'd probably have done the same thing."

Jeff looked out the vehicle window and watched the heavy metal support cables of the Frohman Bridge blink in and out of the heavy fog bank. The East River lay invisible beneath the soupy mist. Foghorns moaned continuously as unseen ships attempted to navigate the narrow, traffic-clogged channel.

He eyed the chrono on the car's dash. He was making faster time than expected. At this rate, he would be at the office within fifteen minutes.

"That doesn't help much, though, does it, son?"

Virgil snickered. "No, Father, it doesn't. But I'll survive."

Startled by the violent screech of tires and the unmistakable impact of metal against metal, Jeff Tracy threw up his arms to shield his face one second before another vehicle plowed into the passenger side of the Thunderbird Maxim. Its internal passive restraint system deployed, the Maxim spun in a circle, clipped another car, and took a second hard impact against its back fender. It came to rest against the cement border of the far right emergency lane.

The first thing Jeff Tracy heard beyond the horrible sounds of crashing cars, blaring horns, and screaming tires was his son's frantic voice.

"Father! Father, answer me, please! What's happening?"

"Ah! Ow. Virgil, there's been ... some kind of-" Jeff cringed as he heard three additional impacts. Screams of pain and cries for help rose from nearby vehicles. He coughed against the stench of spilled fuels, oils, and smoke. "-there's been a major accident. New York Throughway, on the Frohman Bridge!" The smoke thickened, forcing him to cough again. "Middle span, I think. There must be ... at least thirty cars, maybe more. Fog is too thick to see, but I'm hearing multiple collisions--chain reaction pile-up. Better get your brothers here, on the double."

(continued on Chapter 1 of "Sheltering Arms")