Echoes

"Scott?" Jeff asked from where he sat in the sick room. "What's this all about?"

It was the second of January. Jeff had made a good deal of progress over New Year's day. Brains removed both the catheter and the IV and helped the older man to get out of bed and walk around for a few painful minutes. Jeff was allowed to shed the hospital gown and put on his regular pajamas. His periods of consciousness increased in number and in length, and he enjoyed a long, natural sleep overnight. The nausea caused by the concussion had largely passed, and Jeff had quickly progressed from clear fluids to bland, soft solids and expected to eat more normal fare later on in the day. Now, he was sitting almost upright, and reading a novel that he hadn't had time for but had wanted to read.

Scott led his brothers into the sick room, grinning from ear to ear. Kyrano came in behind them, carrying something on a tray. Grandma came in and went to stand by Jeff, while Brains and Tin-Tin brought up the rear.

"Surprise!" they all cried. "Happy Birthday!" The group of young men parted, revealing the contents of the tray: an elaborately decorated birthday cake.

"Didn't want you to think we'd forgotten your birthday, Jeff. Turning sixty is a big milestone," Grandma said to him, winking at him and then kissing him on the cheek. He returned the kiss, smiling slightly, then watched as Kyrano cut the cake and distributed it. The group did not sing to him. Don't want to make me nauseous again, he thought, smiling.

Kyrano cut a small piece of cake for him. "I know that you have not had solid food yet, Mr. Tracy, so we will start with just a little," the retainer explained with a grin. Scott had brought in some champagne, and was distributing it to the family members.

"S-Sorry, Mr.Tracy, no, uh, champagne for you," Brains said apologetically. "It will reduce the effectiveness of your, uh, painkiller." He poured some ginger ale into a champagne flute and handed it to Jeff, who looked at it with a dubious eye.

Scott raised his glass.

"To Dad on his sixtieth birthday. May the next sixty years be as wild a ride as the first!"

The others echoed, "To Dad" or "To Mr. Tracy" and proceeded to sip the bubbly wine. Jeff drained his glass of soft drink, and took up a forkful of cake. It was marble cake, his favorite.

"Now for the presents!" Gordon said enthusiastically. "As usual, Dad, you were hard to buy for. After all, what do you get the man who has everything?" The group chuckled at his comment; even Jeff let out a careful snicker.

"Well, we tried to come up with some unusual items, and I think we've succeeded in getting gifts to signify this momentous occasion," Gordon continued. "Here's mine." He handed Jeff a large flat box, gaily decorated with brightly colored fish.

Jeff tore away the paper and carefully opened the package. Inside was a large frame. He turned it over.

"Marvelous, Gordon! You took these yourself?"

The frame was a collage frame of heavy, elegant teakwood. Each frame-within-a-frame had a photograph of the artificial reef with its bright corals and the colorful fish that swam around it. There was even a photo taken at night with some unusual creatures floating past the reef. And there was a picture of Jeff in his scuba gear, looking a sea turtle in the face.

"Yeah, Dad. I took the pictures on our dive and developed them myself. It's just a memento of the occasion," Gordon told him. "I hope you like it."

"I do, Gordon. You've got a lot of skill with those cameras, and in the darkroom it seems."

.........darkness, no sight, no touch, no sound but my own panicked breathing..........

"Dad?" Scott asked, bringing Jeff back from the place he had fallen into.

Jeff breathed deeply. "Yes, Scott?"

"Are you okay?" No one could have missed the sudden paling of Jeff's face.

Jeff smiled to put the others at ease. "Yes, Scott, I'm fine. Just a twinge."

"Okay, Dad. If you say so," Scott answered skeptically. His face cleared, then he brought forth his own offering with a grin.

"Virgil said that you could use these." He handed Jeff two boxes.

Jeff opened one box to find a new pair of climbing shoes. The other box contained a short-sleeved shirt and matching shorts, both designed especially for climbing.

"Thank you, Scott! Now I won't have to borrow your gear if I take on the cliff face again," Jeff exclaimed.

"Yeah, Dad. Virge said that your sleeveless t-shirt and bike shorts blew him away!" Alan quipped.

"I guess now I'll look the part, eh, Alan?" Jeff said with a grin, looking Scott in the face. "Thank you, Scott. I appreciate the gift."

........standing toe-to-toe, looking into angry blue eyes, shouting about his decision.........

"Dad?" Virgil's voice called him back this time. Jeff gave his head a little shake.

"Another tw-twinge, Mr. Tracy?" Brains asked, frowning.

Jeff smiled again. "It's nothing." He looked around at the group. "Who's next?"

Before anyone else could step forward, Virgil held out a small package. He drew in a deep breath before speaking.

"I've wanted to give you this for a long time, Dad. But until this year, until you gave us pictures of Mom, I knew I couldn't. Now is the time, the right time." Virgil said quietly.

Jeff unwrapped the thin square. Inside was a disk recording, made professionally, but Jeff realized it was probably one of a kind. On the label it said simply: Lucille Tracy's Favorite Songs. Played by Virgil Grissom Tracy.

Jeff swallowed, fighting back the mistiness in his eyes. He paused a long moment before saying anything, willing his voice to not waver. Finally he told Virgil, "Thank you, son. I will listen to this and cherish it."

........the tense, harsh voice getting his attention, making him look at his artistic son differently, the terse replies to his radio calls........

"Jeff? Son?" Grandma looked into the paling face as Jeff took in a sharp breath. "What's the matter?"

Jeff closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then sat up straight.

"I think I'm getting a headache, Mother," he prevaricated. The members of the little group looked at each other, concerned.

"Perhaps we should finish this later, Mr. Tracy," Tin-Tin suggested softly.

Jeff shook his head. "No, I'll be okay. We can continue." He gave them a wan smile. "Who's next?"

John and Alan stepped up together with a large box. "We both worked on this, Dad, with Tin-Tin's help. It wasn't easy to track down some of the elements, but... well... we hope you like it," John said softly.

Taking the box onto his lap, Jeff opened it. Inside was a black leather bomber jacket. He held out the jacket, admiring its stylishness. Then he noticed the patches. Not just any patches, but the insignia of a number of space programs and vessels. Apollo. Gemini. Shuttle Endeavor. And placed prominently over the left breast was the insignia of Mission Lunar Return. The Mission. His Mission. He was speechless.

........grabbing Gordon and pulling him onto the passenger elevator, the look of shock and bewilderment on John's face........

........the concern, the seriousness in Alan's eyes as they left the safe confines of Thunderbird Three to go who knew where into who knew what........

He bent forward. His face drained of color.

"Oh, God."

A searing pain in his side sent him back against the bed, clutching his head with his one good hand.

........the red flash........

........flying through the with the big stalactite........

........the pain of impact on his side... his arm... his head within the helmet........

........the world going from red.... to gray.... to black........

He groaned, closing his eyes, arching his neck and back against the bed. Alarmed, the family moved closer to him, Scott bringing Brains up to where he had access to Jeff.

"What's wrong, Mr. Tracy?" Brains asked in a sharp tone calculated to get Jeff's attention.

"Oh, God, no. No!"

Brains did the unthinkable. He reached out and slapped Jeff. "Mr. Tracy!" he bellowed.

The shock of the slap and the voice brought Jeff to his senses. He looked around wildly at his family and friends standing near the bed, a variety of expressions from shock to pain to sympathy on their faces. He shook his head.

"Oh, God. Brains, Scott!" His voice was full of pain.

"What is it, Dad? What's the matter?" Scott pressed earnestly, anxiously.

"I.... remember!"