The World Goes 'Round

Scott came up behind Jeff, a mug of hot coffee in each hand.

"Here, Dad."

Jeff turned and gave Scott a small, weary smile. He took the proffered cup in his free hand.

"Thanks, son."

"You're welcome, Dad."

Jeff turned back to the windows in the lounge. He was dressed in a short- sleeved button down shirt and casual slacks, looking comfortable and business-like at the same time. His arm was still in a sling, and there were still light bandages beneath the shirt, supporting his ribs. But the concussion was healing, and now, three weeks later, Brains had let him out of the sick room. Jeff was admonished that he was to rest whenever a headache threatened and he had been warned that he was on light duty with Tracy Industries. Brains also made it very clear that Jeff was banned from any participation in rescues for the next month. Even directing from the desk was forbidden.

"Too much s-stress," was the reason given.

Sipping the hot beverage, he stared out the windows, spattered now with the occasional raindrop as the island was soaked with a warm, windy rainstorm. Scott stood with him, quietly enjoying the stormy weather from his dry perspective.

"How's John doing?" Jeff asked, not turning his head.

"Great! Jeannette hasn't had half the trouble she thought she would with you out of commission. John has taken on the workload and is keeping up with it. Things are running smoothly at corporate." Scott answered.

"Good." Jeff responded.

It had been difficult to come up with a plausible explanation for Jeff's injuries that could be released to the personnel at Tracy Industries. Finally, Gordon came up with a believable plane crash scenario and that was the story circulated company-wide. It was also the story given to the media when they got wind of Jeff's incapacitation. Several requests for interviews were turned down, and the family had to be quick to keep overly zealous reporters from landing on the island, trying to get an exclusive. The problem was greatly reduced when the Tracy family lawyers began filing "home invasion" suits against the parent companies for which the reporters worked.

With John in New York, and Jeff unable to participate in rescues, Tin-Tin went up to Thunderbird 5, much to Alan's dismay. Her tasks while there included trying to find a good way to automate the satellite. Brains brought Braman back to earth so he could tinker with his tin man, the goal being that perhaps a more sophisticated software program would make it possible for Braman to run the space station and relay messages to the Island. Then all of the Tracy sons would be on Earth and available for rescues.

Cross training was continuing, with the simulator reset for Thunderbird Two. Virgil was nervous as a cat watching his younger siblings, and, indeed, his older brother, "fly" his baby. Many of the "mistakes" they made, especially Gordon's, were done solely to annoy and tease Virgil.

Even in the midst of the good things going on, of the plans that Jeff had outlined becoming reality, Scott was aware of a feeling of melancholy in his father. Jeff wasn't smiling as much as he had before, nor was he taking even a cursory interest in what was going on around the Villa. It was so unlike his father that Scott had to wonder if perhaps he had become depressed in the aftermath of the disastrous rescue on the moon.

"Seems like Lady Luna got back some of her own," Jeff said softly, more to himself than anyone else.

"How so, Dad?" Scott queried. Jeff started as if he'd forgotten Scott was there. He sighed.

"I told you she was a harsh mistress, and that my love for your mother and you and your brothers led me away from her. Which was as it should have been. But she nearly took my life when I finally returned to her." Jeff sipped his coffee again. "Avenging herself on the lover who spurned her." He turned toward his son with a rueful smile. "Sounds pretty silly, doesn't it, Scott?"

"Fanciful, perhaps. But not silly." Scott commented. "Kind of like... the sea. All those stories about men who love the sea like a mistress. Though I'm sure Gordon knows a lot more about those stories than I do."

"Hmmm. Maybe he does." Jeff turned back toward the windows. "Well," he continued in a heartier voice, "I won't be going back again. And this," he indicated the sling, "won't happen again either. No more rescues for me."

Scott was shocked and pleased at the same time. But he let just the shock through as he asked, "Why not?"

Jeff looked down at his feet briefly, shuffling them as he considered the question. "I can't cut it, Scott. I'm too old. I know that now." He gazed out at the rain and wind. "I didn't want to get old, didn't want to feel old. But I did, and I do. Even the rescues didn't make me feel... young again. Not like I felt when I was young, and everything was new and exciting."

Yes! He's admitting it! "Is that what you were looking for, Dad? The excitement and feelings you had when you were young?" Scott asked quietly.

Jeff was silent for a long moment. Then he nodded. And sighed. "Yes, Scott. I wanted to feel young again. Wanted to experience the adrenaline rush that I remember from my first trip to the moon. All those reasons I gave, they were just cover-up for the reality. And in the end, there wasn't any rush. Just pain." Jeff's voice dropped to a whisper. "Just a lot of pain."

The two men stood without talking; Scott, unsure what to say next, and Jeff lost in his own thoughts, brooding.

"So, Dad. What does this all mean? What are you going to do? How will this affect your plans for Tracy Industries and for International Rescue?" Scott finally questioned. "Because, whether you meant them as cover for your real purpose or not, they are still good plans. Still necessary plans, to my thinking."

Jeff shrugged. "I don't know, Scott. I suppose we'll continue with them. Continue with the cross training and the time at corporate headquarters. Continue rotating who is at the desk during a rescue. Continue looking for a way to automate Thunderbird Five. Because with me not going out on rescues, you'll need every man available. It will be tough on everyone when people take their vacations, but those will have to be factored into the scheduling as well. I'm not taking those gifts away from any of you. We'll probably have to start looking outside the family for help, too. Not the best scenario, but the only one I can see."

"And what about you, Dad? Where do you fit in with these plans for the future?" Scott wanted to know. He watched his father's face intently.

Jeff lowered his eyes and his head. "I don't think I do fit in, Scott. You and your brothers need to take over the reins, and take them now, before you really have to. I'm ready to step back and let you boys... you men... run the show." He drained his coffee mug, not looking at Scott.

"Oh no, you don't," Scott growled. He stepped over to his father and turned him around so he could look the older man in the eye. "You're not stepping down just yet. You want us to take the reins, fine, we will. When we are ready. And we are not ready. Not by a long shot." He took hold of his father's upper arms and gave him a little shake. Jeff looked at him in surprise.

"You may not be cut out to go on rescues; I won't argue with you there. But you're also not a useless old man either. We have a lot to learn about the ins and outs of our family businesses, both the overt and the covert, and you are the only one who can teach us. The only one."

Scott stuck his finger in his father's face and shook it. "So don't you go around thinking that you're all wrung out and through with life. No sir! You've got a lot of good years left, teaching us, and perhaps one day even teaching our children what a privilege it is to be part of these dreams of yours." He stood back and folded his arms, looking at his father stubbornly. "And if you don't believe me, ask Grandma. She'll tell you the same thing. Hell, she'll show you! Age hasn't slowed her down any!"

Jeff just stared at Scott, dumbfounded. Then he began to chuckle.

"You looked and sounded just like your grandmother right then, Scott. Are you sure she didn't put you up to this?"

Scott blinked repeatedly. Then he began to laugh.

"I guess I must have," he agreed. "But, no, Dad. She didn't put me up to this. I'm just tired of seeing you moping and brooding and generally acting like you're useless. You need to take this down time to rest and recuperate and gradually get back into doing what you do best. Leading us and teaching us."

Jeff sighed, and then smiled wryly. "You're right, Scott. I'll try to be patient with my recovery. And I'll remember what you said about not being useless. It's hard to sit still sometimes; you end up feeling like everyone is passing you by."

"But when you're fully recovered, Dad, you'll be out there running with the best of them," Scott assured him. He put a hand on Jeff's shoulder and squeezed it, then moved his hand and arm around his father's back in a conspiratorial manner.

"Now, if you want to take Thunderbird Three on the run up to Thunderbird Five again some time, I wouldn't be against it. There are times I hate being John and Alan's chauffeur."

"I'll keep that in mind, Scott. I'll keep that in mind."