White Walls

White Walls

Summary: A first morning on Tracy Island.
Fandom: Thunderbirds Are GO! universe
Characters: Virgil, Jeff
Rating: K
Original publication date: March 20, 2021
Status: complete

Notes and disclaimer:  All Unwritten prompt #260, May 2008 – blank white walls. Pre-IR, before Jeff’s disappearance.

I didn’t create them; Gerry and Sylvia Anderson did. I don’t own them, ITV and Pukeko Pictures do. I’m just writing about them.

He woke to blank white walls and sunlight streaming in from somewhere above him. The skylight in his new room provided the only natural light it would get, considering the room was practically built into a mountainside.

He threw back his covers—the quilt Grandma Jennings had made him—and sat up. The air felt heavy with moisture even with the air conditioning. His phone chirruped as his alarm kicked in. He’d set it with the new timezone in mind and, as Dad had reminded him, gave himself plenty of time to sleep.

“It’ll take a while for your body to get accustomed to the new zone. The earlier you start, the better off you’ll be.”

He blew out a deep breath and headed for the en suite.

Even here there were no marks of personality. The towels were white, the tub was white, and the shower was covered in white subway tile. He rubbed the back of his head; this was going to be a bear to keep clean and free of mildew, especially considering the climate. He wondered if his father was going to hire more household staff — this place was too big for just one person to handle. Once they got up and running, there might not be time to clean the bathroom to Jeff Tracy’s standards.

At least he wouldn’t run out of hot water. Brains assured him the desalination plant could handle the volume of water they’d need after a rescue. The whole house was outfitted with the latest, high-end, energy-efficient, tankless water heaters; once the hot water started, it lasted the whole shower.

He stood out of the way as the water heated up to his liking. His toiletries sat in niches shower walls, just where he placed them last night. The familiar scents allowed him to ignore the newness of his life for a moment and he breathed deeply as he scrubbed. A fresh brush, bought before he’d moved, spread the body wash over his back, reaching places he couldn’t with just a hand. He made a mental note to add flexibility exercises to his workout. The new job would likely require it.

He sighed once again. Job. Not a career. Not his. Somehow, he still hadn’t translated this idea of his father’s to make it his own. A lot of uncertainty remained. Would these fantastic machines function as advertised? Could he deal with living with his brothers and father again after being on his own? He remembered how holidays made him feel; being in his family’s pockets for a week sometimes drove him nuts.

He turned off the shower and slid open the door, reaching for a fluffy white towel. After tousling his hair dry, he stared at the cloth in his hands. What happened to the melange of towels he’d grown up with, the eclectic group of different sizes and colors that had populated the linen closet on the farm and even in the house Dad had built nearby? Was everything going to be as colorless as this?

Shaking his head, he finished drying off, wrapping the generously-sized towel around his waist and heading back into the bedroom. His clothes were still in boxes or suitcases and he made a note that putting them away was a priority for the day. He opened a suitcase and selected his clothes. Nothing here was suitable for the tropics but they would work for inside the air-conditioned house.

Dressed for the day, he passed through his little sitting-room. Well, it was little compared to the bedroom. It had a skylight, too, still showing blue sky. The amount of light felt somehow wrong for the time of day. Even as a child, he’d felt the same way when they’d moved from place to place: from Florida’s Cape Canaveral to Kansas and beyond. The walls were white in here, too, and his belongings were still boxed up. He shook his head; there was a lot to do to make the suite livable.

The door slid open at the touch of a button. He’d decided he didn’t want it on motion sensor, at least for now. Once they were up and running, then he’d need it. He could see himself falling into bed, too exhausted to even change clothes. Yeah, then he’d want the door to open automatically.

Stepping out, his gaze was drawn to the huge vista of greenery and sea before him. The windows that extended up and over the catwalk he stood on made the skylights in his rooms seem tiny. He felt as if he was flying while standing still. The sight made his fingers itch for a paintbrush and canvas.

“Hello, son!”

He stepped up to the railing. His father beamed up at him from two stories down, standing among the bits of his still discombobulated desk.

“Good morning, Dad,”

“And good morning to you! Did you sleep well?”

Virgil nodded. “As well as I could considering the time change and all.” He headed for the stairs to the lounge level. “Where is everyone?”

“Scott and John have gone for a run. Brains is in his lab, tinkering with that new robot of his. Kyrano is off to pick up Gordon; they’re due to arrive later today. Alan, of course, is still in Kansas, with my folks.” Jeff paused. “Kyrano’s daughter, Tanusha, will be coming with Gordon. ”

“I look forward to meeting her.” Virgil stepped down to the lounge level. “Any way I can get some coffee and breakfast around here?”

“Didn’t I show you where the kitchen was? I’m sure you can figure out the autochef and coffee maker.” Jeff grinned. “You could bring me a cup, too.”

“Okay, Dad. Let’s see if I remember how you take it.” Virgil smiled back and winked before turning and heading down to the kitchen.

“Extra cream and two sugars!” Jeff called after him.

Virgil paused on a step, turning to look at his father with a grin. “I remembered, Dad. When I come back, we can discuss painting our quarters. All that white is going to drive me nuts!”

Jeff nodded. “Good idea. You all can paint those rooms whatever color you like, as long as it isn’t black.”

Virgil chuckled. “John may have something to say about that!” He turned away, giving his father a quick wave as he hurried down to have some breakfast.

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