Understated Emotions

"So," Jeff asked. "What's the verdict?" He folded his arms, leaning back against the stainless steel counter in the sick room lab as Dr. Hatoshi, the local doctor, washed her hands after her examination of Brains. The lanky engineer came out of the examining room, his neck surrounded by a soft cervical collar.

"Brains can tell you," the doctor said. "Technically, I'm not allowed to."

"Nothing is fr-fractured," Brains said firmly. "I th-think the n-neck pain is a sp-sprain."

Dr. Hatoshi gave the engineer a sharp look. "I disagree. True, nothing is broken, but I gave you my official diagnosis and I did not use the word, 'sprain'."

"Care to tell me what the diagnosis was?" Jeff asked, turning to Brains.

Brains frowned at her. "M-Mild whiplash," he muttered. "And a b-bruised humerus."

Dr. Hatoshi was the family's main medical consultant; when someone was hurt and didn't need immediate attention at the rescue site, she was the one the Tracys turned to. If there was treatment on site that didn't require hospitalization – as in Gordon's case – then Jeff would let Brains oversee the patient's recovery at home. However, if recovery wasn't proceeding well, or when the injured party was Brains himself, Jeff insisted on a formal visit from the licensed physician. It meant sometimes getting creative with explanations for the various injuries they had, but living on a tropical island did have its share of dangers, and those usually were enough to produce a credible scenario.

Jeff sometimes wondered if he should confide in the doctor, perhaps make her an agent. As their physician, she would have to keep everything confidential, but he could also see where she might find it difficult to reconcile his need for secrecy with hers for honest speaking and accurate record keeping. Not only that, she would most likely disapprove of the fact that his children were the ones pulling the freight in IR – especially in regards to Alan. It was an argument he wanted to avoid entirely. There was also her own personal safety to consider. If there was one thing that their last encounter with the Hood had taught Jeff, it was that none of them were truly safe, not even those on the periphery. In the final analysis, it was better that she be kept in the dark, and safe, and let the lies come from his end.

"I've downloaded the scans to my office," she said as she packed up her doctor's bag. "I may have a radiologist look at them, too."

"There's n-nothing b-broken..." Brains began.

She held up a hand. "It's just a precaution, Hiram." She came up to him and stuck a warning finger into his face. "Now, make sure you do something about that bathtub! Put a non-slip surface on the bottom, or maybe a mat. I don't care what you do, just make it less dangerous!"

Jeff turned his chuckle into a discreet cough; the difference in height between Brains and the petite doctor was amusing, though it didn't make her any less imposing.

"You are to take it easy, wear the collar for the next week, and use that painkiller I prescribed," she went on. She glanced over at Jeff. "You heard me, Jeff. Light duty, collar... and fix the tub."

Jeff held up his hands in surrender. "Yes, ma'am," he said with a nod and a grin.

She turned back to Brains. "I haven't heard the same from you."

Brains frowned again, looking stubborn, and making Jeff think, I do believe he's pouting! Then the injured man quickly stuttered, "Y-Yes, ma'am."

"Good." Dr. Hatoshi smiled. "I like it when my patients cooperate." She picked up her bag and slung it over her shoulder. She shook hands with Brains, and with Jeff.

"I'll walk you to your plane," Jeff offered.

"Thank you," she said with a gracious nod.

"I'm g-going to c-call F-F-F... my son," Brains muttered.

"Tell him 'hello' for me," she requested as Jeff ushered her from the sick room.

Brains sighed, and went off to find his phone. He reflexively tried sticking a finger into the cervical collar to loosen it. This fits tighter than my uniform.

By the time the boys returned to Wharton, it was getting late, and nearing curfew. Alan made arrangements to meet with Fermat the next day to do their math homework before Mr. Trumbull dropped him off in front of Birchwood. The chauffeured car stayed in place long enough to ensure that Alan made it safely into the building before moving on to Maplewood.

Before they left the campus, Mr. Trumbull had made his driver stop by the administration building to tell the staff of his decision to leave Andrew for another week. As he went in, he graciously held the door open for a woman and young man who were leaving – a young man that Fermat recognized.

"Th-That's Atif!" he told his companions. "He's on the qu-quiz team."

"Not anymore from the look of things," Alan said quietly.

"H-He did say his m-mother would probably pull him from the school," Fermat said, nodding.

As the pair walked by the car, Fermat started to lower the window, then thought better of it and stepped out instead. "Hi, Atif," he said.

"Oh, hello, Hackenbacker," Atif replied, stopping for a moment. He didn't look so much sad as resigned when he glanced at his mother. He made a motion with his hands toward Fermat. "Mother? This is Fermat Hackenbacker. He is on the academic quiz team. Fermat, my mother, Sarit El Helou."

Atif's mother held out a graceful hand. "It is a pleasure to meet one of my son's teammates," she said, her English accent impeccable.

"N-Nice to m-meet you, too, ma'am," Fermat responded, taking her hand and shaking it gently. He turned to Atif. "Does this mean y-you're leaving?"

"Yes," Atif said, nodding. "I am leaving, just as I said would happen." He looked at his mother again, who smiled slightly. "My mother could not abide my staying at a place where security is obviously so lax." He indicated the formal car with its tinted windows and the obvious driver. "And you? Are you leaving?"

Fermat shook his head. "No, my f-father says it's o-okay for me to stay, as long as I'm c-c-careful. Right now, my r-roommate's f-father is taking us to d-dinner."

"Then I will not keep you," Atif said. He held out his own hand and said formally, "It was good to know you, even for a short time."

"Likewise," Fermat said as they shook hands. "I h-hope that p-perhaps we'll m-meet again."

"Anything is possible," Atif's mother said quietly. She put a hand on her son's back. "We must go now."

Atif gave Fermat a small wave, which was returned, and he and his mother walked off towards the parking area. Fermat climbed back into the car, and they were joined a moment or two later by Mr. Trumbull.

"Well, that's settled," the man said, satisfaction in his tone. "Now where should we go for dinner?"

They chose the local franchise of a mid-priced restaurant chain as neither Alan nor Fermat were dressed for a fancier eatery. At the restaurant, when Fermat and A.J. had gone off on a postprandial restroom run, Alan took the opportunity to ask, "Does Andrew know about...?"

Mr. Trumbull shook his head and answered before Alan could finish. "No. I never told him that I worked for your father at all, but now that he knows I do, I'll be limiting that knowledge to my dealings with your father's more visible enterprises." He shrugged a bit. "Not that I'm allowed to tell him much anyway; client privilege and all that." There was a pause, then he asked, "Does Fermat know?"

The question took Alan by surprise; he never thought there'd be any doubt of Fermat's position. "Uh, yeah. He does." He smiled, spreading out his palms with a little shrugging motion of his own. "Kinda hard not to seeing as he lives on the island with us."

"Ah, I see. I wasn't sure if Fermat lived with his father or not," Mr. Trumbull said. His voice dropped as he gazed off in the direction of the restrooms. "Here they come."

Again, Alan was surprised by Mr. Trumbull's statement. It had never occurred to him that Fermat would, or even could, live anywhere else. He regarded the man with a slightly troubled expression, one which he dropped when Fermat asked, "Are you o-okay, Alan?"

"Oh! Yeah," Alan said, nodding and smiling at his friend as Fermat and A.J. sat down at the table again. "I'm fine."

"Who's up for dessert?" Mr. Trumbull asked jovially, and the meal went on from there.

Now Alan buzzed his own door, remembering that Dom's folks could still be visiting. He heard a shouted, "Come in!" from his roommate and entered the room.

"You didn't have to buzz," Dom said, a look of mild surprise on his face.

"Didn't know if your folks were still here," Alan explained. "Didn't want to interrupt anything."

"Ah, okay," Dom said, understanding. "They're still in town, but have gone to their hotel for the night. They'll pick me up so we can go to Mass together in the morning and are planning on heading home after lunch."

Alan was slightly confused by the mention of Mass; belatedly he remembered that it was what Catholics called their worship services. "Huh. I didn't know you were Catholic," he said as he hung up his jacket.

"Yeah, we are," Dom replied, nodding. "And just to let you know, I get up early on Sundays for Mass as a regular habit. The local parish sends a van over to pick up those few of us who are willing to go." He sat down at his desk, then looked up at Alan, a questioning expression on his face. "Do you go to church?"

The question made Alan stop for a moment. "No, I don't. We don't." He shrugged, then smiled. "Kinda hard to get to church when you live on an island."

"I remember you said you lived in the tropics, but... on an island?" Dom sounded surprised.

"Yeah, in the South Pacific. Nice place, but hard to get to the corner grocery," Alan replied with a wry chuckle.

"Sounds... exotic," Dom said, thinking hard to choose the most appropriate of the many adjectives that popped into his head.

That made Alan's chuckle into a full-grown guffaw. "Yeah, that's one way to put it. Exotic."

The sounds of "Powerhouse" filled the air when Fermat, A.J., and Mr. Trumbull walked into the dorm room. "It's m-my dad," Fermat explained, hurrying over to his desk to pick up his phone. "I'll b-be back soon." He was out the door again before either of the Trumbulls could make a comment or protest. He flipped open the phone as he hustled down the hall, heading for the same quiet spot where he'd talked with Alan before.

"D-Dad?" he said, putting the phone to his ear. "H-Hold on. I'm finding a more p-private place so we can t-talk freely."

"O-Okay, son," Brains said. The sound of his father's voice, as tired as it was, made Fermat swallow hard, and he picked up the pace a little. Still, when he came to the stairwell door, he opened it quietly.

No sense in advertising that anyone's in here, he reasoned as he shut it gently. Then he mounted the single flight to the empty landing and slid down, back to the wall, to sit on the warm wooden floor. He pulled out his earphone and plugged it in. "H-Hey, Dad."

"Are you r-r-ready to talk now?" Brains asked, sounding and looking concerned.

"Y-Yeah. I am, but I d-don't have long," Fermat responded. He frowned a bit. "Wh-What's that on your neck?"

"It's a c-c-c-c... neck brace," his father replied, rolling his eyes a bit. "I, uh, i-i-i-i... hurt myself."

"F-Falling into the t-train?"

There was a pause as Brains just looked at his son, blinking in shock. "Y-Y-You know?" When Fermat solemnly nodded, he asked, amazed, "H-How?"

"I s-saw it on the vid." The feeling of helplessness and anguish he'd experienced when he saw his father's fall threatened to overwhelm him again, and he swallowed hard to control himself. He's okay. He's alive. He's okay. He kept repeating it to himself like a mantra.

"Son, I had n-no idea!" Brains's very real alarm at his son's admission was two-fold. First was that his rescue action was caught on video for the world to see when, by rights, it should not have been, and second – but of far greater importance – was that his son had seen what happened, including his ungraceful tumble into the train.

"What h-h-h... what went on?" Fermat asked.

Brains paused for a moment and gathered his thoughts. "Well, I h-had to get aboard the t-train to reboot the c-computer, making it capable of slowing so we could bring it to a st-st-st... halt. I climbed out of Thunderbird One, w-wearing a harness and line, but s-somehow, a stray g-gust threw me off-b-balance and I f-fell in. I bumped my h-head on the edge of the hatch, but the line st-stopped me from tumbling all the w-way in. Unfortunately, it snapped, and I f-fell to the floor, banging up my humerus on the way d-down. I was a bit st-st-st... disoriented, but an employee helped me up. My helmet c-comm was out, so he lent me his ph-phone so I could call the railroad c-control and they let S-Scott know I was o-o-o... all right. Then, I d-did my job and w-we stopped the t-train."

"You m-mean you stopped the t-train," Fermat corrected.

Brains gingerly shook his head. "N-No, son. It was a t-team effort. Scott and me... and you, F-Fermat."

Fermat ducked down, hiding his quick, pleased smile. Then he glanced up again. His smiled faded and he briefly looked away from the picture of his father. "I... I was so sc-scared , Dad. I th-thought... I thought I'd lost you. It was like m-my world ended." He sounded like a frightened boy again, needing reassurance.

Brains felt a tug at his heart, the same kind of tug he'd felt when he had comforted Fermat after a nightmare. He realized, not for the first time, that as grown up as his son so often sounded, Fermat was, in many ways, still a child.

"I know how that f-feels, son. I r-really do," he said softly. "When the H-Hood and his g-gang took over the island, and M-Mullion told Tr-Transom to start Thunderbird One's e-engines, I thought for sure I'd l-lost you. I knew there was n-no way you c-could survive that." He smiled. "But you did - you and Alan and T-Tin-Tin. And you defeated the Hood, saving I-International R-Rescue."

Fermat sniffed, and sniffed again, and blinked heavily. "No, Dad," he said, his voice thick. "It was a t-team effort. Me and Alan and Tin-Tin and you and Lady Penelope and P-Parker... it was a real t-team effort." He sniffed again, and swallowed, clearing his voice, and slipped off his glasses to wipe the back of his hand over his eyes. "I'm glad you u-understand."

"I d-do, son. I really do."

There was a pause as Fermat replaced his lenses, then he asked, in a much lighter and more jovial tone, "S-So, what did Dr. Hatoshi say?"

"You, young man, are sometimes t-too smart for your own g-good," Brains replied, shaking a finger at Fermat. It loomed large in the view screen. Fermat laughed, and Brains chuckled, then sighed heavily. "Mild wh-whiplash and a b-bruised humerus. I'm on p-painkillers, light d-duty, and I have to wear this d-d-d... blasted collar for a w-week."

"That's better than me, Dad." Fermat held up his arm in its cast. The blue covering took over Brains's screen for a moment. "I've g-got four more w-weeks of this, and it itches like h-h-h... crazy! At least you c-can take the collar off to sh-shower. And I st-still have to take c-classes. No 'light d-duty' for me."

"Oh, right! No sympathy for the o-old man," Brains retorted facetiously. "You k-kids don't know how g-good you've g-got it..."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Fermat replied, grinning. "W-Walking uphill to school in a b-blizzard..."

"Both w-ways!" they said in unison. Fermat's laughter rang through the stairwell, and as a result, he almost missed the warning for lights out. Almost, but not quite.

"G-Gotta go, Dad," he said. "Almost t-time for lights out. I'll see you F-Friday?"

"M-More like sometime Thursday," Brains corrected. "We're l-leaving Friday but you kn-know how it is."

"Yeah, f-flying into yesterday," Fermat said, nodding. He paused, then smiled at his father. "Love you, Dad."

"I love you, t-too, son. See you s-soon."

"Bye."

The call ended, and Fermat groaned as he levered himself from the floor. He stepped lively down the stairs, and hurried once inside his hall. It was noisy, the noise of last minute preparations and partings before bedtime. He waved to a couple of people he knew, and finally entered his room. A.J. was already in bed, reading.

"Good phone call?" the younger boy asked.

"Yeah. Really g-good," was Fermat's reply.

"Uh, J-Jeff?" Brains poked his head into Jeff's office, and Jeff waved him inside. "I, uh, f-found something out about the last r-r-r-rescue."

"The vid?" Jeff asked, eyes glued to his computer screen.

"Y-Yeah," Brains confirmed. "Uh, F-Fermat saw it."

Jeff looked up sharply. "He did? Live?"

Brains's answer included a sort of nod and a halfway shrug. "So it s-seems."

"God! Poor kid! No wonder why he was calling, sounding so frantic. He couldn't get hold of you..." Jeff shook his head. "Have you talked to him? Is he okay?"

"Y-Yeah, I just g-got off the phone with him." Brains settled down into a chair. "He'll b-be okay. I guess it was pretty tr-traumatic."

"I'm watching it now," Jeff said, motioning for Brains to come closer and turning up the volume on the commentary. Before Brains could get there, he winced, and drew in a sharp, hissing breath. "Ouch! That must have hurt!" He glanced up at his engineer. "No wonder why you've got whiplash! Never mind light duty, I'm taking you off duty for the next three days after watching that!"

"W-Watching wh-what?" Brains gave his employer a sharp, irritated look of his own.

Jeff glanced up to see Brains leaning over the desk, and got up. "Sit here," he commanded. "You don't need to be leaning over me with your neck like that." He reached for his mouse and stopped the vid, then stepped it back several frames to just before Brains's ungainly accident. "There. See!"

Brains took in a deep breath of his own. "Y-Yeah. I see. I understand." He turned both the chair and his body to one side, trying to look at Jeff without moving his head and neck. "How'd they g-get this?"

"I don't know, but Penny sent it to me as soon as she viewed the download from our Cape Town agent." Jeff's eyes shifted to a smaller box in the upper corner of the computer screen. "Penny? Any word?"

"None, Jeff. I'm still making calls and trying to track down the photographer. It may be difficult to do until after six." Lady Penelope's face, lovely despite the early morning hour in England, appeared in the frame and the box enlarged to take up a quarter of the screen. "Oh, Brains! Please forgive me; I didn't see you there. How are you?"

"I'm f-f-f... okay, Lady Penelope," Brains said, a self-deprecating smile coming to his face. He gestured vaguely in the direction of his neck. "It doesn't h-hurt... much."

"You most certainly look better than I expected after seeing that recording of your fall," Penelope said with a kind smile. "That was quite a frightening moment."

"Y-Yes, it, uh, was rather fr-fr-fr... scary," Brains admitted. His eyes narrowed as he looked again at the picture. "Jeff, I'm s-sure that Scott d-deployed the c-camera fogger; in f-fact, I know he did." Brains shifted again to look at Jeff, and winced as his movement caused a twinge in his admittedly aching neck. "Could the f-fogger be, uh, malfunctioning in s-some way?" He tried to rise. "I think I'd b-better go ch-ch-ch... find out."

Jeff put a firm hand on Brains's shoulder. "As I said before, you're now off duty. Besides, the boys are already in the silo, testing the fogger. But I'm glad to have confirmation on Scott's actions. He was sure he'd switched it on, too."

Penny coughed delicately. "Jeff, perhaps Brains could do some research into new methods of photography, see if there is new equipment, perhaps even new techniques available for which we are unprepared." She smiled again. "It would keep him from going stir crazy."

Jeff glanced at his head scientist. "Not today, Penny, and probably not tomorrow either." Before Brains could protest, he put up a hand. "You need the rest, Brains, and the time to heal. You'll want to be at your best when we visit the boys later this week."

"You're going to visit the boys?" Penny asked, interested. "Is there a special occasion?"

Jeff smiled. "Alan's first track meet, and Fermat's first home quiz meet. We've promised to be there and cheer them on."

"Ah, I see." Penny nodded. "Tin-Tin did tell me about the boys' achievements. I hope they do well with their fathers watching them."

"I think they will." Jeff glanced down to see Brains try and smother a yawn. "Brains, why don't you get some rest? The boys can deal with the fogger until dinner time." He patted the thin shoulder. "Then they'll have to make sure everything's ready for the run to Thunderbird Five tomorrow." He frowned a little. "It's Gordon's turn to stay, but he's already grousing about not being able to visit Alan for this first meet. However, John is very excited about going."

"Then you must visit Alan again, when Gordon can join you," Penelope said. She smiled at Brains. "Please, Brains. I would feel far more relieved about your injuries if you rested." She leaned in, as if imparting a secret to Brains alone, even though Jeff was very much in the room. "It will keep Jeff from being such a overbearing mother hen, as well."

"I am not overbearing," Jeff exclaimed, voice sounding affronted.

Penelope was about to make a witty riposte when Brains put up a hand. "Okay, o-okay. I'll g-go. Besides," he yawned again, "I think this m-medicine is making me - yawn - drowsy."

Jeff stepped back to let him get up, and walked him to the door of the office. "Get some sleep and we'll see you at dinner. All right?"

Brains's response was a wave and uttering something unintelligible that was swallowed up in another prodigious yawn. Jeff closed the door, and crossed to his desk. He put an index finger up to tell Penelope to wait, then made a call on the house intercom. "Kyrano?"

The retainer's face appeared in another box on the computer screen, dwarfing the now reduced frame in which Penelope could still be seen. "Yes, Mr. Tracy?"

"Brains is heading for his chalet, and he's very sleepy. Please make sure he gets there safely. And let Onaha know that he may not make dinner if he's as drowsy as I think he is."

"Of course, Mr. Tracy. I'll tell her, then I'll go find him." The picture winked out, and Penny's window enlarged again.

"I'm sorry I haven't yet unearthed any information on the recording, Jeff, but I will continue my search. Is there anything else you need?"

Jeff shook his head. "Just let me know when you discover something. In the meantime, I'll see what my boys have found out about the fogger."

"Then I shall leave you to it. I'll talk with you later, Jeff. Have a good day."

"And a good morning to you, Penny. Thanks for calling; I know it's the wee hours there."

"You're very welcome and it's quite all right. I felt you should know as soon as was possible. Goodbye."

"Goodbye."

Her picture winked out, and Jeff was left staring at the frozen frame where Brains was caught, nearly in mid-air, arms windmilling, feet off the ground. It'd almost be comical if it hadn't been so dangerous, he thought. With a decisive keystroke, he eliminated the picture, then got up to visit Thunderbird One's hangar and lend a hand to solve the mystery of the malfunctioning camera fogger.