LEARNING THE LESSON by BOOMERCAT RATED FRPT

Scott teaches his brothers a lesson.

This story takes place after the events in Malfunction, Aftermath and Perceptions.

Scott Tracy woke in the middle of the tropical night. With a sigh, he glanced over at the illuminated clock on his bedside table. 4:30am. Scott was a bit surprised. Having turned in at ten last night, that meant he had gotten, what, six hours of sleep? More than he had any night in the last month.

Scott sat up stretching, tugging at the sheet wrapped around his legs. That sheet attested to the fact that he was what his grandma called 'an active sleeper'. Despite his tossing and turning, Scott felt better than he had for a long while. He had slept through the night without being awakened by the nightmare that had haunted him for the last several weeks.

Scott was not naïve enough to assume that one night's sleep meant the nightmare was at bay. He suspected it had more to do with yesterday's grueling rescue than anything else. In his skivvies, Scott padded through the quiet house to the kitchen. With the skill of experience, he started the morning's coffee. Headed back to his bathroom to take his morning shower, Scott reflected on the fact that the rescue, though exhausting, had gone off without a hitch which had probably contributed to the easing of his mind.

Scott dialed up a hot needle spray in the shower and stood under the pounding water, letting its almost painful massage chase away the last of the night's mental cobwebs. By the time he finished, he was alert and ready for whatever the day might bring.

He remembered he had a conference call this morning, and that dictated he wear a nice shirt and tie. His mind flashed back to his childhood and his excitement when his family had gotten their first videophone. The technology had been very new then, and ten-year-old Scott had quickly become disillusioned with it because none of his friends had one. Those were the days, he mused. You could answer your phone buck-naked if you wanted, and no one was the wiser. Nowadays he was expected to dress when talking to his father's business associates.

Scott finished dressing and headed again for the kitchen. By force of habit, he walked quietly down the hall, listening at each door for any sign of distress. He wore the mantle of oldest brother naturally and confidently. He had always looked out for his siblings, and the fact that they were all grown up hadn't deterred him in the least.

He paused longest outside of his brother Gordon's door. His younger brother had done a damn fine job yesterday under very trying circumstances. Scott would have liked to have entered and just made sure he was all right, but his hand stopped short of the doorknob. Gordon was usually very easy going and understanding of his older brothers' protectiveness, but in the last few days he had begun to chafe under the constant supervision.

A little over a month previously, the family had a run-in with a dirtball criminal called the Hood. Scott had been temporarily paralyzed and kidnapped by the maniac. In rescuing him, Virgil had also been paralyzed and both Gordon and Alan had been injured. Scott had faced the results of his failure every day for the last month in the form of Alan's still strapped shoulder.

The bruises on Gordon's neck had faded, but Scott worried about the bruises on the younger man's psyche. Gordon had horrific nightmares for the first few nights, then claimed they had stopped. Scott wished he could believe him, but he knew from his own experience that chances were Gordon was hiding the extent of the mental trauma the near strangling had caused.

Scott had taken to checking on his brother each night, just to be there in case he was needed. It had backfired one night when Scott had stood in the darkness watching his brother sleep. Some stray noise had caused Gordon to wake, and at the sight of a large dark figure looming over him, he had attacked, yelling at the top of his lungs. The incident had shaken the whole household, and Scott had promised never to sneak up on his brother again.

Shaking his head at the memory, Scott headed for the kitchen. His family's servant and friend Kyrano was already up, starting the day's baking. With a smile, the slight Asian man said, "Good morning, Mr. Scott. Are you well today?"

The greeting was a morning ritual between the two men, but Scott had no doubt of Kyrano's sincerity. Accepting the mug of hot coffee that Kyrano offered, Scott replied, "I'm fine, Kyrano. How are you?"

"Oh, I am most well, thank you. I have some fruit for you. A banana, perhaps? Or maybe a blood orange?"

Scott smiled as he pulled a banana from the bowl of fruit Kyrano held out. It was also a part of the ritual. Scott had learned long ago that refusing a piece of fruit was a good way to have Kyrano follow him around all day pestering him to death with all manner of tempting food. If eating a banana made Kyrano happy, Scott would willingly comply, whether he was hungry or not. "For breakfast, I shall make cinnamon rolls." The elderly servant bowed and turned back to his work.

Scott wandered out through the lounge to the long balcony overlooking the swimming pool. He loved this time of day. The air was warm with a scent of exotic flowers. The house was quiet. The stars were just beginning to fade. His eye was invariably drawn to one bright star in particular. It was in the same patch of sky as Thunderbird Five at this time of year. Thunderbird Five itself was not visible, of course. It was covered with a non- reflective coating as part of its stealth package. But Scott knew exactly where it floated high above the world. He silently toasted the station and its resident, his brother John, as he did every morning.

Scott heard the sound of muffled conversation behind him. He knew the voices as well as his own. His beloved grandmother was up. He glanced at his chronometer. It was only 5:15 in the morning. He shook his head as he relaxed into the soothing tones of the woman who had raised him. His father had brought her to Tracy Island with the idea that she would retire and live a life of ease.

Elaine Tracy hid a will of iron beneath a disarmingly scatterbrained exterior. She had lost her own husband to the Vietnam War when her son, Jeff, was an infant. She had raised Scott's father on her own, working as an ER nurse. When Jeff lost his own wife in childbirth, Elaine had taken the devastated father and five young boys back to the family farm in Kansas, and taken on raising the boys as her own.

When the family moved to Tracy Island, Elaine had remained behind saying she was too old to change into a South Seas hula dancer. Jeff had continued to press her to join them, not liking the idea of her living alone in the too-large farmhouse. Eventually she had conceded, but instead of retiring to a life of leisure, she had taken the island by storm, getting into everything, doing everything.

It had taken a while, but she and Kyrano had finally come to terms. Their goals were after all identical. They were both there to be the support that kept International Rescue afloat.

Scott looked down and saw his coffee cup was empty. He walked back through the lounge to the kitchen. As he came through the swinging door, he was assailed with the smells of breakfast. Grandma was at the counter, kneading dough as Kyrano stood vigilant at the stove, frying up bacon and sausage. "Good morning, Grandma."

Scott came up behind the diminutive woman, grabbing her up in a hug, and reaching around to place a kiss on her cheek.

"Good morning, Sweetheart. Let me just finish this dough, and I'll make you some pancakes."

"No thanks, Grandma. Kyrano's making cinnamon rolls."

Grandma stopped in her work to inspect her grandson. After a moment, she nodded. "You're feeling better."

"Yeah, I slept all night."

"No, sleeping all night is what Virgil does. And John and Alan too. But if you slept more than a couple of hours, I'll take it as a good thing. You know how your father worries about you."

"Dad doesn't need to worry about me. I'm fine."

"Worry about you? The only thing I worry about is you eating all of the rolls before I get any." Scott turned to his father's voice. Jeff walked to the coffeepot and poured two mugs. "Good morning, Mother. Kyrano."

"Good morning, Father." Jeff handed the second mug to Scott and with a preoccupied look, gave his mother a peck on the cheek before wandering out to the lounge. Scott followed his father.

Jeff sat down behind his desk. "You look better this morning, Son."

Scott hid the touch of irritation his father's comment caused. He was fine. "I feel fine, Dad. Uh, did the conference call get cancelled?" Jeff was dressed in a plaid flannel shirt over a tee shirt that had seen better days.

"What? Oh, no, it hasn't been cancelled. But it isn't for three hours yet. I did want to go over what we were going to say, though. Let's look over the specs together, shall we?"

Scott and his father spent the next few hours going over the specifications for a new supersonic jet that Tracy Enterprises was building. Despite his concentration on the task at hand, Scott was subliminally aware of the awakening sounds of the household. At 8:00am, Grandma appeared imperiously commanding both men to wash up and come to breakfast. Scott and Jeff both moved with alacrity. Scott headed for the kitchen while his father went in to change into something suitable for the conference.

As Scott sat down, Gordon and Alan who had been conversing urgently in quiet tones, hushed each other and turned to their breakfasts. Scott sighed. The two youngest Tracy brothers were each competent professionals. They faced death on a regular basis. In the field, Scott had the highest confidence in their abilities. But get them home like this, and they couldn't seem to help themselves. They reverted to being annoying little brothers constantly on the look out for trouble.

Virgil looked up from his breakfast of sausage and eggs and grinned his good morning. Scott noticed his brother looked better than he had in a while. The rescue yesterday had done them all some good.

Scott looked around for the promised cinnamon rolls. His eyes lit on an empty plate in the middle of the table. The crumbs and remains of icing told the story. The cinnamon rolls had been purloined. Most likely by a redheaded menace to society who was currently doing a feeble imitation of an angel. Scott never even looked at him, instead turning a different brother.

"Virg, want to see a magic trick?"

Virgil, always game, replied, "Sure, Scott."

"I'm going to close my eyes and count to ten, and when I open my eyes, a plateful of cinnamon rolls will have magically appeared."

Virgil snorted, grinning. "Good, I sort of had my heart set on a nice, gooey cinnamon roll."

Scott smiled back at his brother, then ostentatiously closed his eyes. "One... Two... Ten."

Scott opened his eyes quickly and caught not Gordon, but Alan putting the rolls back on the plate. Alan looked from the plate to Scott and back again. Scott just stared, one eyebrow raised. Alan thought for a moment then with great dignity said, "Three. Scott, three comes after two. Ten comes after nine."

"Yes, well, I'm going to come after you if you pull another stunt like that. Never, ever stand between me and cinnamon rolls, understand?"

Alan shot a look at Gordon, confirming Scott's suspicion who the real mastermind was. Pinning his brother with a knowing look, he reached for the plate of gooey treats. Looking them over, he picked up the biggest one and ceremoniously placed it on Virgil's plate.

Smirking Virgil said, "Thanks, Scott."

"You're welcome." Scott replied as he slid the other rolls onto his plate. His steely eyes dared either of his younger brothers to complain.

"Scott! You put those back!" Scott flinched at the sharp tone of his grandmother. Knowing any response on his part would sound like whining, Scott carefully slid all but two of the rolls back. His grandma may have only weighed 92 pounds, but Scott knew better than to cross her.

He watched as Alan grabbed two of the rolls. To his surprise, Gordon didn't follow suit. Scott and Virgil shared a concerned glance. Before either could comment, Jeff entered the room and sat at the table. "Good morning, boys. What's on everyone's agenda today?"

Alan was the first to speak up. "Brains and I are going to rewire the leads on the Firefly's battery packs. Then Tin-Tin and I are going to hike up to the point."

Virgil frowned at his baby brother. "How long is that re-wiring going to take, Alan?"

"Two hours, three hours tops. It's got to be done, Virg, or you're going to have real problems sooner or later."

"Son, I don't want you straining your shoulder."

"Don't worry, Dad, I'll be careful. Most of it will be at the workbench anyway."

"Virgil, are you going to help your brother?"

"Well, I had hoped to sit in on the conference call, Father."

Scott grinned. He knew his father loved it anytime any of them showed the slightest bit of interest in the business of Tracy Enterprises. Some of the systems on the new Peregrine series jets had actually been developed by Brains and Virgil for use in Thunderbird Two, so his interest wasn't all that surprising, at least not to Scott.

Jeff reacted with pleasure. "All right, Son, if you'd like to, I'd love to have your input. Gordon, what about you? Did you have plans, or will you help your brother?"

"I kind of wanted to work out with Scott this morning, but I forgot about that call. Sure, I'll help Alan."

Scott spoke up. "I'll tell you what, Gordon. The conference call is only scheduled from nine to ten thirty. By the time I'm finished, you guys should be finished too. What do you say we meet in the gym at eleven? That'll give me plenty of time to kick your butt before lunch."

"Thanks, Scott. I appreciate it." Scott was surprised and a bit uneasy. It was unheard of for Gordon to ignore a challenge, but his younger brother had simply gathered his empty plate and silverware and left the table. Scott and Virgil shared a frown. One that was reflected on the face of their father. Alan seemed oblivious.

Gordon passed the table on his way out and said to Virgil in a conversational tone, "Get ready, Virg. You're going to be the oldest surviving brother in just a few hours."

Virgil laughed out loud and Alan snickered. Scott and his father just shook their heads.

XXXX

Scott trotted down the stairs to the lowest level of the house. The conference call had lasted longer than anyone had expected and Scott was late for his workout. Some of the design changes had been very interesting, and both Scott and Virgil were glad to have had the opportunity to attend.

Scott had rushed to change into his shorts and old Air Force sweatshirt. He was looking forward to working out with his younger brother. Gordon's military experience, as short as it was, put him on a par with Scott that none of his other brothers, not even Virgil had attained. Their workouts were fast and furious combinations of different oriental fighting skills mixed with kickboxing and wrestling. Scott had the reach and strength, and Gordon the speed. And lately, Gordon had developed some sneaky tactics that had actually allowed him to defeat his older brother on a couple of occasions.

Scott assumed Gordon had come up with some new tactic he wanted to try. He pushed open the door to the well-equipped gym and found his brother perched on the vaulting horse. "You ready to suffer, boy?"

"In your dreams, old man!" Gordon hopped down off of the horse, and both men moved to the mats. Scott took up his position and bowed to his opponent. Gordon didn't return the traditional courtesy. He stood with a pensive look on his face staring at his older brother.

Scott gave him a moment, then prompted him, asking, "What?"

Apparently deciding, Gordon nodded, and took the two steps closing the gap between them. "He hit Alan from behind with the wrench, so his back was to me when I attacked. Like this." Gordon moved to Scott's side, reaching and positioning Scott so that he was slightly bent forward and Gordon was to his rear. "As I came at him, he swung around trying to catch me with the wrench, but I was on top of him and his arm went up over my back. Then he grabbed me by the shirt and started to fall back. It pulled me off balance, and I was moving forward. I assumed he was trying to bring the wrench into play so I was twisting to get my arm up."

Scott followed the choreography of the nearly fatal fight with interest. Gordon had not really discussed what had happened that day when Scott and Virgil had foolishly left their youngest brothers alone. "But he dropped the wrench and grabbed me by the throat with both hands. I tried to pull back but he was too strong. He had me dead to rights, Scott, and we both knew it. He had this... look in his eyes..." Gordon shook his head releasing the memory. "Anyway, nothing I did had any effect, and I went down fast. Much faster than I would have thought I would. It was like, I dunno, like my strength just drained away."

Breaking off contact, Gordon stepped back and looked earnestly at his brother. "So, do you know any moves that would have worked?"

Scott thought about what Gordon had asked, and about the reason behind the question. Making up his own mind, he said, "Hang on a moment."

Walking to the intercom on the wall, he flicked the switch, "Virgil, Alan, I need you both in the gym."

Virgil's voice responded almost immediately. "On my way."

Alan took longer. When he answered, the reluctance was plain in his voice. "Is this going to take long, Scott? Tin-Tin and I were going to go for a walk."

"Just get down here now."

Scott looked over at his younger brother. The look on Gordon's face made plain that he did not want an audience for this particular workout, but he said nothing. Scott reassured him, "It'll be okay, Gordon. This is something we all have to deal with, okay?"

Gordon shrugged his shoulders but gave the expected response, "Okay, Scott."

Scott turned back to the intercom. Flicking a hidden switch, he connected with the main communication array. "Base to Thunderbird Five."

"Scott? What's up?" John's voice floated from the speaker.

"John, I'm here in the gym with Gordon. We're going to go over something and I'd like you to listen in, okay?"

"Sure thing, Scott. You going to wipe the floor with our little brother?"

"He could try. How you doing, John?"

"I'm fine, Gordon. How's your neck?" Gordon was spared the necessity of an answer by the arrival of Virgil and a frowning Alan.

Virgil called across the floor, "Scott, what's this all about? Do we need to get into sweats or something?"

"No. Come on over here guys. We're going to go over what happened with Alan, Gordon and the Hood that day."

Both Virgil and Alan threw a quick glance Gordon's way before Alan replied, "Scott, we know what happened. The Hood kicked our asses, and then we got lucky."

Alan's voice had the sound of rote to it, and basically what he said was the official line from their father. Jeff had been very articulate in his critique of the whole situation, and none of the boys had come away happy from that particular debriefing.

"Yes, I know. We're going to go over the fight. You guys take a seat. Gordon, come on over here and let's go through it again. Describe it so John understands what was happening."

Gordon and Scott once again went through the steps, this time with Scott knowing his part. When it came to the moment where the Hood had grabbed Gordon by the throat, Scott reached out and put his hand on Gordon's shoulder.

"Okay, so that's what happened. Now, what was your first mistake?"

"Trying to close with him." Gordon's response was decisive. "But I had to, Scott, or he might have hit Alan again."

Scott took a deep breath. The lesson he had to teach today was not going to be easy, but it was vital if his brothers were to have any hope of surviving the next inevitable encounter with the Hood. "No. That wasn't your first mistake. Gordon, what was the Hood's goal during that fight?"

"Uh, he wanted to uh, kill us so he could steal Thunderbird Two."

Scott's hand was still on his younger brother's shoulder. Now he gave it a little shake. "Gordon, if all he wanted was Thunderbird Two, he could have escaped once you and Alan were on the ground. Now try again."

Scott could see Gordon was having some trouble with the concept, so he helped him out. "The Hood's goal was to murder you both, pure and simple. Even if there were no chance to steal one of the Thunderbirds, his goal would have been the same. Do you understand?"

Uncomfortable with the idea, Gordon looked away, shrugging his shoulders. "Sure. Okay."

Scott looked over as his other brothers. Both Virgil and Alan were frowning. Scott waited for the objection he knew would come. Virgil opened his mouth to speak, but it was John who actually voiced the question. "Scott, that doesn't make a lot of sense. I mean, we know the Hood is a creep, but he's always just been after the technology. Why would he want to kill Gordon and Alan?"

"Let's be clear about this, John. It's not just Gordon or Alan. The Hood would kill you in a flat second if he got the chance. He wants us all dead. He made that painfully clear to me. I'm not going to say I know why, because I don't. I only know that we can't afford to let him get his hands on any of us."

Scott looked intensely at each of his brothers, catching and holding their eyes, wanting to make sure the idea got across.

His brothers were all tough men. In the time that they had been working as International Rescue agents, they had seen many disturbing sights including all manner of death. But they had trained all of their lives to believe that life was a precious thing to be preserved at all costs. It didn't surprise Scott that this concept was hard for them. They wouldn't be the men they were if cold-blooded murder was an easy thing to contemplate.

Finally Alan spoke up. "Okay, Scott. So we don't want to get caught by the Hood. But what happens if we do?"

Scott nodded smiling. He turned to Gordon to answer. "Okay, Gordon. You know the Hood wants to kill you. Your brother is down. What do you do?"

"Uh, run away?" Gordon's tentative response got the laugh that he intended.

Even Scott chuckled. "If I thought for a minute you would, I'd say, yes. Hell, yes. But you just aren't the running kind, little brother. Not if that means leaving someone behind."

Gordon shrugged, grinning at the compliment. "Depends on which brother."

"You leave me behind and I'll haunt you."

"Leave me, and you're out of my will!"

Scott brought them back to order. "Okay, okay, enough you guys!" Scott became serious once again. "Gordon, what was your first mistake in that fight?"

"Closing with him."

"No. Listen to me. You know the Hood's objective was to kill you and Alan, right? Well, what was your objective?"

"At first? It was to keep him from hitting Alan a second time. Then it was to survive, I guess."

"Exactly. And that was your first mistake."

"You've lost me, Scott. Are you saying I should have let him clobber Alan?"

"No, that's not what I'm saying at all. Listen, your instinct was to protect your brother, and that's good, and proper, and the right thing to do. Ninety percent of the time, that is exactly what you should do. The other ten percent of the time you're going to be facing the Hood or some guy just like him. And at those times, you can only have one goal."

Scott paused. His brothers were all very attentive now. "Your goal is, and has to be, to kill the Hood."

Alan and Gordon both seemed to be digesting the thought, but Virgil shook his head. "Scott..."

"Virg, I know all the arguments. But I'm telling you, if you face the Hood with less than total commitment, you are going to lose. The man will kill you, it's as simple as that."

Gordon was nodding thoughtfully. Scott expected that. The military training gave his brother a head start in accepting the idea of kill or be killed. Now if he could just bring Virgil, John and Alan around. With that thought, Scott called out, "John? Are you getting this?"

The response was almost angry. "Yeah, I heard. But let me ask you this. If killing the Hood is such a priority, why didn't you do it when you had him paralyzed at your feet?"

Scott looked down at the mats covering the gym floor. He had asked himself that question over and over throughout the long nights since that day. He could feel three sets of eyes boring into him. He looked up, letting a fraction of his turmoil show on his face. "I probably should have, Johnny. But I didn't."

Drawing himself up, Scott continued. "I didn't, and now I intend to make sure I don't ever have to regret that decision. So, now, Gordon, what was your first mistake."

"Closing with him."

Ignoring Alan's snicker, Scott nodded. "Right. What should you have done?"

"Gotten a bigger wrench than his."

"No, don't ever think in terms of going toe-to-toe with him. He has a wrench, you get a knife. He has a knife, you get a gun. Right?"

"Right."

"Very good. Give the kid a gold star. Now, thinking in terms of killing, what would you have done differently when he grabbed you?"

Scott took a step forward and wrapped both hands around his brother's throat. Gordon immediately slammed a hand up into Scott's face then spun to sweep his legs out from under him. Scott landed up on the floor. Nodding he reached up for the hand Gordon offered, and allowed his younger brother to haul him upward. "Good. Now let's try again...."

First with Gordon, then with Virgil, Scott spent the next hour in an intense workout session. He called on all of his military training to prepare his brothers and himself for the next encounter with the Hood. Alan, still recuperating from the broken shoulder the Hood inflicted, described the action in detail for John.

At the end of the session, Scott was sweat soaked and exhausted. Bent over with his hands resting tiredly on his knees, Scott said, "Okay, Virg, had enough?"

Virgil, who had only had to work for half as long, grinned toothily, "Naw, I'm good for a while yet."

"And then I'll be ready to go again, Scott." Gordon chirped.

"And then me!" Alan's grin was absolutely feral.

A voice floated down from above. "If you fellas can keep him busy, I can get there in a couple of hours to finish him off."

Panting, Scott looked weakly around at his grinning brothers. With a sudden vulpine grin of his own, Scott pulled himself up to his full height. He lifted his eyebrows and crooked his finger at Virgil. In a voice as soft as death he said, "C'mere."

Virgil's eyes widened, but his grin never faltered. "Uh, actually, I was thinking I'd let Gordon have a turn."

Scott swung on the redhead, who promptly jumped up. "Oh, I, uh, just remembered, I have some stuff to do. Important stuff. Maybe you could work with Alan. You know, show him how to fight without involving his shoulder?"

Alan yelped. "No, that's okay. In fact, I think maybe I have a fever. You fight fever with food, not exercise. You know, feed a fever? I think I'll go get something to eat."

Scott watched as all three of his brothers fled the gym. Three down, one to go. "John? What about you? I could be there in a couple of hours, you know."

John laughed. "Um, no Scott, that's okay. I'll save you the trip and beat myself up, how's that?"

"Very sensible of you. John, you know I meant every word, right? The Hood is a bigger threat to us than you can imagine."

John's response was so quiet that Scott had to strain to hear it. "Yeah. I understand."

"John..."

"Scott, how are we different from that piece of scum? If we think in terms of murdering a man just because of who he is, then how are we any better?"

Scott slowly shook his head even though he knew his brother couldn't see. He didn't know how to answer the question.

His father's deep voice behind him startled Scott. "We're better because the question occurs to us, Son. We're better because the idea appalls us."

Jeff came up and put his arm around his eldest son's shoulders. "This is a lesson I would have given anything to keep you boys from needing to learn. But the bottom line here is keeping yourselves and your brothers safe. The Hood wants to take the Tracy family on, so be it. It's not a fight we have sought out, but it's a fight we will win. All of us. Together. Right, John?"

"Right, Father." Scott could hear the resolve in his brother's voice.

Jeff squeezed his son's shoulders, looking him straight in the eye. "Right, Scott?"

Scott held his head high as he responded with pride, "Right, Dad."

Jeff held Scott's eye for a moment longer, apparently searching to be sure of his son's commitment, then with a decisive nod of his head said, "Well, let's go get some lunch. John, we'll talk to you later."

"All right, Dad. Bye Scott."

"Goodbye, John." Scott trailed behind his father. He was truly exhausted physically and emotionally by the morning's session. But he knew now that he and his brothers were better prepared, and he felt more at peace with himself than he had in a long time.

His step was light as he joined his family at the table for lunch. Looking around at the bounty of food before him, his eyes lit on an empty plate in the middle of the table. A plate that held only dark brown crumbs. Brownie crumbs. Turning to his brother, he said, "Hey Virg, want to see a magic trick?"

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