Scott Tracy sat back and closed his eyes, breathing lightly as he listened to the crackles and pops of his lady, Thunderbird One, cooling down after yet another long, exhausting rescue. Not one to dally for long, he heaved a deep sigh before dismounting from the raised pilot seat.

He stretched and twisted to soothe the cramping in his back and wondered if he was just getting old. He and his brothers had only been working together as International Rescue for a few years, but after days like today, it seemed an eternity. With a final roll of his shoulders, he snorted at his thoughts. He wasn't even thirty-five years old, and he still had a lot of good years ahead of him.

Straightening up, he triggered the walkway that would deliver him into the family lounge. Not waiting, he bounded across the narrow bridge, with perhaps more energy than was strictly wise, and grabbed the light fixtures that would spin him from the hangar into the lounge.

Once in the house, Scott felt some of the tension leave his body. He strode into the lounge, his eye on his brother Gordon relaxing on the couch in front of their father's desk. "How are you feeling?"

Gordon grinned up at him. "Me? I'm feeling clean. Very clean. Oh, and well fed."

The crack made Scott's filthy uniform itch all the more, and to his disgust, his belly rumbled, reminding him that he had missed both breakfast and lunch. He knew Gordon's remarks were to cover up the younger man's distress at having been left behind when International Rescue had been called out very early in the morning. A rescue earlier in the week had resulted in a minor injury for the aquanaut, causing their father to sideline him.

Still, Scott had his part to play. He narrowed his eyes and pointed a finger. "I can fix that, you know. Thunderbird Three's carbon intakes could use a good scrubbing."

Gordon nodded, a melancholy look on his face. "I'd like nothing better. Really. It's just… just that I'm injured, you see. Can't scrub worth a nickel."

Scott crossed his arms, and raised an eyebrow. "Uh-huh."

"All right, boys. Scott, why don't you go get cleaned up. We'll debrief after dinner."

Scott turned to his father. "Okay, Dad, but tell Grandma I'm not sure I can wait until dinner to eat something. I'm pretty near starving right now, and if I'm hungry, you can just imagine how Virgil and Alan are."

Jeff smiled at his son, and Scott realized that the older man was every bit as tired as the rest of them. Scott strode away, headed to his quarters, a frown on his face. He could see they were all getting more tired than was safe. Six rescues in ten days was wearing them all thin.

Scott started his shower, then changed his mind, and set the plug to fill up the bathtub. His military background meant that if he took a shower, he'd be in and out in less than five minutes. With a bath, he would be able to relax for a while, and hopefully come up with a way to get his dad and brothers to take it easy for a while.

Twenty minutes later, he was clean, and the heat and Jacuzzi element of the tub had eased away his exhaustion and muscle stiffness. Pulling himself out and drying himself off, he felt a lot better physically, but he still hadn't come up with any ideas for easing the workload. Checking his chronometer, he hurriedly pulled on some shorts and a tee shirt. Thunderbird Two would be arriving any minute, and he wanted to be there to welcome his brothers home.

As he left his room, he heard the rumble of the big cargo lifter landing, and he pushed himself to a trot. He reached the hangar just as TB2 was shutting down, and found Gordon waiting, hands in pockets. Scott came and stood by his brother, asking, "How are you really? Your ribs giving you any problems?"

Without any audience to play for, Gordon shrugged a bit gingerly. "Naw, Scott, I'm okay. My side's tender, but I could have come out with you today."

"I know, but hey, take the rest where you can. It's true, I could have used you out there, but we made do with what we had, and you'll be ready when I really do need you to be."

Gordon made a face, but reluctantly nodded. Then he straightened up a bit as Thunderbird Two's hatch slid open. Alan disembarked first, already changed into shorts and loud Hawaiian shirt, his blond hair slicked back from the shower he'd taken onboard. Virgil followed, looking much the worse for wear, his uniform as dirty as his face was.

Virgil looked around at his three clean and dry brothers, frowning, then without a word, rolled his eyes and walked away shaking his head. Scott called after him, "Debrief after dinner."

Virgil lifted a weary arm in acknowledgement, but never looked around or slowed his weary trudge. His brothers watched him leave, then Scott turned to Gordon and Alan. "What do you say we resupply the pod for him?"

"I can do it. You guys go get something to eat," Gordon responded, then headed to the pod conveyor belt where pod five had just previously been deposited. Scott and Alan shared a glance then, as one, joined their brother.

With the three of them working, they had the job done within half an hour, by which time both Scott's and Alan's stomachs were doing some serious rumbling.

"God, you guys sound like you're doing that in symphony," Gordon complained.

With a glance at his oldest brother, Alan replied, "Yes, we are. We call it Sonata in the key of F for famished."

Scott smiled, then looked speculatively toward the elevator that would take them to the house. "I wonder what Grandma's made for dinner."

"Yeah, because if it isn't really really special, you're going to skip it." Gordon smirked.

Scott headed for the elevator. "Maybe some other day. Today I could eat anything."

"Me too." Alan nodded in agreement, following behind.

Gordon brought up the rear, no less interested in food than his brothers. They rode the elevator up in companionable silence, then walked through the house together. Upon reaching the dining room, they found Virgil already there, setting the table in a hurried manner. Scott raised an eyebrow at his brother, and Virgil practically whined, "Pork roast."

All three brothers smiled in anticipation, and Gordon and Alan both hustled to help Virgil finish getting the table ready. Scott surreptitiously sucked back the bit of drool that had sprung to his lips at his brothers words, and went over and pushed through the swinging door to the kitchen. "Grandma, I hear there's pork roast for dinner."

'Oh, honey, you're just in time. Take that platter out to the table, and call your brothers in."

Lifting the platter, heavy with meat, Scott breathed in the succulent aroma before responding, "They're already at the table, and mighty hungry, too."

"Well, send one of them in here to help me carry, and we'll eat right away."

Scott grinned. "Okay, Grandma."

Using his back to open the swinging door, Scott backed into the dining room. All eyes were drawn to the platter, including Scott's own. He had already decided which slices he wanted. Glancing up, he said, "Grandma needs help."

Alan immediately moved to the kitchen door, disappearing then reappearing with a large bowl of potatoes and another of asparagus. Behind him came Ruth with a bread basket and a very large gravy boat. "Someone go get your father, please."

Scott joined with Alan and Virgil in staring at Gordon. Fair was fair, and the redhead hadn't missed any meals. For a moment it looked like Gordon would just ignore the deathray glances shooting his way, but eventually he casually got up and headed for the lounge as if it was his own idea. Their father joined them with alacrity, once again confirming where the Tracy boys got their appetites.

"Well, this looks wonderful, Mom."

"Thank you, baby. It's the least I could do for Halloween."

Scott's head shot up. "Halloween?"

From the surprised looks around the table, Scott could see that he wasn't the only one to have forgotten about the holiday.

"Aw, no! I missed it? I can't believe I missed it!" Gordon was particularly dismayed. Halloween had long been a favorite time for the family prankster.

Scott could see by his look that Virgil didn't quite believe his brother hadn't pulled any tricks. Scott just felt relieved that they'd been too busy for Gordon to do anything. His brother's devious mind had come up with many amazing pranks over the years, but as tired as they all were, Scott suspected Gordon would be taking his life in his hands if he pulled anything.

Jeff, who had been working his way through a thick slice of pork, stopped in midchew, and he stared hard at his son, uncertainty in his eye. "Gordon… All of these rescues… They've been legit, right?"

"Jefferson Tracy! You apologize right now! How could you ask your son such a question?" Ruth asked, shock on her face and in her voice.

Far from being upset by the suggestion, Gordon nodded, grinning. "You know, that mud fest last Tuesday would have been a great prank if there hadn't been those people in danger."

Scott rolled his eyes. The rescue in question had been in California, where a restaurant overlooking a cliff had suddenly collapsed when a rain weakened butte had given way. By the end of the day, all four of the brothers were covered in sticky red mud.

"Don't remind me. I'm still pulling mud out of my bu… uh, backside." Alan grumbled.

Jeff ran his hand over his face. "I must be more tired than I thought. I'm sorry, son."

"No problem, Dad." Gordon replied, his smile turning wistful. "Darn, I wanted to order some candy in honor of the day. It's just not Halloween without candy corn, you know?"

Virgil sat up a bit. "Grandma, did you make pumpkin pie?"

Scott's attention sharpened as he focused on his grandmother. If she'd made pumpkin pie, she'd made apple pie. As good as the pork was, Scott found himself licking his lips in anticipation of her answer.

"Well, I haven't missed a Halloween yet, and I'm not about to start now. Of course there's pie. Pumpkin and apple. It's a tradition."

"One of my favorite traditions." Alan sat back with satisfaction.

"Well, you boys eat up. We'll have pie in the lounge. I've got a bit of a surprise for John, and I know he'll appreciate it if you're all there to see it."

"A surprise, Grandma? You mean that box he brought up when we swapped places?"

"I mean just that box."

Gordon shook his head in disgust. "You know, I'll bet he hasn't even peeked."

Alan shared his brother's look, nodding his head. "The man has no appreciation."

Virgil who had been working his way steadily through his dinner, snorted. He pointed his fork at his younger brothers. "You two haven't even the concept of honor. Grandma told John not to peek, and he's just honest enough to abide by her wishes."

Scott's heart sunk at the look that passed between his youngest brothers. He almost groaned aloud, knowing they were about to be subjected to a bout of the Terrible Twos. Sure enough Alan started. "Just honest enough."

"Not too honest, just honest enough."

"I like that he abides."

"Oh, yeah, he's been an abider for as long as I've known him. Sort of an honest abider."

"He just abides enough to be honest."

"Yes, but not too honest."

"Yes, just enough."

"It's sad really. He could have peeked and seen his surprise two weeks ago, but all he does is abide."

"But honestly."

"Yes, honestly,."

"Say, Grandma, what was in that box, anyway. You can tell me, I'm just honest enough not to tell John."

Ruth was long used to her grandson's whimsical exchanges. She dabbed a napkin to her lips and said tartly, "You'll just have to wait."

"Pass that bread basket over here," Virgil growled trying to ignore his brothers. At a slight stiffening of his grandmother, he put on a shark's grin and grated out, "Please."

Gordon passed over the basket, and with a glance at Alan, subsided. Scott was impressed. His brothers had never before shown the sense to stop when they were ahead. Scott would like to believe they were finally realizing that poking a bear with a stick wasn't wise, but he suspected it was just the exhaustion of the last few weeks that kept them quiet. Scott would take the peace any way he could get it. He settled into his dinner and almost to his surprise, so did everyone else.

TB TB TB TB

Some thirty minutes later, the family was gathered in the lounge, large slices of pie close to hand. Jeff had called up John, and Scott savored a bite of his pie as they waited for the blond astronaut to return to the monitor with the box his grandmother had sent up.

John reseated himself at the monitor, a small smile on his face. "Okay, Grandma, I've got it."

"Well, go ahead and open it, baby."

John pulled a Swiss army knife from his pocket, slit the tape covering the top, and with a look of delighted anticipation, pulled open the box. "What's this?" John asked, pulling an EverCold container out of the box.

"It's your pie, honey. Pop it in the nuclear cooker for two minutes. You should find a can of whipped cream there too."

John's grin widened. Scott had noticed his brother casting envious eyes on the slices of pie that his brothers were all sharing. Scott couldn't help his own smile, just knowing the pleasure his brother was getting with the pie. Of course, John , being John, immediately disappeared to follow his grandma's instructions.

Virgil caught Scott's eye, and rolled his own eyes, shaking his head at their younger brother's long established habit of thoroughly enjoying one present before going on to the next. Scott had finished his own piece of pie before John returned, holding a plate totally covered in whipped cream.

"Son, you forgot the pie," Jeff joked, a fond smile on his face.

John shook his head, a look of pure bliss on his face. "No, it's in there."

"So, is that it? Is that all Grandma sent?" Gordon asked.

John looked up, surprised. "Um, I don't know."

He set aside his pie and checked the box. With a look of confusion, he reached in and pulled out a large rectangle of cloth. He held it up, and in a wary voice, asked, "A pillowcase, Grandma?"

"Yes, a pillowcase. And I expect it back, undamaged." Ruth raised an eyebrow, daring John to dispute her.

John for his part shot a glance at his father before responding in a very subdued voice, "Yes, ma'am."

Scott felt a niggle of concern. His grandma was in her eighties, and he and Virgil had occasionally talked about the possibility of her becoming senile. He'd never actually believed that would happen, but sending a pillowcase to his brother was odd at the very least.

Scott could feel the concern coming from Virgil and Jeff as well as John, but his youngest brothers were sitting with looks of anticipation on their faces, as if a pillowcase were the most normal thing in the world. Ruth broke the developing tension by tsking, and saying, "Well, keep going John, I haven't got all night."

John smiled tentatively and reached into the box, and pulled out another box, this one large enough to have filled the bottom of the carton. "What's this, Grandma?"

"Well, just open it and see, baby." Ruth said, as she got up, and collected the dirty dishes. Virgil made as if to help her, but sat back down at a gesture from her.

John in the meantime had pulled the lid off the box, and sat staring in slack-jawed wonder. A slow smile came over his face as he rummaged through the contents. Alan was sitting forward, trying to see what was in the box, but, of course, the angle was all wrong. "So, what is it, Johnny? What'd she get you?"

John looked up, grinning like a maniac. "Treasure. She got me treasure."

"What kind of treasure, son?" Jeff was no less curious than his sons.

John reached both hands into his box, and pulled out a double handful of candy. Scott felt his jaw drop. His brother was holding up all manner of candy bars.

"I get it! The pillowcase is to store your stash!" Gordon laughed delightedly. "Just like when we were kids!"

Light dawned in John's eyes, and he reached over and grabbed the pillowcase, and started transferring his candy from the box to the case. Scott caught sight of a distinctive black, yellow and white wrapper. "Uh, John, is that an Abba Zaba you have there?"

John immediately froze, then gathered his pillowcase close, his eyes gone dead. "It's my Abba Zaba, Scott. Go get your own."

Scott barely heard his brother. His mind was quickly forming and discarding plot after plot to get his hands on that candy bar. He smiled sweetly at his brother. In the meantime, Gordon had his own agenda. "So, Johnny. Did you happen to get any candy corn?"

"Or Ghost Peeps?" Alan interjected, his eyes shining.

"I wouldn't say no to any Gummi Bears you find." Virgil sat with his arms crossed, eyebrow cocked challengingly.

Jeff said wistfully, "I haven't had a Hershey bar in I don't know how long."

John frowned fiercely. "Well, that's too bad, because by the time Alan comes up in two weeks, there won't be anything left."

"You have enough candy there to last a year," Alan said, his own eyes predatory.

"You'll never see it. I'll bring it home with me when we change over," John sneered, pulling the bag behind his back.

"We could come up there right now," Virgil stated flatly.

"An excellent idea, son." Jeff's look was no less predatory than his sons'.

"Well, now, I had thought that you boys were raised better than that." Ruth's sharp tone caused all six men to flinch.

Scott put on a contrite face even as he continued to formulate plans to snag John's Abba Zaba. He turned to face his grandma, and when he saw her, his breath went out in a rush. He heard similar gasps from his brothers and father, and after a moment, Gordon just started to laugh. "Aw, Grandma, you're the best!"

Ruth raised her chin to stop Gordon moving forward. Scott only had eyes for the series of pillowcases piled on the floor in front of the tiny woman. He could count five of them, and each one seemed crammed full. "I'm not sure you boys deserve this, the way you treated your brother."

Jeff said in a soft voice, "If we rush her, she can't get us all."

Virgil of all people started to laugh, and Scott and his brothers couldn't help but join in. After a moment, Ruth relented, "Well, come on. Here, sweetheart, this one's for you. And Jeff, here's yours, No baby, that's Scott's this one's yours."

The brothers each grabbed a bag, and retired to neutral corners. Scott opened his back, and felt his eyes widen at all of the candy within. There had to be several pounds of chocolate bars, marshmallow treats, candy corn, even a wrapped candy apple. It was more that Scott had ever gotten on any Halloween.

He looked up at his grandmother, sitting watching them all, with love in her eyes. He caught her eye, and raised an eyebrow. Ruth shrugged, and said, "You're all adults now. I got this crazy idea that I could trust you all not to make yourselves sick on t6o much candy. And you haven't had a real Halloween in years."

Scott grinned. "I agree, it was a crazy idea, but thank you, Grandma. I feel just like a kid again."

He looked over to where Gordon was negotiating with Jeff to exchange Hershey's bars for candy corn. Alan already had scored several packages of Ghost Peeps which he had lined up in front of him. He was talking to John, waving a bag of Skittles, looking for a trade.

Virgil was at the coffee table with all of his spoils spread out before him. He was meticulously lining up his goodies by category and type. Scott spotted several Abba Zabas to one side, and immediately started digging in his bag to find the Gummi Bears.

TB TB TB TB

A week later, and Scott was again taking a moment in Thunderbird One, having just returned from a rescue. As he stretched, his muscles were moving without any cramping, and Scott was satisfied. The rescue, the first since Halloween, had gone successfully, with Gordon back on the front lines, his injury a distant memory.

The six days with no call outs had done wonders for the entire team. The tension that had built during the busy spate had all but dissipated. Grandma's wonderful gift of memories from their childhood had helped remind Scott and his brothers of who they were. That night they had all stayed up late reminiscing over Halloweens past, and if all were a bit green-gilled the next morning from too much sugar, it had still been a great evening.

Scott licked his lips. He still had a few Abba Zabas left, and when John got home in a week, he'd have even more. They had successfully negotiated a trade of Abba Zabas for Skittles. He bounded across the walkway, no sign of old age in his stride. Whistling as he entered the house, he saw his father seated at his desk, munching on a Hershey's bar. With a grin, he saluted his father, mimed that he'd be right back, and headed for his stash.