Hello again! Yes, I'm back, with my latest story for TAG.

I know I'm not the only one who was just blown way by EOS. Even now, I can't stop myself watching it. What an episode - the best yet, by far.

Poor Scott, too. I think he went through every emotion going, and must have needed one hell of a hug afterwards. My plot bunnies had the same idea, and... well, with buckets of angst, and what I hope is a realistic glimpse into Scott's past, here's what they've come up with.

Just to say, too, that this is a work in progress. I'll be posting up each chapter as quickly as I can.

Enjoy!

Crash 'n' Burn

Chapter One - Answering The Call

"Tracy Island from Thunderbird One... on my way home... ETA twenty minutes..."

As soon as he heard Scott's voice, the alarm bells in Virgil Tracy's head started to ring. Very loudly.

Eight hours after setting off to clear their backlog of rescues, his brother sounded exhausted. Utterly drained. Hardly surprising, of course, after what had been one hell of a day, but - no. No, this was different. There'd been no emotion in Scott's voice. No relief that his share of missions had gone well. Instead, it had been flat. Mechanical. Robotic. Just like the one they'd all heard when...

'...oh, damn...'

Virgil was out of his seat now, striding through the den to the stairs that led down to the hangars - silently relieved that Alan and Gordon were still too distracted to pay him any attention.

Not that he blamed them for their higher than usual spirits. For them, at least, the crisis was over. John was safe. No doubt concussed by now, by flying bagels, but he was safe.

Safe. Alive.

For that alone, he couldn't deny them their laughter, or Alan this chance to enjoy his moment of glory. Their little Astro-Nut had risen to a terrifying challenge, and saved the day. Saved his brother's life. And yes, of course he'd tell him how proud he was, but... no. No, that would have to wait.

Right now, he had other priorities - starting with the low voice that now halted him in his tracks.

"Virgil."

Turning to meet his grandmother's eyes, Virgil saw the worry she'd see on his face mirrored in hers. It perversely contrasted against the glee that Alan now threw in innocent gloating towards him

"Ya-hah! Yeah, no escaping it this time, Virg. You're gonna get stucket with a bucket too!"

Rolling his eyes at his brother's awful punnery, Virgil just waved his hand to dismiss it, and strode on the mission desk. Settling on its edge, he used his body's position to keep this chat with his grandmother in the privacy that it needed to be. No point troubling anyone else with the concern he could still see in her eyes. Hear in anxious words.

"He sounds beat, kid. The last time I heard that voice on him was..."

"...the day dad disappeared... yeah, Grandma, I know..."

Still unseen by his brothers, Virgil slipped a reassuring arm around his grandmother's shoulders. He'd done the same already today, of course, but... hell, since when did you start rationing comfort?

"It's okay, Grandma, I've got this. Just keep an eye on Gords and Allie for me, okay?"

Squeezing her hand for good measure, Virgil set off again for another quick but necessary detour - keeping his movements as natural as possible so that his brothers didn't pick up on the tension beneath.

Reaching their suite of bedrooms without any interruptions, he headed quickly for his own. Opened his closet, tugged out what he needed, before hurrying down to the main hangars. By his count, he had just a few minutes now, to reach them, and... yeah, there it was. Right on time.

From a distance, he could feel the pool outside start to draw back, making room for his brother's return. So, on final approach now. Six minutes out. Just enough time to make sure he had everything ready.

As the closest thing they had to a medic, he took those duties with the greatest seriousness. From his own, thankfully lesser experience, he already had a fair idea on what he'd be facing now. What that flatness in Scott's voice had conveyed.

Exhaustion, for sure, and the human body's reaction to extremes of danger. Threat. Stress. Terror. Adrenalin rush, and its draining withdrawal. What his textbooks had described as 'crash-and-burn.'

To different extents, they'd all be through it today, but for Scott... the decisions he'd had to make. The order he'd had to give to his own brother. Knowing what he was asking... telling... him to do.

'John, if this thing can't be stopped, you know what has to be done.'

God, what he must have felt at that moment. John, too, as he'd tried to explain it in turn to Alan.

Swallowing hard against its memory, Virgil glanced instinctively up towards an approaching roar. Through the hangar's control room, he watched Thunderbird One make her descent into it - its unnatural jerkiness making him all the more impatient for it to complete so he could reach her.

Reach him.

He could see him now. Head bowed. Shoulders slumped. His leader. His brother. So tiny. So alone.

"Hang on, Scott... hang on, I'm right here... I'll be right with you..."

Seconds that felt like hours dragged by. Then, finally, the control room's door yielded to his command. Allowed him onto the gantry where, for his own safety, he'd have to wait for Scott to join him.

Except... no. Something wasn't quite right. Something he should have been seeing wasn't happening. Yes, the hatch had opened. Yes, the seat holding his brother had lifted him out of his cockpit. Then it hit him. Made him throw all procedure to the wind, and leap onto the extending conveyor.

Slumped in his seat, leaning unnaturally to his side, Scott wasn't moving. He wasn't moving at all.