Summary: Summary: He would have taken one happily. Two was just everything from his wildest, unspoken dreams. 9th of my 9-strong tag-on series. Spoilers for 'The Long Reach' (22/02/2020). Each piece can also be read as a stand-alone.

And this is a continuation of my nine strong mini-series, based on the series final. I debated with myself long and hard as to the format for these uploads, but decided in the end each needed to stand on its own as opposed to in a big group.

And this is the longest of the series, and possibly rightly so as it's a combination of them all. If you haven't already noticed the pattern, everything in this series was inspired by certain words said by the brothers in the culmination of time it took to rescue their Dad.

So, I'm basing this on the ages ITV gave us at the start of series one (which seem about right for Alan as he would be around 18 now since he's graduated high school). Thus I make it that the boys would have been the following ages when Jeff 'died': Scott: 19, John: 18, Virgil: 17, Gordon: 15, Alan: 10. I still struggle with thinking that that makes Scott like 27 now, but hey, that's more like the age he would have been in TOS – the animations just look so youthful still!

P.S. I am also going to begin what I planned to do a couple years ago, and start putting my stories on A03 too, so feel free to look for me there - my username is the same.

This series is also the first one that I have uploaded to A03 - It's called the To Hug and To Hold series if you want to find it there too, and this is it's conclusion.

Enjoy as usual!

To Hug and Hold – All

Jeff supposed it made sense, that it was his eldest he saw first.

After eight years, maybe that was only the fair way for this reunion to play out.

Still, it made it no easier to return to Thunderbird Two, to see the green ship appear exactly as she had so long ago when he left it.

He'd thought over the years of all the things which could have happened down on Earth, to the ships, to the boys heaven forbid, but here he was about to have the chance to learn it all.

As he pulled his helmet off, he felt for the first time like he was breathing real air. Of course, he'd been smart, he'd made his own airlock, but that wasn't the same as this. No, this felt like the air of the sea breeze and the feel of the waves foaming white edges lapping up to hit your face, and rustling of the palm trees and the rumble of the mountains as they moved their natural course. This felt like silver and gold condensed into invisible particles, which filled his lungs and revitalised every inch of his being.

This felt like breathing in the air of the Island.

Of home.

Even with them so far away in space, and in a hanger full of mechanics. He didn't smell grease or oil or anything remotely of that nature. It was all bright and light, like the rising sun before it gained its full power, or like the spring sun tempered by a breeze.

However you looked at it, this was a part of home.

And as he turned around, awaiting him were four more pieces of the puzzle.

It was almost a job to know what to say.

What was there he could say? Hello hardly seemed to fit the bill. Very little did in fact. He was looing now at four faces of combined shock, relief, joy, elation, each emotion not quite knowing whether it should appear or sit waiting, wondering whether now was the right time. He was looking at faces who hadn't seen him in years. Who had believed him dead most likely, who had waited for any kind of possibility, who had come all this way on proof, but also chance.

Chance that they would be too late.

They weren't. They were here and it wasn't too late, but in a sense, Jeff felt like it was. He was eight years late in appearing back in his boy's lives. And let's face it, because he sure knew, eight years was a long, long time.

They were still his boys though, and he knew from one glance exactly who was who.

John still looked like his mother, red hair still wild and free, eyes gleaming green, figure as slight as ever.

Virgil still held his build, sturdy and solid, and those his hair may be styled anew, his face was still undeniably the same.

Gordon, who had been making so many plans to break so many records, appeared to be breaking one now too. His hair was still as blonde as it has been and beside him stood a carbon copy, almost.

Alan. Alan who had grown up completely from the little toddling being he remembered, always chasing at his heels.

Goodness, how old were they all now, his boys? No, Jeff, no… they weren't really boys at all anymore, they were men. Grown men with directions of their own to follow. They were International Rescue, adults not children, and he hadn't been there for those final few years of adolescence. In fact, it had probably all ended with his disappearance.

Still, they had aged with far more grace than he had.

And they would always be his boys, that would never change.

And as they watched him now, well, he knew there was only one thing he could say after all this time.

"Boys."

Scott wasn't sure who was going to move first. Or whether anyone would.

He understood.

If his life hadn't depended on not letting go, well… he'd felt the same sort of paralysis when he looked up to see the face of his rescuer. He should have known, there was only one person it could have been, but a part of him had still been reluctant to assume, especially after all that lost time.

He could understand completely why his brothers were floating, staring at the face of a man they had thought long gone almost like they had seen a ghost. He knew the feeling. He'd thought he was looking at a ghost for a moment too, like that tumble had killed him, or he'd knocked his head and this was all an illusion whilst he really plummeted to his eventual death in the deep edges of space.

It was no illusion.

Well, he didn't think. He hadn't pinched himself yet to see if he was dreaming… He did quickly just to see. It hurt. He was almost glad.

This was no illusion.

Not one of them was dreaming this or imagining it to fit with their wishes. No, this was the long-awaited real deal.

And before them, stood Dad.

John could hardly believe he was seeing this. He'd always wanted to hope, but he'd always thought that was the cruellest of emotions. To let oneself have too much of it was to end up incredibly disappointed when it fell through.

This entire time he'd let himself have a shred of hope, enough that he might not lose his heart, again, if this mission proved false for any reason.

It was definitely Dad stood before him. He was grey and he looked worn out, but it was unmistakably Dad.

Virgil wanted to burst into tears. He wanted to cry a waterfall and never stop. He wouldn't, not yet, not now, but it was enough to know that he could. It spoke volumes and Virgil would never take tears for granted again.

He thought endlessly only minutes ago that they'd missed their chance. But they hadn't, it seemed.

For he could see Dad, wissen and aged as you could expect for eight years, but still Dad standing before him.

It was like looking in a mirror.

Looking in a mirror and then looking at Scott standing beside that mirror and knowing, knowing for absolute certain that you were looking at the only thing which could reflect you so accurately. Thankfully, it was no illusion like a mirror.

It really was Dad beside Scott.

He knew it. The moment his eyes saw it.

This was no dream, it couldn't possibly be, and if it was don't wake him! He was more than happy to sleep in this eternity. He'd been the youngest, he remembered the least, but he didn't need to remember all those little things to know what he was looking at, or rather who.

It was Dad.

It was Alan, little Alan, who had always been first to greet him who moved first.

Probably fitting.

It was Alan who moved with the same non-comprehending joy he had when Jeff had returned from a rescue, and later, when his brothers returned with him to.

It was Alan who floated – or rather charged – across the space with so much momentum that Jeff wasn't entirely sure his youngest – his – was going to stop.

He let his helmet go, without second thought, as Alan pushed himself into the space, wrapping his arms so tightly around his waist, tighter than he ever had before. Yes, Jeff had been away for some time, but he still remembered exactly what every hug fromhis boys was like.

And this was Alan's; the youngest and the shortest of the bunch had always had a way of grabbing onto his waist and holding on for dear life.

It didn't shock him, so much. It didn't feel foreign either. It felt eight years delayed, and not a second more.

With swift instincts it was Gordon who followed. The youngest pair had always been like that – once one moved, you could be sure of the other following. Before Gordon he… departed, the elder blonde had been training, readying himself to join IR. That day had clearly come in his absence. Still, it seemed to have changed nothing in his youngest pair's behaviour.

They still followed each other, wherever they led.

And follow his aquanaut did, sitting himself into the space below his arms, above Alan's head and holding on just as tightly. As though to say he was never allowed to go anywhere without them like limpets attached to him ever again.

He would take that.

Jeff would take that deal in an instant if it allowed him this.

John and Virgil followed suit, wrapping around their brothers with the practised ease he remembered of their big little family and he knew his own place in this well enough. His free arms were waiting to meet his remaining sons, clasping around both their shoulders and heads as they locked into the group.

In later years, the eldest had always taken the longest to give in, to join in. It likely had something to do with being the eldest, and taking on all that extra responsibility and more consideration going into given impressions and what not. But still, Scott would always crack.

And with a smile, assuredly he did, making his way to join them.

And assuredly, as they would, in all their old ways, Jeff and John parted to make a space for the eldest to slip in; Scott's arms entwining with Virgil's to wrap around John, and Jeff fixing is arm around Scott. They were all encased within a matter of seconds, and yet it felt like time had stopped for him. Like the moment he had boarded this ship they had all entered a bubble which was theirs and theirs alone.

Nothing else in the world mattered now.

Not to him

For, safe within his hands, were his family; all five brothers, all five of his beloved sons.

It was just as it always had been. Alright, for many years the boys had been far smaller, and it was easier to construct the jigsaw that was everyone wanting a hug from Dad (especially after they lost Lucille and there was no one else to hold). But in this moment, instinct and adrenaline had driven them all and it had been just as easy to construct their life-long puzzle.

And now he held them, Alan, Gordon, Virgil, John, Scott; he held every single one of them within his grip. It was just as he had always dreamed on the cold nights, just as he had wished and longed to return to.

And now he held them; his boys, within his grip.

Gods, he was going to keep them safe like he never had before. He was going to hold them for every hour, every minute and every second of his day, even if it resulted in endless "Dad!"'s and "stop fussing"… he would do it. He would hold them, and he wouldn't regret a single second of it. These were his boys and he thought he'd lost them long ago.

He'd waited eight years for this, and he could have waited longer. He would have waited until he was old, ancient bones still for this moment.

For this hug.

It didn't matter that they were in the belly of Thunderbird Two, in the middle of far space where absolutely anything could happen, but it didn't matter. Because here, like this, Jeff could have been anywhere and it wouldn't have bothered him at all. He had his boys, latched onto him and holding steadfast. Someone could open the doors and let them fly out into space; he wouldn't care. He could die happily like this, right in this moment, if this was his time.

He had his boys latched onto him and holding steadfast. And that was plenty.

Like penguins they floated in their family huddle, every inch secure with not a moment's gap for any unwelcomed outsider to sneak their way into. It was perfect, it was family and it was everything he had missed. Everything he had held so tightly onto over eight hellish years of solitude and survival.

But now, none of that mattered.

It would never not be, because it had been a large chunk of his life after all, yet it almost seemed like it hadn't been.

With his sons in his arms, it was almost as though nothing had changed, as though they had simply gone eight years into the future without knowing how they got there.

He'd take that option too.

He'd waited eight years for this, for this hug. And it was worth the wait of every long, dragged second.

So like penguins they floated in their family huddle, every inch secure with not a moment's gap for any unwelcomed outsider to sneak their way into. It was perfect, it was family and it was everything he had missed. Everything he had held so tightly onto over eight hellish years of solitude and survival… was no longer a dream.

But his to hug and to hold.

I feel strangely mournful after writing all this morning, and no, I am not crying (so am, with the amount of times I've re-watched that hug whilst writing this piece)! That's it for today as well, apologies for any errors in any of these pieces, they are entirely my own (admittedly probably not seen through tears), but I will spy them out in due time.

I have way more work to follow to this episode, there's definitely two, possibly even four more, but I think I'll upload them more gradually, maybe during the week as I think I've bombarded you all enough for today with this series of work.

Thank you all so much for reading and sharing this journey with me! I plan to fill in for any episodes I haven't done TAGs for or have additional ideas for, and I have many ideas on the way too! I'm also open to requests, so they'll be plenty more on the way.