Disclaimer:

Some of the characters depicted below are components of the Thunderbirds Universe, the rights to which are currently held by Carlton. No financial consideration is received in the publishing of this work. Any characters not identifiable with the Thunderbirds Universe are my creation and remain my property.

LESSONS IN LIFE

An epic moral dilemma

PROLOGUE

Jeff Tracy stood stock still in a room full of bustling movement.

Excitement hung in the air but it was an excitement that he was unwilling to allow himself to get lost in.

Not yet.

Not until he'd seen his eldest son, safely home, with his own sleep-deprived and worried eyes.

Only then he could allow himself the ecstasy that was radiating from the three sons by his side, his mother, and just about every other family in the large but stifling room.

It was twenty nine weeks to the day since he'd received the initial phone call. Scott had requested a private meeting with him to be arranged as soon as possible. As soon as he'd ended the call, Jeff had known that there could only ever be one reason for his son wanting to meet him in person, alone, when he should've been flying fighter planes in Nevada. His suspicions were confirmed when Scott had arrived in New York two days later, a sombre expression dominating his features and clutching the all important letter.

There had only been one question on Jeff's mind as he bit his top lip. With the agitation growing inside him, he tried to keep his voice steady but only managed a strained tone, "Where?"

He remembered Scott's reaction as if it had been just yesterday, to the point where he could almost see the scene playing out in front of him. Scott had looked to the floor, his grip increasing a little on the thick, embossed envelope in his hand. It was a good few moments before he looked his father in the eye again. "Allufah," Scott had swallowed.

Jeff had given him a grim nod, trying to show no outward indication that his heart had just dropped passed his shoes. In all honesty, he doubted he'd ever truly accepted the possibility that his assumption about Scott's last minute visit was correct. He'd fooled himself into thinking that there would be some other explanation for Scott's sudden desire to see him. It wasn't until Scott uttered that one word, that it really hit Jeff that he'd been right all along.

It really was happening.

His son was going to war.

His worst nightmare was about to come true and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. After all, he'd supported Scott's decision to join the Air Force, hell, he'd even encouraged it. It had made him so proud to see his eldest son in that same uniform that he, himself, had worn all those years ago. But now, as his hands began to feel sweaty and his legs felt suddenly not-so-solid, he had to wonder if he'd made one almighty mistake in endorsing Scott's career decision. He'd never seen active service in all the time he was in the Air Force and maybe he'd been looking through rose tinted glasses, he thought. All of a sudden, he began to remember the stories. Stories of combat he'd heard round the Officers' Mess. The kind of stories that you always hoped your children, no matter how old they were, would never have the misfortune to hear, let alone witness first hand.

Suddenly, in his mind he was back twenty five years to a cramped hospital room. He was perched on the side of the bed with one arm draped around Lucille, the other hand extended to the tiny bundle in her arms, his little finger encompassed by an even smaller hand. Something had happened in that moment, something had ignited inside him. That flame seemed to have burned forever, growing in intensity as Scott grew and weathering the storms of teenage life.

It wasn't unique to Scott, it'd happened with each of his boys, but it was something that never died and something Jeff could never begin to explain. And it was that flame that he felt now, as he realised that this visit could potentially be good-bye, could potentially be the last time he'd ever see his son alive again.

In Jeff's mind, everything he'd learned over the years, and he'd learned a lot, was telling him that Scott was a man now, that he had his own life to lead. In his heart of hearts though, Jeff was reminded that Scott was still his son. He always would be. And that's why it took every ounce of self control for Jeff not to scream at him right there and then, not to go. Not because he thought Scott wouldn't cope or that he wouldn't thrive in that kind of situation, but because it went against every instinct he had as a father to just stand back and let his son walk into danger.

"When?" Jeff had asked, looking down to where he was unconsciously wringing his hands together. He made an effort to draw the limbs apart and stuffed the sweaty appendages into his pockets.

"We leave on the 23rd, I have to be back on base in four days though," Scott had said in that matter of fact tone that he'd inherited. Jeff tried to approach the subject from a different angle; as an entrepreneur. He could see how Scott wanted the opportunity to lead men in active combat, how it would be proof of his good judgement under pressure and also, how far it would go towards furthering his career. Even though Jeff could understand Scott's desire to hasten through the ranks and see this as an opportunity, the father in him prospered over the businessman. Jeff wasn't really surprised that the ploy didn't work.

There was anxiety in Scott's every movement, his every expression. Jeff couldn't blame his son for being apprehensive. The prospect of being sent to a Civil-War-infested, lawless state that produced enough daily atrocities to fill the front pages of every newspaper across the globe was enough to make the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. In a way, Scott's obvious anxiety only fuelled the fire of his own.

At that thought Jeff had been unable to stop himself looking down at the newspaper he'd been reading prior to Scott's arrival. He glanced at the headline; 'Six Tortured and Killed As Air Force Helijet Shot Down in Allufah', and had to look away, shutting his eyes tightly.

Swallowing back his own worries and hoping that his concern wasn't too obvious, he reached down to pick up Scott's holdall.

"I'll get it," Scott had pushed his hand away. "I can't stay long, I'm staying with Alan and Virgil on Wednesday, then I'm going to Atlantic City to see Gordon and I'm hoping to re-route in to Kansas on my way back to fit Grandma in."

Jeff had kept at his side as they walked towards the car, he thoroughly understood Scott's desire to fit in a little bit of time with each member of the family. Scott was anticipating every eventuality should the worst happen whilst he was away. In a way, Jeff was proud of him for that, for accepting the dangers. He'd noticed, however, that John hadn't been included in Scott's plans for the next few days. "Does John know?"

Scott shook his head and then looked saddened, "Not yet, I wanted to tell you before I told the kids." Jeff understood and found himself nodding again and focusing his vision on the ground as they walked. His heart started thudding inside his chest and echoing around his head. Although, he kept at Scott's side as they walked, inside he was working on autopilot, still letting the news sink in. Fleeting thoughts hit him one after another, whisking him from one subject to the next without time to think things through; How would he tell his mother the news? Would this experience change Scott beyond recognition? Had Scott made a will? Was this the last time he'd see his son? How would the family cope if they did lose him? Could they survive? More importantly - could he?

"I'm a bit disappointed that I won't get to see John before I go," Scott had admitted, breaking Jeff's haphazard thought process.

"Well, the Moon's a long way away, Son," Jeff had replied. He was distracted by his own wistful thinking.

It had even crossed his mind that maybe he could pull a few strings, see if he could get someone at the Air Force to change their mind, somehow. He had contacts, after all. In that moment, he would've done anything to prevent Scott seeing and experiencing what the newspapers were reporting. But he'd wisely kept his mouth shut, realising that his concern as a father was taking over his rational mind. He had to let Scott live his own life and stop being so selfish, he'd chided himself.

Scott found himself watching just how anxious and taut his father appeared as he opened the car. "I'll be careful, Dad," he'd said, no doubt trying to reassure his father's obvious unease.

The words had taken Jeff by surprise. Not so much the words, but the tone by which they were communicated. There was no anxiety in Scott's voice, nor was there any hint of worry on his features. Instead, his eyes sparkled with something akin to excitement. It was in that moment that Jeff realised he'd misunderstood; Scott's earlier unease had very little with going to Allufah, as Jeff had assumed, and a lot to do with breaking the news to his family.

This theory was reinforced as Scott continued to explain with that same excitement and exhilaration in his tone.

"I understand the dangers," he paused "and I know there's a chance I might not be coming back," he explained in a low voice once they'd got in the car. "But at the end of the day, this is part of the job; it's what I signed up for. And I couldn't ask for a better team to take with me." The enthusiasm in his voice seemed to grow as the journey home continued.

Scott's confidence was contagious and it had reassured Jeff to see his son so positive, despite the fact that he had to wonder if there was an element of ignorance or naivety to Scott's fervour. Jeff knew how difficult it was to maintain that level of positive attitude in those kinds of situations. It had obviously showed all over his face because Scott repeated the earlier pledge.

"I'll be careful, Dad, it'll be fine." He'd paused. "I'll be back, I promise."

Jeff's hand had halted half way to the ignition at those words and he'd turned to stare at Scott slowly, his eyes filled with sorrow and grief.

"Don't say that, Son," he'd swallowed and turned away so Scott couldn't see his face. A face that, against his better judgement, was revealing a whole lot more than he'd desired it to. "Don't make promises you know you can't keep."

"But Dad…"

"Y'know, a friend of mine once said those exact same words to me," Jeff had spoken over him, garnering Scott's attention in an instant. His soft tone was uncharacteristic as he started the engine and then continued what he was saying. "He kept his promise, alright. He came back." Jeff paused. "In a box."

Thoughts of their previous conversation made Jeff glance impatiently at the big double doors. What was taking so long, he wondered. The Air Force had claimed his son for over six months, hadn't they had him long enough? The only contact he'd had with Scott prior to the mandatory debriefing was a message left on his answer phone over twenty four hours ago to say that they'd arrived back in the country safely. Not even a conversation. Just a message.

But over the last six months, it had been Jeff's worst nightmare that the simple words conveyed in that message would never come.

Every time the phone rang, every time someone arrived unexpectedly to see him, it took him back to that initial conversation with Scott at the airport. The words and actions would run through his head, at lightening speed, so frequently that nowadays the whole thing came without even a second thought. And now, as Jeff stood watching the small double doors that led into the great hall he still couldn't yet feel the relief that all that anxiety, that deep seated worry and sickness was over. He couldn't quite allow himself that respite. Not yet.

At his side, Gordon and Alan were talking animatedly, doing very little to hide their enthusiasm for Scott's safe return. Virgil was slightly more refrained, he twiddled his thumbs apprehensively and Jeff wondered if perhaps he felt that same as he did. This inability to believe Scott was home until they'd seen him walk through those double doors with their own eyes.

He wondered if his second eldest son had received the same phone call he had.

Jeff had received only a handful of phone calls since Scott's departure to Allufah. The first one had been a lively conversation about how he was settling in and how the boys were doing. Scott had been relaxed and confident, jokingly suggesting they send him a survival package with some decent coffee in it.

But it was the last conversation that stood out a lot more in Jeff's mind.

It had been less than ten days ago and Scott had appeared on the vidphone with a cut across his forehead and black bags under his eyes. When questioned on his appearance Scott had insisted that the cut was nothing and that he'd not wanted to worry his father by calling earlier. But it wasn't just his physical appearance that had sparked Jeff's deeper concern; the lively, energetic Scott that he'd spoken to months ago had been inexplicably replaced by a quiet and subdued replica.

Scott had done his best to appear happy and jovial but his eyes told a different story. Late at night in his New York penthouse, Jeff remembered only too well how he'd closed the video down more than a little relieved in the knowledge that his eldest son was due to return home in a week and a half. Fear for Scott's life had turned into fear for Scott's soul. Maybe that was why he was so unwilling to accept Scott was safely home. He needed to be sure that the damage that his son had escaped on the outside hadn't manifested itself on the inside instead. Why was being a decent father to these boys so hard?

Jeff was a military man, he knew how it worked; he'd seen men go away and never come back. That was bad enough. But in a way what was worse were the ones that came back broken; shattered shells of their former selves, hardly even recognisable.

And what terrified Jeff Tracy the most, as he stood in that hall waiting to clap eyes on Scott for the first time in over six months, was that the man who walked back through those double doors would no longer be his treasured, eldest son, but instead the pieces of a broken soldier.