Just a few oneshots of the boys being injured/ill.

Set in the 2015 universe!

Some are based on an ask I got and replied to on my Thunderbirds art blog: post/118692326198/have-any-of-you-been-seriously-injured-on-a

Littlest Tracy

"He's dead!"

The loud proclamation echoed from the youngest brother's room into the hallway where Grandma Tracy just happened to be sorting laundry. She swiftly dropped the bundle of clothes she'd been carrying and barged into Alan's room, fearing the worst. The small blond teen was lying on his stomach on the floor, feet swinging absently in the air as he frantically smashed buttons on his controller which was making a holographic man swing an axe at 3D zombies. Unfortunately, the man's head was missing, much to Alan's horror.

"Alan!"

His grandmother's voice could often be one of a soothing nature but, when necessary, she could rattle his teeth with her chastising tones. This was one of those times. He dropped the controller, causing the hologram to shimmer and flicker off, and sat upright, prepared for punishment. Although for what crime he couldn't quite remember. The older lady straightened her purple spectacles and folded her arms tight across her chest.

"I thought someone had actually died!" she sighed and rolled her pale eyes, "Well, anyway, go and get some fresh air will you, boy. If you get any paler I'll be able to see through you!"

With only slight protest, Alan trudged outside, squinting his eyes at the harsh sunlight beaming down on him. It was always glorious weather on Tracy Island and he sometimes wished he could stay on the mainland for a while just to experience the changing seasons. He'd heard that the autumn leaves were especially beautiful. Not one to linger on the negatives, however, Alan chose a sun lounger by the pool and decided to bask for a while, Grandma Tracy had not been lying when she said he was pale.

The warmth of the sunlight felt good on his skin and he was just debating whether or not to grab a cool drink and possibly some sun cream - his ears were turning the same shade as his 'bird - when his serenity was disrupted by the fish of the family. Gordon dived into the pool, making sure to splash his little brother with as much water as possible, grinning when Alan jerked upright.

"Ha ha, very funny."

Ringing out his t-shirt, the youngest Tracy decided to leave Squid-Boy to his swimming and try and make himself useful. He'd already cleaned Thunderbird 3 the previous day but he guessed there was no harm getting in his brothers' good books. Maybe if he washed down some of the other crafts they'd realise he was actually quite responsible and let him in on some of the more exciting rescues. He knew he wasn't respected any less than his brothers but he did know that Scott still liked to mollycoddle him and try to keep him 'safe' when it came to risky missions. Ever since their father's disappearance the eldest Tracy brother had taken on the role and, although he was doing a grand job of it indeed, he did tend to smother at times. Hence his nickname – Smother Hen.

Once inside the hangar, Alan immediately decided that cleaning Thunderbird 4 was out of the question, Gordon had it locked away tightly in its pod. Thunderbird 2, however, was much more obtainable and seemed to only need a quick once over with the hose. He'd watched Virgil clean the 'bird hundreds of times and knew that his burly brother liked nothing more than seeing her sparkling and ready to go and so set to work immediately, a broad smile on his freckled face.

About ten minutes into hosing down the huge machine, Alan knew he was doing something wrong. In order to reach the top of the craft he'd had to climb on top and was now holding the hose as water gushed down onto the green surface, making the very surface he was standing on extremely slippery. He was certain he'd seen Virgil using the hose like this, though, and couldn't quite understand what he was doing differently. His older brother certainly didn't slip and slide when he washed it down, not like Alan was currently doing. His feet kept sliding from under him and as he added soap he felt instant regret as the suds seemed to surround him. Flopping around like a stranded seal, Alan slid onto his side with a thud and dropped the hose which started flailing wildly, drenching him in cold water. He felt like an idiot as he scrambled madly, trying to get some sort of leverage to get himself back on his feet. His efforts were futile and, as the hose sprayed him once more, he slid further down the side of the 'bird.

Panic overtook him as he was no longer just stupid, he was in danger! The top of the craft was a good sixty feet off the ground and Alan was swiftly sliding off of it with nothing to grasp or prevent him from falling. His hands scrambled frantically for something to cling to but the soap suds made everything slick, like trying to grab butter. As his fingers slipped from the green vehicle and he lost all traction with Thunderbird 2, he quickly tapped the communication device on his wrist and yelled an incoherent bark at whoever was listening as he fell through the air towards the hangar floor.

Virgil was working on one of his sketches on the beach when John's face suddenly appeared at his wrist like a ghostly apparition. The dark-haired brother almost put his pencil through the canvas, he'd been so absorbed in his task that the sight of his brother startled him.

"John! Almost gave me a heart attack. What's up?"

"Have you seen Alan?"

Virgil's eyebrows knitted together at the odd question,

"He was around earlier, why?"

John's holographic image showed his trademark 'thinking face' before he spoke.

"He sent a weird message a few moments ago."

"He always sends weird messages, nothing new there."

"No, this was… different."

The redhead folded his arms and waited for Virgil to acknowledge his worries, which only took a moment. When John thought something wasn't quite the norm, he was usually right. Virgil sighed loudly and left his drawing, turning back towards the house.

"Okay, where is he now?"

A pause.

"His communicator has him located in Thunderbird 2's hangar."

A sea of emotions seemed to flicker across Virgil's face: confusion, annoyance, worry.

"That brat, he better not be messing with my 'bird!"

John tried to keep the laughter from his voice, "Keep me posted."

Stomping into the hangar, Virgil glanced around like a predator looking for his next meal. If there was one thing his brothers knew it was not to mess with TB2, his precious craft, and if they did they would face the wrath of the biggest member of International Rescue. The hose was still flopping about like a decapitated snake, water splashing in puddles around the Thunderbird, and Virgil's annoyance only started to rise higher as he absorbed the sight of his soap-covered baby.

"Alan! You in here?! I'm going to-"

His voice seeped away in a gasp as he noticed a pale hand peeking around the opposite side of his 'bird, behind one of the struts. Within seconds, Virgil has scurried around and was crouching beside his youngest brother, who was unconscious and drenched through to the skin. Alan looked even smaller in his damp clothes, a pitiful expression on his pale face, and it took all of Virgil's inner strength not to grab him and try to shake him awake. He looked like he'd had a bump on the head and his left leg was jutting out at an odd angle, possibly broken. Being the trained medic of the team, Virgil put on his 'nurse' cap and used his large hands to try and find any broken bones or fractures. The twisted leg seemed to be the main problem but the fact that Alan was unconscious and sporting a rather nasty bruise on his noggin had Virgil's heartbeat increasing by the second.

"Alan? Allie, wake up, bro."

Virgil tapped his wrist and John popped up again, this time immediately absorbing the look of concern on his brother's face.

"I found him," Virgil swallowed hard and tried to control his shaking voice, "He's unconscious. What the hell was he doing?!"

"Probably trying to impress his big brothers," John rolled his eyes and forced Virgil's attention back to Alan, "Is he okay?"

"He should be. But it looks like this leg's broken. I think he fell!"

John shook his head, "I'll inform Scott, you take care of our little brother."

Thunderbird 5's pilot blipped out of sight and Virgil scooped Alan up in his strong arms. He weighed even less than he thought he would and reminded Virgil of himself when he was younger, when his father would carry him to bed when he was tired. Now was not the time for reminiscing, however, and so Virgil swiftly made his way out of the hangar and into the glaring sunlight.

He quickly made his way back to the house, passing Gordon in the pool whose face blanched when he saw his unconscious brother. He scrambled to get out, not even bothering to grab his towel. Water dripped off his garish trunks as he caught up to his brothers.

"Virg? What happened?!"

He followed him into the house, hands awkwardly hovering over Alan's unconscious body. He was great when it came to rescues and wisecracks but injured siblings? No way.

"I think he slipped off TB2," Virgil replied curtly, eyes focused ahead.

"What was he doing on her? Has he hit his head? Will he be okay? His leg looks wrong, Virg, I-"

"Alright! I know!" Big brown eyes turned to Gordon, "Sorry. I just need to check he's okay."

Gordon nodded and kept silent. He knew when Virgil was in full 'nurse' mode he shouldn't disturb him.

The rocking motion of Virgil walking back to the house stirred Alan from his unconsciousness and he blinked slowly up at him, a confused expression on his young face.

"Virg? Did I clean her okay?"

Virgil smiled and his shoulders visibly relaxed at the sight of his brother's open eyes.

"Sure, little brother, she's super clean."

The blond smiled but it disappeared as quickly as it had come as a shooting pain shot through his leg, like broken glass was inside his shin, grinding and slicing with each step Virgil took. Alan winced and tried to grab his leg but Virgil held his hands back before placing him on the silver table in the medical suite. The youngest Tracy hadn't even realised they were inside the house, all thoughts focused on his aching leg, and he jumped slightly when he felt the cold metal against his skin.

"My leg-" Alan's fists balled at his sides as he lay on the table, "It hurts, Virg!"

"I know. Now keep still."

"Virgil's gonna fix you up, bro," Gordon dragged a hand through his wet hair and stepped back, giving Virgil more room to care for their little brother.

Alan was shivering uncontrollably, not only because he was soaked in cold water but also because of the pain emanating from his leg. His teeth chattered and when Virgil began to cut away his jeans, he almost bit his tongue off with the sudden jolt of heat that seemed to slice through his leg.

"You're cutting my leg off!"

Virgil scoffed, "I'm just cutting away your pants so I can see the damage!"

"Ow! Stop it!" Alan tried to kick Virgil away, resulting in another stab of pain and a grunt of annoyance from his big brother.

Long fingers carefully pulled away the torn denim revealing a purple and yellow bruised shin and a large lump where it should have been smooth. As gently as he could, Virgil used his fingertips to press against the lump, it was hard and slightly jagged. Bone. And certainly not where the bone should have been. It was definitely broken and would need a cast on for a good few weeks.

"Gross," the aquanaut grinned, showing his pearly whites as he pressed his fist to Alan's damp cheek, which felt a little too warm.

"Shut up, Fish," Alan retorted. A broken bone wasn't enough to quell his camaraderie with his closest brother.

Virgil was just thinking of the best way to break the bad news to his brother that he would be out of service for at least a month when Alan seemed to rock slightly and flopped backwards onto the table. If it hadn't been for Virgil's fast reflexes, he would have certainly had another bump on his head.

"Virg?!" Gordon's eyes were huge, like discs spinning in his head.

"I think he just passed out from the pain," Virgil was calm as he flicked a syringe and plunged it into Alan's pale arm. He hoped the pain relief would kick in before Scott decided to return, a smothering eldest brother was all they needed right now.

Of course wishful thinking was all that was and Scott's tall frame was suddenly in the doorway, ready to commence smothering and probably some reprimanding in Virgil's case. The eldest Tracy marched over to his brothers, thick eyebrows tilted upwards in concern, and placed his gloved hand on Alan's shoulder. He reminded Gordon so much of their father in that moment that it brought a lump to his throat and it was only when Scott turned to Virgil, eyes blazing with blame, that Thunderbird 4's pilot was brought back to the present.

Scott poked a long finger into Virgil's chest, "You were supposed to be looking out for him! What were you doing?!"

"He went into the hangar, I didn't kno-"

"And now he's injured!" Scott threw his arms up, exasperated.

"It's not Virgil's fault!" Gordon had moved to stand between Alan and his arguing brothers, something he'd done numerous times when they were younger to shield Alan from their arguments, "Alan went off on his own!"

Before Scott could continue his barrage of blame, Alan's baby blues fluttered open and he pushed himself upright on his elbows.

"Don't fight guys."

Smother Hen pushed Gordon aside and leaned over Alan as though checking for any more damage. Once he was sure the only problem was the leg his look of concern changed to one of anger and Alan winced internally, prepared for whatever onslaught he was about to receive.

"What were you doing in the hangar? You know you don't go in alone, Al." Scott's tone was one of relief rather than annoyance. He was just happy that his brother was in one piece, well one broken piece but all there nonetheless.

"I wanted to clean Thunderbird 2 to show you guys I'm responsible…" Alan's cheeks pinked slightly and his lips pressed into a thin line, "Guess that didn't go as planned."

Scott perched his behind on the table and ruffled Alan's blond hair, "We know you're responsible, dummy. Why else would we put you in charge of a rocket ship?!"

"Good point."

"Okay, okay, that's enough of this mushy business," Virgil shooed his brothers away, "I'll set this broken leg and one of you two can tell Grandma about this."

Scott and Gordon's faces fell at the thought of telling Grandma Tracy about Alan's accident. She tended to want to cook for them when they were injured or sick, which was a sure fire way to keep them that way. Before he left, however, Scott popped his head back into the medical suite, a sly grin on his dimpled face.

"Oh by the way, Virg, when I set down TB1 I noticed a scratch on the side of 2. Alan must have done it when he fell."

Scott skipped down the hallway to catch up to Gordon and they listened to the pained yelp of Alan as Virgil set his broken leg with a little more force than necessary. No one messed with his precious 'bird.