Disclaimer: I do not own Thunderbirds Are Go, or any of the Tracy boys. Sad face.

Warning, long, rambly explanatory author's note ahead. Please read :)

A/N: So I really thought that the first time I wrote something in the TAG universe, it would be Scayo, but this idea wouldn't leave me alone. The character limit means that the summary is super vague, so let me just explain some stuff here. I am totally mindful of the fact that TAG is a kids show and not exactly based in reality, but I found myself really fascinated by the idea of how International Rescue could function in the real world, what with their expenses and so on. Then I imagined how frustrating that would be to someone not in on the secret, and Anne popped into being. And very quickly developed a crush on Scott, because of course. It's me, what did you expect?

I also wanted to explore the change in the secrecy policy. IR had a semblance of one in TOS, even if it was a little...hole-ridden. In season one of TAG, they kind of stick to this idea, but it seems to go right out the window in season two, so that's a background plot point too. As are Penelope and Gordon, because I love them a lot.

This story starts in season one and ends at the end of season three. At the time of writing this note, it's canon-compliant up to the very end of season three, then diverges. I'm pretty sure season three will end with the return of Jeff, but I had my own ideas of how that was going to come about. I may end up rewriting it when we find out what happens in canon, but for now it's AU.

This story is rated for suggestions of adult themes, also mild language. There is one f-bomb in the entire thing, so if you think I should change the rating, let me know.

Okay, so I think I've rambled enough. I have never written an OC before, so I hope you like her! (I adapted her design for the cover from a GDF officer, but she still kind of looks like Marion because they use that face a lot. Ah well.) I am also very much aware that it's risky to start a first chapter with OCs, but the whole point of this was to get an outsider's view of the Tracys. Don't worry, there'll be some familiar faces by the time you reach the bottom of this page :)

Chapter One – First Impressions.

"When will your replacement arrive?" Anne asked, watching her boss remove every personal item from his desk and place it in a sad-looking empty box.

Tim glanced up at her, surprise creasing his already-lined brow. "Replacement?"

Anne mirrored his expression. "Yes. For while you're not here."

"I don't plan to be gone that long. You'll fill in."

She folded her arms, narrowing her eyes. "Tim, you can't disobey the doctor's orders. At least six months of rest, if not a year. I'm going to need help."

Tim waved a dismissive hand, tucking a framed photo of his wife down the side of the box. "You're more than capable."

While the compliment was nice, she didn't let it sway her. "I'm capable, yes. But being capable at being your assistant and taking over practically running this company are two hugely different things."

"I don't run this company," he insisted, "I'm just a caretaker. And so are you."

Anne sighed heavily. "I know Jeff Tracy is your friend," she said gently, mindful of her tenses, "but it's been years. You need to accept that you're running this place now. We don't know if we'll ever get answers about what happened to him. And I can't take over from you."

His face closed off a touch at the mention of his friend, their boss. Jeff Tracy had been missing presumed dead for the entirety of Anne's time with Tracy Enterprises, but she knew, (as did Tim), that he was only considered missing because his body had never been found. Tim still considered the possibility of Jeff's miraculous return, and therefore named himself a caretaker rather than the new CEO.

Despite the evident distress he still felt, his eyes were clear when they fixed on her. "You can," he said firmly. "You are capable. The only difference is you won't have me as a safety net, but I'll be available for calls if you need anything."

Anne shook her head. "Tim, I'm barely out of college, this is my first full time job! I can't step up to be…acting CEO, or whatever it is that you technically are! The department heads won't stand for it. And I am not calling you when you're supposed to be resting."

But Tim stood behind an immoveable barrier, her words bouncing off the surface without getting through to him at all.

"Anne, you'll be fine. I promise you. Call me if you need me, although Bella and I will be in the Maldives for the first three weeks I'm off. Don't forget, Lady Creighton-Ward is coming to renew her trustee paperwork in a month. You can take up queries with her too."

Knowing him well enough to realise her points were falling on deaf ears, Anne nodded in defeat, unable to help feeling slightly abandoned as he clasped her shoulder before picking up his box of belongings and exiting the office. She didn't begrudge him the time off, of course. In fact, the reason why she was feeling so alone was because she was determined not to bother him while he recovered. He'd been hit by a series of mild strokes brought on by stress, and his lengthy hiatus was part recuperation, part prevention.

While his official job title was Personal Assistant to Jeff Tracy, Tim had been running Tracy Enterprises for years. Even before Jeff's accident, Tim had been in charge for months at a time while the adventurous CEO was off on some space mission or other. Anne had gotten a job as Tim's assistant when it became clear that he would be stepping into Jeff's shoes on a more permanent basis, and although she'd run the place to cover Tim's vacations, that had just been for a few weeks, not months.

The door slid open, and she turned, hoping to see Tim's laughing face as he informed her that he had, in fact, hired someone to temporarily run the company after all, and he'd just been teasing her the entire time. Instead, she saw Viresh, who had clearly sneaked away from his post on main reception to check on her. She was touched, but her face fell.

"Oh, that's a nice greeting," he said, reading her.

"I'm sorry, it's not personal."

"I figured," he said matter-of-factly. "I just thought I'd drop by to say that you got this. You know what you're doing, you just lack confidence."

She conjured up a weak smile. "Thanks. I just know the department heads won't like it. They're all older than me, they've all got way more experience…"

"Yeah, but they're all scientists, astronauts and accountants," Viresh said, generalising wildly but somewhat hitting the mark. "You couldn't do their job, they can't do yours. That's how companies work."

"Well, since I'm not getting any help, I hope you're right," Anne said with a sigh, taking a step towards her own desk by the door.

Viresh halted her with a raised hand. "Uh, where are you going? You've got to sit there now."

He nodded in the direction of Tim's desk, which had once been Jeff's. Anne turned and glanced at it, bare of everything that had made it Tim's.

"Right," she acknowledged, altering direction and hesitating only briefly before taking a seat.

"Is that chair as comfy as it looks?" Viresh asked. "Tell me it is."

Her lips twitched. "It's comfy. I may be crushed under the weight of this responsibility, but at least my ass will be happy."

"And in the end, isn't that what really matters?" Viresh said with over-the-top cheer.

A laugh sneaked up on her and burst out, and she sent him a look of gratitude. "Thanks," she said sincerely.

"No problem. Like I said, you got this."

Anne nodded, although she wasn't convinced. "Guess we'll see."

Six weeks later.

"Another one that needs authorisation," Anne grumbled, saving the email into the folder she'd purposely set aside. "How am I meant to work like this? How did Tim work like this?"

She glanced around at the walls of the huge office, filled with an intimidating amount of empty space. The desk sat directly in the middle with a couple of chairs in front of it, her own lonely, smaller desk abandoned by the door. There was no other furniture, and the only decorations were a few corporate photographs of Tracy-funded space missions.

"Are you talking to me?" A small hologram popped up, showing her Viresh raising a questioning brow.

"No," she sighed. "Sorry, did I activate the thing again?"

"No, I was earwigging," he admitted. "What's up?"

"Nothing new," Anne reported with a huff.

Viresh nodded sagely. "Nothing for it. You're going to have to get pushy."

She wrinkled her nose. "I really didn't want to have to do that, but I think you're right. This stuff isn't going to authorise itself. More's the pity."

"Maybe you can get a hold of that English chick. The one with the cute dog," Viresh suggested.

"By 'that English chick', I assume you mean Lady Creighton-Ward?" Anne said with amusement, knowing Viresh knew perfectly well who Lady Creighton-Ward was, and not just because he was slightly enamoured by her.

"Right, that's it," he said nonchalantly, fooling no one.

"She dealt with some things when she visited before, but she doesn't have clearance to look at everything. I need one of the sons." Anne sighed heavily, leaning back in the comfy chair that wasn't hers.

Since taking over from Tim, she'd done a thorough sweep of everything from accounts to employee records. She hadn't been expecting to find anything wrong, only to give herself full knowledge of everything she was supposed to be overseeing, but she'd discovered a lot of things that essentially blocked her access, things that needed authorising by Jeff Tracy. Since he wasn't available for obvious reasons, it fell to his sons. He had five, and Anne had never met a single one. Lady Creighton-Ward was the only representative of Jeff's that she'd seen.

"Why didn't Tim contact them before now?" she wondered aloud. "They should have been in here to authorise things as soon as it became clear their father wasn't coming back. If any of them had a shred of responsibility they would have."

"Maybe Tim didn't want to," Viresh theorised. "Mr. Tracy was his friend. Maybe calling in the sons felt like accepting that he was really gone."

"Maybe. I understand that, but…it's been years. This should have been sorted out way sooner."

"Aren't the youngest sons still teenagers?"

"I have no idea," Anne said with a shrug. "Yeah, I think you're right. Okay, so they get a free pass, but the older ones have no excuse. The oldest one must be older than me, right? Can't remember his name. Cecil or something."

Viresh snorted. They both knew that wasn't the right name, but Anne couldn't recall the real one, and Cecil sounded posh enough for the heir to a multi-billion-dollar company. She'd tried to contact the Tracys once or twice back when she'd first started shelving the things she needed authorising, but hadn't been able to get through to any family members. They hadn't bothered calling back, and she'd let the matter drop, but the issues had mounted up to a ridiculous number, and she was fed up with not being able to move forward.

She straightened up. "Okay, I'm going to contact them again," she said with fresh determination. "Wish me luck."

Viresh shook his head, smiling. "Give 'em hell."

She sniggered, but sent him an admonishing look. "Let's hope it won't come to that."

His hologram disappeared, and Anne pulled up the office contacts, finding the one that had once put Tim in touch with Jeff Tracy's not-so-humble abode. The universal symbol for an outgoing call materialised before her and she waited.

Finally it vanished, showing her a hologram of a woman with neatly bobbed grey hair and purple cat-eye glasses that were a perfect match to her outfit.

"You've reached Sally Tracy," the woman answered, her tone filled with the underlying suspicion that people usually displayed when receiving calls from strangers.

Curbing her surprise, Anne sent her a respectful smile. Based on her age, the woman had to be Jeff Tracy's mother.

"Mrs. Tracy, hi. I'm Anne Ashton. I'm calling from Tracy Enterprises."

"How can I help you, Ms. Ashton?" Mrs. Tracy asked. The tone of her rather gravelly voice was neutral and polite, but she seemed a little on edge. Perhaps she preferred not to be reminded of her son's absence. Anne could understand that, but she had no choice.

"I'm Tim's assistant," she explained, "but I've taken over as…well, technically it's the personal assistant role, but I've never actually met Mr. Tracy due to…his accident. I'm acting CEO while Tim is on long-term sick."

"Tim's sick?" Mrs. Tracy said in apparent surprise. "When did this happen?"

"He's been gone for six weeks. I sent an email…" Anne curbed her annoyed tone and continued. "But anyway, he's been running the place since Mr. Tracy's accident, and now that task has fallen to me. I've been doing the best I can, but unfortunately there are things that need the approval of Mr. Tracy's representative. Is that something you can do? Or perhaps his eldest son?"

"Oh, I wouldn't have a clue, dear. I'll get Scott to call you, although he's very busy."

Doing what? Anne thought. Gallivanting around in a fancy yacht?

"Thank you, Mrs. Tracy," she said instead. "As soon as possible, please. I've delayed as long as…"

"Yes, of course," Mrs. Tracy said dismissively. "I'm sorry, I have another call coming in."

"Oh, no problem, just…" But the older woman was gone. "Oh," she said in surprise. "Well damn."

The elusive Scott Tracy didn't call, of course. Anne didn't know what she'd been expecting really. The man was clearly one of those irresponsible billionaire playboys who didn't give a damn about his father's business. A business, incidentally, that was bringing a sizeable sum of money into the Tracy account, enabling him to continue his preferred lifestyle. There was never as much in the account as Anne imagined there would be. For all that the dollars kept rolling in in their hundreds of thousands, the family seemed to have some hefty outgoing expenses that never showed up properly on her reports. She suspected the sons liked to party hard with their father's money.

Once or twice she caught herself wondering whether they even cared that he was most likely dead. She knew she was being unfair. She didn't know them, and she'd never met Jeff, but she liked Tim. He was a good boss, and she'd watched him struggle with the responsibilities that he should never have had to deal with. He cared about Tracy Enterprises more than any actual Tracy, and she didn't like to see the business ignored and its money squandered by Jeff's absent kids. Jeff had always been honest about prioritising his work as an astronaut, comfortable with leaving Tim in charge while he was gone. Tracy Enterprises had been crucial for helping to fund his space work. Now its money was going to who knew what, courtesy of the next generation of Tracys.

Since she'd taken over Tim's job, Anne had been able to see why he'd gotten so stressed that he'd had a stroke at the age of fifty-two. Understandably, Jeff had left no contingency plan before his disastrous crash. Although Tim had often been running things on his own, Jeff had always returned to touch base and give his authorisation to things. How Tim had managed without that, Anne couldn't fathom, and she refused to call him and ask. She had issues backing up from the end of the last financial year that needed a Tracy's attention. Although Lady Creighton-Ward, family friend, had been somewhat helpful, as Anne had told Viresh, she wasn't authorised to deal with everything.

Her irritation with the situation had already been simmering, but at Scott Tracy's lack of communication, something snapped. She called every day, mostly reaching Mrs. Tracy, sometimes an automated message, sometimes a nervous, bespectacled man who stammered over his words. She could tell from their gradually changing attitudes that she was being annoying, but she needed results. The lack of Tracy appearances was hindering her work, and she was already going above and beyond the same way Tim had done. Viresh applauded her efforts, even if he was slightly taken aback by her tenacity.

It got to the point that she and Mrs. Tracy were almost reciting the same script over and over again, and she made sure to always keep her tone polite and cheery.

"Good morning, Mrs. Tracy." (Although she freely admitted, she didn't actually know where the family lived or what time zone they were in).

"Ms. Ashton, hello. He's not here. I'll tell him you called."

"Thanks, I appreciate it. I'm in the office all day."

"He knows that. Goodbye."

"Goodbye."

Mrs. Tracy, poor thing, was not as willing to hide her annoyance at the situation. Anne felt bad for bothering her, especially considering what had happened to her son, but she needed to push through, and there was never any guarantee that Mrs. Tracy would be the one to answer the calls anyway.

"This is getting ridiculous," Viresh observed one day as she ended the call.

"Yup," Anne agreed, trying not to let her irritation roll over into her conversation with him.

"That secretary from the GDF called while you were speaking to Mrs. T," he went on. "He wants to come in next week to discuss the Tracy technology they're using."

Anne felt a headache thrum between her eyebrows. "Right. Great."

Viresh sent her a sympathetic look. He knew as well as she did that all matters pertaining to the Global Defence Force were supposed to go through Jeff Tracy or his representative. She would have to stall somehow.

"Make sure you offer him a drink right away, he's a picky bastard," she said, focusing on something she could control.

"I'll make sure we have the good coffee," Viresh said with a nod.

"What do we currently have?"

"The good-but-not-great coffee."

She glanced at her empty mug. "That'll do."

Finally, after three and a half weeks of constant daily pestering, she got the call she'd been waiting for. It came less than ten minutes after she'd hung up with Mrs. Tracy, an audio-only call that made her jump when it cut through the silence of her office. With a jolt, she realised who it had to be, and she answered it immediately, heart leaping into her throat in anticipation.

"Anne Ashton."

"Ms. Ashton, this is Scott Tracy. I hear you've been trying to contact me."

Anne blinked. Was that…humour in his voice? Her hackles rose. "You hear correctly, Mr. Tracy," she said coldly. "I'm currently acting CEO of Tracy Enterprises."

"I know," he interrupted. "My grandma told me."

She could hear some kind of engine in the background. No doubt he was cruising around in a super-expensive chartered jet plane.

"Did she also tell you that you're needed here to take care of some of your father's responsibilities?" she said.

"She did. Unfortunately, I don't know when that's going to be possible, I'm pretty busy."

He sounded a touch peeved, and Anne found herself secretly pleased. After all, he'd been annoying her for weeks without even trying.

"Yes, I'm aware," she said, "but it's important."

"Well can it wait?" he asked, voice lacking in patience.

She rolled her eyes, grateful for the lack of visuals. "With all due respect, it has been waiting. I've been doing my best but you have to appreciate I wasn't hired for this."

"No, I guess you weren't," he said, and she frowned.

She had to admit, he didn't completely sound like a douchebag rich boy. There was a warmth to his tone that would have almost been reassuring had she not disliked what he was actually saying.

"Look," she spoke up, "all it would take is a few hours of your time. Half a day, if that."

Another voice piped up and she recognised the stammering man she'd spoken to before.

"Scott, you should be c-coming up on the area n-now."

"Hold it, Brains, I'm on another call."

"Oh. S-sorry."

Bristling at the interruption, Anne snapped, "I appreciate that you're clearly very busy, Mr. Tracy, but this is your father's chief company. Without it, your income would drop drastically. I think that deserves your attention once in a while."

"Right," he said, although he sounded distracted now. "I'm sorry, Ms. Ashton, but I gotta go."

"Now wait just a minute!" she exclaimed.

"Grandma," she heard him say, "talk to Ms. Ashton for me. Schedule a trip to L.A., I'm needed elsewhere." And he was gone.

Anne threw up her hands. "Of all the…"

"Hello Ms. Ashton," came Mrs. Tracy's voice. "When would you like my grandson to come in?"

Despite her thinning patience, Mrs. Tracy had been nothing but polite to her, and Anne felt some of her ire dissipating.

"As soon as possible, please."

"Friday morning?"

"Perfect," she said, trying to be her usual polite self.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, dear. Have a good evening." Then she was gone too.

Anne rested her elbows on the desk, clasped hands under her chin, and considered what to make of the conversation. Viresh's image popped up in front of her, expression openly curious.

"Well?"

Coming to a conclusion, she met his holographic gaze. "He's an asshole."

A/N: I think we all know she's not going to hold that opinion for long! Fun fact: Tim is named for the original Colonel Casey. Next chapter is kind of a baby one, so it'll be up over the weekend, hopefully.