Author's Note: I'd like to thank everyone who's made it this far through the story - and in particular those folks who have been kind and generous enough to leave reviews. This story was a tough one to write. It's good to know that, on the whole, it's gone across well. It's been fun to watch people's reactions and guesses as to what was to come. Each one has brightened my day, and I hope the conclusion of this story doesn't disappoint. Any further comments are, of course, more than welcome!

Epilogue

"Thunderbirds One and Two to Base, requesting landing clearance."

Alan spoke for both craft, his voice clear and confident of a swift response. I glanced out of Two's cockpit window, taking in the sleek lines of Thunderbird One beside us. It wasn't often I got a good view of her in flight. My hands itched to take the controls, but with my shoulder tightly bound and my arm supported in a sling it was the co-pilot seat in Thunderbird Two or nothing. I'd had to argue hard to secure even that much.

"Thunderbirds One and Two from Thunderbird Five. Hold at twenty mile perimeter." I jerked upright in my seat, hissing under my breath as pain shot through my back and arm, and then scowling at Virgil when he threw a worried look in my direction. My shoulder was fine. Just a little stiff. I was far more interested in why John had intercepted Alan's call. Our space monitor's voice stayed carefully level. "Operation Cover-Up is in under way."

Alan's voice over the radio echoed my own confusion. "What… why?"

"Private jet landed almost two hours ago." John's image appeared on the dashboard screen in front of us, shrugging. "That's all I can tell you."

"Hmmm…" Virgil was already decelerating. He looked at me again, a new concern deepening the familiar lines on his brow. The strains of the last week still showed on my brother. Even three contented days spent checking Thunderbird Two over inch by inch couldn't wipe away the days of uncertainty over her fate, or the thirty-six hours he'd spent fretting before I rejoined my family on the island. "Dad knew when to expect us home, didn't he?"

"We called in our ETA," I confirmed grimly.

Virgil shifted in his seat, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand as he put Thunderbird Two in a hover.

"Damn, we shouldn't have left – " Virgil pitched his voice too low for the microphone to pick up. I looked over at him, cutting him off in the same quiet murmur.

"Relax, Virg. It's probably got nothing to do with," I waved a hand, taking in Thunderbird Two and everything it implied, "all this."

The media were still picking over 'the Elton Affair'. Harmon had come in for near-universal vilification. The cold light of dawn had found the man more rational and willing to concede that 'mistakes were made' but far from repentant regarding his motives and intent. Opinions over International Rescue's secrecy and Harmon's motives might still be divided, but threatening his fellow officers and attempting to bombard a hospital, not to mention shooting a civilian, had put the general's actions beyond the pale. Far more detail of his decisions in the base's control room had leaked out than I'd have expected. I still wasn't sure whether to blame John for that, or Casey, or some other less obvious sympathiser. Either way, my own video statement wouldn't be doing anything to help Harmon's defence.

According to Penny, it wasn't just the press and the air force disciplinary board still digesting the whole business. Apparently, our willingness to recover our property by force had come as a surprise to the governments and agencies who'd been so keen to exploit the Hood's theft. It seemed to have won us a certain degree of cautious respect. Either way International Rescue had come out pretty much smelling like roses, our suspected mistake in starting the base fire conveniently glossed over everywhere but in our rather chastening internal debriefing. Governments were falling over themselves to condemn what had happened, all of them stopping carefully shy of promising safe passage or making any other meaningful assurances.

I'd hoped that returning to the Toronto suburbs and recovering the Mole from her specially built enclosure would draw a line under the whole business. It had worked up to a point. I'd seen Virgil's relieved expression as he checked his favourite pod machine over and then stood for a few seconds with one hand on her flank, simply communing with her. After that, loading the Mole up had been smooth and almost too easy. We'd been careful to thank the Canadian government, and the police force that had guarded the machine around the clock for a week. Admittedly, taking Thunderbird One along to watch over the procedure like a hovering bird of prey might have rather undermined our expressions of gratitude, but if so no one saw fit to comment on it. Until we knew where we stood we'd be playing each rescue cautiously. The rest of the world could take it or leave it.

Assuming we got to carry on with rescues at all… A visitor on the island, just days after our biggest ever threat of exposure? I knew what I'd just told Virgil, but looked at logically, this wasn't good.

"Who could it be?" Alan was jittery, his nerves showing in a slight jerkiness as my 'bird manoeuvred. He dropped into a hover beside us, broke it to circle us a few times and then hovered again. "What if someone worked it all out? What if they traced you guys? Or someone recognised me or Johnny over the radio? What if - ?"

"Alan, shut up." John's instruction pre-empted the order on my lips and the frustration about to burst from Virgil. "You're not helping."

"If they'd put it together do you think they'd have waited this long to confront us?" I asked, voice reasonable.

"They could have been waiting for us to leave," Alan insisted. "To get Dad and Gordon alone on the island."

John sighed, rolling his eyes at our little brother. "That jet? Top speed? It left the mainland before you even set off for Canada, Alan. You think we have psychic invaders?"

Alan subsided. I wasn't expecting Virgil to give the groundless speculation new impetus.

"We gave too much away," he fretted. "We should never have gone in at Elton. The whole thing was a mess from beginning to end."

"We have Thunderbird Two back." I caught Virgil's eyes and then glanced at the dashboard, where John and Alan now shared a split screen. "It was worth the risk. Every life we save from today onwards will prove that."

Virgil's eyes moved from my face to the sling, stark and white against my blue uniform. "It nearly wasn't."

A new sound saved me from having to answer. Over the video link to Thunderbird Five, I saw John reach out to answer the electronic chime and hesitate. He looked up to meet my eyes.

"The jet's still there. What if answering just confirms someone's suspicions?"

The call signal sounded again, and this time a cheerful voice followed it.

"Hey, Johnny. You asleep up there?"

John expelled his breath in a deep sigh, flicking the switch for an audio channel but leaving the video blank. "No, Gordon, I'm not." His tone became more cautious. "We have visitors?"

"Just the one." The thought didn't seem to trouble Gordon in the least. "He wants to talk to Scott. Where are the fellas?"

"Waiting."

"Well, send them on in. Landing clearance granted."

"You're sure about that, are you?"

"John." Dad's chuckle was more reassuring than anything Gordon could say. "Do as your brother tells you."

John's eyes were still on me, asking my advice. I nodded slowly and John swallowed.

"F.A.B." he acknowledged, closing the link back to Base.

I leaned forward, recapturing my brothers' attention.

"Sounds good, but there's still a stranger on the island."

"Just the one," John echoed Gordon uncertainly. "And he wants to talk to you."

"The Hood would be just one." My observation fell into worried silence. "We can't be sure Dad and Gordon know what they're saying. Alan, make a sighting sweep."

"F.A.B., Scott. There in one minute."

It was a long minute. Virgil and I waited in silence, making our own way towards the island but dawdling painfully slowly as we waited for Alan to report. When he did, it was with laughter in his voice.

"Come on in, Virg. Swing by the house, why don't you? There's someone here who's waited a long time to get a good look at your Thunderbird."

Not the most reassuring of sentiments, but Alan's lapse from grim formality echoed those of our father and copper-haired younger brother. Virgil raised an eyebrow and swung Thunderbird Two in for a run on the island.

Alan was hovering Thunderbird One twenty feet above the drawn-back pool, her nose level with the balcony and lounge beyond. Virgil brought Thunderbird Two in right beside my silver-grey 'bird, dwarfing her little sister and blasting the fire-proofed pool furniture with her landing thrusters. Gleaming in the afternoon sunlight, she must have been an awesome sight. Tim Casey, standing beside Dad on the balcony, certainly thought so. He gazed into the one-way glass of the cockpit windows with open-mouthed wonder and studied her lines with an engineer's appreciation.

I hadn't seen the Colonel since we stood side by side in Harmon's sights. He looked tired, his eyes shadowed, but the uncertainty and caution I'd grown so accustomed to seeing in his expression was gone. There was nothing but delight and respect in his expression as he surveyed the two hovering Thunderbirds. He tilted his head back, trying to get a proper view of Thunderbird Two's full size, and raising a hand to brush back grey hair that rippled in her thruster blast.

Grinning, Virgil rocked the Thunderbird on her thrusters, waggling her wings at our guest, before putting on some height. We rose vertically, edged forward and hovered a thousand feet above the house, watching as Alan drifted back towards the pool.

"Sure you're up to parking that thing in front of an audience, Alan?" Gordon's casual drawl emerged from the speakers. "One's a pain in the butt to manoeuvre, but it wouldn't do to bang her up in front of International Rescue's newest agent."

Alan and I drew in simultaneous sharp breaths. Virgil chuckled, giving the panel in front of me and to my right a meaningful look. I grinned back, my expression predatory. I reached out one handed, checking over the controls as Virgil dropped us like a stone. With the flick of a switch and a shudder somewhere below me, Thunderbird Two's water cannon emerged from her lower hull. A light touch on the joystick and it swivelled, an image of a startled Gordon appearing in front of me as it came to rest on him, pointing a few metres to the right of Dad and our guest.

"Still looking a little warm there, Gordo." My drawl matched my brother's perfectly. Alan's snigger almost set me laughing too. I kept my tone even and raised an eyebrow. "And I guess Alan's already using the pool. Want us to cool you off a little?"

"Ah, that won't be necessary, thanks, Scott."

"Sure?" Alan teased, backing off and giving Virgil room to swing around and face our chastened brother head-on. "If Colonel Casey's signed on, I'm sure he wants to see what Two can do."

"I had a pretty good view of that back at Elton, Alan." Casey's familiar voice emerged from our internal coms and sounded at home there. "Thunderbird Three too." He sounded amused, and not entirely impressed.

Alan swallowed hard, his cheeks flushing. "Yes, sir."

"That's enough, boys." Our father's voice was more relaxed than I'd heard him since before the Toronto rescue. Through the windows, I saw Casey chuckle and Dad slapping his old friend on the back as he reclaimed the radio. "Dinner's waiting and the Colonel's brought along a rather nice bottle of single malt I'm hoping Scott will see fit to share with us afterwards." His tone became more formal, making his next words an order. "Let's get those Thunderbirds settled, back where they belong."

Virgil and I exchanged grins, enjoying the thought.

"F.A.B.," we agreed in unison.

Virgil turned Two for the runway, and her hangar beyond. I sat back, enjoying the ride as my brother brought his Thunderbird home.

The End