Banshee

When Alan starts hearing things on Thunderbird Five, John is naturally concerned. When John begins to share his brother's delusion... well, that's when he really gets worried.

This is a work of fan fiction based on the 1960s television series Thunderbirds. Situations and characters are used without permission and without any profit to the author.

Many thanks to both quiller and my long-suffering mother for proof-reading this story, which was written for the Tracy Island Writer's Forum 2010 Hallowe'en Challenge. All reviews, comments and suggestions - no matter how brief - are very welcome and eagerly awaited!

Part One

"You know what, John? Why don't you head on back home with Scott? You can owe me this month. I was kind of in the middle of something up here anyway."

Alan shifted from foot to foot, his hands hovering uncertainly over the nearest control panel. He wouldn't meet his older brother's eyes, and his voice had risen in pitch as the words poured out. He was quite clearly on edge, almost frightened. Even without the physical clues, though, John would still have stared at the younger man in mingled shock and concern.

"You're kidding!"

His conversations with Alan on changeover day tended towards a maximum of three sentences long. Whoever was coming up and whoever going down, they rarely got much further than 'Hello/Goodbye'. At most John and his brother might exchange a few comments on International Rescue business, but anything else waited for long-distance conversations, keeping Thunderbird Three's turnaround as rapid as possible. After a month of isolation, it was only natural to crave a swift journey home, and, however much Alan pretended otherwise, both astronauts were equally eager to check over their half-year home and get themselves settled when incoming.

Alan had never, in all the changeovers since International Rescue began, spontaneously offered to take a double shift. He'd never once looked so uncertain about heading down to Earth.

"Come on, Alan! Get a move on!" Scott's cheerful voice burst from their wrist-coms, breaking the uneasy silence. Alan took an automatic step towards the hatch before stopping, his expression torn as he looked back at his only blond brother. He still hadn't expanded on his initial offer, and, in fact, seemed at a loss for words of any kind.

John threw an exasperated glance towards the airlock and raised his wrist to his lips. "Give us a few minutes, Scott," he called back. Eyes still on Alan's huddled posture, he moved to the main console, glancing over the space station's status displays as he wracked his brain for an explanation. "Have you been arguing with Tin-Tin again?"

He knew at once that he was wide of the mark. Alan's relationship with Tin-Tin might be a roller-coaster ride for all the family to enjoy, but the anxiety in Alan's bright, blue eyes was not directed inwards, or back down toward the Island. It was focussed firmly on John.

Giving up on subtlety, the elder Tracy fixed his brother with a direct look. "What's wrong, Alan?"

Stranded halfway between the environmental controls and the airlock hatch, Alan squirmed, breaking eye contact. He gave a deep sigh and then straightened his shoulders, raising his head to meet John's gaze with a curious mixture of defensiveness and defiance.

"John," he began a little hesitantly. "Do you believe in the supernatural?"

"Alan, I swear, if this is something Gordon's put you up to as a Halloween prank…"

Alan gave him an irritated look. "Halloween's a whole week away! I've been up here a full month already! Do you think Gordon could talk me into staying up here a minute longer than I had to? Do you think I'd offer for fun?"

John sighed, running a hand through his hair. "No," he said, calm in the face of his little brother's hot-tempered outburst. "I don't think that. Sit down, Alan. I want you to tell me everything."

"What's going on?" Scott sounded bewildered as he wandered through the airlock and onto Thunderbird Five's control deck ten minutes later. John barely glanced up, calling out a string of numbers and waiting for Alan to confirm them before looking over his shoulder at his elder brother.

"Alan and I were just checking a few systems and discussing how long it's been since we last did a full diagnostic. We were wondering if it's time for another."

Scott's eyes first widened and then narrowed. His piercing gaze swept around the curve of the room, taking in the flawless array of green lights, and he cocked his head to listen to the steady background of all's-well beeps and chimes. He gave his two younger brothers the same rapid assessment, hesitating on Alan, before turning a questioning look towards John.

"A full, two-man, twelve-hour, crawl through ventilation shafts and space walk around the station, diagnostic?"

"Uh-huh."

"The sort that Brains said we might need once every two years, at most, and which we did all of ten months ago?"

John met his eyes steadily. "That would be the one."

Scott folded his arms across his chest. The question 'why?' was written all over his face, but he pursed his lips, glancing again at Alan. John followed his gaze. Their younger brother had turned back towards the monitor nearby, making notes on a data-pad as he avoided Scott's eyes. Even so, the muscles of his back were taut beneath his uniform, and his first brief glimpse of their brother's face had been enough to tell Scott that Alan looked tired.

Scott shot a quick, questioning look back at John. He could only offer a shrug, a frown and a discouraging shake of his head in return. Given what Alan had just told him, he really didn't want their eldest brother to push this, but nor did he want their field commander to veto the proposed tests.

Scott sighed in confused frustration. "And you were planning on keeping me waiting in Thunderbird Three the whole twelve hours?"

"We thought you might want to head back home and come pick me up later?" Alan offered the comment as a suggestion, stealing a quick glance over his shoulder before turning back to the console.

Their brother's frown deepened. Arms still folded, he drummed the fingers of one hand against the opposite arm. "You're sure this is necessary?" he asked John.

Now the senior space monitor was the one to hesitate. He shook his head. "Not really," he admitted. He met Alan's eyes reassuringly as his little brother threw a look of shocked betrayal back at him. "But given how much time Alan and I spend alone up here, I think it'll make everyone feel better if we're quite sure everything's as it should be."

Scott looked from one brother to the other.

"And that's all the explanation you're going to give me, isn't it?" he guessed. "No matter how often I ask." He sighed and sent a pensive glance toward the blue-green orb visible through the panoramic windows. "If Gordon has to fly my Thunderbird while I'm up here, I am going to make both of you truly regret this."

"Scott?"

"It will go faster if I help. You're going to need Thunderbird Three up here to monitor the space walk anyway."

"Scott, you don't have to…"

Scott's voice took on the firm tones that they had long since learnt not to argue with. "Can it, Alan. If you're not going to explain, don't even try to object. I've no idea what's got the two of you spooked, but if you think I'm going to leave either of you stranded up here while there's any question about the space station, you've got another think coming."

John grinned as Scott took control, dividing and assigning their duties. His older brother might be the least familiar with Thunderbird Five of the three men present, but John was more than willing to take a back seat. He still couldn't quite believe he'd volunteered them for this much work on the basis of so little. If anyone had to explain to their father just why three of his operatives would be tied up for the better part of a day, by all means let it be Scott.

Their eldest brother said nothing when the laborious, exhausting diagnostic process gave Thunderbird Five a spotless, clean bill of health nine hours later. Even so, Scott was visibly peeved. The hard look he gave John before stepping into the airlock promised a detailed interrogation, but not before he'd returned home for food, sleep and a much-needed shower. Trailing his elder brother onto Thunderbird Three, Alan looked, if anything, more worried than when they'd started. John himself just felt a mild concern.

He hadn't really expected to find anything serious… not after the dozen or so major systems checks Alan had logged in the past week. He'd still hoped to find some minor, niggling problem that would explain what Alan thought he'd heard. Something they could fix to set his baby brother's mind to rest about leaving John up here alone.

That they hadn't rather limited John's options as he bade his brothers an awkward goodbye. Watching Thunderbird Three detach and turn for Earth, giving the correct radio responses by rote, John was left with only two logical possibilities. Either his little brother was going seriously nuts, or, as Alan vehemently asserted, International Rescue's space station – John's home for the next month – was haunted.

He was feeling somewhat more sanguine about the whole affair by the time Alan called the following evening. A quiet twenty-four hours in Thunderbird Five had worked its usual magic, relaxing him and restoring his nerves after a month in the friendly chaos of his family home. Awkward conversations with Scott and their father aside, John had almost been able to forget the surreal changeover.

"Alan," John offered his brother a brief smile and a rapid assessment. Alan looked better. A day of pampering from Tin-Tin and Grandma seemed to have restored most of the younger man's equilibrium. His eyes still showed a hint of anxiety, but there was more colour in his cheeks than there had been.

"Hey, Johnny." Alan gave John a half-embarrassed, half-concerned grin in return as the picture steadied. "Just thought I'd say hello."

John smiled back, more easily this time. He settled into his chair, blowing on the mug of coffee he'd left out of sight until sure it wasn't his grandmother calling. Reaching over, he dialled down the volume on the classical music playing through the station. Alan wouldn't hear it; Thunderbird Five's intelligent com filters allowed only the space monitor's voice through, but John wanted to give his little brother his full attention. His rather pink little brother.

"You're looking a lot, um… brighter," he laughed.

Alan shrugged, raising a self-conscious hand to his sun-kissed nose. "Scott had me reading technical reports by the pool all day. I think it's his version of 'light duties'." He grimaced, his expression a little defensive. "I kind of forgot the sun-block and, ah…"

"Fell asleep? You were looking tired yesterday," John suggested gently. "And we did work pretty hard on the diagnostic. You're due a little down time."

"That's more or less what Dad said." Alan flushed, looking down and away from the camera. "I… I just told him I'd been sleeping badly."

John hummed noncommittally. It was what he'd told their father too: that Alan seemed a bit over-tired and the diagnostic had been a precaution to reassure him rather than a necessity.

"I'm sure Tin-Tin will see to it you get plenty of rest," he suggested. He replayed that sentence in his head and chuckled, raising an eyebrow. "Or perhaps not."

"John!" Despite his shocked tone, Alan's face took on the unique expression of mingled pride, embarrassment, guilt, nonchalance and joyful disbelief at his own luck that it adopted whenever his brothers teased him about his girlfriend. John suppressed his laughter with an effort.

"So," he said, letting his little brother off the hook, "any plans for the rest of the month?"

Alan warmed to his subject as he described the adjustments he planned to make to his latest race car. John sat back in his chair, glad just to listen and nod at appropriate intervals. The sun was setting over the island, and the shadows lengthening behind Alan, when John's little brother finally turned the conversation back to Thunderbird Five.

"Well," Alan said, tone bright and relaxed. "Enough about me. How's it going up there?"

John schooled his face into a mysterious expression. "Quiet as the grave," he said in his spookiest voice.

He'd intended his comment as a kind of joke, expecting his little brother to launch into indignant protests at the ridicule, or just to laugh along. It fell flat. Any semblance of relaxation dropped away. Lines that John had noticed but dismissed as lingering tiredness tightened around Alan's eyes, and his lips thinned. His youngest brother's unhappy silence as much as his tense expression told John that Alan wasn't nearly as much improved as he'd thought. He sighed, realising how badly he'd misjudged Alan's carefree façade, and made his voice far gentler. "Relax, Al. I haven't heard a thing, and we checked for problems, remember?"

"I told you, John." Alan's expression was deadly earnest, the comfortable conversation of minutes before forgotten. "It only starts when the 'Birds are out on rescues."

John shook his head, his concerns of the previous day back with full force. He'd downplayed the situation in his communications with home for Alan's sake, convincing himself that his brother would be fine after a little rest. Now he wondered just how big a mistake he'd made. Perhaps he should give Scott another call…

"Look, Johnny." The flush on Alan's cheeks now had nothing to do with sunburn. His wide blue eyes conveyed an embarrassing amount of gratitude. "Thanks for not telling everyone about… about all this. They're going to think I've gone loopy. I really appreciate you not saying anything. You won't, will you? You're not going to tell anyone what I heard? They won't believe me."

Not for the first time, John cursed the ability all his brothers shared to guilt-trip him without even realising it.

"Alan, you're overtired, that's all. Scott doesn't need me to tell him that. Dad neither for that matter."

Alan sighed, his expression thoroughly miserable now he was no longer projecting a cheerful front. "I know you don't believe me either, John. But thanks, anyway. And, well, take care up there, okay? If you want to talk – after the next rescue, maybe – well, you know where to find me."

Forcing a smile he couldn't put his heart behind, John nodded.

"Will do!" he agreed. He hesitated, treading carefully. "And, Alan, if you want someone to talk to yourself… If you hear these… well, hear anything strange again… down there I mean… you'll call me too, won't you?"

"Alan honey! Dinner time!" Their grandmother's voice was about the last thing John wanted to hear at that moment. Alan barely had time to glance up at the screen with a nod before the bedroom door opened behind him, and Grandma bustled in. "Come along, Alan… Oh, John! I'm sorry to interrupt you, honey, but it's your dinnertime too, you know. Now you're going to look after yourself, aren't you, sweetheart? I don't want you coming home looking as peaky as your brother did…"

John smiled, agreeing with everything his grandmother said and watching as she herded his helpless little brother out of his own bedroom. The smile faded. He sat for several minutes, just staring at the blank screen of the deactivated com-link. When he looked up he let his eyes sweep the control deck, listening to the regular hums and beeps of his fully operational space station. He caught himself concentrating harder, straining to hear anything even slightly out of the ordinary. He shook his head, and then stood, shaking himself all over to relieve the tension.

Abandoning his mug and the dregs of his now-cold coffee, he headed for Thunderbird Five's observatory and an evening's stargazing. Alan would be all right. He'd just had a few bad dreams, the isolation of space aggravating the resulting anxiety. He'd be right as rain within a week, and it wasn't as if a little peace and quiet had ever bothered John. There was nothing to worry about.

He just wished he could understand why Alan was so convinced otherwise.