Chapter Text
Chapter One.
Tin-Tin Kyrano hadn't had too many life-changing moments in her twenty-three years. Living and working where she did, moments required high standards to be considered life-changing. That said, simple realisations could qualify. And one day, she woke up and realised something so basic, yet so life-changing, that she had wanted to groan at her obtuseness and give in to panic at the same time.
She wasn't in love with Alan. That wasn't her big revelation. She'd known that forever, and being a wise head on young shoulders, she'd never claimed otherwise. He'd pouted about it, naturally, but had eventually seen her point of view: that she didn't want to lie to him or lead him on, that she liked him, that she enjoyed spending time with him, and who knew where all of that would lead? So they'd carried on as they were, and it had been just fine. But it had led precisely nowhere.
Well, that wasn't strictly true. It had led her to the primary part of her realisation: she wasn't in love with Alan, and she never would be.
It was a conclusion that many of the other members of the household had come to months earlier, but none of them had wished to invoke the tantrum-based wrath of Alan by helping her reach it herself. Not that she'd have really listened. She was an outwardly calm and polite young woman, but she had a stubborn streak to rival Mr. Tracy’s. It was a conclusion she'd had to reach on her own, and she had. Eventually. She’d known it for a while, had even tried to break things off before, but circumstances kept preventing her from acting on it with any finality.
But today was the day. She knew it. She just wasn’t sure how she knew it. Then slowly, creeping into her thoughts as the rising sun crept through her blinds, the final part of her realisation. She’d never be in love with Alan, because she was already in love with someone else. She’d convinced herself that it hadn’t got that far, that she was still in control of her heart. Who was she kidding?
She buried her head in her hands, letting her thick, dark hair curtain the faces she was pulling. She was alone, but she liked to try and maintain dignity at all times. Or at least, hide undignified moments from accidental view. She had to end things with Alan for good, and sooner rather than later. She doubted he’d forgive her enough that she’d feel able to act on her new knowledge, but she couldn’t string him along anymore.
Alan was going to be inconsolable. Not because she was so amazing and wonderful that he would be lost without her, but because Alan was inconsolable whenever anything went slightly askew in his life. It would affect everything. She groaned to think about it. Mr. Tracy would be bad-tempered, concerned that Alan's sulks would leak into his professional persona, Scott likewise, because he'd expect his younger brother to snap out of it, there wouldn't be any calming music or painting from Virgil because the disharmony would impinge on his artistic vibes, they wouldn't see Gordon for days on end because he'd seek refuge exploring the underwater caves, even though they all knew full well that there was nothing new to find there, Grandma Tracy would probably be out for Tin-Tin's blood, and her father would be disappointed that she was causing so much trouble. Even John would probably feel the effects, despite being well out of it in the quiet of space. Only Brains would be oblivious, happily hibernating in his lab. She envied him.
Alan's tantrums had steadily grown to legendary status over the years. They were about due for another one. He hadn't had a proper one for four months, not since the epic burning of his favourite white animal print jacket by Gordon and John, an act that they deemed necessary for the good of those with twenty-twenty vision worldwide. Tin-Tin herself had come under attack for that one, simply because she'd giggled. She'd shrugged and let him sulk. The jacket had been utterly awful, although she wasn’t entirely sure it had warranted its own miniature Viking funeral, complete with little raft that Gordon had made with his own two hands simply for the purpose of being set on fire and sent out to sea. Alan had, predictably, failed to appreciate the effort.
She wasn't worried about breaking Alan’s heart. It didn't belong to her. He'd said it did, but she knew better. He hadn't given it away yet, despite telling her he loved her. She hadn't believed it. With the best will in the world, he'd been saying what he thought was expected of him, not what he felt. She wasn't convinced that he knew that, though.
With a jolt, she realised that she'd been sitting up in bed, staring at nothing, for the past twenty minutes. She pushed herself into action, throwing the covers aside and making that crucial first step of forcing her feet to make contact with the carpet. She took a shower, dried and styled her hair, and applied her usual quick sweep of eye shadow.
She slipped into her favourite blue dress, the one that never failed to give her confidence a boost, then changed her mind and hunted for something less fussy. If she ventured out looking a million dollars, she'd just feel like she was rubbing it in Alan's face. She found a nondescript pair of linen slacks and a patterned blouse, and examined herself in the mirror. She'd do. At least for the task she had ahead of her.
There was nothing to keep her in her room any longer, so she headed out to face the day. The family had already eaten and gone their separate ways, much to her relief. The island was tranquil, and she felt another wave of guilt that she was about to disrupt it.
She heard Alan's voice coming from the lounge, followed by Virgil's soft reply. Out of sight, concealed by a corner wall, she halted, taking a deep breath, working up to stepping out. Movement in her peripheral vision made her turn. Scott stood loitering in a nearby doorway, a mug of steaming coffee in his hand, a curious frown on his face. She didn't blame him. Her behaviour was unusual. She tried to smile, suddenly wanting him to wish her luck. She had a feeling she was going to need it. He didn't, of course, not knowing what she was planning, but he returned her smile.
Squaring her shoulders, she stood straighter, bracing herself. Scott moved too, copying her actions and lifting his chin. She lifted her own, and he gave a small, approving nod. Bobbing her head in thanks, she faced forward and entered the lounge.
* * *
Scott was what Gordon had once memorably referred to as 'surprisingly sensitive for a straight man'. He was still trying to work out exactly what that meant. He was perceptive, both professionally and in personal matters, often sensing danger ahead while they were out on a rescue, or knowing when to avoid or seek out various members of his family while off duty. He'd never sensed danger ahead while at home before. But now, watching Tin-Tin pause outside the lounge, practically preparing herself for battle, he felt it in droves. He knew what she was doing. He didn't envy her. Alan had a wicked tongue when he was hurt or angry, and he was probably about to be both.
She should face it with her head held high, though. He demonstrated, and she got it at once. She’d always been able to read him well. He watched as she took that first difficult step forward, vanishing through the door. He took a sip of coffee, relishing the comforting, bitter familiarity, waiting for the caffeine to kick in. He never stopped being alert. He didn't know how to. But he still enjoyed his morning coffee ritual, and he was still convinced that he needed it.
He heard Tin-Tin's softly accented voice, but couldn't make out what she was saying. Then came the sound of footsteps as she and Alan retreated to the terrace to speak in relative privacy. He left his position in the doorway and headed into the lounge to join Virgil. At first glance the third Tracy brother appeared to be reading the newspaper, but his eyes were very obviously peering over the top, fixed on the closed patio doors.
"You're really not subtle, you know that?" Scott informed him, taking the empty seat next to him.
Virgil pulled a face. "It's better than just staring at them."
"You are just staring at them."
"Yes, but I don't look like I'm staring at them."
Scott snorted. "Sorry to break it to you, but you’re not fooling anyone.”
Virgil turned to him, a faint frown creasing his forehead. "Not even a little?”
"Not even a little. You may as well have cut eye holes in the paper."
Virgil paused, considering. "Does that work?"
Scott sighed, taking another swig of coffee. Virgil was deadpan, but Scott always knew when he was joking.
"Is she doing what I think she's doing?" Virgil asked, abandoning all pretence and lowering the paper.
"I don't know," Scott admitted, swilling the last inch of coffee around the bottom of the mug. "But I think so."
"She looks very resolved," Virgil observed. “I think it’s for good this time.”
Scott took in the determined set of Tin-Tin’s jaw, softened by the compassionate look in her eyes, and had to agree. It was the expression of someone soft-hearted taking on an unpleasant task, one they did not want to undertake but would not be swayed from. It was rather at odds with Alan’s frown and the petulant curl of his lip.
"Alan's pouting,” he pointed out. “That's not a good start."
"No," Virgil agreed. "I always said that she'd be the one to end that relationship."
"It was kinda cynical of you to assume it was going to end."
"That's not cynicism,” Virgil said insistently, “that's knowing people."
"How did you figure that one?"
Virgil folded the newspaper, placing it neatly on the side table at the end of the sofa. Clasping his hands, adopting an air that was faintly reminiscent of storytelling, he explained. "I know Alan, and I know Tin-Tin. Tin-Tin is a bright, sweet, intelligent young woman. Alan is a nice kid who still has a lot of growing up to do, who still sulks when he doesn't get his own way. Go figure."
"Well," Scott conceded, "when you put it that way."
They both winced as Alan started shouting, making extravagant gestures with his hands as he yelled. They couldn't make out his words, just the muffled volume of his voice. Tin-Tin winced too, but didn't back away. Her face was still stern, but her eyes were glistening.
"Should we rescue her?" Virgil pondered, sounding as if he found the task unappealing but felt obliged to be chivalrous.
"That may come later," Scott predicted, frowning. It went against his old-fashioned instincts to sit by and let a lady be shouted at, but he knew better than to interfere in this particular matter. He’d already been more involved in it than Alan knew.
Gordon entered the room, a towel thrown carelessly over his shoulder. His attention was immediately drawn to the ongoing drama on the terrace.
"I went out to the pool and came straight back inside," he told them both. "Is she actually-"
"Yes," came the chorused reply.
"Are they going to be long? Cos I'd really like a swim today."
"Jeez, Gordon, why don't you go and ask them how long they're going to be?" Virgil growled.
Gordon took a few steps forward, heading for the doors, but Scott shot out a hand, pulling him back by his shirt. With a grin, he flopped down onto the sofa beside them.
"I wondered how far you'd let me get."
"Don't push me, kiddo."
The three of them sat in relative silence, cringing at the sound of Alan's voice. Tin-Tin had so far remained her usual, softly spoken self, so aside from seeing her mouth move, it was almost like witnessing Alan shouting to himself.
"Alan's really gonna be pissed this time," Gordon reflected.
"Congratulations on receiving the award for understatement of the year," Virgil said with customary dryness.
"Thanks. Can I make a speech?"
“Only if we’re not obliged to listen to it.”
Gordon didn't dignify that with an answer.
Outside, Tin-Tin started yelling back, often getting interrupted by Alan. The three observers once again winced. They were all very fond of Tin-Tin. To most of the household, she was the sister or daughter they'd never had, with a few notable exceptions. To Brains she was a friendly, proficient lab assistant. To Alan, she was convenient, a harsh truth that he, in fairness, probably didn't realise was the case. To Scott, she was something he couldn't define, and his greatest secret.
Alan snapped something with dramatic emphasis, giving Tin-Tin a childish shove in the shoulder. Scott, Virgil and Gordon were on their feet in a trice. As mild as it had been, they'd all been raised not to hit a lady, even one perfectly capable of defending herself. Before they could step forward, Tin-Tin retaliated. Not with a slap on the cheek, as they would have expected, but with a full punch in the face.
Scott and Virgil cringed. Gordon laughed. Scott sent him a sidelong glance and he shrugged.
“Tin-Tin punched a shark in the face once when it was bothering her. Don’t see why Alan should be any different.”
Alan staggered backwards, his nose bleeding, his expression one of complete and utter shock. Tin-Tin looked pretty shocked herself, but she stood her ground, saying something inaudible. Alan stared at her for a beat before wrenching open the patio doors and stomping through the lounge. They all heard the quiet hiss of his bedroom door closing.
Tin-Tin remained where she was, immobile, her expression frozen on her face. Moving as one, Scott, Virgil and Gordon headed out to her, clustering around her and pelting her with questions about her welfare.
"I'm fine," she insisted. "Thank you, boys."
The tears in her eyes hadn't fallen, but the argument had shaken her. Her knuckles were red.
"That was one hell of a punch, Tin-Tin," Gordon said, unable to hide the faintly admiring tone in his voice. "Can I hire you as a bodyguard next time we have a rescue?"
She smiled, laughing shakily. "Offer me a good salary and we'll talk."
"What did he say?"
"Gordon!" Virgil scolded. "You can't ask her that!"
"She knows she doesn't have to answer."
“And I won’t, if you don’t mind,” she cut in.
“Course not, honey,” Gordon said affectionately. “If you’re sure you’re okay, I’m going to head down to the pool.”
She smiled wryly. “I’m fine. Don’t let me keep you from your natural habitat.”
Gordon grinned and ruffled her hair, which he knew she hated. She wrinkled her nose and batted his hand away. Whistling a song he knew Alan detested, he made his way down the exterior steps to the pool. Virgil gave Tin-Tin’s shoulders a supportive squeeze, drawing a grateful smile from her.
“I’d better go check on Alan,” he announced.
“Oh please do, Virgil,” she said, an edge of regret in her tone. “I didn’t plan to hit him, really I didn’t.”
“I could see that! He’ll be fine. I’m pretty sure you bruised his ego more than his nose.”
“I don’t know,” Scott mumbled doubtfully.
Virgil shot her another warm smile, then ducked back into the lounge, already focused on his mission.
“Always the peacekeeper,” Tin-Tin observed fondly.
“He’s the best of all of us,” Scott added in agreement. “You sure you’re okay?”
She turned to him, her eyes a little drier. She opened her mouth to reply, but hesitated. He saw her visibly change her mind about what she was going to say.
“No,” she said at length. “I’m not. But I will be.”
He raised his eyebrows in mild surprise. For some reason he hadn’t expected quite that much truth from her.
"You know where I am if you need to talk," he told her.
"Yes. You say that to all of us. What do you do if you're the one who needs to talk?"
He stared at her, lost for words. No one had ever raised that subject before. They all just assumed that he could handle anything that life threw at him. It seemed that so far they were right. But that didn't mean he didn't need to talk sometimes.
"You don't even know, do you?" she went on, observing his expression. "Well, you know where I am if you need to talk."
"Hey," he managed to get out. "Since when did this become about me?"
She fixed him with a neutrally blank look. "Since Christmas," she said simply.
Scott tensed. He'd been doing well putting that behind him. They'd both decided to pretend it hadn't happened. It was simpler that way. But now that she'd mentioned it, he found he couldn't stop his mind wandering in that direction. Nor could he stop the jolt of emotion he'd felt and repressed once he'd realised what she was planning to say to Alan: that traitorous strand of hope. Not for the first time, he felt like the worst big brother in the world.
"Stop that," she said softly.
"Stop what?"
"Beating yourself up. It was my fault."
"No, it wasn't." He took a deep breath, finally reaching the point where he had to voice the nagging suspicion at the back of his mind. "Did...uh... It had a lot to do with what you just did…didn’t it?”
She paused, her expression thoughtful. "It did.”
He glanced down at the flagstones, a ripple of guilt flooding his thoughts. He'd never meant to hurt Alan. Tin-Tin and his youngest brother were never well matched, and it was bound to have happened sometime. He knew that. He just wished he hadn't been involved.
A faint blush crossing her cheeks, she continued. "Don’t do that, don’t feel guilty. It isn't your fault, Scott."
He knew she meant well, and there was truth in her words. But it wasn't that easy to ignore his gut feeling. Silence hung between them, broken only by the splashing of Gordon's backstroke lengths of the pool.
"Everyone knows I don't love him," she said after a moment. "And after considering a lot of things, I realised I was never going to. I knew that before, if you remember, but things got in the way. He deserves a chance to find what he wants with someone else. And thinking of myself..." She shrugged. "It will do me good to be on my own for a while. Well, as much as one can be alone on an island. After that..." Another shrug, a little more embarrassed this time. "Well, I guess we'll see."
He nodded wordlessly. "I guess we will."