Chapter Text
Scott let out a sigh of relief as the last rescuee ran towards her parents. He hated avalanches and for anyone to lose a family member on Christmas Eve would have made it so much worse.
No one had died, he reminded himself. He and Virgil had seen to that.
“Ready to go home, Thunderbird Two?” He asked over the comms.
“You bet I am.”
“Sorry, guys.” John spoke up. “There's another rescue, already.”
Scott bit back a groan and climbed into his bird. “What's the situation, Thunderbird Five?”
“A building in Paris collapsed while hosting a Christmas party for the elite. Looking at the blueprints, I'm not surprised. It's all decor, no durability. I've sent you the location and am working on getting an accurate count of the occupants. The guest list was easy, but the list of the workers is a little more challenging. I'll get back to you on that.”
“FAB, John.” Scott replied, and watched the small blue replica of his brother disappear.
“It's 11:45 pm back home.” Virgil remarked after a long period of silence.
“You tired, Virgil?” Scott asked. He was. His eyes were getting heavy but he knew he couldn't sleep right now.
“No. I was just thinking that if we keep our eyes peeled on the way home we might see Santa's sleigh.” Virgil joked.
Scott let out a small laugh. He couldn't think of a reply though. Christmas was not going to be the same this year.
The year after their mother's death, Scott had practically forced the family to celebrate Christmas saying that Gordon and Alan at least needed it. Dad had really tried, Scott had been unable to see just how hard he had tried at the time. He had taken the week off work to spend with them and had gotten them nice presents but the look in his eyes and his lack of reaction to things going on around him was proof to Scott that he wasn't really there.
Virgil had flung himself into the Christmas spirit eagerly, playing Christmas music on the piano and decorating gingerbread men and the whole house. At the end of the day though, when Gordon and Alan had been put to bed, hugging their new toys, Scott had turned around and seen Virgil starting to cry. He cried his heart out, saying he missed Mom. He ended up sleeping on Scott's bed next to him that night.
John had been a challenge. He wouldn't participate in anything, and while that had been par for the course of his recent behavior, it seemed physically painful for him to see the preparations. His eyes were red all the time, but no one ever saw him cry. He took a very long walk alone Christmas Day and Scott was starting to wonder if he had decided to run away when he finally walked back in the door, cheeks wet and nose red and insisting it was just the cold air and that no he did not want any hot chocolate, before running upstairs and shutting himself up in his bedroom.
Gordon and Alan truly had seemed to enjoy it. Grandma had kept Gordon busy with project after project. Alan had been only two years old and couldn't remember Christmas with Mother.
After that, Christmas's had become easier and Scott had been grateful they would never have to go through the first Christmas after the loss again.
But then Dad died. There was no body, no closure, and Scott would not force another Christmas.
He was however, determined to keep anyone else from spending their Christmas missing a family member. He sped Thunderbird One up.
*****
Virgil let out a sigh. He had been disappointed when Scott decided not to put together any Christmas celebration this year. They had always done it. It had been one of the few constants of their lives. A way to make new memories with their loved ones and to remember those who had passed on.
He had made gifts for them all. Ornaments he had painted in his precious spare time. There wouldn't even be a tree to hang them on.
He had thought about bringing it up with Scott and pushing for a celebration but every time, a rescue came up.
It was too late to put together much of anything, but it was worth a shot.
“Scott?”
“Yeah?”
“What if we did celebrate this year?”
There was a moment of silence.
“I don't know, Virgil. It might just be too soon.”
“We could put together something small, though. There's enough time.”
“I meant too soon after the crash.”
“I think Dad would want us to move on.”
“We are. Christmas brings memories. This is moving on.”
Virgil clenched his jaw and tightened his grip on the controls.
He remembered last year's Christmas. International Rescue had taken the day off, handing over the emergency response to the GDF.
He had a video Grandma had taken of him playing Christmas carols on the piano, his dad accompanying on his guitar and his brothers singing along.
Virgil didn't want to forget. He wanted to move on, but cherish the memories.
“Do you really not want to, Scott?”
There was a long sigh before his brother responded. “This rescue is what is important right now. Let's stay focused.”
*****
John suspected his brothers didn't know he could hear them. After Mom died, he hadn't wanted to celebrate. It had only been a month and the thought had just seemed wrong. But then he had done it anyway. The others didn't know.
It was a family tradition that Mom took the boys to the park and they made a snowman together. That year, John had walked there alone and built a snowman in her memory. It would no doubt be an odd picture to any onlooker, an eleven year old boy sobbing his heart out while building a snowman in the park.
Every year since, he had made a snowman or as close to it as he could. On a tropical island the real thing wasn't really possible. He had baked a snowman cookie, decorated it, and left it on a secluded part of the beach where the birds would eat it before any of his family would find it.
The tradition was important to him. He would find some way to do it.
He jerked his attention back to the rescue at hand. He would have his Christmas tradition, but this came first.
*****
Gordon and Kayo sat in the conversation pit. A plate of Grandma Tracy's Christmas cookies sat in front of them untouched. Gordon was pretty sure they were supposed to be sugar cookies even though they were very dark. The frosting did nothing to hide the fact that they were inedible. Alan had taken one look at them and ran to his room. Gordon suspected that for once it was not about not wanting to eat the monstrosity and more to do with what it represented.
He could understand that. He wasn't feeling all that holly jolly himself. His little brother’s reaction only made him feel that much worse.
He and Kayo had tried. They had brought up hanging up stockings to Alan. Gordon knew if Scott didn't fill them, Grandma would. Alan glared at him, told him he was ten and knew that Santa wasn't real. He had then tuned everyone out and zoned in on his game. He only looked up when Grandma had brought the cookies.
Beside him, Keyo let out a long sigh. Gordon knew the situation must be pretty rough for her too.
After Dad’s crash, after they had given up on finding any trace of him, Kyrano had gone back to working for the government, leaving thirteen year old Kayo on the island.
She would never go for celebrating if she didn't think it was for Alan and Alan believed he had outgrown Christmas.
Gordon sighed. He hadn't outgrown Christmas. He wanted the magic and the warm memories and his family.
“Maybe we need a different approach.” Gordon said. “Maybe we just celebrate differently.”
*****
Alan lay on his bed staring out the window. He thought of John up among the stars. Of Scott and Virgil, equally out of reach and his parents, farther still.
No way he could celebrate like everything was normal. Even knowing he had Grandma, Gordon and Kayo, he felt like he was all alone.