Work Text:
All the boxes were packed and all that remained was the childhood photos and furniture. Jeff hadn’t wanted Gran Roca Ranch to have nothing. It was Lucy’s home. It was her haven. She had spent most of her life living there. He knew she treasured it. He had. They had raised their children in that home. He wasn’t just going to sell it because of International Rescue. He had helped all his boys pack. He had gathered all the boxes of their clothing, memorabilia and personal belongings. What had remained in the halls were Lucille’s childhood pictures. Her with her grandmother. There was a story behind all of the pictures. She had always recounted each story to him, never skipping a beat. She had always reminisced on them.
Most of their boys were young. Scott and Virgil had grown up, with John and Gordon following suit. Alan was still a baby. He was seven. Jeff was going to home school him, then take him to a boarding school when he was a little older. He had carried Alan to bed almost every night, moving to an island wouldn’t change that. Just longer stairwells to carry him up. He’ll fall asleep quicker, unless his older boys still spend time with him. There was quite a big age gap. Ten years. Alan was their miracle. He was Lucille’s baby. He always would be.
He was young to remember her. Gran Roca wouldn’t be the home that he grew up in. Tracy Island would be. Alan would be surrounded by the Thunderbirds, not his mother’s safe haven. With that, moving day wouldn’t be the last day they would be at Gran Roca. It was still their home. It was Lucille’s home. She would always be there.