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It had been a few weeks since Jeff returned, and honestly, everyone had been taking it better than expected.
They’d fallen into a rhythm. Family dinners every night (if they could, some people were out and John had to go back to space), rescues still going on like clockwork, laughter echoing through the island. Jeff had started to get used to hearing himself called dad again, though it still caught him off guard sometimes.
But he noticed something.
The older boys, Scott, John, Virgil, they called him Dad easily enough, Alan only called him that because he felt like he had to or that is what Jeff thinks (he's not wrong.) But there was one who didn’t.
Gordon.
Gordon had only been calling him father or avoiding calling him any kind of name. And truth be told, Jeff wasn’t surprised.
Gordon had been so young when he left. He was barely thirteen. In many ways, Jeff knew his sons had mourned him like he was dead because, to them, he was (what do you think they thought there was an explosion Jeff.) By the time he came back, they’d already grown up without him.
Right now, though, they were all at the pool. John was down from Thunderbird Five, laughing as Alan clung to his back. Virgil and Kayo were on the other side, locked in a ridiculous game of chicken.
The air was warm, the sound of splashing water and laughter bouncing off the rocks.
But not everyone was in the pool.
Off to the side, on one of the pool deck couches, sat Scott and Gordon.
Jeff’s gaze lingered there. Scott had one arm around Gordon’s shoulders, holding him close. The younger man was curled into himself, quiet and still. Jeff was still learning to read his boys, but he assumed by his posture it was one of Gordon’s pain days.
From what he’d been told, Gordon had been in a horrible hydrofoil accident when he was nineteen. When he served with WASP. He’d broken nearly every bone in his body, his back shattered, his body bruised. It had taken months of physical therapy and experimental treatment just to get him walking again.
Scott had told him gently, “Some days are good. Some days… he just needs to rest.”
Today was one of those days.
So Gordon was tucked against his older brother, half-asleep in the shade, while Scott sat there, his eyes half on Gordon and half on everyone else.
Jeff couldn’t help watching them.
Over the past few weeks, he’d started to notice things about Scott. little things that he hadn’t when he first got home.
The way Scott helped Alan with his homework without Alan asking. The way he made sure each of his brothers had what they needed for the next day (even though most of them were grown men.) How he’d casually ruffle their hair, or drop a kiss on the top of someone’s head as he walked past.
At first, Jeff thought maybe it was just a habit, something that came from having Aiden. (Who was a young child and needed that kind of thing.)
But then he realized it wasn’t that at all.
Alan didn’t treat Aiden like a nephew. He treated him like a little brother. Same with Gordon. They both did.
And when one of the boys had a bad day with the pressure of rescues, or memories, or life just got too much they didn’t go to Jeff (even though he didn't really expect them to, he honestly thought they dealt with it thereself.) But they went to Scott.
They leaned into him. Curled against him. Let him be the safe place they needed.
Jeff felt a small ache twist in his chest.
He understood now, really understood why Gordon didn’t call him Dad.
He’d always be their father, but he wasn’t their dad. Not anymore. Maybe it really never did.
That role had fallen to Scott, he had become their dad.
And Jeff realized, sitting there watching them, that it had probably happened the day Lucy died. He’d been there in body, but not in heart. He’d thrown himself into his work, into International Rescue, while Scott who was only eleven years old had stepped up and filled the gap.
Jeff had always thought he was doing what was best for the family. But now, seeing how Scott’s brothers instinctively gravitated toward him, Jeff could see what he’d missed.
They had needed a father, and Scott had become one. (He put that on him.)
And then Jeff had left vanished for eight long years. To them, he had died.
The thought hit him like a freight train.
He swallowed hard, blinking against the sting in his eyes.
“You okay, Dad?” Scott’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts.
Jeff looked over, startled. Scott had noticed, of course. He always noticed.
“Yeah,” Jeff said softly. “Yeah, I’m okay, kiddo. Just… realized something.”
Scott tilted his head, frowning slightly, waiting.
Jeff managed a small smile. “That I haven’t said it enough but thank you. For everything you’ve done.”
Scott frowned deeper. “You don’t have to thank me.”
Jeff could see it in his eyes that stubbornness. To Scott, raising his brothers hadn’t been a burden or a duty. It had been out of love and Family. Simply what had to be done.
But for Jeff, it stung.
He loved his boys he always had. but he couldn’t escape the truth. He hadn’t been the father they needed. Scott had been.
Still, he was grateful beyond words.
He knew he couldn’t step in and try to take that place back. He didn’t want to.
He would help where he could, love them with everything he had left, and accept that on Tracy Island… when Scott spoke, the others listened. His word carried weight, because he’d earned it.
Jeff could live with that.
He leaned back, watching his family splashing in the pool, their laughter, the sound of Gordon’s quiet snore against Scott’s shoulder.
Maybe he hadn’t been there for them all through years. But he was here now.
He was going to try to be the best version of himself for them.