Disclaimer: "Thunderbirds" and all of its characters were created by Gerry & Sylvia Anderson. They belong to Granada and were used without prior permission. No profit is made through this story.

Author's note: English isn't my first language. I apologize for any inconveniences caused by this.

A special thanks goes to quiller for the beta. Any typos and errors you might still find are solely mine.

Constructive criticism, feedback and flames (directed at the story) are welcome. However, if you flame me as a person, I'll send the Hood after you. You have been warned.

Additional Warning: This story is slightly AU due to its main plot point, but I tried to stay true to the characters as they are portrayed in the TV-verse - except for the smoking, that is. Proceed at your own risk.

Makeshift Tracy

by Lee

April 2009

Jefferson Tracy is excluded as the biological father of Scott Tracy.

Scott Tracy stared at the sentence, blinked, then read it again.

Jefferson Tracy is excluded as the biological father of Scott Tracy.

His eyes flew over the columns of numbers. “What the...”

Typical case of idiot user, Scott decided. Back to square one, then. He grabbed the manual and went through each step, checking and double checking, until he was sure that he had done everything according to the book. Perfect. He pressed the button marked 'Result' and after some clicking and whirring, the machine's printer gave him a fancy new print of the DNA test, complete with IR-logo and fine print.

Jefferson Tracy is excluded as the biological father of Scott Tracy.

The DNA data do not support a relationship between Scott Tracy and Virgil Tracy.

The DNA data do not support a relationship between Scott Tracy and John Tracy.

The DNA data do not support a relationship between Scott Tracy and Gordon Tracy.

The DNA data do not support a relationship between Scott Tracy and Alan Tracy.

Summary and interpretation of the results...

Another three attempts and half a nervous breakdown later, the letters and numbers of all printouts had remained the same. “Brains!”

“W-what is it, Scott?”

“Your new toy has a bug.” He shoved the offending sheets of paper into the hands of the culprit. “Or how else do you explain this?”

Scott watched as Brains, International Rescue's resident genius, studied the printouts for a few moments.

“B-but that's not p-possible!” Brains pointed at a small stack of paper next to the device. “E-everyone else's is a p-p-perfect match!”

“That's what I'm saying. There's a glitch in the system.”

“Perhaps, the s-sample got t-t-tainted.”

“Not this time.” Scott reached for the box with the sterile cotton swabs. “We'd better do it again. That 'On-Site DNA Testing Device' of yours has to be fool-proof before a recovery team can use it on bodies.”

An hour later, he sat down heavily on his lab chair and ran a hand through his hair. “I don't understand. How can the result still be the same?”

“I-I'm sorry. I d-double checked the device. It's w-working fine.”

“The samples used for comparison-”

Brains shook his head. “They're a-a-authentic and clean. I matched them with our d-database.”

“What about the test you ran in the sickbay lab? Father and Virgil volunteered a fresh sample for that.”

A moment of silence, a sigh, then Brains handed him a page with the familiar print of the lab computer. “The o-outcome was the same.”

“So... I'm not Scott Tracy? Father's not my father?” Ridiculous. He had an entire life full of memories to prove that blasted machine wrong. Because if the test told the truth... Impossible. How could Virgil stop being his brother? And Gordon, John... even Alan? All because of some numbers on a sheet of paper? “No way. Someone would've noticed.”

“O-only if they had looked for it, Scott. M-Maybe your f-father can shed some l-light onto this.”

“You expect him to tell us a heart-wrenching story about how they rescued me from an orphanage and kept the adoption a secret?” The younger man didn't answer, just shot him a serious look that sent a chill through Scott. There suddenly didn't seem to be enough oxygen in the room. “Brains, I'm sorry, I know you're... I didn't mean to say... It's just...” Breathe. It's not true. It's a lie. A mistake. “Next thing you tell me is I was accidently switched at hospital!”

“I understand y-you're upset, but adoption is an o-option we need to c-consider.” Brains shot him a sympathetic smile. “T-think about it and, er, let me know what you want to do. I'm in T-thunderbird 3's hangar if you need me.”

After Brains had left, Scott stared at the test result until his eyes began to burn. What to do, indeed? What did he want to do about this new information? Could it be true? Was it really a proven fact that he was not a part of the Tracy family? Did his father know? But why... why was there never a word said about this? Why only now, by a coincidence, did he have to find out such a dire secret? And more so, now that he had found out, what did this mean for his future as member of International Rescue?

Not a Tracy.

Scott closed his eyes, feeling the printout in his hand weighting heavy as if it was made of lead instead of paper. His family meant everything to him. How could he be anything else but a Tracy?

Maybe he should just ignore today and pretend that he knew nothing.

Or maybe he should just face things head on and sort out the mess, as was expected from him. Besides, how bad could it get? His father had drilled the 'You're a Tracy' routine into his head for as long as Scott could remember. A Tracy never gave up. And he was a Tracy... right?

“...to Scott, Earth to Scott! Are you listening?”

His younger brother's voice blared from the com-speaker and demanded his attention. “Gordon. What's up?”

“We've got a situation,” Gordon snapped. “Virgil is... he was... You better come to the laundry room ASAP!”

Virgil. Scott dashed through the corridor and careened around a corner. Virgil injured. Virgil dying. Virgil maimed... not Virgil!

And then he stood in Tracy Island's laundry room, not really sure how to react. Bed linen, t-shirts and other clothing sprinkled the room as if a tornado had hit. Virgil was down on the tiled floor, stripped down to his boxers, skin smeared with some white and gooey substance. Only that he wasn't injured – except for his pride, perhaps – and held Gordon in a headlock.

“You,” Scott gasped and glared at the red head. “You said it was an emergency!”

Gordon struggled against his imprisonment. “No, I said we've got a situation.”

“Seriously.” Scott considered trying to strangle some sense into his jerk of a brother. “And how, pray say, did you two get into this, er, situation?”

Gordon pursed his lips. “Er... you see, it's actually your fault.”

Strangling was not enough. How about slipping a swarm of piranhas into the pool, for good measure?

“Grandma made your favourite pie for dessert,” Virgil supplied with a smug expression, and grabbed something that looked like a goo-covered sweater and pants from Gordon. “And fish brain took off with the whipped cream, so I had to teach him some manners, but-”

“No. Don't tell me. He got you instead." One just couldn't win against Gordon when there was whipped cream involved. Been there, done that. Like, twenty years ago. Scott sighed. “Are you two stuck in kindergarten mode?”

Of course, once Grandma and Kyrano found out about this mess, the 'situation' might indeed turn into a real emergency for his siblings.

The DNA data do not support a relationship ...

Not siblings. Not a Tracy. How could he have forgotten? “Clean yourselves up. I'll see you for dinner.”

“Scott? Are you doing okay?” Virgil released Gordon from his grip.

“Of course.” His stomach cramped at the lie. Neither Virgil nor Gordon bought into it, he could tell from their expressions.

“You looked mighty pale there for a moment.”

“I'm fine, Virgil.” Back to normal. Cover up routine, all is well. Scott forced himself to smile. He glanced at his watch. “Dinner's in half an hour. You'd better not let father see you like this.”

Leaving the two behind, he made it back to the safety of his own room without running into anyone else.

He slumped on his bed. How could he sit at the family table and pretend he was kin when he knew was just a makeshift Tracy?

To be continued...