Hello again!

Wow, talk about how fast time flies! I can't believe that it's Wednesday already! Oh, and thanks for all the great reviews you made, and I'm glad that you all seem to be enjoying this story (all two chapters of it). I hope this chapter does not disappoint! Now please, enjoy!

"Aw crap. I hate space."

Virgil gazed at his older brother in sympathy, knowing that John had to be feeling really rough to have made a statement such as this.

John grunted and readjusted his grip on the back of the metal chair, pulling himself closer to the camera. Suddenly, the young astronaut's face turned slightly grey, and he closed his eyes tightly as he tried to keep the bile down.

"Just breathe, John," Virgil coaxed soothingly. "Deep breaths, in and out. It'll help. Don't worry, Dad and Brains will be with you soon enough."

John just glared at him from the monitor, his face set in a grimace as he kept his mouth clamped tight shut, inhaling deeply through his nose as he attempted to ride out the waves of nausea.

"Virge, he's space sick, not in labour," Gordon muttered, as he stopped pacing back and forth behind the office chair and came to sit on the edge of their father's desk. "And I think he knows how to breathe, you don't need to give him detailed instructions."

"Back off, Gordon," Scott warned quietly, his gaze fixed on the monitor before him as his eyes studied the pale face of his younger brother up on-board Thunderbird 5.

"Yes, sir," Gordon retorted sarcastically, his worry giving way to anger as it often did when he was unable to be of use in a situation.

Alan, who was perched on the edge of the desk beside Gordon, whacked him on the arm in annoyance, the concern for his older blond brother showing up clearly on his face. Gordon was about to retaliate, when he noticed Scott's expression. The eldest Tracy son had swiveled around in the office chair and was now fixing Gordon with a piercing glare.

"Gordon, this really isn't helping right now," he growled out. "Stop being so immature."

"Well I'm sorry if I offended you, oh great and wondrous leader," Gordon began, his eyes flashing with resilience.

"Gordy," Virgil warned, standing up a little straighter and pulling his eyes away from the monitor so that he could frown at the aquanaut.

"Don't 'Gordy' me!" the copper-haired Tracy shot back. "I'm not a damn kid!"

"Well you're sure as hell actin' like one!" Virgil countered, beginning to lose his temper.

"Virgil, calm down," John ordered, his voice gaining strength as he temporarily forgot about his own predicament and tried to calm his irate brothers. "Scott, take a chill pill. And Gordon, stop being a jerk. You guys are stressing out over nothing. I'll be fine, alright? Now apologise to each other, or so help me I'll-"

"Boys."

The three arguing earth-bound Tracy sons turned towards the door, guilty looks plastered across their faces. Thomas stood leaning against the door frame, one eyebrow raised to impossible heights upon his forehead.

"I leave you alone for five minutes," he began, walking towards them and stopping in front of the desk, his arms crossed over his chest, "and you start arguing. Honestly, kids, I thought you knew better than that."

"Sorry, Tom," Gordon, Virgil and Scott chorused quietly, looking thoroughly chastised.

Virgil shook his head. It was incredible how Thomas had the ability to make him feel like a disobedient child, even at the age of twenty-one. Alan grinned upon seeing his 'mature' siblings being scolded by the old family friend, glad that for once he had chosen to keep his own mouth shut.

Thomas smiled in satisfaction at the subdued expressions on the boys' faces, winking at Alan and chuckling slightly. Sighing, he uncrossed his arms and rounded the desk, moving to stand behind Scott. He looked over at John on the monitor and grinned cheerfully.

"Hey man, how's it hangin'?" he asked lightly. John rolled his eyes at the bad joke, fighting to keep his legs from floating above his head as he adjusted his weakening grip on metal chair.

"Yeah, yeah, go ahead and laugh at the guy who's stuck upside-down on a damn space station!" he grumbled. Seeing the concern in the doctor's eyes, and knowing that Thomas' question had really been referring to John's physical state, he sighed and shook his head. "If you want the truth, I feel like crap. How long until Dad and Brains get here?"

Scott glanced down at the monitor beneath the desk. "Thirty-four minutes."

John groaned and allowed his head to fall in between his outstretched arms. "I really don't think I can keep my breakfast down that long." he mumbled, then grunted as the lights flared behind him and the gravity generator came back on again, sending him crashing down onto the chair. He body rolled sideways and onto the floor, landing with a heavy 'thunk' on the hard metal plating.

"John? Johnny, you okay?" Virgil demanded, leaning forward over Scott's right shoulder and gazing worriedly at the empty chair. There was a loud moan, and one of John's arms shot up into view.

"I'm alive," he groaned. "Death wouldn't be this painful."

Then the arm flopped back down again, and John let out a frustrated sigh. "I am so not getting back up again."

"Why not?" Alan asked, looking slightly concerned. "Are you hurt?"

"I'll be fine," John mumbled. "But there's no point in hauling myself to my feet, because - in another couple of minutes - the gravity will go down to zero, and I'll float back up again. I'm sick and tired of being a human yo-yo! I give up!"

"It's alright, John," Thomas said soothingly. "Thunderbird 3 is on its way. In fact, your Dad's probably burning up those boosters, you know what he's like when one of you boys is in trouble. He'll be there before you know it."

"I hope so," John replied breathlessly. "I - oh boy - I think I'm gonna puke."

Each of the Tracy sons grimaced sympathetically, willing their father to go just a little bit faster and reach their brother. Sometimes, they mused, space was just too far away.

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"The tunnel hatch is s-s-s-locked on, Mr. Tracy," Brains stated, unfastening his safety straps and standing to his feet. "We're good to go."

Jeff nodded, yanking off his own restraints and leaping from his chair, opening the storage hold at the back of the control deck and grabbing Brain's repair kit. "What's Thunderbird 5's condition, Brains?" he asked, slinging a med-bag over his shoulders.

"Scans indicate that the sp-sp-sp- that Thunderbird 5 is exhibiting unusual conditions," he reported, reading off the diagnostic panel beside Thunderbird 3's docking hatch. "Zero-gravity, a m-m-m-significant increase in temperature, unexplained energy fluctuations in the backup systems. The l-l-list goes on."

Jeff nodded again, punching in the security code. Disturbing images flashed across his mind of the last time he had flown up to Thunderbird 3 to help his second-eldest. Except, on that occasion, things had been very different. On that occasion, John had nearly been blown to smithereens by a missile.

Shaking his head to rid himself of the memories, Jeff stepped in through the hatch and jogged off down the docking tunnel, stopping long enough to look back towards Brains. When the scientist had secured the hatch to Thunderbird 3, he took a firm grip of the door-frame with one hand, punching in the access code with the other.

"Ready Brains?" he called. Brains adjusted his hold on the toolkit and nodded, reaching out with one gloved hand to hold onto the section of wall beside him. Jeff turned back towards the access panel in front of him and confirmed the code, and a loud 'hiss' resounded as the hatch swung open before them. Jeff immediately felt his body begin to lighten, and he took a step through the open hatch, his feet leaving the floor as he began to float upwards. After years of experience with zero-G, he expertly pushed himself along the docking tunnel in the direction of the main corridor. He was hit by a wall of heat as his body completely cleared the airlock, and he winced slightly, grimacing. Shaking his head, he focused his attention on making his way towards the command deck.

"John?" he called, as he entered the large control room and saw no obvious sign of his son.

"Up here, Dad," a voice mumbled. Jeff looked up, and spotted John upon the ceiling, lightly clinging to the induction coils that lined the metal plating. Shrugging off the repair-kit and med-bag, and allowing them to float away somewhere to his left, Jeff used his feet to push himself off the floor and gently propel himself upwards. Grabbing onto a metal rung, he turned to look at his second-eldest child.

"Hey John," he said softly, reaching out a hand to squeeze the younger man's shoulder gently. "You okay?"

A very pale and tired-looking John nodded his head slowly. Jeff knew that his son was lying, but decided that now was not the best time to ask any further questions. John didn't appear to have the energy.

"Dad?"

Jeff glanced down towards the monitor and realised that the rest of his sons were still sitting in his office with Tom. Although they could not actually see the two astronauts up on the station, Jeff had a perfect view of the concern on each of their faces. Glancing over at John momentarily, he pushed himself away from the ceiling and drifted down towards the main console.

"Hi Scott," he smiled, as he saw his eldest child break into a relieved smile. "Is everything alright?"

Instead of answering, Scott broke in with a question of his own. "Dad, is John alright? We haven't seen him in nearly eight minutes now!"

Jeff glanced back at John over his shoulder, noticing that the younger man was getting progressively paler by the minute. "He's just having a rough time of it, Scott," he stated reassuringly. "I'll get him back into Three. Maybe all he needs is a short period of time in normal gravity. But I think I'll take him back home anyway; give him time to recover."

"Mr. Tracy."

Jeff spun himself around to face Brains, who was floating towards him slowly, a data-pad clutched in one hand. The scientist didn't appear to be the least bit put-off by the zero-G, and maneuvered his body with ease, coming to a halt beside Jeff as keeping one hand on the side of the console to steady himself.

"What have you found, Brains?" Jeff asked softly, glancing back up at the ceiling to where John appeared to be falling asleep. The other man readjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose and lowered the data-pad so that he could face Jeff.

"From what I could s-s-s-decipher from the diagnostic readings," Brains began, pressing a few controls on the main panel to confirm he theory, "the new adaptor for the energy generator has m-mal-mal-broken down."

Jeff frowned slightly. "Can you fix it?" he asked softly. Brains smiled and nodded.

"Easy as pi," he said, then looked down again and sighed. "But the r-r-r-repairs will take at least three days to complete."

Jeff nodded his head. "Alright, let's get back to base," he suggested. "You're going to need to collect the right equipment for the job, I presume?"

"A-actually, Mr. Tracy, I have everything I need with me," Brains replied. "When John first told me about these f-f-f-fluctuations before we launched, I made an educated guess as to what had t-t-happened. You see, when I was first installing the - uh - the generator on-board the station, I hadn't t-t-taken into account the fact that the backup power-pack would f-f-f-work on a different energy current to the rest of the station. In short, the - uh - the circuitry within the secondary power relay system has become m-m- uh - it's fused itself to the upper modulator."

Jeff nodded, his brain slowly processing this wad of information. "So," he began slowly. "You don't need to return to base for anything? You can begin the repairs right away?"

"Yup," Brains confirmed. "My b-ba-ba-luggage is in Thunderbird 3, you know I always keep a sp-sp-emergency bag in the storage compartment. I'll go and get it. I might as well do Gordon's rotation this week. Either that, or he could take over once the, uh, r-repair job is complete. Anyway, f-f-first things first."

Pushing himself over to the other side of the room, he removed a panel on the wall to reveal an access point to the mainframe computer. Removing a device from his utility belt, he fiddled with a few of the wires for a moment, a frown of concentration playing across his face.

"Dad?"

Jeff looked back at the monitor beside him, remembering that Scott and the others were still watching. "Yes Scott?"

"What's he doing?" Scott asked, his voice a low whisper so as not to disturb Brains. Although, Jeff mused, with the advanced speakers on-board Thunderbird 5, he was sure that Brains would be able to hear the smallest of noises over the comm.

Smiling at his eldest son, Jeff shrugged. "Beats me."

"I'm c-c-c-wiring the mainframe generator to the secondary backup systems," Brains replied, his gaze still fixed on the circuitry within the access panel. "With any luck, it should ch-ch-restore gravity to it's usual levels."

Suddenly, the lights brightened considerably, and the low thrum of the generators pulsed a little faster. Jeff felt himself growing heavier as he slowly sank back down towards the ground. The balls of his feet touched the floor, and he reached out another hand to steady himself against the main console. He was rather glad that Brains had managed to restore the gravity field to it's normal parameters. He hadn't been looking forward to crashing back down to the ground when the double-gravity set in, as it had done whilst John was alone on-board the station.

Once Jeff had regained his balance, he turned around quickly and hurried over to where John was struggling to sit up, his pale face turning slightly pink with the effort.

"Easy, John," Jeff soothed, dropping to his knees beside him and stilling his movements. "Just give yourself time to get your bearings. There's no rush."

John slumped back down onto the floor, panting in exhaustion. "Next time," he gasped. "I'm tying myself to the command chair."

Jeff grinned, pulling off one of his gloves and putting the back of his hand to John's cheek. "You're a little warm," he remarked, moving his hand to John's forehead and brushing the sweaty hair back with his fingers. "How's the space sickness?"

John grimaced, pushing himself up onto his elbows and sucking in an unsteady breath. "It's still there, if that's what you're asking. But I'm fine, Dad. Honest."

Jeff raised an eyebrow, but decided to leave the full medical examination to Virgil and Thomas. It wouldn't do much good on-board Thunderbird 5 anyway, as the station's medical supplies were limited. No, he'd wait until they were back at home, safe and sound.

"C'mon, son." Jeff smiled, standing to his feet and reaching down to help John up. The blond-haired astronaut grunted as his weak legs shook, gripping onto his father's arms as he slowly straightened up. He wobbled precariously for a few seconds, putting a hand to the side of his head and closing his eyes.

"Dizzy?" came a voice from over the comm-line. Jeff turned towards the monitor and saw Thomas gazing at John in sympathetic understanding.

"Uh-huh," John mumbled, taking another deep breath in an attempt to stop the rooms from spinning. The flashing lights were beginning to give him a headache.

"I thought as much." The doctor nodded thoughtfully. "Your brain still thinks that the gravity's going haywire. It'll take a little while for it to realise that things are back to normal. Why don't you go sit down in Thunderbird 3 for a few minutes?"

"Good idea," Jeff agreed, putting an arm around John's shoulders and turning him towards the door. "I'll go get your bags packed. You just take it easy."

"Dad, I'm fine," John protested, a hint of a whine in his voice. Jeff couldn't help but smirk. Even as an adult, John still managed to sound like his little boy when he didn't want to do something.

"I know you are, son," Jeff agreed, leading him down the corridor and towards the access hatch. "But just do this one thing for your old man, okay? Please?"

John sighed, although Jeff knew there was no real fight left in him. "Alright. If it'll make you happy."

"It will," Jeff confirmed, slinging one of John's arms over his shoulder as the younger man stumbled slightly. He paused, allowing John to rest for a moment against the wall. After a gentle nod from his son, they continued on through the hatch and into the docking tunnel.

"Why does the station - always seem - bigger - when you're not in the mood for walking?" John panted, trying to shake off the unpleasant dizzy feeling. "It didn't used to take me this long - to get from the control room to Thunderbird - Thunderbird 3."

"We're almost there," Jeff assured him. "Just a few more steps."

Grunting, John practically staggered the last few metres, collapsing into one of the passenger chairs and closing his eyes. Jeff breathed a sigh of relief, rotating his shoulders and regarding his son with a slightly concerned expression.

"Don't look at me like that," John mumbled, not even bothering to open his eyes. "I feel fine."

"Uh-huh," Jeff replied sceptically. "And I'm the World President."

"Really?" John inquired, opening one eye and gazing up at Jeff with feigned interest. Jeff smiled and ruffled the younger man's damp blond hair. John frowned slightly at the action, but made no other sign of protest. Shivering slightly, he rubbed his arms with his hands vigorously. Jeff looked at him, concerned.

"John, are you alright?" he asked worriedly. The blond gave a quick nod.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he replied, his teeth chattering slightly. Jeff raised an eyebrow, before it suddenly clicked and he mentally slapped himself for being so stupid. The temperature on the station had been significantly higher than that on Thunderbird 3, and John was still drenched with sweat from the long exposure to the hot conditions. The cool interior of Thunderbird 3 had to be rather a shock to the younger man's body, especially since his clothes and skin were slightly damp with warm perspiration. No wonder John was shivering.

Grabbing an emergency blanket from the small medical storage compartment beside the hatch, Jeff gently placed it over John's shivering body and tucked it around him.

"I'll be as quick as I can, John," Jeff promised, leaning down to brush the wet bangs away from the sweaty forehead once more. "Once I've got your belongings packed up, we'll head home. Alright?"

"F.A.B," John replied sleepily, his body relaxing as his shaking was reduced to the occasional shudder. Stepping towards the open hatch, Jeff glanced back at John and sighed. He would have to go against his own rules during the flight home, and pilot Thunderbird 3 without a copilot. John was clearly in no condition to assist him.

Well, it's like I always say. Rules are made to be broken. Besides, I'm the founder of International Rescue. Who's going to reprimand me for breaking my own rules? Scott? Huh, I guess that's the one and only bonus of being the eldest member of the team;

I may have a few wrinkles, but I also have authority.

John has been rescued from his unpleasant experience on-board the station, but is that the end of the problems for the Tracy family? How will the rest of the boys respond to John being back at home once again? How will the family react when Alan reveals one of his secrets? Find out next time!

PLEASE REVIEW and tell me all your thoughts/feelings/requests/comments. I'd love to hear from you! After all, it's not the process of writing that helps an author to improve their stories, it's the feedback they receive from the readers that indicates any improvements I need to make.

xox