Archive of Our Own ^beta

Of course, she escaped. It was a matter of time, skill, and general complacency of GDF dingheads. Maximum security was a mere challenge to test her limits on a good day. Getting Fuse out, however, was a lot trickier. He wasn't allowed visitors yet, and she wouldn't be able to just waltz in with dynamite in a pie, anyway, even wearing a different face. They had no other listed relatives but each other, and a long-lost cousin or girlfriend would definitely draw attention even by GDF thickness standards. 

She hadn't been allowed visitors either, but some days she dreaded she would. Some days, she may have hoped she would, and then found herself enraged and frustrated. His name would definitely cut through any red tape if he only wanted to. He didn't. Then again, he'd stand there, behind the glass, disappointment and accusation in blue eyes. And she didn't need that. She owed him no apologies. It wasn't them. There WAS NO "them". Not really. He knew what she was. She knew what she was doing.

Maybe she could tell him she hoped the sabotage would stop the Zero-XL launch, because she knew the Hood was going to steal it and strand them all in space. For good. It didn't work as expected, as only the Baldie's niece stayed behind, and Havoc poured her fear and rage into destruction. And jealousy. The Hood's former attack dog got himself a sweet deal with the Tracies. The Mechanic could see HIM every day, just like that. He'd probably not believe her, anyway. She led an attack on his home - he wasn't to forgive that any time soon.

Once out and laying low, she sometimes got glimpses of him on holonet - press conferences, where he stood proud and tall by his Old Man, alone or surrounded by a grove of his brothers; some kind of official functions, where the whole world celebrated the Return of the King in fancy dresses and tuxes. He seemed lighter, softer from what she remembered right before their launch, but she could see the intensity still, carved in his features, a new kind of sadness. Maybe she was the only one who could see that. Screw him! He was not her concern anymore. Fuse was.

Her oaf of a brother was well underway to a parole hearing, from what she could glean from hacked records. Or at least a downgrade from maximum to regular security. The big softie entered some kind of book club program for inmates. She could work with that. She could break him out. But she needed assets. So she ran with that crew for the time being. The Hood being locked up, every crook on the planet worth their salt was trying to get on top of the pile. She had one hell of a skillset and a reputation to her name; she also knew her way about a proud and stubborn man, so her standing was fairly secure. She didn't intend to stay with them forever or become some kind of Queen of the Underworld, but she needed resources to get her brother out. Then the Chaos Crew would be on their own again, or for hire to the highest bidder.

That was the plan, up till her current boss-come-lover decided he wanted HIM. Not for ransom, but for intel. Scott Tracy was worth several fortunes his lot would pay most eagerly, but the information he had access to was key to a lifetime of income none of them could ever imagine. A gamechanger. Besides, the Hood made a name for himself in relevant circles by successfully eliminating Jeff Tracy. Her new boss wanted to one-up the feat by breaking Scott Tracy.

She had to play her cards close to her chest. Foremost, she shouldn't care, she told herself. Easier said than done. Okay, fine, maybe she did care. For practical reasons. If they got and roughed up Scott, the Tracies would sic their best bloodhounds on them - the Karate Kid Niece, the Pink Princess, her exCon Sidekick, and her exWASP Kendoll - and NEVER STOP, till they rounded up every last of them. Havoc also knew better than to underestimate the Ginger Nerd Tracy and his pet Murder AI. She wouldn't be getting out anymore, and she couldn't afford to get locked up again - re: Fuse. She also couldn't risk being killed by her boss and crew for betrayal, for the same reason. Talk about a rock and a hard place.

She tried to contact him through their old secure channels. To no avail. He either blocked or destroyed the burner comms or blocked her, which was more likely. Out of sight - out of mind. He'd probably think it was a lure to lead him into a trap. Not unwise. If he didn't, his Chief of Security would suggest as much, or the Ginger Genius, or Daddy Dearest.

She was getting desperate - the crew went to some serious lengths to get his schedule for the year, itineraries, patterns of rescues. No expense was spared for the payoff was to be a thousandfold. Thankfully, she wasn't deployed to be the one to get him - as far as the boss was concerned, she was a give-away, not an asset. She preferred to keep it that way.

She went as far as to drop a hint to the Ginger spaceman. It was a gamble. If he was half as good as she figured he was, he could trace her down and turn her over to GDF. Unlike Scott, there would be no latent sentiments or qualms at play. She did draw a line at going up front to the Hood's niece. There was certainly no love or trust lost between them, but more importantly, Havoc suspected they were some sort of rivals in more than just combat prowess and subterfuge. Scott definitely had a type. 

In the end, it didn't matter. They got to him.

They did a number on him by the time she got wiff of the goings and tracked the holding place. Maybe she was trusted less than she estimated.

She was too late - he wasn't breathing. Blood, bile, and... worse - were only part of the problem. She zeroed in on track marks on his bare arms - he likely OD-ed on top of everything else. And Havoc saw red. When there was no one left standing of her former crew, she saw no more.  

TBTBTB

As far as John was concerned, it ended well. They got Scott back. Not in one piece, and not at once - the sheer terror in Gordon's voice, when they arrived with Kayo and GDF backup to a scene of carnage and found Scott naked and cold on the ground - no breath, no heartbeat - would send John numb till the end of his life. He wasn't certain their Dad hadn't stopped breathing over the comms for the time it took to get a weak pulse back. They nearly lost Virgil to a padded ward through the whole ordeal, and Alan holed up on Five with John for a week after. It took five nights in a row to get the kid to sleep a wink. Longer to get him to speak again.

More peculiar was what they found in that underground compound. Or, rather, who. John hacked the security cameras feed, but kept some revelations to himself.

He had to inform Scott, though, once the big brother was strong enough to stay awake longer than 20 seconds at a time, and lucid enough to process the tragedy. John maybe hated himself for being the bearer of such news. He never approved of the... arrangement Scott and Havoc had. But she did save his life. At the cost of her own. John saw his brother's heart shatter, reflected in his eyes, momentarily washed by tears. John stayed, the silent guardian, till Scott fell asleep again, or, rather, passed out, exhausted and maybe set back by a wave of grief. John knew his brother would never let it on in anyone else's presence. It was better that way. It was also better that Scott could mourn in private and let go of what was never meant to be. 

John had some tricky arrangements to make and strings to pull, but in the end, it all came together. The one curveball was Dad tagging along to a small cemetery outside of London, where John set up a modest ceremony. Well, better Dad than Virgil, John guessed. Scott was still in no condition to stay upright for long, or fly on his own (or attend a funeral of his ex-lover, sworn enemy, and savior). 

An armored GDF truck arrived a couple of rows away from the small coffin, with two guards and Fuse in an ill-fitting black suit, his hands and feet shackled. The young man's face was notably swollen from days and nights of tears. Save for the priest, the Tracy patriarch and his eldest son were the only other people in attendance. Jeff kept a hand hovering over his son's back all through the ceremony, as Scott was all but swaying on his feet, ghostly pale.

As the minister finished a solemn speech, Fuse dropped to his knees by the edge of the grave and howled in pain. Scott moved on instinct to steady him with a grip on the shoulder and nearly toppled himself. A father's arm around his shoulders helped keep the balance.

Once the prison truck left with a still weeping Fuse, and the gravediggers took to task, Scott turned to face his father, at last. It took one look into Dad's eyes, the kind understanding and compassion there, to open the floodgates. Jeff caught his son as his feet almost gave out, completely breaking down in the father's arms. 

A pink limo parked on the hill overlooking the cemetery. Parker took his cap off to approach the site and inform Mr. Jeff and Master Scott they were welcome to stay at one of Lord Hugh's manors a short drive over. For as long as need be. The British countryside at this time of the year could be amenable to helping Master Scott recuperate further. Jeff nodded in gratitude. Whatever else Lord Hugh was telegraphing with that gesture was not lost on him.

Between the two of them, they slowly, carefully ushered Scott to FAB1. Jeff was eternally thankful for the chance to give his son space to grieve and spare an extra exertion of a flight across the ocean to Gran Roca, and the need to ward off well-meaning and deeply concerned, but overbearing brothers. Jeff didn't ask questions. Not of Scott. Not even of John. He didn't need to. Scott would speak up if he were ever ready. If not... Jeff knew the pain of losing someone in his heart. He also knew the grief of losing a dear friend to the path of darkness. He knew the guilt that came with the territory. He would never wish that agony on any of his children. But there were many other wounds he wished they never had to endure. The one thing in his power now was to be there for them. So he would be.

TBTBTB

The busy diner by the university was not John's usual scene, but he couldn't risk any extra questions or suspicious looks from his family. Kayo was eyeing him funny as it was. Alan nearly tagged along to attend his lectures for transferable credit. The way Gordon lurched to intervene and distract the kid spoke volumes about the Fish not exactly buying his spontaneous decision to teach a week of guest lectures in Bucharest. A waitress turned up to take his order - slender, blond, sassy, all prickly accent and attitude. John almost waved her off, as he was expecting someone else to show up. But a flurry of a uniform apron discarded, she slotted seamlessly into the booth in front of him. John gulped. Hair longer now and bleached platinum, but it was her. Sharp features, piercing blue eyes. A smirk. Havoc.

"Have we got ourselves a deal, Starman?"

She too preferred to waste no time. He nodded and took a thick envelope out of his cross-body bag. She peered in briefly with false disinterest - a passport, credit cards, a whole new set of identity paperwork and codes. He collected the envelope from Penelope on his way to Bucharest, who, in turn, received it from Lord Hugh. As far as she was concerned, it was something classified from ye olde days from her father to his. John loathed to keep his friend in the dark like that, or his brother, for that matter. Or hers. But it was the only prudent course of action they could agree upon. He was grateful enough for her putting her life on the line for Scott to convince Colonel Casey to go along with the charade like that, even once she barely came to from the brink of death in a prison ward. She had enough information to share that Lord Hugh was willing to bargain and cut her loose.

John's one and only concern was Scott. Seeing his brother devastated ripped his heart out. But John also knew him too well. Till she was out there, in prison for life, till Scott believed himself indebted to her, or blamed himself for not saving her soul sooner and keeping her on the straight and narrow - he wouldn't permit himself to move on and pursue happiness. John couldn't allow that. So, Havoc had to die.

Scott might never forgive him if he knew, but John was willing to risk that. He loved his brother that much. John was keeping his side of the deal, too. She looked up from the bowels of the envelope.

"Fuse?"

John wordlessly fished another document from his bag. A copy of the court order. Clarence Smith was to be released on Jeff Tracy's recognizance and confined to the perimeter of Tracy Island till such time as a probation hearing would be in order. The breach of perimeter was allowed on Earth-bound missions of International Rescue, each such occasion to be reported to GDF and logged by the ankle monitor. 

Havoc scanned the document and nodded. 

"He only ever wanted to be one of you since that time at the Shackleton Plant. You look after him, alright?"

John nodded for lack of a different comment. 

"Look after HIM too."

John didn't need to confirm that. Scott's recent prolonged convalescence, Alan going to college, and John suspected, carefully studied rescue logs over the last eight years, largely informed Dad's plan to expand the IR roster and take the punishing toll off of all their shoulders, and to give them room to just be. A plan he set out to fulfill with such zeal, Colonel Casey half-joked, half-complained, Jeff was poaching the GDF's best and brightest. Which was not entirely true. He was also looting the London Fire Department, the ISA, and the CERN. Nobody passed up an opportunity to become a Thunderbird. Nobody they already knew and had been working with, anyway. John hid a fond smile at that. When he next looked up, Havoc was gone.

His wristwatch pinged, and a hologram of Scott appeared. They hadn't talked that morning due to John rushing out for his lecture, something they made a point not to skip anymore. Ever. Big Brother seemed relaxed, well-rested, and was smiling. Everything they all, John including, ever wished for. He tensed, however, eyes darting around. Logically, John knew Scott couldn't see his surroundings, but he was still anxious. A tingling feeling, no doubt, akin to Gordon's squid sense, made him glance across the diner carefully. She was still by the bar, watching him talk to Scott's hologram, mesmerizing his brother's miniature transparent form with an intense stare. 

TBTBTB 

He was smiling. Joking with his ginger brother. Laughing in response. Certainly beat the last image she memorized of him - bloody, and battered, and dead. If only he knew... She would wonder what if for the rest of her life. But she didn't fool herself. This was a farewell. The only farewell she would get. Clarence deserved better. Scott Tracy deserved the world. And she deserved never to see him again. That was the price of her freedom. With that, Havoc was gone for good. Hannah Sally Ride* walked out into the sun.