Just so you know, these are the ages of the relevant characters that I'm working off; Brains, 28; Scott, 26; Virgil, 24; John, 22; Gordon, 19; Alan, 17.

Chapter 1: Rescue

Scott's POV

Thankfully, the world has been pretty safe for the past few days, with only a small number of incidents that were easily dealt with. So I'm actually feeling like a normal person, just making a sandwich, listening to one brother play the piano quietly in the corner while two other brothers bicker good-naturedly over some video game. Kayo is telling Grandma about one of her previous missions. John has even taken advantage of the brief peace and come down to visit. For now, we're just a family like any other.

Can you see this, Dad? Are you proud of this family we've made? I know I'm happy with it.

"Oh, g-good," Brains walks into the room. "You're all here."

At his words, everyone stops what they're doing and turns to him. "What's up, Brains?"

"Something wrong?" Kayo asks.

He adjusts his glasses nervously. "I wanted to ask you all something."

"Uh, Brains?" Alan smirks. "If you want to work on our ships, you don't need to ask."

"This isn't about the Thunderbirds," he shakes his head. "Or even International Rescue. This is a p-personal favour on behalf of a friend."

"What do you need?" Grandma asks immediately.

Brains smiles gratefully at her quick acceptance of the request, but still looks nervous as he answers. "A room; a friend of mine has just experienced a severe trauma that has left her withdrawn. She sometimes has a p-panic attack if she tries to leave her house, and has told me she's f-frequently scared of going outside."

All of us are silent and frowning at this story, indirectly sympathising with the pain this person is feeling. Brains smiles sadly.

"I t-told her that, if you said yes, maybe a few months on Tracy Island, where she's less likely to be overwhelmed with p-people, might help her become more open and sociable again."

"We're International Rescue," Kayo replies. "Helping people is what we do. Sure, this isn't our usual remit and we can't do this for everyone, but, especially as a favour for Brains, I say we can help her through whatever rehabilitation she needs."

"I agree," Virgil says.

"I'm fine with it," Gordon shrugs and Alan nods.

"If we can be of help, let's do it," Grandma agrees.

"No problems here," John chips in.

I nod at Brains. "Tell her to come over whenever she's ready."

He visibly relaxes and smiles at the room. "Thanks, guys."

"So who are we welcoming into our ranks?" Alan questions.

Brains grins. "An old school friend of mine, right from p-primary school, or elementary school as you call it. Right from day one, I was b-bullied for being smart and having my stammer. One time, Alex happened to see it. She walked up to him saying, 'No, no, no, you're doing it all wrong! That's not how you make friends with someone!'. B-because he was just showing off to his friends, he didn't want them to think he was trying to be my f-friend, so he let me go. She then took that opportunity to push him into a rather c-concentrated patch of poison ivy. His face was red for two weeks!"

"Hm, sounds like my kind of girl," Kayo smirks.

"She made every attempt to openly be my f-friend from then on despite being four years younger than me, and defended me multiple times after that."

I smile at her kindness and loyalty. "She can use the spare room. Let her know she can bring any personal items and clothes, but she can use towels and other essentials we've got here. Say that she doesn't even have to bring it all in one go; I'm sure we can find a reason to swing by her place on the way back from a mission before long."

"Thanks, Scott, I'll go and let her know now."

Brains returns to his lab. After a few seconds of silence, I speak up.

"Well, Gordon, Alan, you know what this means, right?"

They blink at me blankly, but Virgil gets my drift.

"You two have to clean up your mess ready for our guest," he finishes, smiling gleefully.

The groans of my youngest brothers can just be heard over our laughter.

ЖЖЖ

Alex's POV

To get to my new retreat/home, I get picked up by a helicopter. That kind of sets the tone for the whole day, the whole experience. I was slightly prepared when I knew my destination was related to phrases like "International Rescue" and "Tracy Island". But this is still a different level. To put it bluntly, they're rich and I'm not.

I didn't realise how loud these damn things are. Trying to listen to my music on a regular plane is hard enough, but I don't have a hope of properly hearing my music on here, even if I could find a way to connect my player to the comms headset. Luckily it's just the right volume; loud enough to fill my head with 'Oh my gosh, this is really, really loud, it's almost painful', but not so loud that I need to burrow into my mind to escape it, consequently confronting thoughts of sheer terror at meeting new people who most likely have a vague idea why I'm there.

Either way, the journey is agonising, and I'm really relieved when the pilot announces we've arrived. That's the one good part of the journey: seeing Tracy Island from the air. The gorgeous modern structure glints in a sun that seems like it never stops shining. The brief glimpse of the open-plan interior banishes all sense of loneliness. And the pool – of course, they have a pool – just seems like a great place to relax. There's still the original landscape of the island though; greenery and rocky outcrops that beckon peaceful adventure. The whole place speaks to me:

Don't worry, it says. Nothing bad will happen.

I smile slightly.

"I gotta tell ya, kid," the pilot drawls in his strong American accent, "I'm crazy jealous. I mean, hanging out with International Rescue. Even without the prestige, this looks like an incredible place for a vacation."

You wouldn't think it's so great if you knew why I was here.

"Yeah, it should be pretty awesome. This place will let me take a break from reality."

He goes silent after he realises that I'm here more by necessity than choice.

After studying the area around the landing pad, he speaks again. "Doesn't look like anyone's there to show you round. Want me to keep flying round till someone comes out?"

"No, thanks," I reply. "I don't need a standing ovation, and I sure as hell don't want one. Besides, this is International Rescue we're talking about; they might all be out saving the day. And it's not like I'll get lost."

"Your call," he says, and begins his descent.

If there's anyone home, they can't miss my arrival; with the volume of the helicopter and fairly slow approach, my presence has been made clear whether I like it or not. When we land, the pilot powers the propeller down, noticing the look of uncertainty on my face when I think about jumping out and ducking under the still-active propeller like in films. He laughs at my relief when the noise gradually disappears, then tells me to get out and stand near the house (or modern mansion). I keep my rucksack with me, but he gets my large suitcase, guitar and violin that were stored in some compartment for me. Thanking the pilot, we shake hands and, not ready to go in just yet, I stick my fingers in my ears as he takes off again. Only once the noise is muted do I turn around to face my new home for the next few months.

Yep, still gorgeous and expensive-looking.

The helipad is at the end of the outdoors walkway, so I now have a close-up view of the pool as I walk forward. Dropping my bag for a moment, I carefully place my hand in the water and find it, of course, the perfect temperature. Drying my hand on my jeans and shouldering my bag again, I suddenly swear as I look down at my outfit. Should I have worn something smarter? Maybe I should have worn something smarter. Aww, man, what are these guys going to think when they see their new houseguest rock up in worn-out jeans, a music-themed T-shirt with a chequered shirt thrown on top and Converse? Will they think I'm ungrateful? Lazy? A slob? Will they kick me out?

Shaking my head as if to clear it out, I swear again as I suddenly realise my breathing is quick and stuttered. Gripping my bag strap and gritting my teeth, I practice the techniques I've been taught.

The mind has just left sense behind and is rolling down a hill. Don't let it roll any further. Just concentrate on what is real, refocus your mind on things that are concrete. Close your eyes. Feel the pressure of the ground beneath your shoes, focus on where you can feel it hardest. What about your bag strap, is it rough or smooth against your fingers? Can you hear those birds nearby? Oh, and the sea, too. That's a nice and soothing sound. Mmm, the sun feels nice on my face.

Taking a deeper breath, I sigh in relief as the tension around my chest loosens. I smile in victory.

Nice one, Alex; been here less than five minutes and only one mild panic attack so far. Good work.

Ignoring the biting tone of the voice in my head, I hitch my bag higher on my shoulder and continue walking towards the house. After walking up a few steps, the outdoor meets the indoor and the hard concrete floor gives way to polished wooden floorboards of what seems to be the kitchen. It doesn't look very used though, so either the Tracys are avid cleaners or there's not much cooking going on here. I smirk.

Of course; house full of heroes who go out and save the world with no scheduled meal breaks. Mostly boys, too.

Ascending another staircase, I think I've now got to the room where the main home action is. There are sofas arranged in one area, centred on a table with some kind of projection communication device in the middle. Along that wall individual photos of the whole team hang proudly; all the Tracy brothers and a beautiful, spunky-looking young woman, about my age.

I glance around.

Speaking of my hosts, where are they?

"Good photos, aren't they?"

The previously unannounced voice almost makes me jump out of my skin, and the woman – the one from the photo – smiles apologetically from the other side of the room.

"Sorry, I should have cleared my throat first."

I laugh breathlessly, pressing my hand to my heart. "No, no, it's fine."

She grins. She walks towards me, carrying herself with obviously earned confidence and grace.

"You must be Alex. I'm Kayo." She holds her hand out to me.

"Kayo!" I laugh again, shaking her hand. "Wow, nice name, remind me not to get on your bad side." I enjoy a moment of laughter with my new friend. "I'm so glad there's another girl here; I was worried the testosterone might get a bit much after a while. And a fellow Brit, too! Now I know for sure I won't lose my accent."

She chuckles. "You get used to both."

"Where are the lads?" I glance around again in case they're hiding nearby.

Kayo shrugs. "Downstairs in the docking area. Brains has been working on upgrades for their ships and they got all wrapped up in mechanics and software. I tried to tell them and remind them that you were turning up today, but I'm not sure they were listening."

The joy and relief in my heart wells up in hearty laughter. "Boys and their toys. It's really refreshing and relaxing to know that even International Rescue are just regular people."

Grinning at me again, Kayo lays a hand on my shoulder, opening her mouth to say something further before she's interrupted.

"Woo!"

We both turn to the two blonds who run into the room, diving on one of the sofas. The smallest one claps once.

"Yes! Our ships are better than ever!"

The other one puts his fists up in the air. "We are so ready for any mission!"

In all their celebrating, they don't seem to notice us. Kayo rolls her eyes as she turns to me, amused and unsurprised. "I'm so sorry."

My cheerful laugh bubbles up naturally. "No, no, as I said: it's refreshing to know they're normal."

The sound of an unfamiliar voice prods some awareness into the brothers, and the one sitting up tips his head back to regard me upside down.

"Hey, it's the new girl!" The smile he gives me almost makes his chocolate eyes sparkle.

"Huh?" Another blond head pops up from being sprawled on the sofa, his own eyes a startling blue, and his boyish features belying the fact that he is one of humanity's staunch protectors. I wave my hand awkwardly at them both, suddenly shy.

"Oh, yeah, she was supposed to come today!"

"You are all useless hosts," Kayo smirks, folding her arms.

"Oh, damn!"

At last, the one and only voice I recognise on this whole island. Frantic scrambling sounds rumble up one of the nearby corridors, diverting our attention. My best friend bursts into the corridor and dashes into the living room, his glasses all askew on his remorseful face.

"Alex, I am so sorry! I t-told myself that you were c-coming earlier and reminded myself not to f-forget and be here to welcome you, but I got so c-caught up in the new developments I was m-making on the Thunderbirds and the new ideas they were sparking that I just c-completely lost t-track of time –."

"Hiram, Hiram, it's fine, shush now," I grab his shoulders firmly, worried he'll make himself winded if he doesn't take a breath soon. "Really, it's fine. If there's anyone who knows how absorbed you can get in a project, it's me! I got here fine, and Kayo managed to find me before I got to the awkward stage of trying to find a doorbell that probably no one thought to put on this technological and architectural marvel of a house."

Two deeper laughs join the ensemble in the living room as two of the older brothers appear more calmly from where Brains did.

"In our defence," the taller one grins, folding his arms, "most previous guests have usually been brought here by us anyway, so we've already shown them in when they turn up. Brains organised the helicopter lift for you instead of being picked up by one of us because he thought you'd be more comfortable that way."

"Oh, God, yes," I wince at the mere thought of being picked up by a Thunderbird and meeting one of my now-housemates in such a way. "Firstly, I would feel so self-conscious about just getting a lift in some of the most important vehicles in the world. Secondly, I would in fact be questioning whether my ride had turned up or if I was actually in mortal danger."

"I guess our ships do leave quite an impression," the broader of the two men chuckles.

After the final round of laughter fades, I turn back to Brains and grin broadly, my shoulders loosening at just the sight of him smiling back at me. Staring at his unconditionally welcoming expression, I remember exactly what he's already done to help with my current situation, and, reflected in his glasses, I see my face tighten. I desperately try to swallow around the sudden fist of stone in my throat, but his knowing look disarms me.

It's okay, he tells me silently. I'm here now. You're safe.

Before I completely shatter in front of these strangers, I carelessly drop my bag off my shoulder and crush my best friend fiercely to me, burying my face in his shoulder, relishing how he holds me just as tightly.

"God, it's so good to see you," I choke quietly into his sweater, the softness and fresh scent of it comforting me as much as his embrace.

He pats my back gently, rhythmically. "You're okay. You're okay."

Once I've calmed down thirty seconds later, I raise my probably red face and no doubt blotchy eyes from his shoulder, dabbing under my eyes with my shirt sleeve and sniffling as subtly as I can.

"Ho, only been here three minutes and you've already seen me crying," I laugh in self-deprecation as I address the room. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't worry about it."

The resolutely sunny voice beckons me to make eye contact with the brown-eyed blond sooner than I would have otherwise chosen. But I'm glad I do; his face shows none of the usual awkwardly repressed curiosity most people would have at seeing someone new break down. Only reckless acceptance. The smile I return to him is less guarded and rehearsed than I had expected it to be on my way here.

In an attempt to move the cosy atmosphere to something more light-hearted, I clap my hands once, spinning and backing up to get all young men in my line of sight. "Okay, then! You all know who I am. Don't tell me your names! Brains has talked about you over the years, and I want to see if I can remember the names and guess who they belong to." I frown, turning to Brains. "Wait, I thought you said there were five Tracy brothers."

"There are."

I let out an ungainly shriek as a new voice suddenly chimes in from my right, near the table. Brains just chuckles as I glare at the apologetic-looking projection of another older Tracy.

"Can people in this house stop trying to give me a heart attack?"

"Sorry," the young man with a flash of ginger hair rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. "I was monitoring comms and couldn't think of a better time to introduce myself than right then."

I puff out a sigh and shake my head. "It's fine. I'm just really going to have to get used to all the high-tech stuff and the being able to pop up unexpectedly." I observe the group again. "Okay, now that everyone is here…."

I turn to the smallest and grin. "No offense, but you can only be the youngest; Alan, right?"

His brilliant blue eyes lower to the floor to follow his forlorn expression as the other snigger. "Aww, man. Is it that obvious?"

"Do you have to ask?" the tallest smirks at him, his own blue eyes twinkling.

Raising my eyebrow, I stage-whisper to Alan: "And I'm guessing tall, stubborn-looking and leader-like over there is your eldest brother Scott."

Alan blinks in shock before breaking out into a gleeful smile and joining in the teasing laughter at Scott.

"Hey!" Scott glares at me good-naturedly, so I grin at him.

"It's not a bad thing," I reassure him. "It's the way you hold yourself; you've got your back straight, standing up tall and confident. You're a man with a plan for every situation and you know how to give orders."

"And the stubborn part?" he raises an eyebrow.

"Can you argue otherwise?" Kayo smirks.

Scott shakes his head after a brief pause, his cheeks colouring just slightly. "That's beside the point."

The other blond, still sat on the sofa, flops onto his back laughing and applauding. I giggle before pointing to the projection.

"Now, John is also fairly easy, because I remember Brains saying that you man Thunderbird 5, the one always in space, which I'm guessing is why you're not down here personally, and why your projection looks like you're floating."

"Sound deduction," John nods. "I sometimes come to visit, but spend most of my time up here."

I bob my head in satisfaction with my progress. "Okay, now the two left are –." I blink, blushing at the sudden silence. I look at Brains, lost.

"Hiram, why am I thinking of the name Graham? I know that's not right."

The group try to suppress their snickers, but Brains smiles gently as he recovers. "Think of your m-maths teacher in Year Five."

"Gordon!" I cry out. "Of course, Gordon and Virgil. I knew it began with a 'G'."

"How come you remembered Virgil?" Scott asks.

I laugh. "Because I don't know anyone else with that name! It's easy to remember something unique." I begin pacing, glancing between the two remaining unnamed figures. "Now, if I remember correctly, Virgil pilots Thunderbird 2 and Gordon pilots Thunderbird 4. Thunderbird 4 is…the submarine." I grin, pointing a finger at the blond. "Which means you're Gordon."

"How'd you figure?" he tilts his head.

"Because you –" I point at the brawnier of the two " – do not have a swimmer's build! You're built for heavy lifting, which I'm now remembering is Thunderbird 2's specialty, right?"

Virgil folds his arms again. "Alright, I'm impressed."

"You sure Brains didn't give you a chart with our pictures and names?" Alan narrows his eyes in mock suspicion.

I bow dramatically to the room. "Oh, please. Hiram has always been useless at remembering to take photos, let alone share them. And I don't know if you've seen, but his artistic skills leave something to be desired." I stick my tongue out at Brains.

"You b-barely got any better marks in art class than I did," he argues.

A happy sigh escapes my lungs as I gaze around the room a little more. "Not going to lie, I love the hardware in this place."

Brains's eyes light up. "I'm g-glad you like it. The photos with the p-projection modules are a m-modification of the idea I c-came up with in Year Eight, remember? And w-wait until you see the kind of set up I have in the l-loading area, I have such easy access to every–."

He stops at the sight of my raised eyebrow and smirk, his face falling just slightly in an affectionate way. "You were talking about the p-piano, weren't you?"

"I was talking about the piano," I confirm, before skipping over to the beauty in question and running my hand reverently over the surface.

"Shigeru Kawai, too!" I murmur. "What a beauty. Who plays?"

"That would be me," Virgil casually holds a hand up as his brothers look at him proudly. I blink at him, his obvious muscles coiling in his forearms as he folds his arms again.

"Really," I smile, delighted.

His eyebrow arches. "Is that a problem?"

"No, no, of course not," I shake my head. "It's good to be frequently reminded of any unwarranted and unconscious biases you may have." I shrug. "I thought the musician of the family would be a little more…delicate-looking."

"Well," Virgil smirks, proud but luckily unoffended, "you thought wrong."

"Indeed, and I apologise for my narrow-mindedness," I grin before gesturing to the piano. "You mind if I…?"

"Oh, please, go ahead," he nods. "Be nice to hear someone else play for a change."

I turn back to the piano, and my heart flips once before settling down like a cat on a heated mat. This always happens whenever I think about playing music. Music is my lifeblood, both what invigorates me, makes me feel alive, and also what soothes me, makes me feel safe. When I lift the lid to expose the keys, I smile, moved, as I'm reminded of a parent spreading their arms to welcome an afflicted child back home.

ЖЖЖ

Virgil's POV

I've never seen anyone look at a piano like she does. I mean, her expression is something similar to some people's as I lift them to safety in Thunderbird 2; the relief of the rescue and the lingering adrenaline of the situation now being translated as excitement. Anyone even glancing twice at the piano is awesome. I forgot how weirdly lonely it can be sometimes being the only musician in a household. Sure, the others enjoy hearing me play, always appreciate any beautiful piece of music, but they've never had the hairs on the back of their neck stand on end simply by playing a single chord. They've never felt their soul sigh in peace when it's just you and your instrument after a long day or a particularly taxing rescue. Witnessing someone else gaze at my piano like it's a candle flame in a cavern of complete darkness is…beautiful.

Brains softly moves next to me and Scott. "You'll want to sit down for this p-performance."

When I glance at him, the smile on his face is affectionate and anticipatory. I don't think I've ever seen him get this excited about anything not related to science.

"Is it going to be that long?" Scott chuckles quietly.

"Unlikely," Brains whispers back, "but it will be that incredible."

Eyes wide, I carefully move to rest against the back of the couch, never taking my eyes of Alex. She looks like a priestess at an altar, carefully and meaningfully performing a worship ritual as she gracefully takes her place on the stool, hands poised over the keys. With slow reverence, she begins to play.

From the first delicate note, my entire being strains to listen. Listen to everything she might be saying, with her music or her face. The music is happy enough – in a major key – and sounds content or comfortable. But there are also hints of mourning. Fragility. Her expression confirms my theory. Clothed like a casual rock star, I can imagine the young woman sat at my piano as someone who laughs often, basks in freedom and friendship, and enjoys life, sometimes in flat-out defiance against bad circumstances. But her eyes say everything else. As her storm-grey gaze wavers while watching her hands weave art, I can see the person Brains described, and who we glimpsed clinging to her best friend; the traumatised, broken girl in need of safety and security. In need of rescue.

The final notes fade into the stillness along with the breath of her audience. She doesn't move from the piano, her eyes still focused on whatever ghosts haunt her currently. Gordon is the first to recover.

"I really want to applaud as hard as I can," he whispers, jerking Alex out of her reverie as her attention snaps to him. "But I also really don't want to break whatever magic you cast that's suspended in the air right now."

Alex giggles shyly, fidgeting on the stool then tucking her curls behind her ear as the reddish-brown mane falls in her face.

"That was honestly incredible," Scott nods.

"You are so awesome at piano!" Alan cheers.

Her face getting steadily redder, Alex silently accepts my brothers' compliments before locking eyes with me, her expression needlessly nervous. I shake my head, struck dumb whenever I open my mouth.

"All of the above," I eventually laugh. "I've never heard anything quite that beautiful before."

"Virgil, that was lovely!"

We all glance toward the corridor to see Grandma emerge from the door to the loading bay. She smiles at me.

"I've never heard you play anything like that before."

"That's because it wasn't me, Grandma," I grin. "Our guest is a musician. A prodigy too, by the looks of her additional guitar and violin cases."

"Alex played that?" she raises her eyebrows at Alex, who smiles and waves back, embarrassed. "My word, you're a talented young woman."

"Thanks," Alex beams.

Grandma smiles kindly at her. "I'm the boys' grandmother. You can call me Sally or Grandma Tracy when you get comfortable enough."

"It's lovely to meet you all," Alex gazes around at us warmly.

"I must admit," Grandma continues, "I didn't recognise what you played."

"I'd be very surprised and flattered if you did," Alex laughs. "It's one of my own compositions."

"Wait, you wrote that yourself?" Alan points wide-eyed at the piano.

Brains interrupts before Alex can respond. "She's written a lot m-more, and even more impressive pieces for m-many more instruments, sometimes even whole orchestras. She plays a lot of the p-parts herself, then knits the sounds together using a special software I d-designed for her," he states, vicariously smug. "She even d-dances while playing the violin."

"Hiram!" Alex scolds him, her face now as red as his sweater.

"Move over, Virge," Gordon sticks his tongue out at me. "I only want to hear Alex play from now on."

While Alex is busy trying to hide her face in her shirt, Brains prods her. "Can I show them Shadows?"

She emerges from behind her lapel, her face disbelieving. "You still have Shadows? I made that video and piece when I was seventeen!"

"I am never deleting that video as long as I l-live!" Brains is already at the projection console accessing some of his files. "It was the first time you were r-really given the chance to shine. The f-first time I caught a glimpse of exactly how far you c-could go with your music. Its simplicity and ingenuity were and still are so impressive."

"Alright, alright, shut up," Alex laughs from behind her hands, "before my face spontaneously combusts."

Brains stops setting things up and stares affectionately at his shy best friend. He approaches her and deliberately pulls her hands from her face, holding them in his.

"You shouldn't be embarrassed," he tells her uncertain face. "If I should be p-proud of my inventions – as you frequently t-tell me I should be! – you should be equally proud of your talents."

Alex's eyes flick between Brains' and the floor, her embarrassment now taking on a tinge of shame. "You know I've always been better at giving compliments than receiving them."

Brains nods. "I do know that." Then he grins and bops his knuckles on her nose. She chuckles, rubbing her nose and pushing him slightly. I can't help but smile at the strong camaraderie between them.

"Play the bloody video," Alex grumbles good-naturedly. "Alan's practically vibrating with excitement."

"Am not!" he objects, barely even trying to hide the fact that he is, indeed, vibrating. "But, yeah, come on, play the video!"

"I'd better head back to actually monitoring emergency frequencies," John says, "but send me the video; I'll happily watch it later."

"Sure thing," Alex smiles. "Bye, John. See you next heart attack."

"Again, I'm sorry," John laughs before his hologram blinks out.

Almost immediately his image is replaced by one of Alex. Music builds in the background as she looks around in the black-and-white video of what seems to be just her in an abandoned warehouse. As she plays, she steps and ducks and weaves, at one point balancing and turning on one foot and bending and extending the other leg at various angles, making us all just laugh in disbelief. Her large shadow on the metal wall behind her, in a prominent position on the video, follows her every precise movement. Until Alex and her shadow start skipping out of sync while she's not looking, then quickly matching as she looks at her shadow again. Cue another laugh of excitement from us. As the music builds to the chorus, her shadow puts down the violin and starts stretching, ready for the awesome choreography sequence that follows. The rest of the song continues as a little game between Alex and her shadow, each trying to out-do the other, and she looks like she's having so much fun doing it. But there aren't any fancy flashing lights or notable CGI (apart from the obvious video splicing to get the separate shadow effect), but it's just in a warehouse, in black and white, with just her. Brains is right; it's so wonderfully simple.

As soon as the video is done, Alan starts clapping enthusiastically. "Ha! That was so awesome!"

"How do you do that?" Gordon runs his hands through his hair. "All that fancy footwork while playing such awesome violin? That's just insane!"

Alex chuckles. "Even before I could do that, I could never keep still when music was playing, so it just seemed like a perfect next step to try to incorporate it into my own pieces."

Alan and Gordon's next questions and observations all tumble over each other as they fight for Alex's attention, and she looks a little overwhelmed with the pair of them. I'm not sure I'll be able to properly divert their hyperactivity, but she shouldn't have to deal with such an interrogation – no matter how well-meant – when she's already nervous about just being here. Luckily, Scott's voice cuts above them both as his leader-slash-big brother tone comes out.

"Okay!" he laughs. "Let Alex breathe for a moment. More questions about her music and general awesomeness can come later. Shall we let our guest actually get comfortable and unpack first?"

"Oh! That reminds me," Alex runs to her backpack and pulls out a huge plastic pot of something. I'm pretty sure nothing else could fit in the bag in addition to that pot. She proudly holds it out to Scott.

"My culinary skills are somewhat lacking; my skills in general are pretty substandard, particularly when not following a recipe, and my repertoire is woefully small. That being said, the few things I can cook always turn out great. So here's something for tonight. Hope you have spare rice, and hope you all like chilli."

She staggers as Brains is suddenly attached to her side, arms wrapped tightly around her.

"You are my f-favourite person."

She rolls her eyes. "Yes, Hiram. I already know you only love me for my chilli. Now could you let go so this can be put in the fridge until tonight?"

"Well, that's certainly a recommendation," Scott laughs, carefully taking the container from Alex. "I'll look forward to sampling this. Thank you, though, it's really kind of you to bring this."

A weird heavy silence settles around Alex as her expression falls into something more solemn, more serious. She holds Scott's gaze with certainty, her eyes hard with self-deprecation.

"You're all hosting a near-stranger for an undetermined length of time while she sorts out issues with her brain, the nature and cause of which haven't been explained to you," she sums up flatly, before her eyes drop to the floor. "Believe me, bringing some food for a single meal – probably not even enough for all of us – is…woeful in comparison."

That awkward, weighted atmosphere bleeds through the rest of us. Even Brains is unsure of how to respond to that, simply squeezing Alex tighter briefly. I frown; it's so stupid and unfair that anyone in the world thinks of life like that, like a continuous business-like trade of good deeds that can easily turn into a battle of debt and entitlement. It shouldn't be that way, it just shouldn't, and that's not the world that Dad fought to make either. Melancholy morphs its way through frustration and into resolve as I take in Alex's still forlorn expression. Resolutely, I step forward and place my hand firmly on her shoulder.

"That's not the way it works in this household," I say, gentle but certain, ignoring her bewildered expression. "It's not 'one good turn deserves another'. One good turn deserves gratitude, and that's it. We don't do good things because we owe anyone, we just do them because it's a good thing to do. So, firstly, you're very welcome here. And secondly – and separately – thank you so much for the chilli."

She stares back at me, seeming to search for something in my eyes. Maybe she's looking for any sort of indication that I'm lying, or that I don't a hundred percent believe what I've said. I'll be damned if she finds it. She eventually gives the smallest smile, her face relaxing.

"Although Gordon does still owe me another cream puff that I was obviously saving for later," I look pointedly at my brother, trying to lighten the mood. He catches on, like I knew he would.

"I told you, I'm sorry!" he whines. "I'll get it next shopping trip, okay?"

Laughter ripples across the room again. Alex locks eyes with me again.

"Thank you," she says meaningfully. "I'll…try to remember that."

I nod, stepping back again.

"That being said," Scott tilts the container in his hands to get a better look, "you may have a point about even this amount not being enough for all of us."

"Not if we use it as the main dish," Alan pipes in. "But we can use it as a supplement."

"Oh! How about nachos?"

Alex detaches herself from Brains to hold her palm up to Gordon. "Hell, yes, Tracy. I love the way you think." Gordon chuckles and high-fives her.

Grandma folds her arms, raising a sceptical eyebrow and an exasperated smile. "And what about vegetables?"

"I deliberately make my chilli with an abundance of onion, peppers and carrot," Alex reassures her. I try not to grin at the identical hopeful expressions directed at Grandma on Alex's, Gordon's and Alan's faces.

Grandma considers it for a while before sighing. "Why not?"

Even she can't help but laugh when the three of them start dancing slightly. "First things first!" she cuts over their celebration. "Alex needs to be shown to her room."

"Sure," Gordon hops over the sofa and smiles at Alex. "You grab your instruments, I'll take your suitcase."

"Thanks," she says, smiling at us again before she follows him deeper into the house.

So I hope that didn't end too abruptly, but it's already a fairly long chapter by my standards! Anyway, for those of you interested in the music Alex played, the piano piece was 'Golborne Road' by Nick Laird-Clowes from the film About Time, and the violin piece was the music video for 'Shadows' by the amazing Lindsey Stirling. Check them out! I find it really adds to the experience of reading if you listen to the corresponding music in the writing.