Gentle Rain (Part Seven)

Title: Gentle
Rain

Warm Rain Series

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Author: Gumnut

26 – 27 Jan 2019

Fandom:
Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS

Rating: Teen

Summary:
Sometimes it is so gentle, you don’t realise it is happening.

Word count: 2017

Spoilers &
warnings: Virgil/Kayo, Scott/OC, spoilers for Warm Rain up to this point in the
timeline.

Timeline: Six
months after ‘The Proposal’, almost a sequel.

Author’s note: For Scribbles97 Thank you all for all your support on this fic. You are wonderful.

Disclaimer: Mine?
You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

-o-o-o-

Virgil could never be anything but awed at
the power of Mother Nature. The massive swirl of cloud beneath them was one
hell of a spectacle. Of course, it wasn’t his first cyclone or hurricane, he
had tackled many over the years, but each one had its own character.

And this one was big and angry.

“We’re looking at a category four, verging
on five.” John hovered above the dash, sitting rather than his usual float due
to his being earthbound. “Be careful.” A frown. “And incidentally, your brother
is an idiot.”

“Hey!” This from Gordon in the co-pilot’s
seat.

John raised an eyebrow in his younger
brother’s direction. “I was referring to your big brother. Scott just ran
himself into a wall.”

Virgil was calculating his descent
trajectory as the scanner located the fishing trawler floundering in the storm
below. His head shot up. “What?!”

“Don’t worry, Kayo’s got him. He’s fine.
Update you when you get back.”

“Thanks for that, John.” His tone dripped
sarcasm.

“Not a problem.” The red head smirked.
“Seriously, he’s fine.” In the background, a woman yelled, “You bloody idiot!”
Another arched eyebrow. “Assuming our guest doesn’t kill him.”

Virgil had to grin at that. “Beginning
descent now.”

“Copy that.” John’s image flickered out
leaving Virgil to concentrate on flying into the cyclone.

-o-o-o-

Em had a split second to see a room with a
view, a massive Christmas tree, a desk and some portraits before her eyes
latched on her patient barrelling up out of a central sunken lounge area
directly into a stonework wall on the other side of the room.

He clipped his prone and broken leg causing
the hoverchair to slew sideways, sending his entire left and damaged side into
the stonework.

The room froze in shock.

Then she was moving.

Her hand activated the ‘scoot’s controls in
her palm and she zipped around the curvature of the lounge and was at his side
in a moment.

“Scott?” She lowered herself, reaching for
him.

His eyes scrunched closed, but his right
hand was reaching for his left arm. “Ouch.” A blink, one eye opened and looked
up at her. “Em?”

She stared at him. Her eyes tracked the
length of his body, checking for further injury. “Are you okay?” She vaguely
registered Kayo approaching from behind.

He wriggled in his seat as if checking.
“Uh, yeah. I think so.” An amused glance in her direction. “How are you?”

“How am I?” Her voice was faint even in her
ears. His blue eyes sparkled up at her and the butterflies in her stomach went
feral. She lost it. “You bloody idiot! How am I? What the hell do you think you
are doing? Do you have any bloody idea how close you came to dying under that
hotel? My god, Scott!”

The expression on his face faltered and he
straightened up. His brow furrowed as he appeared to finally fully register her
presence.

“It was an accident.”

“What the hell were you doing? You can fly
a Thunderbird, but you can’t steer a bloody hover chair?”

“Well, when you put it like that.” But his
eyes latched onto her hoverscoot and he paled…for all of two seconds before
looking up at her again. “Nice to finally meet you.” The smile returned.

She spun on the spot and, turning her back
to him, made her way around the lounge and out toward the view. She would be of
better mind if she didn’t have to contend with his charm.

Goddamnit, he’d scared her. And it scared
her how much he had scared her with such a simple moment. She couldn’t afford
to be vulnerable right now. Too much to contend with. Maybe she shouldn’t have
come. No, she definitely shouldn’t have come. She should have holed up at home
and rebuilt her shields.

Behind her she heard a quiet Kayo. “You
know she’s right. You are a bloody idiot.”

Okay so that made her smile just a little.

The sea breeze whipped up from the ocean
below and she used it to calm her frazzled nerves. Closing her eyes, she forced
her muscles to relax, slowed her beating heart and took a moment to just be.

The whir of his hoverchair slipped up
beside her. “Can we start again?”

A swallow, keep it together. “I guess.” She
turned and looked down at him. He was all calm and politeness. A moment and she
offered her hand. “Hi, I’m Em Harris. Very pleased to meet you.”

He took her hand in a firm grip, his skin
warm. That smile appeared again, but it was softer and more genuine. “Scott
Tracy. And I’m very happy to finally meet you.” His voice was as soft as his
smile and she found herself drowning in his eyes.

She mentally shook herself, fighting the
current. He still had her hand. “Are you going to introduce me to your brother
or do I have to guess which one he is?”

He started at that and let her hand drop,
peering over his shoulder. “John, come here.”

The tall and slim red head rolled his eyes
and stood up from behind the desk, walking over to join them on the balcony. He
dipped his head in greeting and she was stunned by the flicker of green in his
eyes. What was it with the Tracy genes? Primed for gorgeous eyes?

“Em, this is my middle brother, John
Tracy.”

She held out her hand and he took it
gently. His skin was softer than Scott’s, but equally as warm. “I’m very
pleased to meet you.”

John’s smile was much more subtle than
Scott’s as well. “Likewise. Welcome to Tracy Island.” His eyes darted back to
the desk. “Please excuse me, I’m on duty.” He took a step back inside before
turning back to his brother. “You might want to give Em a tour, Scott.”

To her surprise, Scott started and blinked.
“What? Oh, yes, of course.” He shot her a smile, but it was distracted.

She frowned.

But suddenly that genuine soft smile was
back and he held out a hand. “Shall we?”

Turning to look back into the lounge, she
spotted Kayo. The woman smiled at her and nodded. Okay, in for a penny, in for
a pound. At least if she was following him around he wasn’t colliding with any
more walls.

She reached out and took that hand.

It was still wonderfully warm.

“Lead on.”

-o-o-o-

Virgil clung to the yoke as the cyclone
attempted to throw his ‘bird into the ocean and she fought against the howling
wind. It wouldn’t have been a problem if he had been flying straight, but he
had to hover and collect the module. His brother and the surviving fishermen
were relying on him.

A nasty downdraft slapped them again and
the ocean beneath attempted to reach up and grab him from the sky.

His clearance was limited by the length of
his grapples and the swell was massive. He had managed the drop off easily
enough, the module hitting the surface and rapidly submerging to a safe level
where TB4 could disembark. The module’s inbuilt engines and pumps kept it
stable in the depths awaiting Gordon’s return.

The aquanaut, with some swearing over the
comms, had been able to save the three fishermen before their trawler took a
plunge under the next mountainous wave. They all ended up wet, Gordon ended up
furious, and now they were safe in the module, awaiting pickup just below the
surface.

But the winds were hell, Virgil was tired,
and, if he was honest, afraid. This was the one scenario with module deployment
that had him scared he may not be able to do it. Mainly because if he couldn’t,
his brother could be lost. It all relied on Virgil catching that module in
heaving seas and howling winds.

He wrenched on the yoke again and the whole
right side of his ribcage twinged. Great. He did not have time for this.

“Whenever you are ready, Virgil.”

He grit his teeth. “Doing my best, Gordon.
This is a cyclone after all.”

“FAB.” At least his brother sounded
suitably admonished.

He shunted altitude control over to
autopilot, upped sensory response to wind velocity and took aim. Three green
targets almost immediately. The fourth failed and within a second or two the
other three followed and he had to reset the system.

Again.

An exhaled breath, his chest tight.

Two targets green, two red and targets
lost.

“Goddamnit!”

He had to do this.

Reset.

Aim.

One target green.

‘C’mon.”

Three.

And four!

He fired.

They stayed green.

Oh, thank god. He immediately set the pumps
in the module to shedding water as the grapples started pulling her to the
surface. He had to be fast because his ‘bird was now chained to the swell and
she rose and dipped alarmingly as the autopilot calculated the distances.

He could almost feel the pumps grinding
away below sloshing water, desperately doing their best to free the module of
saltwater.

Of course, this was the very moment the
ocean decided to throw a wall of that water at him. Suddenly his entire view
was wrapped in turbulent whites and greys, TB2’s own spotlights lighting it up
for all to see.

Shiiiiiiiit!

He yanked on the yoke and TB2 screamed at
the sudden power surge. Module Four was ripped from the ocean surface still
half full, and caught immediately by the gale force cross winds. He struggled
to gain altitude as the autopilot failed to compensate, desperate to clear the
mountain of water bearing down on them.

He almost made it.

Water rushed across the bow of his ‘bird,
splashing the rain off his viewports. VTOL flickered, but it was the extra
weight on the cables that set the dash screaming at him. There was suddenly a
good twenty to thirty metres of saltwater between Thunderbird Two and her
flailing module. Unbalanced, continually moving and heavy.

He froze the retrieval, desperate to
relieve the strain on the grapples and let the wave move past.

It took forever.

Red lights strobes at him. Grapple two
registered a loss of grip momentarily, scaring the bejesus out of him, before
locking in green again.

Time hung in terror.

And the swell moved on.

Module Four swung once again in the gale.

Virgil struggled to take a breath.

The pumps churned out the remains of the
saltwater as Two finally gained the necessary altitude, fighting the winds best
enough to once again draw up and nest the module in her belly.

Heart still pounding, Virgil kicked in the
rear thrusters and pushed her towards the cloud ceiling, breaking through
finally into the clear air above.

The sudden absence of turbulence was
startling.

Once free and steady, he programmed the
autopilot to send them to Broome, a matter of minutes away, and took a moment
for himself.

Oh god.

His heart was beating against his
breastbone. He felt he couldn’t breathe in enough oxygen.

Alone in the cockpit, he dropped his head
towards his knees, ignoring the pain in his side at the position. He took
strong steadying breaths, desperate to calm himself down.

“Virgil? Virgil!”

Gordon rushed over, but the engineer
managed to get himself upright before his brother reached him. “I’m fine. ‘S
okay.”

“You look like shit.”

“Thanks.” The sarcasm was there, but the
energy wasn’t.

“Are you sure, you’re okay?” Gordon was
frowning at him.

A deep breath that didn’t quite feel deep
enough, but it got strength back into his voice. “I’m fine. I should be asking
you that question.”

“Oh, that was some ride, Virg. We will need
to replenish the sick bags in Four, though.”

Virgil stared at his brother. Did he have
any idea how close it had been?

Gordon stared back. “What?”

“This is Broome International Airport
calling Thunderbird Two. You are clear for approach.”

He blinked and turned back to his console.

Dump the dumb fishermen and go home.

That was all he had to do.

And ignore his trembling hands.

-o-o-o-

End Part Seven.

Part Eight

Leave a Reply