Hello once again!

Yes, it's finally here: the final installment in the Rescue Trilogy!

Thank you to all of those who encouraged me to post this, and I apologise for the long wait. Now that my studies have been completed and my critical case of writers block has been beaten (for now), I can return to my writing and finish the trilogy!

Please review and let me know what you think! I am always open to criticism and ideas!

Hope you enjoy!

Boann xx

The kitchen was silent. The cool breeze that blew softly outside was blocked by the glass partitions that had been lowered for the night. There was none of the usual bustle, noise, or comforting commotion. Alan Tracy leaned against the kitchen bench, trying to settle his pounding heart.

It wasn't the first time he had been here in the dead of night. To say that he'd had a rough couple of weeks was an understatement. The nightmares were getting worse, his appetite had fled a few days ago, and the memories never ceased to plague him. And to make everything worse, he had no idea how to stop it. As the son of a billionaire ex-astronaut and a member of International Rescue, he'd never been a normal kid. But presently, normality had never seemed so appealing.

This isn't fair! I shouldn't be dealing with this, he thought.

He should be worrying about Gordon's pranks, homework, and the possible adventures of school holidays. Instead, he was being suffocated by a black cloud that refused to disappear. He'd tried to talk so many times. But each time he mustered the courage to confront his feelings, a rescue call would come in, an intruder would interrupt a personal conversation, or he'd lose his nerve. He would flee to his room, lock the door and release his emotions alone.

He knew he was being stupid. None of his brothers would be so weak.

But how do they stop it?

No matter how hard he tried to ignore them, the memories of his ordeals continued to haunt him. At night he would revisit the scenes; crushed under twisted metal, pounded by torrential water, falling into darkness. Only this time, none of his brothers came for him. He would wake only when he'd reached the peak of pain and despair. So far nobody had come running to wake or comfort him. Mercifully, it seemed that his nightmares had been silent. He would sit in the kitchen for about an hour with a glass of water, staring into the night until he'd calmed down. After returning to his room, he'd toss for another hour before falling into a fitful, dream-plagued sleep.

"Alan?"

The voice made him jump so ferociously that the glass he was holding fell to the floor and smashed.

"Hey!" whispered the worried voice. Alan turned around to see John hobbling towards him, leaning on his crutches. His older brother had broken his leg during...Alan cut off his train of thought.

But John didn't seemed too bothered with his impediment. Propping his crutches against the fridge, he awkwardly sidestepped the glass on the floor and held Alan's shoulders gently. "Are you okay?"

How can I be okay? "Yeah," Alan replied, trying to still his shaking body. He motioned to the mess. "Sorry."

"It's okay," John softly assured, grabbing a dustpan out of the cupboard under the sink.

Alan stood there uselessly. "You startled me," he explained.

"Sorry," replied John, throwing the rubbish away. "What are you doing up at three in the morning?"

I think I'm going insane, John. Alan had no reply that wouldn't incriminate him, so in the end all he could manage was, "Um."

John seemed to understand. "Do you want some company?" he asked.

Yes, please stay! Don't leave me! Alan shook his head. "No, I'd better go. Thanks."

He didn't want to talk. He'd found it difficult, even to Gordon, whom he had never had trouble confiding in. It was easier being alone, however much he hated it. With that, he trudged upstairs, back into the gloom.

*~*~*~*~*~*

It was a fire in Italy. An electrical shortage in a twenty story building had sparked a fire in the elevator shaft, trapping three people who had been inside the elevator at the time. The rescue services had deemed it too risky to attempt a rescue due to how quickly the fire had spread up the building. But by the time the Thunderbirds had arrived, the crisis had already been averted. Fire engines surrounded the building behind yellow markers. The area they had marked off was littered with rubble and metal, as parts of the building had collapsed under the heat. With all of the commotion around the building, it was difficult for even the Thunderbirds to get into the area. The Fire Service had certainly made an impressive display of manpower, but one that was inhibiting much progress.

"We not anticipate such big fire," the Chief Fire-fighter told them in broken English. "But we found safe passage in basement that allow us to rescue civilians."

Jeff sighed under his helmet. This situation was not unknown to the Thunderbirds, but it did not make it less irritating. "Any casualties?" he asked.

The Chief shook his head. "Is all good. We have taken people out of way. Will have to wait for us to finish and move engines until ambulance can get through. Is very unstable area, see? Perhaps you could use great machines to help us with the fire, no? Make work faster."

"Well, we came all this way, we might as well do something," came Scott's bitter remark.

Jeff spoke again before his son's comment could be interpreted. "We'll get the Firefly on to the fire. Two of my men will help you with the civilians until medical crews can get through."

He turned to his sons, speaking through the private comm. "Alan, you and I will help the civilians. Virgil, take the Firefly and give the fire teams a hand. Scott, clear the area. The building is still unstable and the last thing we want are more casualties if it decides to come down."

"Thunderbird 5 to Danger Zone," Gordon called through the radios from Thunderbird 5. "The area looks stable enough from here, Dad. I've pulled up a few satellite images and readings, and there aren't any signs of immediate problems."

"Good work, son," commended Jeff. "Keep a close eye on the readings and monitor communications. We're going to tackle the last of the fire and assist with the casualties."

"FAB," Gordon replied.

As the communication ended, each respective party took off. Jeff and Alan found the casualties where the Fire Chief had indicated they were being held. The three of them were sitting, propped up against one of the engines in the middle of the commotion. Two men and one woman, all covered in soot and grime. The woman was crying hysterically, holding her wrist. One fireman was trying to keep her calm, but wasn't succeeding.

Jeff and Alan tried as best they could without language to understand the reason behind her panic. Alan bent down in front of the woman. "Will you let me see your arm?" he asked slowly. But it was obvious the woman didn't understand him. Alan gestured the instruction instead.

Jeff motioned to the men. "Are you hurt?" he asked, running his hands up and down his own body in an attempt to communicate. One man seemed to understand and shook his head. The other seemed too distracted by the woman. His stance by her side was protective and he watched Alan with narrowed eyes. He must be her husband, Jeff assumed, noticing the similarity of the wedding rings both wore.

Alan, it seemed, was trying his best to reassure the woman, but it wasn't working. No sooner had he laid a gentle hand on the woman's shoulder than she began screaming. Her husband reacted, waving his hand at Alan and speaking angrily in Italian.

Jeff tried to get the man's attention. "He's just making sure she's okay," he explained, but the man obviously didn't understand.

Alan, whose lack of experience made him unable to recognise the delicacy of the situation, tried to encourage the woman, grasping her hand gently and holding out his arm to show her his intentions. No sooner had he touched her again than the husband grabbed Alan by the neck of his uniform and thrown him to the ground. Jeff intervened with the strength of a mother bear, pinning the husband to the fire engine. The other man got up, talking angrily to the husband and making gestures at Alan, who lay on the floor. His words seemed to control the husband's behaviour, and Jeff was reassured enough to let him go. Whilst the man diverted the husband's attention, Jeff went to Alan's side. The fact that Alan hadn't gotten up off the ground worried him.

"Are you okay?" he asked, kneeling beside him.

Alan nodded. His facial expression was blurred behind his tinted helmet, but the stiffness of his body told Jeff he was in pain.

"Can you stand up?" Jeff asked.

"Give me a minute," Alan's voice was weak and pained.

Jeff activated his comm. "Ground Team to Firefly and Scott. What is your status?"

"I'm just about done here, Dad. The fire is now under control. Heading back to Thunderbird Two in one minute," Virgil replied.

"I've convinced the fire and rescue teams to evacuate. They're moving the trucks to clear a path for the medical teams as we speak," Scott reported.

"Okay. Both of you finish up as quick as you can, then I need you to give us a hand with the casualties. There's been an incident," Jeff explained.

"What incident?" Scott piped up.

"Nothing I can't handle until you get here," Jeff replied.

"FAB."

Jeff put a hand on Alan's shoulder. He tensed as he noticed the husband approaching tentatively. The husband put his hand on Alan's arm, speaking gently. His face was remorseful. Alan nodded at him, accepting his apology. The husband acknowledged Jeff before returning to his wife, who had quietened down considerably. Jeff guessed her hysteria had been a reaction to stress more than pain.

"What hurts?" he asked Alan gently.

"My chest," Alan replied, his voice a little stronger.

Jeff nodded. Alan's bruising from his accident and the Australia rescue was still tender. The impact against the bitumen wouldn't have been taken lightly. Jeff wished he had listened to Virgil's private protests against Alan's participation in the rescue. But with Gordon in space and John unfit for duty, they'd had no choice. "Just take a few minutes," he murmured comfortingly.

Alan panted. "It's okay. Just..."

Scott and Virgil chose to enter the scene at that point. Upon seeing his little brother on the ground, Scott immediately asked. "What happened here?"

Jeff explained what had occurred. "He's complaining of pain to his chest," he told Virgil, who bent down next to Alan.

"How bad is the pain, Sprout?" Virgil asked.

"It's getting better. I'll be okay," Alan said, stiffly. He tried to get up as if to prove himself, but fell back down with a muffled cry.

Scott knelt down behind his brother, holding him by the shoulders. "Try and stay still, Sprout.

Virgil placed his hands on Alan's chest and began gently probing. "Just try and relax, and tell me if you feel any pain," he professionally soothed.

Whilst Virgil stayed with Alan, Jeff and Scott were given the all clear to escort the casualties to awaiting medical teams. The men and woman thanked them graciously and a little humbly.

Jeff nodded, satisfied and returned to where Virgil still knelt beside Alan. "What's the diagnosis?" he asked.

"Nothing is broken. I'll give him another exam when we get home," Virgil said. "You ready to go, Al?" He asked, before gently helping the youngest Tracy to his feet, wrapping an arm around him for support.

Jeff spoke into the comm. "Ground team to Thunderbird 5. Mission complete. W're heading back base."

"FAB," was Gordon's reply. A grumble followed. "These Italians. So dramatic, they are. Should stick to spaghetti. It's safer."