woaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!

i haven't been on in aaaaaaaaaaages! well, i've been on, had a look at some stories, but actually properly logged in and reviewed and written? nope.

apologies to anyone who's been waiting for updates to my last story, which i believe is still unnamed -ahem- but i seriously ran dry with that one. i knew where i wanted it to go, it was just a matter of getting it to go there that was the problem. i think i'm gonna have to leave it and come back to it in the future, maybe even re-write it and re-post it.

but here i am now with this. the idea came to me just last night, believe it or not. it's very different to any fan fic i've written, and, to be honest, a bit darker, but i do intend to still chuck in some laughs along the way.

so, without any further ado, allow me to introduce my new fic:

Dust

A Remote Island in the Pacific

"Wouldn't it have been faster to go by plane?"

John simply continued to stare ahead the island as it gradually grew larger.

"I mean, don't get me wrong," she continued, heedless of his silence. "I like sailing, love it, in fact. I used to go all the time with my dad, you know, learning to fish, all that sort of thing. Camping trips along the river... but that doesn't mean I don't have a concept of time," she finished, giving a slightly vicious tug on a piece of tarpaulin that had come loose, dragging it back into place. "I thought you said there was no time to lose?"

"I also said that we had to avoid detection," he said quietly, eyes still fixed on the island. "We have no idea what we're going to find there, Karen, and if there is someone there that shouldn't be, they're much less likely to be looking for a boat than a plane. And we can sneak up to the far side of the island, undetected, whereas a plane would have to land on the runway."

"Okay, okay," Karen said irritably, flicking some wayward strands of purple hair out of her face. She pulled off her scarf and used it to tie her hair back off her face. This done, she leaned back against the railings and regarded John thoughtfully. He hadn't moved from this spot ever since they'd first spotted the island on the horizon. Despite the neutral look on his face, Karen could detect a tenseness in the way his thin frame leant against the railings on the bow of the small fishing boat. He was nervous.

She turned round to look at the remainder of their motley crew. The skipper, the guy who actually owned the boat, was definitely the oldest one there, although the weird English guy with the large nose was a close second. There was Darren, her boyfriend, and an old friend of John's; that was the only reason she was on this stupid boat, as far as she could see. And sitting up beside the skipper, poring over reports and maps on her pink laptop, was the English aristocrat. The English guy often referred to her as "m' lady," despite the woman's attempts to get him to refer to her in a more informal manner. John had eventually intervened.

"Give it up, Penny," he said. "Old habits are hard to break, and I can promise you these guys won't give you away."

Karen suspected that John hadn't realised she was listening. "Penny" and her friend seemed to be the only ones who knew what John was about; as far as the skipper- whose name was Abe- was concerned, this was just another job, and well-paid enough to make it worth his while. As far as she knew, Darren knew as much as she did, and if he knew any more, he certainly hadn't told her.

And what did she know?

Two weeks ago, she and Darren had gone to the bar down the road in search of some "real" drink, instead of the non-alcoholic stuff served at the air field. They'd barely touched their first glass when John had walked in.

Darren had shot up, obviously both pleased and alarmed to see his old friend. It was easy to see why: John was incredibly pale, and he looked as if he hadn't eaten well in some time. His blue eyes had a saddened, haunted look. Even though she'd never met him before, Karen had known there was something wrong.

John had sat down opposite them after some brief introductions, refusing the offer of a drink. He'd remained silent for a moment, his eyes closed and his forehead resting gently on the tips of his long fingers. Karen had taken the opportunity to study the young Tracy. She'd heard of Tracy Enterprises, of course, who hadn't? She remembered catching the odd glimpse of the famous Jeff Tracy on TV, and she had to admit, there was some family resemblance, though not enough that she could have identified him without Darren's introduction.

Finally, John had looked up at them.

"I need your help."

And that had been that. A brief explanation, a request for them to join him on a boat trip to somewhere remote in the Pacific. Whilst Karen had been reluctant to help a complete stranger without more information, Darren had signed up in an instant. Later, when she'd asked why, he'd simply said, "He's my friend."

The next week, they'd met the two English people, and had begun to plan for their trip. Why two pilots were needed for a boat trip in the Pacific, Karen didn't pretend to understand. The only reason she was doing this was because it was so important to Darren.

A splash of water brought her back to the present. She glanced up at the sky- it was growing darker and more ominous by the minute. Another drop plopped down, right into her eye; she hissed and blinked furiously, then decided to head to the shelter of the skipper's control room. The others made motions to do the same, except John, who remained where he was, apparently unaffected by the rain. She rolled her eyes and called out.

"John! You can't stay out there! You'll be soaked!" She stomped back across the deck and grabbed his arm. He seemed to come out of his daze, and followed her inside.

TB

Whilst the weather wasn't bad enough the put the boat in any danger, it was enough that they had to stay inside for several hours even after they had reached the island, on the far side as John had instructed. Now they sat around waiting for the rain to ease off: the skipper hulked in one corner, meditatively puffing on a pipe which the English woman occasionally glared at. The woman herself was in the opposite corner, with the man and John, the three of them reading the reports together and talking in hushed voices. Darren had fallen asleep, his hoody pulled up to cover half his face. Karen was making dinner at the tiny stove in an attempt to feel useful- if nothing else, she could make a mean pot of soup.

She prodded Darren awake and handed him his bowl, and a hunk of bread. The skipper gave a small grunt of thanks when she handed him his. The English guy slurped noisily at his, making appreciative noises, whilst the woman smiled in thanks, if a tad distractedly. Karen ladled a bit extra into John's, and handed him a really big piece of bread; despite filling out a bit since she'd first seen him, he still looked a tad thin for her liking.

Settling down with her own bowl beside Darren, she tried to ignore the woman's whisper of, "Eat it, John, you've barely eaten all day."

TB

The next morning rose bright and clear, with no sign of the weather that had kept them awake the night before. According to Abe, this was usual in these parts, a fact that John had confirmed with a brief nod of the head. So, he was familiar with the area, was he?

Unfortunately, the area was also tropical, ergo, hot. After an hour of tramping through the jungle that covered most of the island, Karen was hot, tired, sweaty, and growing increasingly grumpy. It reminded her far too much of her survival training for her liking.

Up ahead, however, the English woman didn't seem much better. Dressed in a pink safari suit that clearly had no practical use whatsoever, she managed to keep up a steady stream of complaints under her breath that still made their way over to Karen's keen ears. Pulling her rucksack more securely into place, she strode past her as she struggled up an incline, then offered her hand down. The woman had the grace to take it.

It was another two and a half hours before they finally reached their destination- the runway of the island, which ended with a sheer cliff rising high above them. The tarmac had weeds poking through it, and the plants along the sides had grown unchecked over the lights that lined the strip of tarmac. Barely visible through the bushes, a flight of steps led up to another level of the island.

"Stay here and catch your breath," said John, dumping his bag on the ground. He strode off along the cliff face, apparently searching for something.

"Water, m' lady?" said the English guy, offering a bottle.

"Thank you, Parker," she gasped, throwing down her own rucksack and dropping rather inelegantly onto it.

Darren pulled out a couple more bottles and tossed one over to Karen. She opening it and drank greedily, then tipped the rest over her head. She sat down next to Darren.

"Just as well Abe stayed with the boat," she murmured, scratching absently at an insect bite. "I don't think he could have managed that hike."

"You're probably right," agreed Darren, lying back and closing his eyes. "You know it's been a long time since you did your survival training when your best mate from school turns up and asks you to hike through a jungle."

Karen lay down beside him.

"What is he up to?"

Darren hesitated, his mouth slightly open, when John returned, a grim but determined look in his eyes.

"I found it."

so here it is, chapter one in it's full glory :-P please let me know what you think, i know it's early days yet and you probably have no idea what's going on. or if you do, have a guess- if nothing else, i'll know exactly how obvious i'm being ;-)

cheers,

themusicain xxx