ahem, yes... again, sorry you had to wait, but i must point out that real life must take precedence, especially now i'm getting so close to exams and deadlines (as are most of us, i'm sure). but, it's my easter break now, so i've got more time to myself in which i can do things like... write fan-fictions =P

but i thank you for your patience, and hope you enjoy.

Of Light-bulbs, Spoons and Aeroplanes

Karen flopped onto the bed and sighed, stretching her cramped limbs. She'd been set to work learning to use Thunderbird Four that afternoon, and the small sub was definitely not designed with comfort in mind. Odd, really, since John had told her that that was Gordon's main craft, and Darren had told her about Gordon's hydrofoil accident and resulting weak back.

Still, at least she hadn't had to sit in the craft as it was dropped in the pod. That had been Darren's job. He was still complaining about nearly losing his lunch.

"I mean, he could have at least warned me," Darren grumbled, sitting down next to her and planting a kiss on her forehead. "How Gordon puts up with it, I really don't know."

Karen sat up, leaning on his shoulder. "Do you know all of them well?"

"No, just John. I mean, I knew the others, obviously, but John was my best friend." He shook his head. "I don't think I could ever imagine him going out there and saving lives. I mean, he's a great guy, I'd trust him with anything, but... going out there risking his behind? Not really quiet, straight-A John Tracy from high school."

Karen snuggled up closer.

"People change," she yawned. "I originally wanted to be a ballet dancer."

"Yeah, when you were, like, five," Darren chuckled, lying down and pulling her down with him. "I used to want to be a chef until I burnt myself making toast."

"Only you could burn yourself making toast," Karen retorted, rolling her eyes.

"Hey, the toaster was broken, I had to use the grill instead. How was I supposed to realise the metal got hot as well as the bread?"

The two lay silently for a moment, then Darren sighed.

"I've never seen John like this before, though." Karen propped herself up on one elbow, looking down at Darren's face; his eyes were closed, a slight frown playing across his brow.

"Like what?"

"So... I don't know, hollow seems the closest. He's all determination, all grim. He's barely cracked a smile since he met up with us. And he looked ill." Karen nodded sympathetically, setting her head back on his chest. She too closed her eyes, listening to his heartbeat, with each beat allowing another image to flash through her mind. John when he walked into the bar, thin and pale... his lonely vigil at the prow of the boat... pushing away his food, untouched...

Then she remembered more recent memories. John laughing through the radio as he turned circles around the cumbersome body of Thunderbird Two... clapping Darren on the back as he emerged shaking from Four, having just been dropped into the ocean... Penelope's beady gaze relaxing as John ate the plate of pasta set before him by Kyrano...

"But he's getting better," she said after a while, and felt Darren start slightly beneath her as she broke the silence.

"Yeah..." Darren wound his arms around her shoulders, sighing. "Penelope says it's because he's finally able to do something."

"What do you think?"

"I think it's you," said Darren. "You're a lot like Gordon. You've got a sense of humour, you're rarely down, you've taken to imitating Parker, and I know you were behind that "spider" that made its way into the tagliatelle last night. You're reminding him of what he's fighting for."

Karen turned onto her front slightly so she could look up at Darren's face. He smiled gently, and pulled her up the rest of the way to plant a kiss on her forehead.

"Gordon? Is there something you want to tell me, dear?" she said, mock-frowning at him.

"See? That's exactly the sort of thing Gordon'd say."

TB

"Is there something you guys want to tell me?"

Virgil glared over at his younger brother. "Glad to see you've finally woken up. Honestly, I swear you could sleep through anything."

"Pots and kettles, dear brother," replied Gordon, sitting up and rubbing his stiff muscles. "But that doesn't explain why Alan's backside is inches from your face, Virge." He looked his brothers up and down. Jeff and Virgil had formed a step out of their hands, upon which Alan was attempting to stand, one hand resting on his father's shoulder, the other outstretched towards one of the lights in the ceiling, and his rear end edging dangerously towards Virgil's face. Beside them, Scott watched warily, ready to catch his baby brother if he overbalanced.

"We're trying to unscrew one of these light-bulbs," grunted Alan. "Virgil's convinced we can escape if we can remove one of the lights." At that point, Jeff gasped and Alan's foot fell between his and Virgil's hands. Scott and Gordon both rushed forward to catch him, and all five men ended up in a pile on the floor. Scott winced as Virgil's shoulder landed heavily on his still sore arm.

"Sorry, Scott," groaned Virgil as he levered himself into a sitting position and back-peddled to the wall. The others followed suit, and soon the room was filled with the sound of panting. Jeff was the first to speak.

"Sorry, boys," he said. "Guess I'm not as young as I used to be."

"Next time, I'll climb up and Alan and Virgil can be the ladder," said Gordon. "But first you can explain to me what it is I'm volunteering for."

"Virgil seems to think that the area above the cell is hollow," answered Scott, examining the wound on his arm.

"I know it is," Virgil insisted. "I distinctly heard rodents scuttling around up there. It could be large enough for us to climb into, and escape. But first, we need to get rid of that light and have a look. I can take care of the wiring and stuff. Then we can climb in, find another exit, try and rescue Tin-Tin and Brains, and get out of here. Wherever "here" is."

"Three and a half months we've been here, Virge, and only now you come up with an escape plan?" Gordon groaned and banged his head gently against the wall. "Three and a half months."

"I didn't hear you coming up with anything, Gordon," snapped Scott. "Or at least, nothing that didn't involve spoons." Gordon opened his mouth to answer back.

"Don't even think about it, Gordon," said Jeff, glowering at his sons, daring them to argue. "You're arguments give me the worst migraines I've ever known."

TB

John did a double-take. But the result was still the same. There was a craft approaching the island.

He sent out a signal to Darren, who was out in Thunderbird One, to return to base, and called the others to the lounge. He called up the radar screen on Alan's portrait.

"Someone's approaching the island. I expect visual contact in about three minutes. At which point, if they're friendly, they'll hopefully try to make contact."

"And if they don't?"

John's eyes flashed dangerously.

"Then we'll take precautions."

Something in his look made Karen desperately hope the craft was friendly. She didn't think she could allow herself to let loose this angry Tracy on another human being in cold blood, even if that human being had kidnapped his family.

yes, a cliffhanger. how nice of me =P

so, like i said, easter break, more time, etc. but don't get too excited. i do have an essay to write, a debate to research, a programme to practice and a portfolio to put together. i make no guarantees (which i think i may have said when i started this... hmm). i also live at the very north of scotland, and go to uni in the south, meaning whole days can be spent travelling (well, six hours by car or something approaching seven (not including the two hours between connections) in a train, but it feels longer, and take a lot out of one, considering all i do is sit on my backside for that duration). and this easter, i'm going up and down the country quite a lot, so...

yeah, i make a lot of excuses. but my point is made. i shall endeavour to get chapter eight up within a fairly reasonable time frame.

themusicain xxx