Okay, sorry for the posting freeze on Camp Gatewood. (It won't last much longer.) I sadly lost touch with my beta and had to locate a new one. Then once I found one, the Internet at my house went on the fritz. (Been coming and going for days now.)

Anyway, while all this was happening, I spent some of my spare time working on this idea I had and I thought I would share. BTW, this is my very first romance, so please be nice.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Thunderbirds as I have a very small yard and they would never fit.

A big thanks to JulesDPM for her beta work, and enjoy the show ...

Chapter 1

John yawned and rubbed his eyes, glancing at his watch. It was nearing midnight and he still wasn't finished running this stupid diagnostic. Had it been on any other system, he would have just gone to bed and checked the results in the morning, but considering this was the habitation systems, it really couldn't wait. He had just decided to ask Brains for a faster way to check his systems, when a soft voice came over the radio.

"Hello? … help me … coast guard? … can you hear me? … mayday … please … someone help."

Hurrying over to the radio, he picked up his handset.

"This is International Rescue. Can you hear me?"

"International Rescue? … yes, I can hear you … can you help me?"

Since the woman sounded disoriented, John would let the obvious question slide. He moved over to his console and started to trace the call, not knowing how much longer she would be able to talk coherently.

"Yes, I can help you. Can you tell me what happened?"

"Um … the shelf fell … I'm stuck."

Trapped with a probable concussion, John didn't hold too much hope that she could give him her location. On top of that the signal was also extremely weak; it was amazing that he could pick it up at all. Luckily he still managed to get it narrowed down to somewhere off the coast of southern California, but that was the best he could do.

"Ma'am, can you tell me where you are?"

"Uh … lab ... I'm, um, in my lab … my head hurts … I can't move."

"Stay calm, I am going to send help."

"Coast guard?"

At this point, John was really concerned about the extent of this woman's head injury. Had she already forgotten who he was?

"No, Ma'am, I'm International Rescue," he explained. "I'm sending the Thunderbird aircraft."

"But I'm not on fire … not gonna blow up … just stuck … call the coast guard."

"Ma'am, my team is trained-"

"To save people in danger … not in danger … just stuck … leave Thunderbird planes for people gonna blow up … or on fire … call coast guard, Rescue-man … I'll live."

John weighed his options. On one hand, this woman may be more hurt then she was letting on and might need serious medical help. On the other, if she wasn't in immediate danger then protocol said to let the local authorities could handle it.

"Ma'am, are you bleeding?"

"No blood … no fires … no bears."

What? That's it, he was calling base …

"My teacher said that … I was smaller then."

"Your teacher said what?"

"Blood, fire, or bear … don't come to her desk without blood, fire, or bear … that's what she said."

Okay, so maybe she would be okay. But no matter who he called, he was still going to need to know where she was.

"Ma'am, can you tell me where you are?"

"Silly Rescue-man … I already told you that."

Right, she said she was in her lab. But what lab was off the coast of southern California? Was she under water? If that was the case, then he would need to call his brothers so they could send out Thunderbird Four.

"Is your lab under water?"

"No … above … waaaaaay above … on stilts … in rig."

Rig? As in oil rig? John did a quick check and found four abandoned oil rigs in the area of the signal. He also discovered the reason for her accident. There had been some minor seismic activity in that area. Not enough to cause major damage, but it could have probably moved a couple of large objects, such as a shelf. The woman had to be on one of those, but which one? Luckily, the coast guard had more then one transport. John switched to a different frequency and hailed the local coast guard station letting them know about the situation. They immediately mobilized and headed to check the rigs.

"Rescue-man? … did you leave?"

"No, I'm still here."

"Call the coast guard?"

"Yeah. Don't worry, they are on their way."

"Thank you … you gonna leave now?"

John briefly wondered if this is how Scott or Virgil felt on a rescue, reassuring a victim of a fire or mud slide that everything would be okay. He knew that he had really done all he could and the coast guard could take it from here, but a stronger part of him was determined to see this through to the end.

"No, Ma'am. I'm not going anywhere."

"Good … you have a nice voice."

"Thanks," he chuckled. "you have a nice voice too."

"Yours is nicer."

He smiled, glad that none of his brother could hear this conversation. Scott and Virgil wouldn't be that bad, but if Alan or Gordon ever found out, he would never live it down.

"Pretty."

"What? My voice?"

"No … your voice is nice … stars are pretty … I see them … can you see them?"

John glanced out into space and the vast sea of sparkling lights.

"Yeah, I can see them."

"Are they pretty for you?"

"Beautiful."

"I like the one that looks like an ice cream scoop … the little ice cream scoop, not the big one."

"You mean the little dipper?" John asked, getting comfortable in his chair.

"I like that name better … do people eat ice cream in space?"

"I'm sure they do."

He did anyway. In fact, Alan had brought up some Rocky Road on the last supply run. Of course, he was just doing it to keep it away from Gordon, but the end justified the means.

"What ice cream do you like, Rescue-man?"

They spent the better part of the next two hours discussing various subjects. It started with favorite ice cream flavors, them moved into favorite foods. This sparked a long discussion on how cats were terrible cooks and that, with the proper training, monkeys might be able to make fruit salad. After that they talked about various tropical locations they had been too, such as Hawaii, and how they were better vacation spots then mountains, unless you wanted to eat snow. They had just started discussing whether a mountain goat could win a fight against a monkey when the woman's voice began to fade.

"Ma'am? Can you hear me?"

"Yeah .. just tired … goodnight, Rescue-man."

"No, Ma'am, you have to stay awake."

"You stay awake … I wanna sleep."

John took a deep breath, glancing at his watch and regretting not calling in his brothers. The coast guard may be closer, but Thunderbird One was faster, and they were running out of time. He may not have a medical degree, but growing up with four active brothers had taught him a thing or two about concussions, namely that you can't go to sleep until you get it checked. And where was the coast guard? Shouldn't they have found her by now?

"Ma'am? Ma'am, I need you to talk to me."

"I did … tired now … so tired."

"I know you are, but I need you to tell me about … your rig."

It was the first thing that came to mind, and he hope that she had a lot to say. She had talked for almost twenty minutes about what fruits monkeys liked in salads, so hopefully a topic like her oil rig could keep her engaged until the coast guard arrived.

"It's big … metal … I like it."

Her voice was fading fast. He had to keep her going.

"What color is it?"

Man, that was a stupid question, but at least it seemed to work.

"It's black … but my room is not … my room is purple."

"Oh yeah? What shade?"

"Violet … what shade is your room?"

"My room is blue."

"Blue isn't purple."

"No, it's not," John chuckled. "Um … do you like blue?"

"Yes … only pretty blue … not ugly blue … is your blue ug-l-ly?"

"Well, I don't think so. What blue is ugly?"

He waited for a moment, but was met with just dead air.

"Ma'am? Ma'am, are you there?"

Nothing. She was gone. For a few frantic moments he was glued to the radio, hoping to hear that soft voice again. Finally he picked up a message from the coast guard. The woman had been found alive, but unconscious, and was being rushed to the nearest hospital. John collapsed back into his chair, letting out a sigh of relief. She was going to be okay. He shook his head, wondering if this was how his brothers felt after a rescue and seriously considering asking for more time Earth bound. He loved space and he loved his Thunderbird, but being up here alone for so many months at a time … it could get pretty lonely. As strange as the last few hours had been, it was the first real conversation he had in weeks … and he didn't even know her name.

*O*O*O*O*O*

"Calling International Rescue. Come in International Rescue."

John set down his clipboard and headed over to the radio. It had been almost a week since, what he started to think of as his first solo mission, but still whenever a woman called, like now, he imagined that it was her. This time, it even sounded like her. He shook the thought from his head and focused on the task as hand.

"This is International Rescue. Go ahead."

"Hello, Rescue-man."

He nearly dropped his hand-held as his mind tried to wrap around this. It was her. She really was okay.

"Hello, Ma'am."

"Please, call me Cecily."

His smile grew. Suddenly, space didn't seem so lonely anymore.

"I'm John."

"Thank you, John."

Well, what do you think so far?

Let me know what you think. In the mean time, I'll keep writing and as soon as I get chapter two back from my beta I will get it posted.