#{ they wait and watch you everyday -- dash comm. }

[battlingbuddy]

   --> Just... quietly sighs and starts reaching for a spray bottle.

[gumnut-logic]

Scott came home exhausted.

Sure, ultimately, he had had John on board and the mission had been a success, but still flying Thunderbird Three was very different from flying Thunderbird One.

Once the great red ‘bird was silent in her gantry and he had finished post-flight checks, he activated the pilot retrieval process and the mechanics pulled him backwards and disembarkation took over.

The system dumped him in the locker room and he dragged himself into a shower and into his clothes.

He would have then dragged himself into bed, but his body was demanding sustenance and honestly, he really needed to check on Virgil and Gordon who were still on the other side of the planet digging up a mudslide.

So one am found him stumbling into the comms room. It was dark, the only light was moonlight, but it was enough to sketch out the room, ghost the portraits and give him enough guidance to make his way to his father’s desk. He could have activated the lights, but the dark was restful and calming after the screaming of emergency lighting and terrified people.

“Scott?”

The voice out of nowhere scared his adrenal glands into sudden production and he let out a decidedly high-pitched yelp.

A lump moved on the circular lounge and he stumbled backwards.

It really was a sign of exactly how exhausted he was.

“You okay?” The voice was small and tentative and…decidedly snotty.

“Alan? What the hell are you doing up?! You should be asleep.”

“Wanted to wait for you.”

His heart began to slow, its frantic beating still loud in his ears. “Does Grandma know you’re up?”

“Nooo.”

Scott sighed. This is why he had grey hair. Little brothers. He ran a hand across his face. “Why are you still awake? You need your sleep to recover. The doctor was very adamant about that.”

“I am resting. Just on the couch.” A sniffle. “I was worried about you.”

Another sigh, but this time Scott skipped down the steps into the circular lounge and sat down beside his littlest brother. “I was fine, Allie. I’m fully trained on Thunderbird Three, you know that. Maybe not as proficient as you, but I’m capable. Besides, I had John watching my back. You know how pedantic he is for safety up there.”

The shadow that was his brother shifted along the lounge and curled up against his arm. “I know.” Another sniffle. “It’s just hard, you know. Don’t like being left behind. Sick of being sick.”

Scott let his shoulders drop and lifted his arm, drawing his little brother close. “You’re getting better. It won’t be much longer.”

He received a grunt for that.

Alan had developed a nasty flu during an evacuation in Bangladesh. Fortunately, he had been with Virgil on Two at the time and not alone in space. Fortunately or not, the worried yell from his engineer brother when he found Alan passed out in Two’s main corridor spoke of the reason why Scott suspected Virgil dyed his hair.

There had been a mad dash to hospital after that. Two scorched the lawn in the reserve opposite the Auckland Hospital…again. One of these days, they would give iR a reserved space to land. It would save Scott from having to pay for extra greenskeepers every damn time there was an emergency.

Of course, it wasn’t your usual everyday flu. No, Alan was a Tracy, therefore it was a life threatening rare, tear your hair out as it goes grey kind of virus and it had been very scary for a few days there.

Virgil had been beside himself and Scott worried out of his mind. All the brothers had gathered terrified that they were about to lose their youngest.

There had been tears.

But Alan was tough. Life had always been hard to their littlest. He had lost so much, missed out on so much, and apparently that virus wasn’t up to the fight Alan was willing to throw at it, so it died.

And Alan slowly, ever so slowly, started getting better.

Those days were long past now and Alan only had the dregs. He had been cleared by disease control and allowed home. None of the older brothers had tested positive and it seemed they had escaped another bullet aimed at the Tracy family.

But it had been terrifying.

So Alan was under general moddle-coddling and if Grandma found him out here in the middle of the night there would be all hell to pay.

Scott understood his little brother’s reasoning though.

It was his ‘bird and he wasn’t flying.

“She performed perfectly.”

“Didn’t expect she wouldn’t.” His brother snuggled into his side, the sixteen-year-old reduced to six-year-old behaviour by his illness. “Was lonely.”

“Oh.” Scott tightened his hold.

With Virgil and Gordon out on a mission, the house would be quiet.

“Are they okay?”

“They were when I dropped off John. He would let us know if there were any problems.” Didn’t stop Scott from wanting to double check anyway. Hence his presence in the lounge.

“Can we watch?”

Scott blinked. “I guess so.”

Fumbling in the dark, he found the ‘projector remote and hit the on button. “John?”

His space brother’s tired hologram flickered into the middle of the lounge. “Scott? What are you still doing up? Is there a problem?” A frown as John noticed the other occupant of the sofa. “Alan? You should be in bed. Grandma will blow a circuit if she finds you up.”

“Alan was waiting for me.” It was the Commander’s voice. God, he was tired. A sigh. “Sorry, John, could you relay Virgil and Gordon’s monitoring feed down here? Alan wants to check on them.”

John stared at them a moment. “Okay. FAB.”

His holographic form flickered out to be replaced by a view from Two’s external camera. Virgil walked past covered in mud yelling at someone.

The someone turned out to be an equally mud-covered Gordon. Hell, the strawberry blond was a brunet. Both brothers looked as exhausted as Scott felt as they had a rather energetic discussion. Fortunately, it appeared that the rescue was over and Virgil was loading up the pod into its module. Unfortunately, tired meant grumpy and impatient.

“They look exhausted.”

“It was a nasty rescue. Far too many people died.”

“But they made a difference, didn’t they?” It was a child-like question that they both knew the answer to, but Alan had asked it anyway.

“Yes, they made a difference. Two hundred and three people hauled alive out of the mud today because of International Rescue.”

“We do good.”

“Yeah, we do.”

Gordon threw a glob of mud at Virgil’s head and the resultant yelling match was extensive. Scott sighed. “They need to come home.” He fiddled with the controls and set it to transmit his voice. “Thunderbird Two from Tracy Island. What the hell do you two think you are doing?”

On the ‘projector both brothers jumped as if a voice had come from above. Which it had since both Two’s camera and external speaker were a considerable distance over their heads.

“Mission complete, Tracy Island. Working through clean up. Estimated departure, ten minutes.” At least Virgil managed to regain most of his composure.

“Good. Now stop mucking around and drag your tired butts home.”

“Uh, FAB, Tracy Island.” Virgil stared at Gordon as if Scott had lost a few marbles. But the two of them executed the last of the pack up in an orderly fashion and exactly ten minutes later, their view launched with a flare of VTOL. The ground disappeared beneath and as Virgil hit the rear thrusters, it all became a blur.

Scott hit the kill switch and the room fell into darkness once again.

“They’ll be home soon.”

“Mmmhmm.”

Alan’s head was heavy on his shoulder, but warm and reassuring. Scott brought his other arm around and turned slightly so his brother could curl in a little closer, his head now more under Scott’s chin. Alan muttered something and snuggled up.

Scott rested his cheek against soft hair as Alan’s breathing drifted into the even pace of sleep, the remains of the infection that had brought them so close to losing him, now little more than a rough edge to each breath.

Closing his eyes, Scott revelled in having this moment, of not being denied it, of having another chance.

A moment where exhaustion and relief met and he drifted away.

-o-o-o-

Virgil entered the comms room to find it dark except for the moonlight shining through the rafters. It was just enough light to outline two brothers curled up on the couch together, both deeply asleep.

Deep enough that Virgil was surprised to find his inadvertent entrance hadn’t disturbed the ever fragile slumber of his eldest brother. So, feeling daring, he grabbed a throw rug and wrapped it gently about the two of them.

Neither stirred at all.

Miracles were possible.

Virgil smiled before tiptoeing out and leaving them there in the moonlight.

Together.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

[wiypt-writes]

Too Loose And You’ll Lose It

Ch9: Lebanon, Lebagone  

Co-written with @icanfeelastormbrewing​

Summary:  A few months post their reconciliation, Jake and Stella run a mission with the rest of the team…

 Pairing: Jake Jensen x OFC Stella Stevenson

Warnings: Bad language, Smut (NSFW, 18+)

Word Count: 8k ish.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. We do not own any characters in this series bar Stella Stevenson and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

A/N: So the mission detailed here was highly inspired by the second book in the Grey Man series. Locations and a few major details are changed, and the names are completely made up.  The Terrorist/Political party- The Lebanese Freedom Party, does not to our knowledge actually exist.

Too Loose And You’ll Lose It Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 8 

 “Alright, let’s get in position before daylight hits.” Clay looked around as they walked down the narrow alleyway.

“Roger that.” Stella nodded as Cougar replied with a tip of his hat to show he had heard, Pooch also inclining his head.

The four of them stopped by a door to their right, Stella pulling the tool from her utility belt which was fastened around the waistband of her camo pants. She picked the lock in under thirty seconds, a simple job that required a little bit of jiggling, twisting and a good jerk with the torque wrench Cougar was holding to defeat.

“Not particularly high security considering this was a bank.” She mumbled as behind her Cougar chuckled.

Inside it was pitch black, dust rose in clouds, shimmering in the moonlight, which was streaking through the dirty arched windows. Both of them flipped out their flashlights, quickly scanning the room for any sign that someone had been here recently, but there was none. 

They crossed quietly and quickly through the main atrium of the old building, taking care to keep to the shadows. The old bank was completely deserted bar a few desks and old telephones which sported thick layers of dust as they moved through, heading for the spiral staircase at the far side.

“We’re clear.” Pooch said as he looked up to the top of the staircase. “This place hasn’t been accessed for years.”

“Lima Six, anything to report?” Clay spoke into his radio and a moment later Jensen replied.

“Nothing on the comms, they’re talking about moving Kilo One out at the time we suspected but it could be a rouse to make sure…but Lima Two knows the code-word should they decide to go early.”

“Okay, as soon as you get movement let me know.”

“Ten-four, One.”

“Okay, let’s get set up.” Clay instructed and the team nodded in agreement as they all set about, placing various pieces of equipment around the place exactly where it needed to be for when their target and his security detail, in which Roque had embedded himself undercover, came storming into the pre-designated building, seeking refuge from an attack outside.

It took them roughly an hour to set up completely, things having to be precisely as Pooch directed. Eventually, when he was happy, they climbed the staircase at the back of the room. Four sets of eyes swept the square below. It was deserted, as was to be expected at such an early hour in the morning.

Stella scanned the buildings, nevertheless, her eyes sharp, looking for any sign of movement around the whitewashed and pebble-dashed sandstone that they had grown accustomed to seeing over the last three weeks or so they’d been in Nabatieh, Lebanon.

“So Khalil should be coming from there.” Pooch raised his arm and pointed to a small road to the right. “The plan is we lay down some fire by his bodyguards as he approaches the podium, and force them to take shelter in the bank, as led nicely by Roque.”

“Why do we want this guy alive so badly, anyway?” Stella mumbled to herself. “If he’s such a bastard, why don’t we just kill him? He’s a terrorist leader.”

“The Lebanese Freedom Party ain’t deemed terrorists all over the world.” Pooch grinned and Stella snorted. “Russia views them as a legitimate socio-political force.”

“Russia basically executes people for being gay” She scoffed. “Forgive me for not taking their viewpoint here as the one to set my moral compass against.” She sighed. “Cougs could take one shot, straight in the head. Boom. Job done.”

Cougar chuckled as he unloaded his rifle and stand, looking up at Clay. “She’s not wrong, Boss.”

“Whilst wiping that particular shit stain off the face of the earth might be appealing, they ain’t our orders. We apprehend alive.” Clay spoke, matter of factly and Stella rolled her eyes.

“Whatever helps us sleep at night, huh?”

****

Stella had to hand it to their Intel department. The start of the hit went like clockwork. At bang on the designated time, Jensen radioed in to say that they were moving out and sure enough, twenty minutes or so later he accounted the SUVs and jeeps had left the compound. He joined the rest of the team little over half an hour later, leaving the dirty van he had been driving hidden down a dark alleyway at the back of the bank, behind the one the rest of the team had arrived in and headed into the dank building, wrinkling his nose at the musty air as he walked in. 

“Hey.” He greeted Stella, his hand falling to her shoulder as she sat in the back, her attention focussed through the window, a pair of binoculars raised to her eyes.

“Hey.” She whispered back, her gaze flicking to him quickly, flashing him a smile as she turned back to her spotting.

“So I picked up on their coms that they think Khalil’s personal security have done a sweep of the area.” Jensen looked at them. “Roques done his job nicely. They should be entering the square from the South West corner.”

 “ETA?” Clay turned to him.

“Less than five minutes.”

“Excellent.” Clay nodded. “So far so good.”

The next five minutes or so passed in silence, all five of the Officers in the room observing the roads leading to the square just in case. Even though their intel was solid, it was drilled into them that they should never rely on it completely.

“Boss,” Cougar spoke suddenly, his shoulders squaring back, “target approaching. Roughly two miles out.”

“Fuck, I got something coming too from the North East.” Pooch groaned.

“What?” Clay demanded.

“I dunno but it looks suspiciously like an ARV.”

“An ARV?” Clay frowned.

“Yup. They’ve stopped. Six hundred yards out.”

“What do you mean they’ve stopped?” Jensen demanded, snatching the binoculars off him.

“What the fuck do you think I mean?” Pooch replied. “They’re not moving.”

“What the fuck is going on?” Stella growled and Clay took the binoculars off Jensen. She watched as Clay took a look before he sighed heavily and dropped his head.

“It’s the Lebanese Special Service. I recognise one of them from a mission a while back.”

“What the hell are they doing here?”

 “I should have seen this coming.” Clay bit his lip. “They’re going to hit him at the rally. The false trail we leaked to them means they think we’re moving on him as he makes his way out of town and up to Beirut. They’re going to get in first.”

“It’s a double cross.” Stella looked at Jake and Pooch as she spoke, the pair of them exchanging a look before all eyes bar Cougar’s, which remained firmly fixed on his target, turned to Clay. “Why?”

“Death to the West and all that.” Clay sniffed. “They’re gonna take him out and try and use USA involvement as cover.”

“Don’t they realise that won’t work?” Stella shook her head. “We’re Black Ops, the thick fuckers. As soon as there’s so much of a sniff that shit is going west, the CIA will leave us high and dry, denying they had anything to do with it.”

“So what’s Plan B?” Pooch turned to look Clay. “I’m hoping you got a Plan B, because Plan A is going to shit.”

“Kilo one still approaching.” Cougar stated.

“You got anything special in your arsenal?” Clay turned to Pooch. “As in blow up an ARV special?”

Pooch blinked. “Yeah, the RPG but…”

“Go get it.” Clay instructed.

Pooch didn’t hesitate, he shot off down the stairs and Stella watched him go before she turned her attention back to the large square, which was roughly the size of two football pitches, busy with people bustling about their everyday business.

“If we get this wrong, the whole square is gonna be caught up in a fucking gun fight,” Stella spoke, her eyes falling on a group of kids in the middle.

There was a pause before Clay spoke again. “Khalil is our main objective; we just need to keep collateral to a minimum.”

Collateral. Stella hated that fucking word. She swallowed and looked at Jensen who gave her a small smile, which she returned before she glanced back at the square.

“One mile out.” Cougar informed.

“Okay,” Clay spoke, clapping his hands together. “Pooch, as soon as the LSS move, you shoot that RPG straight at the fuckers.”

“Gladly.” He nodded, “But, chances are if they’ve got an ARV out there then they’ll already have agents on the ground.”

“It doesn’t matter, all we gotta do is get a shot off first.  Once that initial gun crack is heard, Khalil’s security outfit are gonna herd him in here anyway. And hopefully, when the LSS get note their vehicle has gone bang it’ll draw them into blowing cover somehow.” Clay nodded. “At least then we’ll be able to spot where they are.” He took a deep breath. “Cougar, keep watch on Khalil. As soon as you get a viable opportunity to lay down the fire, take it.”

Cougs, who hadn’t taken his eye away from the target sight of his gun simply tipped the brim of his hat again with his finger to show he had understood and Clay turned to the other three of them as they waited instructions.

 “What about Roque?” Stella asked. “He doesn’t know about the LSS.”

“He’ll roll with the punches.” Clay rubbed his hand over his chin. “Everyone clear?”

“Clear as, boss, it’s a shoot-out.” Jensen snorted, nodding his head as he gave a chuckle. “Good times.”

“If this is your idea of a good time then I’d hate to see a bad one.” Pooch grumbled and Stella gave a chuckle.

“Hey, Poochy, I just like to see the positive in all aspects of life.” Jensen grinned, holding his hands out to the side, palms up. “You’re just grumpy because Jolene’s finally managed to…ouch!” Jensen gave a yelp as Stella punched him hard on the arm. “What was that for, babe?”

Stella shot him a look which instantly shut him up. Pooch had confided in her, Cougar and Jensen no less than two days ago that Jolene was four months pregnant, but he didn’t want to tell Clay or Roque for reasons that he was keeping to himself, as per his prerogative, she supposed. It had made her and Jensen snort a little, as when Aubrey had found out she was pregnant roughly five months or so ago, the entire world had known pretty much before the pee was dry on the test stick. Jensen’s eyes widened as he realised exactly what he’d been about to say and he grimaced, before turning to Pooch, giving him an apologetic look.

“Kilo One is approaching the square.” Cougar spoke, and they all turned their attention to him, stepping forward to the window, Clay observing their surroundings with the binoculars. 

“Okay, focus up Losers.” Clay hushed them all, gesturing to Pooch. “Get ready with that RPG”

Pooch shot Jensen one final filthy glare before he stepped forward, resting the grenade launcher on his shoulder.

“Arty, Jensen, in position.” Clay instructed. “Coms on, code names only.”

They both nodded, Stel picking up a device that had been in Pooch’s big bag of tricks, and made their way back to the spiral staircase.

And then, it all happened at once. Clay gave the order to fire and both Pooch and Cougar took their shots at the same time. The popping of guns, sounds of screaming and yelling and a rather large explosion followed by Pooch’s loud chuckles of glee hit their ears and Jensen looked at Stella as they waited at the top of the stairs.

“I really shouldn’t enjoy this as much as I should.” He grinned, and Stella snorted as suddenly the room below them was full of voices, once of which the recognised instantly as Roque. From their extensive planning, Sella knew that they would likely hustle into the room in a tight cordon, with Khalil in the middle and head to the most secure part of the building, the vault. They had no idea how many of the guard had made it into the building with Khalid, but essentially it didn’t matter. The Losers were one step ahead.

As soon as the group made their way towards the main part of the atrium, through the open double doors which led through the cashier area, Jensen grinned at Stella.

“Hit it, babe!” 

Stella smirked as she pushed the button on the device she held in her hand. The large electromagnets that had been placed on the locks snapped into place, firing the four inch thick steel bolts into their slots, securing them tightly, ensuring no one could get out, and no one else could get in. Yells of warnings rang out about the place as the guards instantly wheeled round, their guns raised and Roque’s eyes flickered upwards to where they were hidden on the veranda above. Jensen raised his right hand, his index and middle finger extended and he waved them across his face, indicating that their next move was about to go down. Roque made no sign he’d seen them, bar a quick double-blink.

“I’m sorry, pal.” Jensen grimaced a little as he ducked down and lifted a heavy square box off the floor, flipping the plastic cover up, jamming his thumb onto the red button. “Lima Two is about to deploy, please return to your seats and cover your ears.” He spoke into his coms, giving the rest of the team a warning. As soon as the device beeped to say it was charged, Jensen launched it over the side of the railing where it fell onto the floor below. As soon as it left his hands, he and Stella ducked down, their fingers jammed in their ears, eyes scrunched shut as the device activated.

Referred to merely by Pooch as the S-Fud- ‘Sensory Fuck-Up Device’, the item had been developed by the boffins in the CIA lab to create complete optical and aural disorientation by using ultra violet and bright white lights and a loud, high pitched sound and sonic wave. Even with his eyes screwed shut, the flash of light still bounced off all the surfaces surrounding Jensen, and the hands which were clamped over his ears might have dimmed the majority of the loud wailing siren, which lasted no more than two seconds, but the combination was still enough to leave him feeling slightly woozy as he stood to his feet, blinking furiously, his eyes feeling like he’d stared straight at the sun, his eardrums ringing as if he’d spent hours in a nightclub with music thumping in his ears. Besides him, Stella staggered to her feet and shook her head, pressing the heel of her palm to the space between her eyes. But they had no time to waste. Jake gently shook her shoulder and she nodded to show him she was okay. Together they made their way down the stairs as quickly as they could. 

The S-Fud had done its job, all the men were incapacitated to some extent. As Stella’s eyes glanced around she quickly counted six men in total. Three, one of whom was Khalil, were completely unconscious, face down on the floor. Two more, including Roque, were writhing in pain, hand clutched over their ears, and one was attempting to stagger to his feet. In a flash, Stella had nailed him with a kick to the face, and he fell backwards with a thud, his nose shattering as her heel smashed straight into the bridge.

“Did you see that?” Jensen turned to the other three men who had joined them, all looking around the room. “My girl, she’s a bad ass chick.”

“Can you concentrate on the mission in hand for once and not your dick?” Pooch shook his head as Cougar hit the moving guard with the butt of his rifle, knocking him out.

“Your momma concentrated on my dick last night.” Jensen shot back and Pooch groaned.

“Seriously? Momma jokes, now?”

“Shut up.” Stella nudged Jake harshly with her elbow as she walked past, following Clay as they stepped over the unconscious guards, heading towards Roque as he groaned and lay curled up in the foetal position. Clay knelt down and reached out, loosening his tie and the top button of his dress shirt before patting him on the shoulder, as Stella did the same to their target.

“Okay, lets move.” Clay looked up. “Jensen, Pooch, you take Roque. I’ll get Khalil. Cougs, Arty, give us cover to the vehicle.”

The team all nodded, Jensen and Pooch stepping forward, each seizing Roque under his arms. They managed to get him to his feet, each supporting him, their arms round his back as his arms slumped over their shoulders. His feet staggered on the floor as he made an attempt to talk.

“We got you, buddy.” Jensen said softly. “You’ll be alright, just feel like you’ve got one hell of a hangover for a few hours.”

Meanwhile Clay had managed to hoist Khalil to his feet with Cougar’s help, the man a complete dead weight, which he allowed to slump against his right shoulder. With an almighty heave he ducked and then stood, using his legs to rise up fully, Khalil slung over him in a fireman’s lift, his arms dangling freely down Clay’s back.

Without another word, the team moved as quickly as they could to the dead-bolted doors where Stella reached into her pocket with one hand, whipping her pistol out with the other. She clicked the device, which unlocked the glass doors and they made their way across the atrium, the chaotic noises from outside growing louder as they approached the back door to the bank they’d used to enter. Stella flattened herself against one side of the wall to the right of the door as Cougar took aim with his rifle. He looked at her and nodded, and in a flash she reached out and yanked it open, Cougar darting through, rifle held in front of him. 

“Clear.” He spoke and Stella moved to allow the rest of the team to step out into the alleyway, taking up the rear. 

She spotted the man hiding in a doorway two down before Cougs even had chance to shout a warning. In a flash she fired pistol twice. The first shot hit the guy in the arm, causing him to drop his gun, the second in the knee and he fell to the floor, screaming in agony. Then came another, and another. As Stella and Cougar continued, Jensen, Pooch and Clay heaved their charges to the side of the van, ducking as shots rained down on them. Pooch wrenched open the door, and Jensen hopped into the back, hoisting Roque in as gently as he could, a sharp contrast to the way Clay simply slung Khalil unceremoniously into the back. As Pooch ran to the front and hopped into the driver side, Stella and Cougar both sprinted towards the van, flinging themselves in as the engine started. With a sharp tug, Clay pulled he door shut as Pooch started the engine. 

Seconds later, the van roared back off up the alley, the crackle of gunfire from the square growing quieter and quieter as they put more distance between them and the danger.  Pooch drove them out onto the main road, towards the point, some six miles or so away, where they would ditch the van and hop into two separate SUVs and make their way to the agreed Ex-fil point at Saida Port roughly a half an hour or so drive away.

Stella closed her eyes, resting her head against the cool metal of the van, watching as Pooch and Jensen  hoisted Khalil into a sitting position, securing his wrists with flexi-restraints behind his back. Cougar was busy offering Roque some water, Stella pleased to see their teammate was finally starting to come round. She smiled as Jensen flopped down next to her, his arm looping round her shoulders as he pulled her to him for a soft kiss.

“I love working with you,” he grinned and she snorted, shaking her head as she chuckled.

“Yeah, we’re a regular nine-to-five couple, aint we?”

****

“Stel?” Jake called through the door of the bathroom of their temporary lodgings before he opened it and to be greeted by Stella led back in the bath, eyes closed. She turned her head to look at him. “I was gonna ask if you wanted head out with the guys for a beer and food but you look pretty comfortable.”

She pulled a face. “I’m feeling anti-social.” Jake laughed at her frank answer and smiled as she gave a small shrug. “Sorry, not sorry, but we spent four weeks in a hell hole motel and I’m extremely grateful Clay’s managed to get us holed up in a nice place and not the Officers’ Quarters on base so I intend to make the most of it.”

“Babes, we were both in the army.” He snorted. “Rocks for pillows and all that.”

“Yeah, well it’s been a while since I did that. What can I say? I’ve grown used to the finer things again.”

“Fair enough, I’ll let Clay know you hate them all and don’t want to socialise.” He teased.

“Jakey, we’re gonna be here for by my guess a week at least, plenty of time to go out sampling the finest bars the UK has to offer.” She shrugged, not bothered in the slightest by his teasing. “If you wanna go meet them, feel free. I’ll grab a take out. There were some leaflets pinned to the board in the kitchen.”

“Or…” Jake smirked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, “I stay here, because frankly, that bed looks really comfy and I kinda wanna test it. See how grossed out we can make Pooch.”

“Jerk.” Stella snorted.

“Well, he’s done nothing but complain since we got here about how he has to share this house with us and can’t go in with the others, so I wanna give him something to really complain about.”

“You’re such a little shit.” She laughed and Jake groaned. 

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what? Laugh?”

“Yeah, it’s making your boobs wobble under the water, and that’s making me horny.”

“You’re always horny.”

“Hornier than usual.”

“Well, I can solve that problem.” She grinned and Jake smirked.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, turn around and shut the door on your way out.”

“Ouch, Stells.” Jake slapped his hand over his heart. “That’s cold.”

“Hmmm,” She muttered, laying her head back and closing her eyes again. “If you’re getting in here you better hurry, or the water will be cold too.”

Jake grinned and in a flash, reached back to grab a fist full of his t-shirt behind the collar and pulled it over his head. As his hands flew to the button on his jeans Stella nodded to the door.

“You better lock that, I know you said you wanted to gross Pooch out but if he walks in on us he’ll be scared for life.”

“And?”

Stella merely arched her brow, “No locky, no fucky.”

With that Jake spun on his heel and flicked the lock, before he turned round and shoved his pants and boxers down in one full swoop and swung his leg over the side of the tub. Stella moved forward so he could settle behind her, his legs laying either side of hers. It was a tight squeeze, the tub in the two bedroomed terraced house wasn’t built to accommodate two but neither paid it any mind. 

Stella took a deep breath, closed her eyes and leaned back, her head laying against Jake’s chest as his hands softly rubbed up and down her forearms, his lips pressing a kiss to her shoulder. 

They were silent for a while, the pair of them simply contented to stay there for a moment, relishing the peace after a long and tedious mission and the chance to relax for an evening before the debriefs and analysis started the next day in the War Rooms of the RAF Base in Suffolk, England. Often, the aftermath of a mission was more hard-going than the action itself. They’d hash over the events, listen to the CIA operative justify some of the more morally ambiguous decisions made, no doubt the ramifications and political fall-outs, be informed about how the CIA were going to play it and then they’d have to submit written reports, which would be Classified at the highest levels and stored in the top secret vaults in Virginia. 

It was part and parcel of being in a black-ops team. They knew the script, having read and played it many a times before. But it was draining and exhausting, one of the many reasons Stella was glad that the actual missions they ran, whilst they could last months at a time, were on the large few and far between.

“You okay?” Jake broke the silence and pressed his lips once more to the back of her shoulder and Stella nodded, tilting her head round so she could look at him.

“I spoke to Rey before.”

“Yeah, how is she?”

“She said she felt the baby move for the first time.” Stella beamed.

“Oh, that’s awesome.” Jake grinned back, “are they gonna find out what they’re having?”

Stella snorted, “dur. You know what she’s like. She’ll want to decorate and buy it blue or pink clothes, plus if it’s a boy she’s got time to mentally prepare seeing as all she wants is a little girl to treat like a doll.”

Jake laughed. “Is it wrong I kinda hope it is a boy?”

Stella grinned. “Nope, I was thinking the same. She’s asked me to be with her when it’s born.”

“I’m not surprised.” Jake wrinkled his nose. “Dick’s gonna be about as much use as a knife in a gun fight.”

“Knives can be very useful in a gun fight, if you know how to use them.”

“Oooh I love it when you talk dirty, babe.” Jensen smirked and dropped his head to kiss her softly. His right hand moved from its spot on her arm to stroking her hip, tracing a path down the outside of her thigh. His fingers softly traced shapes on her warm, wet skin just to the side of her knee before he moved his touch up her leg again then across to her abdomen. Stella sighed against his mouth, as her head lolled to the right. Jensen’s mouth moved, trailing a line down her neck, nipping at the hinge of her jaw. 

He was growing hard against her, Stella could feel it, and the way his fingers were ghosting over her made her skin tingle and her body shiver. "Jake," she whimpered. "Yeah, baby?" His fingers found the tuft of curls and then her nub. "You gonna sing for me, Stells?" He encircled her clit with his fingertip and drew back up. "Let me play that pussy?" “Fuck...” she groaned, leaning further back into him, her body sagging into his. She loved his dirty talk, being so in control for most of the time, she enjoyed letting herself go when it came to this. “Feels good, Jakey.” "Yeah? You like it when I touch you, feel my fingers inside? Stretching you for my dick?" He dipped two fingers inside, his thumb able to press into her sensitive clit. "Jesus, fuck," Stella gasped as he moved into her. The thickness of his fingers felt like she was on fire and had her silently begging his foreplay wasn't long. "So fucking wet already, babe." Jake was enjoying the feel of her on his fingers. It'd been a long while since he'd felt all of her and he hid his desperation well behind dirty words and filthy ministrations. His mouth moved down her neck, teeth gently nipping at her skin as he went, lips curling into a smirk as he listened to her softly groaning. Her hips moving in time with his hand as his fingers curled inside her.  Water began to just teeter over the tubs edge but neither paid any mind. Stella's breathy pants bounced off of Jake's cheek as he watched himself finger fuck her. "I love it when you fuck my fingers, baby." "Oh God," Stella squeaked, for she was going to hit that edge and fall right over. The time between, the angst of their mission and Jake's mouth were nearing too much. "Jakey, please," she moaned. "Cum on my fingers, Stells, then I'm gonna fuck you, really...really... good." With each 'really' Jake barely rutted against Stella, just enough to tease her at what he wanted to do to her. He wanted to slide in, slow and deep, her body seated on top his, while he feasted on her nipples and neck. He wanted to be buried into her to the hilt and paint her walls with his seed. Stella came undone as her body quaked against his chest. With a breathy squeak she went rigid and her hand flew from the side of the tub, wrapping around is wrist as she came, her walls clamping around his fingers "Fuck, Stella, turn around baby, sit on my lap." She was as languid as the water around them, her body drowning in ecstasy as Jake helped her turn in the small space. His fully erect and throbbing cock stood at attention, his head just above the water’s surface. He guided Stella just where he wanted her and slowly dipped inside her still trembling walls. The sensation was more than Stella had bargained for and she moaned out loudly as she sank into him. "That's it baby, let them hear you" Jake bucked a bit into her, closing the gap that Stella was slowly shortening, his cock fully inside her and he moaned himself. She felt so good, so tight. Like there was no one else made for him but her. The thought gave him a flutter deep in his belly. She was his, and would be forever, if she'd have him. Stella rolled her hips against his, grinding down the pressure on her sensitive clit while Jake's lips moved over her skin, nearing her pert nipples. His hands wove around her back, fingers pressing into her spine as he bobbed his hips up and down to meet with her rolls. It was a dirty grind, water sloshing out of the tub like waves licking the shore. When Jake found a nipple and rolled it between his lips, his tongue tasting her flesh and his teeth nipping at it, Stella tugged at the little bits of longer hair atop Jake's head as she squeaked out a pleasurable sound. One of Jake's large hands palmed down her back and over the curve of her ass, squeezing her cheek as she rocked all whilst he played with her breasts. The same hand soon found its way between their bodies and pressed hard into her clit before smoothing upward over her tummy and grasping her left breast, kneading it gently. The more he gave, the more she took and before long she was grinding down against him, her breathing ragged as he thrust up, hard, his hands dropping to her hips.  “Come on baby,” he groaned as her head fell back, his lips nipping against her collar bone, “fuck, I love you.” “Love you.” She groaned as he thrust up, her hands curling over his shoulders, nails biting his skin. “Shit, Jakey, I’m gonna...” “Cum baby, come on.” His jaw clenched as her body trembled and her eyes fluttered closed, as she let out a broken, whispered groan. As she clenched around him, Jake gave a soft growl of his own, his hips moving slightly faster as he rutted up, pulling her down onto him. The coil in his abdomen that had been tightening and tightening snapped and his entire body surrendered, a surge of warmth spreading from his belly outwards and he stilled, his cock twitching as he came. A few sloppy thrusts later and he stilled with a satisfied him, his hands moving to smooth Stella’s damp hair back off her face as hers cupped his cheeks. She simply looked at him for a moment and he gave her a grin causing her to chuckle as she pressed a soft kiss to his mouth.  “Jesus Christ, that was amazing.” Jensen mumbled and Stella grinned, her lips meeting his once more. They stayed still for a moment, soft kisses being shared until Stella shivered a little and Jake helped her move off him so he could get out of the tub and leave her to finish off. He grabbed a towel and his glasses from the basin unit before he dried off, gathered his discarded clothes and headed onto the small landing of the accommodation. Pooch, who was just emerging from the other bedroom shot him a look. “You better clean that damned bathroom before I use it.” He arched his eyebrow and Jensen grinned. “You’re like the best disgusting person I know.” Pooch continued with a snort before he nodded his head to the stairs. “Take it you’re two ain’t coming?” “Already came, Poochy.” Jensen grinned as he walked to their bedroom, laughing as the sounds of Pooch’s groans of disgust hit his ears.

****

Stella woke the next morning to a burning deep in her core and Jake’s face between her legs. Her orgasm roused her much better than any alarm or cup of coffee ever could and as Jake stuffed himself insider her, his mouth nipping softly at her neck, she smiled softly to herself as she realised he’d done this very thing the first morning they’d moved up to college together.

After pulling on her Army Uniform cargo pants, Stella tucked her khaki green tee into the waist and adjusted the belt before she sat down and laced up her heavy boots as Jake fiddled with the collar of his, complaining that it felt tight. When Stella pointed out he was slightly more built than he had been last time he wore it a good few months ago, he grinned and flexed his arms to give her the ‘gun show’ making her snort and shake her head.

They headed out of the house and walked the half a mile to the main gate of the base, flashing their ID and making their way to the Mess for breakfast where they met with the rest of the team, Pooch giving them another filthy look as their antics had continued beyond the bathroom and much later into the night. Once they’d finished eating, they each grabbed a coffee to go and headed down to the War Rooms - a network of conference rooms and IT facilities nestled in a bunker along the runway of the RAF Base - and settled down in the leather seats around the large, polished mahogany table ready for whoever it was from the CIA that would be arriving to give the debrief.

They’d been there for roughly half an hour or so and Jensen was already bored. He was messing around, twirling his pen in-between his fingers, the other tapping against the disposable coffee cup. After a pause, he took his pen and began to draw a face on the white plastic lid.

“What are you doing?” Stella looked at him, having caught his fiddling in the corner of her eye.

“I’m bored, Stelly,” his voice was a childish whine, “where is this guy anyway? We’ve been waiting here for like thirty minutes!”

“Just take the fucking pen off him, Arty.” Roque groaned. Stella reached over for it and snatched it away”

“Hey, that’s mine!”

“Jensen, shut up!” Roque shot back and Jensen turned to him.

“Why? It’s not like anyone is talking anyway.”

“You, you’re talking. As usual. Put a sock in it.” Roque turned to Stell as Clay stood up and walked to the door to see if anyone was coming. “How the fuck do you put up with this?”

“He has his mouth busy most of the time.” Stella quipped as she leaned back in the chair and Jensen gave her a dopey grin.

Both Roque and Pooch let out noises of disgust, Cougar’s chuckle just audible from the other side of the table where he lounged with his feet on the table and his hat pulled down over his eyes.

“Yeah, laugh all you want but next time it’s you sharing the digs with them.” Pooch looked at him. “I’m done.”

“Chill out.” Cougar replied and Pooch blinked.

“Did you just tell me to chill?”

Cougar smirked in response, tipping his hat up slightly to flash Pooch a wink.

“The Pooch is perfectly chilled.”

“The Pooch refers to himself in the third person,” Jensen shook his head, “that’s so not chill.”

“Oh…this just got even better.” Clay’s remark had them all turning towards him, the teasing banter dying off as Roque sat up.

“What?”

Clay simply walked into the room, rolling his eyes. Less than five seconds later, in walked a very familiar face.

“Oh great.” Jake mumbled as Stella blinked, coming face to face with her ex for the first time since he’d stormed out of her apartment all those months ago.

“Good Morning.” Evan greeted them all before he nodded to Stella, a little awkwardly. “Hey.”

“Evan, hi... what are you... what are you doing here?” She asked and Evan took a deep breath.

“It was my intel you guys were running down so I’m here for debrief.”

“That was your intel?” Pooch spoke and Evan nodded.

“Yeah, we’ve been tracking Khalil for a while and reached out to him a while ago to offer him a deal. He declined so we needed to bring him in.” Evan nodded. “His activities were giving us cause for concern, not to mention with the Russians behind him. We needed to make the grab before he got even more power behind his cause.”

Jake sensed Stella tensing slightly besides him and slid his hand over her thigh. Her fingers gently locked over his as she kept her gaze on Evan, who had spotted the subtle movement of Jake’s hand. He didn’t say anything, instead the man’s eyes flicked to Jake’s who simply stared back before Roque chipped in.

“So, we got the guy. Did he give you what you needed?”

“I can’t tell you that.” Evan replied, apologetically. “It’s classified, need to know basis.”

“In that case I don’t wanna know.” Pooch mumbled.

Stella’s mind was whirling. Truth be told, she’d started to think about exactly why they’d been dispatched to capture this particular guy alive, when his type were ten-a-penny all over the place. There was a lot more to it than the fact this guy’s ideologies didn’t fit with those of the Western World.  And then, the final little piece dropped into place in her analytical brain and she turned her head to see Clay watching her.

“Did you know?” She asked.

Clay shook his head. “Suspected but…”

“Suspected what?” Jensen looked at Clay then Stella. “Babe?”

She took a deep breath. “There’s a reason why we were on a capture not kill mission. At first I assumed it was to do with not making him a martyr but then throwing him in prison would cause just as much unrest. But that unrest will die down when he’s released in a few months in exchange for his cooperation for details on his Russian backers and arms suppliers.”

The rest of the team looked at her, then to Evan who blinked, his face remaining stoic as Stella shook her head and continued.

“He then lets his supporters know that he and his friends in Russia had a disagreement and he was traded away. He retires to some island somewhere, under the careful watch of the UN and fades away into non-existence.”

There was silence and Evan took a deep breath, “it’s not quite as simple as that, Stel…Stevenson, but yeah, that’s pretty much the basics.”

“God, this is so fucking bent.” Stella shook her head. “It’s no wonder the entire world hates us.”

“You know, considering you technically work for the CIA and the Armed Forces, you kinda signed up for this.” Clay raised his eyebrow as Stella rolled her eyes.

“We tried to negotiate terms with him. He turned them down.” Evan replied, matter-of-factly. “So we sent you in to enforce them. The rest, as I stated a minute or so ago, you really don’t need to know.”

“Yeah, classified, we heard.” Clay replied, leaning back in his chair.

“Did you suspect the Lebanese Special Service would try a double cross?” Roque looked at Evan and the man shot him an apologetic look.

“It was always possible, yeah. But you know how it goes…”

Roque scoffed and Cougar shifted in his seat, Evan’s eyes flicking to him before he took a deep breath and shrugged.

“If it helps, think of the bigger picture. We remove their leader, cut off the Russian support, and suddenly the LFP is nothing more than an overhyped street gang...”

“Yeah, that doesn’t really help.” Jensen wrinkled his nose and Evan shrugged, not quite meeting his eyes.

“Well, that’s your opinion. Not ours.” He cleared his throat, “anyway, it’s done. The mission is over. For now, you guys need to lay low. We’ve cleared it with the RAF for you to stay in the area for a while until all the fuss about Khalil going missing has died down. We’ll be monitoring all the usual lines and channels of communication, making sure no one has your descriptions and doing what we can to keep your faces out of the public eye.” Evan paused. “But, I’m sure I don’t need to remind you what happens if we can’t.”

At that The Losers simply looked at one another. Evan was right, they didn’t need reminding. That was the whole point of the CIA running the number of Black-Ops teams it did. It gave them a way to do the slightly grey area dirty jobs and remain at arm’s length, denying all responsibility if required.

“Any idea on how long that’s gonna be?” Pooch asked. 

“Probably be a week, maybe two. But once we’re confident we’re clear, we’ll send word and get you back to the US.” Evan replied.

“So what you’re saying is we got two weeks off?” Cougar spoke and Evan looked at him, giving a shrug.

Pooch grinned and fist bumped Cougar.

“Are you staying here too?” Jensen looked at Evan and he shook his head.

“Don’t worry, I’m flying back to Virginia tonight”

“I’m not really worried…” Jake shrugged. There was a moment where both men simply stared at each other until Clay coughed.

“Right, is there anything else?”

“Mission reports due as usual, next forty eight hours.” Evan turned his head away from Jensen and looked around the team. “I’ve arranged access into the Red Network from the hub on the base. Your liaison officer, Wing Commander Levinson, says he can set you guys up with time on the range or the phys- ops courses too, have you join their drills if you want. Might be an idea to keep yourselves sharp.”

Cougar, Pooch and Jake all groaned at the suggestion of the physical training whilst Roque and Stella looked at one another, nodding.

“Yeah, I can go for that.” Roque agreed.

“And that’s it, other than on behalf of the CIA I wanted to thank you, it was a slick operation. We’re really pleased with how this one turned out.”

The team exchanged looks and soft smiles, before Clay stood up.

“Okay, Losers. Let’s grab some more coffee and then we can regroup. Figure out what we do for the next two weeks.

Movement filled the room as they all stood to leave, and just as Stella had picked up her empty coffee cup, Evan cleared his throat.

“Stella, can I have a word?”

She hesitated and Jake turned to look at her. He opened his mouth to protest but she cut him off. “Jakey, it’s fine. Go, I’ll catch you up.”

He blinked, before he turned to Evan, the glare he gave him positively filthy before he turned and left the room. Evan and Stella stood still watching him go, before Stella turned to Evan, the man giving her a soft smile.

“You look well. Being happy suits you.” His tone carried no anger, and Stella found herself returning his smile before she sighed and shook her head.

“Listen Evan, I...”

“It’s okay Stella,” he spoke, holding his hand up, “I won’t keep you long. I just wanted to apologize. I was an asshole when you broke up with me.” Stella took a deep breath as he continued. “The way I acted and the things I said were horrible. My mother would be ashamed and I just ...” he shrugged. “I wanted to let you know I was sorry, that’s all.”

Slightly surprised at his outwardly contrite tone, Stella simply shook her head. “It’s okay. You were hurt. I hurt you.”

“Yeah you did but that doesn’t excuse the way I reacted. So, like I said, I’m sorry.” He smiled, gesturing with his hand to the door. “And I’m glad that you and Jake are, you know, making it work.”

As he spoke the final like, that tell-tale nerve in his jaw twitched a little and Stella knew that he wasn’t happy, at all. But, given that the rest of his apology had been genuine, she accepted the gesture for what it was.

“Thank you.” She gave a soft smile. “And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry too. I did like you Ev, it just…”

“It wasn’t meant to be.” He shrugged. “Yeah, I get that now. And hey, no hard feelings. If we hadn’t broken up I’d never have met Talia so…”

“Oh, you’re seeing someone?”

“Yeah.” Evan nodded. “It’s early days, we’ve had a few dates and been away for a weekend. She’s nice, I like her.”

“Good, well I hope it works out.” Stella smiled. There was a pause before she took a breath. “I better…” she jerked her hand towards the door and Evan nodded.

“Of course…”

“I’ll, erm, see you around, yeah?”

“Yeah, take care, Stella.”

“You too, Evan.”

With a final smile at one another, Stella left the room and headed back up the corridor. Jake was waiting outside for her, leaning against the wall of the building.

“All okay?” He asked and she nodded.

“Yeah.”

“What did he want?”

“To apologise for the way he acted when we broke up.” Stella shrugged. “That was it, oh, and he’s seeing someone else. Which is nice. I hope it works for him. He’s a good guy.”

Jensen made a non-committal noise in his throat and Stella looked at him. “Don’t start.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You don’t need to.” Stella rolled her eyes. “Stop.”

“Okay, okay, sorry. I just, well, I don’t know what it is but I still don’t trust him, never have. He’s shady.”

“He’s an intel officer for the CIA.” Stella scoffed, taking Jake’s hand. “We’re a Black-Ops team. Far more shady than he is.”

“Suppose.” Jensen sniffed, as the two of them walked down the side of the building. As they went, Jensen suddenly had a sense of unease. Almost as if they were being watched. He turned his head to glance over his shoulder, but found no one. Taking a deep breath, he shook his head, telling himself he was being ridiculous. They were on a secure Military Base, probably the safest place they could be given the circumstances.

“You okay?” Stella asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” he assured her, “so, the rest of The Losers are in the coffee shop. Pooch is already on his phone checking out local bars, fancy hitting a few tonight?”

“Why not?” Stell grinned up at him, leaning up to place a soft kiss to the underside of his jaw. Jake smiled, and pulled her closer as they headed off to join up with the rest of the team, casting a final glance over his shoulder, once more seeing nothing out of the ordinary.

**** Chapter 10

[echo-three-one]

Run run run....

Table of Contents

Previous Chapter : Going Dark - Part 1

Chapter 23 to another story made by Ray (echo-three-one) Comments and Reviews appreciated! I hope you enjoy! Love you all ❤️

Going Dark - Part 2

John "Soap" MacTavish

London, United Kingdom

Soap never knew that the bloody guy would pull that trick off his sleeve. He's been sick of the same ringing he first experienced when they went out with Francine.

So he did what he could and quickly got up to his feet as soon as he saw Alex attempt to halt the hostage on his tracks. That bastard's going to pay for stomping on Alex like that.

With comms down once again, he had to act fast, stomping down the stairs, never leaving sight of the runner. He could sense someone following him and assumed it's any of Roach, Price or Jack. And it looked like Ghost caught wind of what happened too.

"Oi! Let's flank him!" Soap roared across the empty streets as Ghost and Roach split ways and ran toward their target.

They're not kidding when they said the Shadow Company is at par with the 141, the guy ran like a horse which Soap never expected from his build. He could see Ghost and Roach sprinting from his sides, one wrong turn and he's done for, but he still had one last trick. 

He raced to the emergency stairs as his heavy feet clanged against the metal. Soap followed, optimizing the steps on edges to gain on him. Going up the rooftops was his biggest mistake.

"Bollocks, he's still running!" he announced as he felt his ears crackling. 

"Well…. st….by…. do….airs.." His earpiece crackled through the static. It's recovering but they're already far off MacMillan's truck where their line connected.

He leaped. Soap almost stopped in his tracks as the runner courageously leapt across the huge gap and rolled on to the next building. He braced himself and continued dashing across the roof and did a mighty leap, his arms circled like he was swimming and he carefully placed his feet to perform a proper land and rolled.

That's going to hurt as soon as the adrenaline fades, but he quickly got up and made use of his remaining burst of energy. 

The runner stopped in his tracks as soon as Roach emerged from the opposite fire escape, raising a pistol pointed straight at him as he raised his hand in surrender.

"Nowhere to run now." Roach said, cautiously walking near him. He's aware that his phone is still inside his pocket and that they had no idea when it'll go off again.

He didn't talk, but he looked panicked. He was sweating all over and his face was beyond recognizable. It looked like he's out of options.

"Tell us Where Shepherd is…" Gary pointed the loaded gun on his head, the desperation in Gary's eyes were obvious.

"There's an abandoned plane graveyard near Afghanistan…" he whimpered. His voice was shaky enough to warrant the truth.

"What's he doing there?" Soap added.

"He's trading the blueprints for the I.P. Address… Please that's all I know" he begged and they quickly left the place, walking back to MacMillan's car.

"You got something?" Ghost asked as soon as Roach's feet landed on the dark alley.

"A place. In Afghanistan." Roach answered.

"And he also had the I.P. Address.." Soap added.

"But that's impossible… didn't Samantha already forget about it?" Ghost asked but there was a quiet pause. Their brains almost looked like working together.

"Holy Crap." Roach finally broke the silence.

And from that moment they realized the other reason behind Samantha's memory returning. One way or another, her memories were once again toyed with.

~

"So how was it?" Price asked the team that ran off to chase the runner.

"We got an address. An abandoned plane yard in Afghanistan." Roach replied. Soap turned to Alex as he sat at the back of the jeep tending to his wound. 

"You okay mate?" he asked walking close to his ally, who was wincing in pain.

"The guy's boots are heavy." He chuckled and so did Soap.

"Listen, Alex. We heard that Shepherd has the I P. address, did Samantha tell you anything about remembering it?" Soap asked as the whole team fell silent and turned to the two.

"Not really. What's bothered me is that she remembers everything except after when Shepherd explained his plans to her… Could it be that…" Alex trailed.

"She remembered because they undid their operation on her…" Jack continued. The whole group stood in silence. 

Price's phone rang and delivered them with more bad news. It looked like while chasing the runner, Shepherd had caught wind of their activity and had some of London police scour the nearby streets for them.

"Da, It's time to go, my comrades." Nikolai announced as soon as Price relayed the message. Their ride home was compromised.

"Where to?" He asked.

"I know a place." Soap said.

TRAIN STATION

It looked like Soap's hunch was right. None of the people onboard to Scotland mind about the faces of the fugitives flashed on the news recently. 

Their day packs had reserved clothes and they opted to change to something more civilian. Soap could smell the fabric conditioner France used to wash his newly bought clothes and couldn't help but miss her. If they weren't on a rush, Soap could've topped up for international calls.

"How long is this trip? 7 hours?" Price asked a civilian with surprised expressions.

"Wow. It's like a plane ride, but I'm still in the same country!" Jack cackled at the idea. He does have a different sense of humor. Just as Alex described him.

The rest of the team took this time to rest, they sat on the emptiest part of the train, away from the people that might recognize them and report their presence.

"I've contacted Samantha. It looks like they're having a small problem over there." Alex said.

"Someone saw one of us fugitives and tried to get inside the house to claim his bounty. At first they just talked him off but he's persistent now. So they decided to fly to our location and regroup there. And Soap, where exactly are we going?" Alex asked. Soap took a careful look around his team and felt nervous about his decision.

"Our old house. In Scotland. It's far off civilization. I think no one would look for us there." he muttered, gaining a nod from Price and Jack. Soap sighed in relief as soon as they thought of it as a good idea. Roach actually felt excited despite having to go there by train for seven hours. He immediately made that decision a few minutes ago without anyone's approval, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

"Hey, you three… Thanks for chasing that runner while we were out. Go catch some sleep. We'll watch over this train. It's going to be a long trip." Price nudged and Jack nodded. Soap gave a pair of earbuds to Price, the old man immediately looked at him with question.

"What's this? A hearing aid?" Price asked.

"Our runner wore that so it might be the reason he wasn't affected by his own blast." He muttered before crossing his arms.

"Thanks, mate. I'll let someone have a look at this." Price nodded and Jack immediately inserted with a suggestion.

"I know someone near Glasgow. A close friend of mine." 

"That's great. He's closer." Price agreed and Soap slowly drifted himself asleep, trying to rest his tired legs all while also trying not to worry about Francine.

GLASGOW, SCOTLAND

The never shifting scenery of the road home sent John MacTavish into a little nostalgia trip. The sound of trains screeching across the station reminded him of so many things from the past.  The road they're walking along now was the same road he's walked on everyday of his life, and now after a lot of years, he can't believe he's back.

"I don't see anything nearby,  are you sure we're not lost Soap?" Roach asked.

"We aren't. The house is just obstructed by the trees. They've grown taller since I last left." he replied enthusiastically. He looked obviously excited to see his home.

As soon as they reached the short curve, a huge cream-painted house greeted them from the distance. He could hear Alex and Roach's collective oohs and aahs every step they took closer.

"When you said old, I was really expecting it to be abandoned." Roach mused.

"It is, actually. My parents are off… somewhere else." he replied leading the way inside the house. The pool was already dirty and most weeds already outgrew the fences.

Soap pushed the huge wooden double door open and was greeted by the same visage of their entrance way back when he was a kid. Same pictures hung on the walls of his adventures as a kid up to the recent photo of his graduation. His mom was always proud of him no matter what, but he couldn't forget the way she looked at him once he chose to enlist to the riskiest job ever.

The rest of the team helped themselves to discovering the inside of the house, looking at photos, sitting on the couches and grabbing a glass of water. Soap quickly gave them a tour of the house and that they're free to pick a guest room of their choice. It was appropriate that they'd feel comfortable after a tough day.

"Nice place you got here, comrade. Why'd you give this all up for a life that's always hanging on the ledge?" Nikolai asked, tapping his shoulder. 

"I don't even know." he muttered and Nikolai chuckled, making his way to the living room. The team was quick to adapt to the place. Roach and Ghost already chose their rooms and he assumed they already attempted to recover while the three older men gathered around the television and watched the news. Alex was by the telephone, probably contacting Samantha. He wanted to check on France himself, so he planned to go to his room and make a call.

"The New York attack stopped." Price discussed with Nikolai and Jack, the three began speculating about a lot of things. Soap would love to join in the conversation but he decided to update on Francine first.

His room looked the same as when he left, the same shade of blue wallpaper, the same color sheets that were changed weekly and the same things on top of his bedside drawer.

Dialing her number, which he subconsciously memorized, he immediately placed the receiver on his ear and anxiously waited for her to pick up the phone.

"Hello?" her voice sounded different over the phone, but it still sent shivers across his spine as soon as he heard it.

"Hey. It's me." he replied.

"Angelo?" she asked, her voice almost sounded like she's fighting herself not to laugh.

"It's John." 

"I know, silly. Who would mistake you for anyone else with that accent." she retorted.

"Do ya like it?" he teased, making sure he emphasized his Scottish accent well.

"Why'd you call?" She changed the topic. She wasn't budging on his teasing, but he knew she's already blushing on the other side of the line.

"Did Price give you the landing coordinates?" he asked.

"Yeah. Maxine looked it up on the map. It looks like a shady house in the middle of nowhere. Who are you?" she joked.

"Great. I'll see you here. I-" he hesitated. He wanted to tell her how much he misses her. But even with his oozing confidence, he felt like chickening out this time.

"Yeah. We're on our way. Take care out there John." She said and dropped the call. Soap sighed and plopped himself on his bed, deeply sighing at his actions. This girl was making him crazy… and the funny thing is he's all fine with it.

Next Chapter : Going Dark - Part 3

Notification Squad my Beloved

@smokeywhalee @samatedeansbroccoli @enderio @beemybee @whimsywispsblog @ricinbach

[changingourdestiny]

Beyond Light Part 6: Revenant

Summary:

After defeating Praksis; Eramis’s trusted scientist, Fireteam Paralight return to the camp only to find that they have a visitor.

Previous Part: Here

Next Part: Here

Marcia leapt up into the air, void swirling around her, as she fired her blood bound bow at Praksis. While it did manage to tether down Praksis and some surrounding vandals, it didn’t seem to damage him. That’s when Marcia noticed the floating machines around the room. “Shield generators?” Marcia scoffed, “That’s just cheap!”

“I got it!” Tif yelled as they activated their own super and leapt up to the machines, smashing them with their stasis-coated fist. “Whoo! You da Titan!” Blaze cheered. “He’s still tethered. Go to town!” Marcia called out. “You heard her!” Rae tossed a solar grenade at Praksis before swiftly switching to her auto-rifle and began firing at him while Blaze managed to land some nicely aimed grenades from her launched. The minute the tether from Marcia’s bow wore off, Praksis teleported across the room and sent a flurry of stasis crystals towards Rae and Blaze, temporarily freezing them in place. “Ra ki sloat!” Tif growled as they fired at Praksis with their submachine gun. “Ding dong!” While Praksis was distracted by Tif, Marcia jumped down and kicked off Praksis’s head before turning back to him mid-air and firing shots from her Malfeasance, nicknamed ‘Aim to Misbehave’. Tif and Marcia’s efforts combined bought Blaze and Rae enough time to break out of their stasis prisons. “You good?” Blaze asked. “I will be once we take this guy down.” Rae replied as she whipped out Lumina and fired a few rounds at Praksis, being careful to dodge the incoming blasts of stasis.

“This is all the Machine gave you?” Praksis laughed.

“It didn’t give me this!”

Praksis let out a pained yelp as Tif lunged into his back with their stasis gauntlet before following it up with a few slashes from their shock blade. However, their slashes were cut off when the shield around him reappeared as he let out a dark chuckle. “Uh oh…” Tif laughed nervously. “Light dammit, there’s six now!” Blaze called out as she spotted six shield generators floating over them. “How many does this guy have?!” Marcia exclaimed as she began to take out the generators with her rocket launcher. “Too many!” Rae growled. Praksis went to grab at Tif, but they managed to lift off the ground in time to dodge it and landed on a platform opposite to Marcia’s. “Let me see your tiny servitors.” Praksis chuckled, “I will take it apart like the others.”

“Tif, what’s Eliksni for nerd?” Blaze called out.

“Uh…I think the closest would be ‘ta ba’.” Tif yelled from their platform as they dodged incoming projectiles from Praksis, “It means ‘knowledge loser’.”

“I’d like to see you try, ta ba!” As the last generator went down, Blaze erupted into a fireball and she charged at Praksis and attempted to grapple him. While she only managed to push him back a bit, Blaze maintained her grip on the Fallen scientist as her flames began to scorch his clothing. “Keep firing! I can’t hold him for long.” Blaze growled over the roaring flames.

 Marcia went to fire her Trust at Praksis when she felt a familiar surge of icy energy course within her. A smirk crossed her face as she felt her joints freezing in place, “Blaze, back up!”

“W-wha-?! Ok?” Blaze leapt backwards quickly as she heard a shattering sound as a blue blur shot down towards him. Praksis yelled out in pain as a stasis-coated kama blade embedded itself in his shoulder. He yanked it out and glared up at where it came from. Marcia stood there tossing the second blade in her hand while staring down at him, a proud smirk on her face. “Now things are getting fun!” she chuckled before launching the second blade, summoning a stasis storm that seemed to slow Praksis’s movements. “Got you now!” Marcia darted down at the scientist, throwing withering blade after withering blade at him. The kama blades appeared in her hands again as she dashed straight towards Praksis. All the other Guardians could see was a blue blur hitting Praksis again and again, over and over, as Marcia struck him with the blades while leaping off the walls and pillars. Finally, she came to a halt behind him, panting heavily as she knelt on one knee as the blades disappeared. Praksis was still for a moment before crumpling to the floor, dead. Marcia let out a sharp exhale as the stasis energy left her before flopping onto her back. “Ok. I really love this power!” Marcia laughed as her breath returned to her. “Nicely done, Marci!” Blaze grinned as she helped her fellow Hunter to her feet. “Yay, Marcia!” Tif cheered. Rae sighed in relief before activating her comms, “Variks, Praksis is down. We’re finishing up here.”

“Good.” Variks replied, “Without Phylaks and Praksis, Eramis will grow reckless. Careless. Without her council, she is weak. She will struggle to control this new Dark power.”

“While we’re getting better at it.” Rae glanced back at Marcia who had been soaking in the praise, “It’s the perfect time to strike. We’ll meet you back at the base soon.”

As Rae ended the call, Marcia approached Rae, splinter in hand, “I got Praksis’s splinter. Time to go make this official.”

“You’re really loving Stasis, huh?”

“You kiddin’? It’s awesome!”

“What about Starlight? You’re not back to Darklight again, are you?”

“Oh, shoot! Good point! Gimme a sec.”

Marcia focused for a moment before the golden wings and horns of her Starlight form emerged with her scythe. “Nope. All good!” Marcia confirmed as she dismissed the form, “Seems like Paralian Light is immune to Stasis effects.”

“That’s reassuring.” Rae sighed, “Let’s go regroup with Drifter, Eris and the Stranger.”

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 “Do do-do, ice-cold power is the new hottest trend! Kama blades cause a storm that doesn’t end.” Marcia hummed to herself as she soared alongside Fireteam Paralight towards the Stranger’s camp, “Icy shuriken turn ya into ice blocks! I gotta say, this Dark power rock- uh…” Marcia suddenly came to a halt as she trailed off, “Hey, Rae. Aren’t those Vanguard bots?”

Rae’s face paled as she saw the frames positioned outside the camp, with Drifter, Eris and the Stranger nowhere to be seen. “Aw shanks…” she muttered, “I forgot to give the other’s a heads up. Zavala’s gonna kill me…”

“I’m, uh…I’m gonna wait out here.” Marcia grinned sheepishly, “Don’t wanna get blamed for this.”

“I-I’ll join you.” Tif added.

“Hey, I ain’t getting’ caught in the Zava-wrath!” Blaze exclaimed.

“Aren’t I lucky to have you guys at friends…” Rae sighed as she got off her sparrow and entered the tent. Inside, Zavala stood near the table at the middle, arms folded and his back to Rae.

‘This would be easier if Ikora and Cayde tagged along with him…’ Rae thought to herself before clearing her throat, “Uh…hi, Zavala.”

Zavala turned to face the young Warlock, “Raegalia…I don’t even know where to begin. It seems everyday I know less and less.”

“Oh, good. We’re in the same boat.” Rae half-joked, “Good to know I’m not the only one left in the dark here. Er, no pun intended.”

“Indeed.” Zavala replied, “But that’s not why I came here.”

“Oh thank the Traveller! I thought we were in trou-OW!”

“Shush, hothead! They’ll hear us!”

Rae sighed, “Hey, earwigs! Private conversation here!”

“Sorry, Rae!” Tif called from outside as the sound of dragging and footsteps were heard outside.

“Continue, Commander.” Rae sighed.

“We’ve been watching Eramis and have important intel for you.” Zavala continued, “You’ve clearly disrupted Eramis’s plans. Vanguard scouts report that she’s fled to the Cosmodrome. Perhaps to loot the remains of the old House of Devils hideouts.”

“That’s a name I haven’t heard in a while. She really must be desperate if she’s turning to looting from the Devils.” Rae muttered, “We’ll head back to Earth and investigate. See what she’s up to.”

“Good. Adam has returned from his duties in the Dreaming City. I’ll tell him to meet you there.”

“Much obliged, Commander.”

Rae turned to leave but was stopped by Zavala, “And Raegalia…I understand what you’re doing. Fighting fire with fire. But the Darkness is not our friend. The Darkness caused the Collapse. By all accounts, it seeks to cause another. Don’t let it lead you away from the Light. The City needs you. I need you. For now…do what you must for the good of humanity. But don’t lose sight of who you are.”

Rae nodded in understanding before leaving the tent. As she exited out into the snow, she waved over Tif, Blaze and Marcia, “Heads up! Eramis has headed to the Cosmodrome. Zavala thinks she’s looting the House of Devils. We’re gonna meet Adam down there.”

“Cosmodrome, eh? That takes me back…” Marcia muttered, “I guess wielding stasis permanently will have to wait. Lead the way, Vanguard.”

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 “Hyup!”

Four Guardians landed on a metal platform within the steppes of the Cosmodrome. “Wow.” Rae breathed, “Memories, eh Ghost?”

“Hard to believe it’s been six years. It’s flown by.” Ghost replied.

“Time flies when you have the best partner at your side.”

“Hey, I thought I was your best partner!”

Rae jumped upon hearing a robotic voice beneath them. Rae, Marcia, Blaze and Tif peered over the edge. There they saw Adam in new ice blue armour, a Hunter in red, blue and grey armour…and Cayde-6 glancing up towards Rae in a proud stance.

“Surprise!”

 To Be Continued…

[greatgreengremlin]

Hi! I found you through the BTHB tumblr, and liked the way you write! If it’s okay, can I ask for one of your squares? It would be “Cradling Someone in Their Arms” with Hunk and Pidge, but it’s Pidge trying to cradle a heavily injured Hunk in her arms while they wait for rescue and feeling guilty because she isn’t able to carry him to safety herself. Would that be okay?

Um, would it be okay? No, it would be wonderful! What a fun prompt, I hope I filled it to your liking. Thanks for playing bingo with me!

(VLD) Space: Cradling Someone in Their Arms

AO3

“I’m not sure why Allura wants me to hack here,” Pidge mutters, squinting as her rudimentary translator converts the holographic characters into messages she can make decent enough sense of. “It’s mostly about the exports. The fruit exports.”

Hunk shrugs, absently readjusting his grip on his bayard. “The more recon we have, the better.”

“Mm, I guess. Still seems kinda weird though, just reading about shipping fruit. And not like, blueprints for weapons of mass destruction or battleships or something.”

“I don’t think it’s that weird,” Hunk says. “Look at Earth’s history, tons of places were colonized for the exploitation of their food resources, including fruit.”

“True,” Pidge admits, fingers deftly dancing over the keypad.

“And those export reports are probably going to lead us to our next destination.”

“Also true,” she agrees, sighing. “I just wish our assignment was more exciting. Everybody else is kicking butt right now, taking over the command center. And we’re just here downloading transport records.”

“Are you kidding?” Hunk scoffs. “This is a great change of pace! I for one, am tired of being shot at, running into traps, and getting motion sickness flying around laser puke fired by giant planet eating monsters.”

Pidge rolls her eyes. While she doesn’t exactly enjoy any of the things he’s just described, per se, it doesn’t make looking over fruit exports any less boring. When they get back to the castle Lance is probably going to be bragging about how he did this cool thing or that cool thing, or gushing about some badass thing Allura got to do. While she…now knows the Galra character for ‘citrus.’

���I am gonna go do a quick patrol of the perimeter,” he says.

“And leaving your super important post as my bodyguard?” Pidge mumbles, briefly glancing over.

Surely Hunk picks up on the sarcasm, but he answers earnestly.

“Making sure nobody’s sneaking up on us is part of guarding. I’ll be fast.”

Hunk slips from the room and Pidge returns her attention to the screen. Yeah, okay, so this stuff is useful on some level or another. But her eyes are glazing over and she can’t help but feel that fighting with her team would be more useful. Definitely more interesting. This wasn’t even a challenge to hack.

Her comms link gives a soft click, and Shiro’s voice comes through.

“Pidge, status update.”

“Good news is, I could crack this database in my sleep. Bad news is, these reports are putting me to sleep. How are things on your end?”

She hears a crash and loud curse from Keith in the background.

“I’ll get back to you.” Shiro clicks off.

Pidge chews her lower lip. About half the files are downloaded now, hopefully it shouldn’t be too much longer before she and Hunk can regroup with the rest of the team. Maybe actually get in on some of the action.

She’s barely completed the thought when she hears the unmistakable firing of a blaster. For a heartbeat she thinks Shiro’s clicked back in, but it’s followed by a yell that is unmistakably Hunk. She wastes no time springing out of the chair and hurrying into the hall.

Pidge sprints toward the echoes of Hunk’s bayard. She materializes her own mid-stride, zapping at a probe that looks like an upgraded Rover before it can lock onto her. She doesn’t stop to reprogram this one, tearing toward the continued noises of combat up ahead.

The violet lit corridor curves and Pidge swerves to avoid the scraps of a blasted sentry. It’s a small patrol, led by a Galra in standard armor. The intact sentry takes aim at her and Pidge drops, somersaulting forward. Surging up, she jabs her bayard into its torso and zaps, currents crackling audibly.

It crashes to the floor and as she whips around, her breath catches. Hunk fires his bayard at the same time the soldier throws this blinking disk no bigger than a sand dollar. The soldier goes down, but the disk hits its mark, snapping to Hunk’s cuirass with a metallic clink.

It immediately begins blinking faster, emitting a shrill series of beeps.

They both realize it’s a detonator at the same time, locking gazes.

“GETITOFF!” Pidge shrieks, so panicked it sounds like one big, messed up word.

And Hunk tries but he’s not fast enough, and the last Pidge sees of him before it goes off with an earsplitting peal is the nakedly terrified look on his face. It’s a look that floods her with cold and she will never, ever forget it. If she survives this war and sixty years down the line develops dementia, the helpless horror in Hunk’s eyes will be the last memory to haunt her.

Hunk is blown back far, so far, and hits the metal floor with a thud that makes the lunch lurch up her throat. Pidge scrambles over in a mad dash, throwing herself down beside him. The sight of the damage is just as nauseating and Pidge has to choke back a gag, clamping a hand around her mouth.

From waist up, Hunk doesn’t really have a suit anymore. Just a few ripped scraps of black fabric. His entire torso is a mess of shrapnel and fragments of shattered armor. As frightening as that is, at least they’re keeping some of the blood inside.

A gaping wound in the center of his chest gushes like a geyser, so deep Pidge could plunge both hands in and touch the pulp. Its inside looks like a sliced pomegranate, all nubbly and viscerally crimson. With a very quiet groan, Hunk lifts his head.

And Pidge gasps, heart skipping as she cups his face, charily positioning her hands to avoid the shards embedded in his cheeks.

“You’re alive, oh, thank goodness you’re alive! Hunk, we gotta get you out of here! C-Can you stand?”

Hunk blinks at her blearily, headband absorbing most of the blood from a scalp wound she can’t quite see because of his hair, but a few droplets seep through it and catch in his eyelashes.

“Dn’t catch that, Pidge, m’ears are still ringing.”

And she notices that those too have red streaming from them. Damn it, the blast probably ruptured his eardrums.

“You need help!” she nearly shouts. “Can you stand up?”

Hunk blinks at her again, a vague look of confusion passing over his features.

“Think something ’sploded,” he slurs without acknowledging her at all, eyes fluttering closed again.

“No, no, no! Hunk, stay with me!”

But he wasn’t entirely with her to begin with and easily slips back out. Pidge gently lowers his head and tries to formulate a plan. Hunk is still bleeding copiously and those are just the injuries she can see. There’s probably a ton of damage on the inside too, he needs a pod as soon as possible.

Green isn’t far from here. She blends in well with the dense forestry of fruit trees and berry bushes that cover this planet. Dragging Hunk to Green would be faster than trying to explain what happened to her teammates and directing them back here.

Pidge removes her own cuirass and tears the padded lining out of it. With shaky fingers, she packs it into Hunk’s chest wound. Pressing down, she chews her lip and watches as it absorbs the blood. Before moving him anywhere, at the very least, she needs to stanch this bleeding.

“I can carry you,” she says aloud, hoping to make it true as the lining soaks beneath her hands. “Green isn’t far and we’ve all been working out, right? This is fine.”

Pidge removes her belt next and rips the lining out of that, folding it over top the first layer and pushing down with all her weight. Hunk twitches a bit beneath her, mewls out a soft, hurt sound without opening his eyes.

When his bleeding seems under control, she lets go and clicks back into her comm link.

“Something happened,” she announces quickly. “Hunk’s hurt bad and he needs a pod like, yesterday.”

“How responsive is he?” Shiro asks, concerned but collected.

“He talked incoherently for like two seconds before he passed out. He can’t wait, I’m gonna carry him to Green and head back to the castle.”

“You think you can carry Hunk?” Keith asks skeptically.

“If people can flip cars during adrenaline rushes, then I can carry Hunk,” she snaps, more frazzled than she intends. “It’s not like I have to vault him over my head, I just have to get him to Green, and I mean, I really have to you guys, he— he’s not doing good.”

“We’re almost done here and even if we weren’t, this takes precedence,” Allura says quickly. “Lance, Keith, finish up. Pidge, do what you can for Hunk, Shiro and I are on our way to help.”

“Copy.” Pidge doesn’t wait for anybody else’s affirmatives before she turns her attention back on Hunk.

She tries not to think too hard about things like logic or physics as she hooks her arms under his. Either Hunk’s clavicle is broken or he’s dislocated a shoulder, because she can feel the unnatural way his arm shifts. When she looks down she thinks she can see a bulge that doesn’t belong there too.

“Okay, here we go.”

Pidge digs her heels in and pulls back with everything she’s got. She begs her body to gift her with one of those rare, miraculous adrenaline rushes that allows everyday people to flip cars off children. She doesn’t need to flip a car, she doesn’t even need to carry Hunk, really, she just needs to drag him.

“Come on,” she pleads, desperately trying to pull even harder.

It takes an enormous effort and all of Pidge’s strength to drag him three steps backward and even that leaves her spine aching. She grits her teeth and uses every muscle in her body to pull him another step and doesn’t even accomplish that. She slips, falling hard on her bum and losing her grip on Hunk.

It’s just impossible.

“I’m sorry,” she whimpers, shaking her head against the sting of tears. “Hunk, I’m so, so sorry.”

She can’t carry him anywhere. But maybe she can hold him, at least, and monitor him. Guard him until Shiro and Allura get here.

Pidge sits up, gently takes Hunk’s head in her hands, crossing her legs. She pulls him into her lap as much as she can, which, while a bit difficult, is far less taxing than dragging him. She cradles his head against her chest, worriedly fluffing her fingers through his hair.

“I’m sorry,” she repeats, even though she knows he can’t hear her. “If this were the other way around, you’d already have me in Yellow.”

She has her bayard near in case any new threat shows up. She doubts it, since it seems like the rest of her team handled things at the command center. That soldier Hunk shot still hasn’t moved. Maybe he’s dead and that’s perfectly okay with her.

“I should’ve been satisfied with boring,” she mumbles, guilt churning in her stomach.

Pidge would rather read a thousand stupid fruit export reports than be sitting here like this, listening to Hunk’s breath get shorter and shallower and too weak to get him the help he needs. She hates this, the helplessness. She hates that she couldn’t force an adrenaline miracle out of herself.

Guilt continues to gnaw at her insides. She knows it’s not her fault that she is small and Hunk is big, but it feels like her fault when it’s the obstacle preventing him from receiving treatment right now. The pad of her finger unintentionally locates the head wound she couldn’t see earlier, brushing over the split in the skin.

Anxiety mounting, Pidge begins to rock back and forth, hugging Hunk close. She quits as soon as she hears the grinding noise that rises from what must be his probably broken clavicle. She goes back to stroking his hair instead, staring at the dicey rise and fall of his bloodied chest.

When Shiro and Allura finally show up, it feels like eons later.

“I couldn’t carry him,” Pidge admits as they survey the damage, her guilt coiling even tighter around her chest.

Of course, neither of them seem even remotely surprised. They probably realized what she should have sooner, that it simply wasn’t a feasible feat no matter how badly she wanted it to be.

“We’ll get him back faster in Red than Green anyway,” Allura says, forcing a smile although Pidge can tell she’s worried.

Shiro helps arrange Hunk in Allura’s arms, positioning him a way that’s hopefully the least stressful on his injuries. Allura doesn’t need help with the actual lifting, however. She simply shape shifts to be broader, lengthens her arms to accommodate Hunk’s girth.

Pidge recovers Hunk’s bayard and the drive with the export transcripts. She wishes she could at least be with Hunk, cradling him in the back of Red. But she has her own lion to fly. Hunk will probably be safer in Allura’s arms since her magic has healing properties.

Or at the least, revitalizing properties. And that distinction sinks to her stomach like a stone.

Lance usually gets the first hug when Hunk is out of the pod, but this time Pidge beats him to the punch and she kind of thinks he lets her. It hasn’t exactly been a secret that she’s been on edge since what happened. She hurries to Hunk so fast she barely pumps the breaks in time to avoid an outright collision, throwing her arms around his middle and squeezing ferociously.

“Whoa,” he murmurs hazily. “Hi.”

“Hi,” she greets warmly, propping her chin on his belly and peeking up at him. “It’s good to have you back.”

A small, sort of sleepy smile unfurls on Hunk’s face.

“Good to be back,” he says, gently patting her head.

[itsstillnotwhatyouthink]

Winter Wonderland

A/N: So this is for @myinconnelly1 myin’s firsts challenge.  I am squeaking it in just ahead of the deadline!  My prompt was “Oh my god.  You’re in love with her.”  I was in a Christmas mood for some reason, so this came about.

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You are excited for your first Christmas in New York

Word Count: 825

Warnings: Fluff and Christmas joy

You loved Christmas. It was by far your most favorite time of the year. The lights, sounds, food, caroling, everything.  People just seemed to be in a better mood during the Christmas season, and that joy was infectious.  This year though, this year was extra special.  It was your first Christmas in New York.  You had been working with the Avengers and living in the tower for almost a year, and had dreamed of spending Christmas in New York your whole life.  From the first time you watched Miracle on 34th Street as a child, you dreamed of going to visit the Macy’s store and experience the magic for yourself.  So of course, Tony was going to go all out to make it the best Christmas you ever experienced.  Even though it was only a few days past Thanksgiving, you were getting in the spirit.  

“I have a surprise for you!” Tony said as you were pouring your coffee one morning.  You knew Tony always had the best surprises, so you knew it would be good.  “I reserved the best seat in the house for the lighting of the tree in Rockefeller Center!”

“What!” You exclaimed throwing your hands around his neck. “Tony, you know I have always wanted to see that!”

“I know sweet pea, now get ready cause it’s going down tonight!”  He said as he turned and walked out of the kitchen.

You could hardly contain your excitement all day.  During training time at the gym, you practically talked Bucky’s ear off and he just let you talk, noticing how your eyes lit up and your smile just could not be contained.  He had never seen you this excited about something and he thought it looked good on you.  

Everyone was just getting together in the kitchen to have some dinner when Steve came in with the news.  “Sorry, Y/N, but it looks like we got a mission.  I need you to stay and monitor comms while Nat and I sweep the target compound.”

You were crushed.  Your hopes of seeing the tree had just been dashed by Captain “Perfect Hair”  

“Alright, fine.” You muttered as you stalked off towards the communications room.

“Steve, please let me stay and monitor comms.” Bucky said suddenly.  “I can do just as good of a job at watching your back as Y/N.  She is so excited about seeing that tree, I couldn’t stand it if that was taken from her.”

Steve looked at Bucky for a minute, studying his friend’s pleading expression. “Bucky, you HATE monitoring comms.  You said, and I quote, ‘I would rather have you put my metal arm back in that vice grip everyday of my life than to sit and monitor comms.’”  Bucky just looked at him, practically begging with his eyes.  Sudden comprehension dawned on Steve’s face.  “Oh my God. You’re in love with her.”

Bucky couldn’t hide the blush that crept up his cheeks.  He didn’t say anything as he got up from the table and went to stand in front of his friend. He tired once more, “C’mon, Steve”  

“Ok, Buck.  Go give her the news.” Steve smiled as Bucky took off down the hallway.  The sounds of ecstatic screaming could be heard a few moments later.

“Well, that’s my cue to go get ready.” Tony said as he got up from the table as well.  “I promised a girl a good time.”

The lighting of the tree was even more spectacular than you imagined it would be.  The colors of the lights took your breath away.  It really was the most magical way to kick off your first Christmas season in New York.  You would have to remember to give a very special thank you to a certain super soldier when you returned to the compound.

It was late when you returned, Tony being true to his word had made sure you had the whole New York Christmas experience.  You went to the communications room, and sure enough, Bucky was still there.

“Hey, Buck.” You said as you moved in and took the seat beside him.  “Thank you.  I know how much you hate sitting in this room feeling useless.”

He just grinned at you. “No problem, Doll.”

“Well, thank you just the same.” You said and moved to kiss him on the cheek. He turned his head just as you were about to kiss him, and caught your lips with his instead.  You pulled back surprised, but quickly regained your senses and returned the kiss enthusiastically.  

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long.” Bucky confessed as you finally stopped to breathe.

“Why did you wait so long?  I’ve wanted you to do that for a long time as well!”  You both smiled and Bucky put his arm around you.

“This really is going to be the best Christmas ever.” He said as he pressed his lips to your temple.

********************************************

Tags: @time-travel-bouqet @the-wayward-robot @carryoncaptainrogers @bobasheebaby @mrsnazario1223 @buckysbeech @shynara51 @dean-winchesters-bacon @suz-123 @ain-t-bovvered @anotherwaywardsister @bamby0304 @curly-haired-disaster @imafictosexual @imma-winchester-addict @ladywinchester1967 @julesthequirky @myinconnelly1 @missjenniferb   @waywardbaby @spnmightkillme @spnfamily-alwayskeepfighting @lovemesomecas94 @caplansteverogers @mycapt-ohcapt 

[zillowcondo]

This & That: August 11, 2017

Books

—Cooking for Picasso: A Novel by Camille Aubray

After reading this post of my favorite 10 French books earlier this week, a reader shared a few of her own and one which I had not heard of, so I wanted to share. Cooking for Picasso was released this past June and involves French cooking, a bit of mystery and a dash of romance. Spanning three generations, it is young Céline whose grandmother cooked for Picasso in 1936, and it is Céline who upon learning of her grandmother’s story, decides to make a trip to the small village in France where it took place. Let the plot begin!

—The French Gardener: A Novel by Santa Montefiore

While written in 2009, my local book shop recommended this novel as an ideal summer escape for the Francophile. Involving a young couple who purchases a French country home that needs much love and care, it is a charming Frenchman who arrives to help them work with Mother Nature. Along the way much more is discovered about this mysterious gentleman, and the lessons of love and life come forth.

—Local Eats Paris: A Traveler’s Guide by Natasha McGuinness

Released this past May, discover the highly recommended bistros, restaurants, cafés and patisseries to visit in Paris, as well as what to pair for your picnic to be enjoyed at one of the many jardins or along the Seine.

—Rosé All Day: The Essential Guide to Your New Favorite Wine by Katherine Cole

We couldn’t have French Week here on the blog and not talk about rosé wine. As many of you may have noticed, rosé is having a resurgence as the wine of summer. With delectable price points and delicious options, I don’t know why it ever wasn’t the wine of summer. Discover the history of this pink wine and where to find the good stuff in this playful, yet resourceful, new book.

Cookbook

—Voilà! The Effortless French Cookbook: Easy Recipes to Savor the Classic Tastes of France by Cecile Delarue

Well, if Mireille Guilano recommends it, I may just have to take a look. Released on July 25th, Cecile Delarue’s new cookbook begins with a recreation of teachings that will offer the cooking skills one might find in a Parisian culinary class. Creator of the blog French and Parfait, readers will discover 125 recipes, each offering a pairing of the best choice of wine. As well, learn how to prepare the French staples such as quiches, a poached egg and delicious sauces.

—France: The Cookbook by Ginette Mathiot

A reader recently shared with me and recommended quite whole-heartedly this cookbook, which if I am recalling correctly, I may have mentioned on the blog earlier this year. France: The Cookbook is a reprint of the 1932 original cookbook which has sold more than six million copies. Now available with an updated translation by Chocolate & Zucchini blogger and cookbook author Clotilde Dusoulier, this cookbook is one to have in your kitchen if you enjoy traditional French fare.

Film

—The Midwife

Released this past July, the past returns in a French film with two outstanding French actresses. Catherine Deneuve and Catherine Frot star in The Midwife which focuses on the unlikely friendship later in life of the midwife (Frot) and her father’s former flambuoyant mistress (Deneuve). Have a look at the trailer below.

https://youtu.be/S_FLOFTvqdQ

  —Tous les Soleils

Released in 2011, I wanted to share what looks like a truly lovely and heart-warming movie. Starring Stefano Accorsi as an Italian widower who teaches music in France, is still gripped by the passing of his wife; however, his young daughter is living life, and so too do those who love him wish he would do as well. Have a look at the trailer below (my apologies, as I couldn’t find a trailer with English subtitles, but I have a feeling the visuals will give you a taste of the tone and the plot) and be sure to add to your watch list. 

  Kitchen

—Jacques Pepin & Sur La Table

The highly respected French chef Jacques Pepin has paired up with Sur La Table to offer his own line of cookware (copper!) and tableware (I believe he loves chickens).

Shopping

—Raey superfine cashmere cornflower scarf

I came across this cashmere scarf while putting together yesterday’s Outfit of the Week, and I could not resist including it in this week’s This & That. The cornflower blue is ideal and epitomizes southern France to me. And the price isn’t that bad either.

Television

—Girlfriend’s Guide to Divorce, season 4 premiere

I know this show isn’t French or French-inspired, but I wanted to make sure you knew it was premiering next Thursday on Bravo. With only two more seasons left (they’ve finished taping both already), enjoy some summer laughter and life’s ups and downs with the girls of GGTD.

—The Tunnel

Some of you may already be fans or know about this series as it is on its second season here in the states on PBS and originally began on BBC. I just became aware of it through a friend who highly recommended it, and once I knew Clémence Poésy was starring in it, I wanted to have a look. If you enjoy modern crime dramas, a dash of French language from time to time (but not all the time), and good rapport with the chosen actors, as well as a mind-boggling plot, be sure to check out The Tunnel.

  ~recipe for Easy Crusty French Bread~

Freshly made bread, the thought of the smell alone makes my tastebuds dance, so when a TSLL reader (Thank you Sue!) shared the above recipe with me, I wanted to share with you. After all, bread making can be quite simple, and the results are worth giving it a try.

Speaking of simple, yet luxurious, the second annual French Week on the blog, based on readers comments and feedback has been going very well, and I want to thank you for stopping by, taking in the posts or episodes of the podcast thacalught your eye and sharing what you loved. While it was a busy week, I honestly loved every minute as I had the opportunity to be introduced to so many long-time but first-time commenters and new readers as well as share what I love about the French-inspiration in my life and hear yours as well in the comments. And the good news is, the week isn’t over yet. There are still four more posts (one of which is another episode of the podcast with none other than the woman behind Comme une Française, Géraldine Lepère) for you to enjoy. We had an enlightening conversation about the differences between the French and North American cultures, and I do think you’ll find her tips reassuring regarding travel especially if you are contemplating going beyond Paris.

Don’t forget to enter both of the GIVEAWAY opportunities (here and here), and enjoy an ample selection of reading material for the weekend. Until later today, bonne journée!

~Julia Child’s home in Washington D.C. is more than somewhat rundown, but a new owner has big plans.

~Inspiring advice from a Navy SEAL . . . 11 Surefire Ways to Turn Your Dreams into Reality 

~If you are someone in the growing number of women who are choosing not to have want, even though they are married, this article is worth reading

~But if you do want kids and you’re in your late thirties or forties, read this article, which will also ease your mind.

~Single? This article suggests staying single until you find someone who understands love isn’t a fantasy land 

~I so appreciated reading this article about a father and daughter

~6 Things You Must Quit Doing Now to Be Successful

~Did you hear the exciting news this week about the über successful memoir by Isabel Vincent, Dinner with Edward (listen to my review of the book in this Petit Plaisir of the podcast)? David Suchet (aka Hercules Poirot) will be starring as Edward in an upcoming film adaptation of the book!

~One of the foods I miss most and cannot wait to enjoy upon returning to France is Comté! Read why it really is the Queen of French Cheese in Susan Herrmann Loomis’ post

~Visiting Paris in August? Discover what to do in the city when the Parisians are gone and tourists have the run of the place

~Speaking of visiting France in the summer, discover 26 things that happen every summer 

~Put these must-visit streets on your list, The 10 Coolest Streets in Paris

~More planning that is worth your time and will save you money: The Best FREE thing to do in each arrondissement

  TSLL 2017 French Week continues through August 12th. Amusez-vous bien! 

Don’t Miss What Has Been Posted So Far:

TSLL French Week Begins: A French Linen Giveaway

My 10 All-Time Favorite French Books

A Lifestyle Blog Designed for Francophiles: TSLL

Episode #167 of the Podcast: My Good Life in France: Janine Marsh

9 French Online Clothing Destinations & Brands You Must Visit

Style Inspiration: Effortlessly French

My Stylish French Box: Enjoy the Seasonal Gifts of France Wherever You Live

Episode #168 of the Podcast: French Everyday Living with Author & Blogger Sharon Santoni

15 Kitchen Tools to Cook Anything Like a Pro

Subscribe to TSLL Newsletter Tailored Just For You

Putting on the Ritz: Cooking Classes at the Ritz Paris

11 Brands for French Stripes: Classic & Modern

Outfit of the Week: Attire for a Flâneuse on a Summer Evening

This & That: August 11, 2017 published first on http://ift.tt/2pewpEF

[battlingbuddy]

   --> “Why in the fuck are there two of them?”

[battlingbuddy]

   --> “... When did Trevor re-dye his hair?” Jeremy, bud, no.

[battlingbuddy]

   --> Oh shit, Risinger’s hanging around. Cool.

[battlingbuddy]

   --> ( updated tag dump because i’ve lost control of my life - part 1 )

[gumnut-logic]

Scott came home exhausted.

Sure, ultimately, he had had John on board and the mission had been a success, but still flying Thunderbird Three was very different from flying Thunderbird One.

Once the great red ‘bird was silent in her gantry and he had finished post-flight checks, he activated the pilot retrieval process and the mechanics pulled him backwards and disembarkation took over.

The system dumped him in the locker room and he dragged himself into a shower and into his clothes.

He would have then dragged himself into bed, but his body was demanding sustenance and honestly, he really needed to check on Virgil and Gordon who were still on the other side of the planet digging up a mudslide.

So one am found him stumbling into the comms room. It was dark, the only light was moonlight, but it was enough to sketch out the room, ghost the portraits and give him enough guidance to make his way to his father’s desk. He could have activated the lights, but the dark was restful and calming after the screaming of emergency lighting and terrified people.

“Scott?”

The voice out of nowhere scared his adrenal glands into sudden production and he let out a decidedly high-pitched yelp.

A lump moved on the circular lounge and he stumbled backwards.

It really was a sign of exactly how exhausted he was.

“You okay?” The voice was small and tentative and…decidedly snotty.

“Alan? What the hell are you doing up?! You should be asleep.”

“Wanted to wait for you.”

His heart began to slow, its frantic beating still loud in his ears. “Does Grandma know you’re up?”

“Nooo.”

Scott sighed. This is why he had grey hair. Little brothers. He ran a hand across his face. “Why are you still awake? You need your sleep to recover. The doctor was very adamant about that.”

“I am resting. Just on the couch.” A sniffle. “I was worried about you.”

Another sigh, but this time Scott skipped down the steps into the circular lounge and sat down beside his littlest brother. “I was fine, Allie. I’m fully trained on Thunderbird Three, you know that. Maybe not as proficient as you, but I’m capable. Besides, I had John watching my back. You know how pedantic he is for safety up there.”

The shadow that was his brother shifted along the lounge and curled up against his arm. “I know.” Another sniffle. “It’s just hard, you know. Don’t like being left behind. Sick of being sick.”

Scott let his shoulders drop and lifted his arm, drawing his little brother close. “You’re getting better. It won’t be much longer.”

He received a grunt for that.

Alan had developed a nasty flu during an evacuation in Bangladesh. Fortunately, he had been with Virgil on Two at the time and not alone in space. Fortunately or not, the worried yell from his engineer brother when he found Alan passed out in Two’s main corridor spoke of the reason why Scott suspected Virgil dyed his hair.

There had been a mad dash to hospital after that. Two scorched the lawn in the reserve opposite the Auckland Hospital…again. One of these days, they would give iR a reserved space to land. It would save Scott from having to pay for extra greenskeepers every damn time there was an emergency.

Of course, it wasn’t your usual everyday flu. No, Alan was a Tracy, therefore it was a life threatening rare, tear your hair out as it goes grey kind of virus and it had been very scary for a few days there.

Virgil had been beside himself and Scott worried out of his mind. All the brothers had gathered terrified that they were about to lose their youngest.

There had been tears.

But Alan was tough. Life had always been hard to their littlest. He had lost so much, missed out on so much, and apparently that virus wasn’t up to the fight Alan was willing to throw at it, so it died.

And Alan slowly, ever so slowly, started getting better.

Those days were long past now and Alan only had the dregs. He had been cleared by disease control and allowed home. None of the older brothers had tested positive and it seemed they had escaped another bullet aimed at the Tracy family.

But it had been terrifying.

So Alan was under general moddle-coddling and if Grandma found him out here in the middle of the night there would be all hell to pay.

Scott understood his little brother’s reasoning though.

It was his ‘bird and he wasn’t flying.

“She performed perfectly.”

“Didn’t expect she wouldn’t.” His brother snuggled into his side, the sixteen-year-old reduced to six-year-old behaviour by his illness. “Was lonely.”

“Oh.” Scott tightened his hold.

With Virgil and Gordon out on a mission, the house would be quiet.

“Are they okay?”

“They were when I dropped off John. He would let us know if there were any problems.” Didn’t stop Scott from wanting to double check anyway. Hence his presence in the lounge.

“Can we watch?”

Scott blinked. “I guess so.”

Fumbling in the dark, he found the ‘projector remote and hit the on button. “John?”

His space brother’s tired hologram flickered into the middle of the lounge. “Scott? What are you still doing up? Is there a problem?” A frown as John noticed the other occupant of the sofa. “Alan? You should be in bed. Grandma will blow a circuit if she finds you up.”

“Alan was waiting for me.” It was the Commander’s voice. God, he was tired. A sigh. “Sorry, John, could you relay Virgil and Gordon’s monitoring feed down here? Alan wants to check on them.”

John stared at them a moment. “Okay. FAB.”

His holographic form flickered out to be replaced by a view from Two’s external camera. Virgil walked past covered in mud yelling at someone.

The someone turned out to be an equally mud-covered Gordon. Hell, the strawberry blond was a brunet. Both brothers looked as exhausted as Scott felt as they had a rather energetic discussion. Fortunately, it appeared that the rescue was over and Virgil was loading up the pod into its module. Unfortunately, tired meant grumpy and impatient.

“They look exhausted.”

“It was a nasty rescue. Far too many people died.”

“But they made a difference, didn’t they?” It was a child-like question that they both knew the answer to, but Alan had asked it anyway.

“Yes, they made a difference. Two hundred and three people hauled alive out of the mud today because of International Rescue.”

“We do good.”

“Yeah, we do.”

Gordon threw a glob of mud at Virgil’s head and the resultant yelling match was extensive. Scott sighed. “They need to come home.” He fiddled with the controls and set it to transmit his voice. “Thunderbird Two from Tracy Island. What the hell do you two think you are doing?”

On the ‘projector both brothers jumped as if a voice had come from above. Which it had since both Two’s camera and external speaker were a considerable distance over their heads.

“Mission complete, Tracy Island. Working through clean up. Estimated departure, ten minutes.” At least Virgil managed to regain most of his composure.

“Good. Now stop mucking around and drag your tired butts home.”

“Uh, FAB, Tracy Island.” Virgil stared at Gordon as if Scott had lost a few marbles. But the two of them executed the last of the pack up in an orderly fashion and exactly ten minutes later, their view launched with a flare of VTOL. The ground disappeared beneath and as Virgil hit the rear thrusters, it all became a blur.

Scott hit the kill switch and the room fell into darkness once again.

“They’ll be home soon.”

“Mmmhmm.”

Alan’s head was heavy on his shoulder, but warm and reassuring. Scott brought his other arm around and turned slightly so his brother could curl in a little closer, his head now more under Scott’s chin. Alan muttered something and snuggled up.

Scott rested his cheek against soft hair as Alan’s breathing drifted into the even pace of sleep, the remains of the infection that had brought them so close to losing him, now little more than a rough edge to each breath.

Closing his eyes, Scott revelled in having this moment, of not being denied it, of having another chance.

A moment where exhaustion and relief met and he drifted away.

-o-o-o-

Virgil entered the comms room to find it dark except for the moonlight shining through the rafters. It was just enough light to outline two brothers curled up on the couch together, both deeply asleep.

Deep enough that Virgil was surprised to find his inadvertent entrance hadn’t disturbed the ever fragile slumber of his eldest brother. So, feeling daring, he grabbed a throw rug and wrapped it gently about the two of them.

Neither stirred at all.

Miracles were possible.

Virgil smiled before tiptoeing out and leaving them there in the moonlight.

Together.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

[gumnut-logic]

Scott came home exhausted.

Sure, ultimately, he had had John on board and the mission had been a success, but still flying Thunderbird Three was very different from flying Thunderbird One.

Once the great red ‘bird was silent in her gantry and he had finished post-flight checks, he activated the pilot retrieval process and the mechanics pulled him backwards and disembarkation took over.

The system dumped him in the locker room and he dragged himself into a shower and into his clothes.

He would have then dragged himself into bed, but his body was demanding sustenance and honestly, he really needed to check on Virgil and Gordon who were still on the other side of the planet digging up a mudslide.

So one am found him stumbling into the comms room. It was dark, the only light was moonlight, but it was enough to sketch out the room, ghost the portraits and give him enough guidance to make his way to his father’s desk. He could have activated the lights, but the dark was restful and calming after the screaming of emergency lighting and terrified people.

“Scott?”

The voice out of nowhere scared his adrenal glands into sudden production and he let out a decidedly high-pitched yelp.

A lump moved on the circular lounge and he stumbled backwards.

It really was a sign of exactly how exhausted he was.

“You okay?” The voice was small and tentative and…decidedly snotty.

“Alan? What the hell are you doing up?! You should be asleep.”

“Wanted to wait for you.”

His heart began to slow, its frantic beating still loud in his ears. “Does Grandma know you’re up?”

“Nooo.”

Scott sighed. This is why he had grey hair. Little brothers. He ran a hand across his face. “Why are you still awake? You need your sleep to recover. The doctor was very adamant about that.”

“I am resting. Just on the couch.” A sniffle. “I was worried about you.”

Another sigh, but this time Scott skipped down the steps into the circular lounge and sat down beside his littlest brother. “I was fine, Allie. I’m fully trained on Thunderbird Three, you know that. Maybe not as proficient as you, but I’m capable. Besides, I had John watching my back. You know how pedantic he is for safety up there.”

The shadow that was his brother shifted along the lounge and curled up against his arm. “I know.” Another sniffle. “It’s just hard, you know. Don’t like being left behind. Sick of being sick.”

Scott let his shoulders drop and lifted his arm, drawing his little brother close. “You’re getting better. It won’t be much longer.”

He received a grunt for that.

Alan had developed a nasty flu during an evacuation in Bangladesh. Fortunately, he had been with Virgil on Two at the time and not alone in space. Fortunately or not, the worried yell from his engineer brother when he found Alan passed out in Two’s main corridor spoke of the reason why Scott suspected Virgil dyed his hair.

There had been a mad dash to hospital after that. Two scorched the lawn in the reserve opposite the Auckland Hospital…again. One of these days, they would give iR a reserved space to land. It would save Scott from having to pay for extra greenskeepers every damn time there was an emergency.

Of course, it wasn’t your usual everyday flu. No, Alan was a Tracy, therefore it was a life threatening rare, tear your hair out as it goes grey kind of virus and it had been very scary for a few days there.

Virgil had been beside himself and Scott worried out of his mind. All the brothers had gathered terrified that they were about to lose their youngest.

There had been tears.

But Alan was tough. Life had always been hard to their littlest. He had lost so much, missed out on so much, and apparently that virus wasn’t up to the fight Alan was willing to throw at it, so it died.

And Alan slowly, ever so slowly, started getting better.

Those days were long past now and Alan only had the dregs. He had been cleared by disease control and allowed home. None of the older brothers had tested positive and it seemed they had escaped another bullet aimed at the Tracy family.

But it had been terrifying.

So Alan was under general moddle-coddling and if Grandma found him out here in the middle of the night there would be all hell to pay.

Scott understood his little brother’s reasoning though.

It was his ‘bird and he wasn’t flying.

“She performed perfectly.”

“Didn’t expect she wouldn’t.” His brother snuggled into his side, the sixteen-year-old reduced to six-year-old behaviour by his illness. “Was lonely.”

“Oh.” Scott tightened his hold.

With Virgil and Gordon out on a mission, the house would be quiet.

“Are they okay?”

“They were when I dropped off John. He would let us know if there were any problems.” Didn’t stop Scott from wanting to double check anyway. Hence his presence in the lounge.

“Can we watch?”

Scott blinked. “I guess so.”

Fumbling in the dark, he found the ‘projector remote and hit the on button. “John?”

His space brother’s tired hologram flickered into the middle of the lounge. “Scott? What are you still doing up? Is there a problem?” A frown as John noticed the other occupant of the sofa. “Alan? You should be in bed. Grandma will blow a circuit if she finds you up.”

“Alan was waiting for me.” It was the Commander’s voice. God, he was tired. A sigh. “Sorry, John, could you relay Virgil and Gordon’s monitoring feed down here? Alan wants to check on them.”

John stared at them a moment. “Okay. FAB.”

His holographic form flickered out to be replaced by a view from Two’s external camera. Virgil walked past covered in mud yelling at someone.

The someone turned out to be an equally mud-covered Gordon. Hell, the strawberry blond was a brunet. Both brothers looked as exhausted as Scott felt as they had a rather energetic discussion. Fortunately, it appeared that the rescue was over and Virgil was loading up the pod into its module. Unfortunately, tired meant grumpy and impatient.

“They look exhausted.”

“It was a nasty rescue. Far too many people died.”

“But they made a difference, didn’t they?” It was a child-like question that they both knew the answer to, but Alan had asked it anyway.

“Yes, they made a difference. Two hundred and three people hauled alive out of the mud today because of International Rescue.”

“We do good.”

“Yeah, we do.”

Gordon threw a glob of mud at Virgil’s head and the resultant yelling match was extensive. Scott sighed. “They need to come home.” He fiddled with the controls and set it to transmit his voice. “Thunderbird Two from Tracy Island. What the hell do you two think you are doing?”

On the ‘projector both brothers jumped as if a voice had come from above. Which it had since both Two’s camera and external speaker were a considerable distance over their heads.

“Mission complete, Tracy Island. Working through clean up. Estimated departure, ten minutes.” At least Virgil managed to regain most of his composure.

“Good. Now stop mucking around and drag your tired butts home.”

“Uh, FAB, Tracy Island.” Virgil stared at Gordon as if Scott had lost a few marbles. But the two of them executed the last of the pack up in an orderly fashion and exactly ten minutes later, their view launched with a flare of VTOL. The ground disappeared beneath and as Virgil hit the rear thrusters, it all became a blur.

Scott hit the kill switch and the room fell into darkness once again.

“They’ll be home soon.”

“Mmmhmm.”

Alan’s head was heavy on his shoulder, but warm and reassuring. Scott brought his other arm around and turned slightly so his brother could curl in a little closer, his head now more under Scott’s chin. Alan muttered something and snuggled up.

Scott rested his cheek against soft hair as Alan’s breathing drifted into the even pace of sleep, the remains of the infection that had brought them so close to losing him, now little more than a rough edge to each breath.

Closing his eyes, Scott revelled in having this moment, of not being denied it, of having another chance.

A moment where exhaustion and relief met and he drifted away.

-o-o-o-

Virgil entered the comms room to find it dark except for the moonlight shining through the rafters. It was just enough light to outline two brothers curled up on the couch together, both deeply asleep.

Deep enough that Virgil was surprised to find his inadvertent entrance hadn’t disturbed the ever fragile slumber of his eldest brother. So, feeling daring, he grabbed a throw rug and wrapped it gently about the two of them.

Neither stirred at all.

Miracles were possible.

Virgil smiled before tiptoeing out and leaving them there in the moonlight.

Together.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

[gumnut-logic]

Together

This little piece is for @ak47stylegirl who has been having a bad time recently. Hopefully this will bring you a little smile when you wake up in the morning ::hugs::

-o-o-o-

Scott came home exhausted.

Sure, ultimately, he had had John on board and the mission had been a success, but still flying Thunderbird Three was very different from flying Thunderbird One.

Once the great red ‘bird was silent in her gantry and he had finished post-flight checks, he activated the pilot retrieval process and the mechanics pulled him backwards and disembarkation took over.

The system dumped him in the locker room and he dragged himself into a shower and into his clothes.

He would have then dragged himself into bed, but his body was demanding sustenance and honestly, he really needed to check on Virgil and Gordon who were still on the other side of the planet digging up a mudslide.

So one am found him stumbling into the comms room. It was dark, the only light was moonlight, but it was enough to sketch out the room, ghost the portraits and give him enough guidance to make his way to his father’s desk. He could have activated the lights, but the dark was restful and calming after the screaming of emergency lighting and terrified people.

“Scott?”

The voice out of nowhere scared his adrenal glands into sudden production and he let out a decidedly high-pitched yelp.

A lump moved on the circular lounge and he stumbled backwards.

It really was a sign of exactly how exhausted he was.

“You okay?” The voice was small and tentative and...decidedly snotty.

“Alan? What the hell are you doing up?! You should be asleep.”

“Wanted to wait for you.”

His heart began to slow, its frantic beating still loud in his ears. “Does Grandma know you’re up?”

“Nooo.”

Scott sighed. This is why he had grey hair. Little brothers. He ran a hand across his face. “Why are you still awake? You need your sleep to recover. The doctor was very adamant about that.”

“I am resting. Just on the couch.” A sniffle. “I was worried about you.”

Another sigh, but this time Scott skipped down the steps into the circular lounge and sat down beside his littlest brother. “I was fine, Allie. I’m fully trained on Thunderbird Three, you know that. Maybe not as proficient as you, but I’m capable. Besides, I had John watching my back. You know how pedantic he is for safety up there.”

The shadow that was his brother shifted along the lounge and curled up against his arm. “I know.” Another sniffle. “It’s just hard, you know. Don’t like being left behind. Sick of being sick.”

Scott let his shoulders drop and lifted his arm, drawing his little brother close. “You’re getting better. It won’t be much longer.”

He received a grunt for that.

Alan had developed a nasty flu during an evacuation in Bangladesh. Fortunately, he had been with Virgil on Two at the time and not alone in space. Fortunately or not, the worried yell from his engineer brother when he found Alan passed out in Two’s main corridor spoke of the reason why Scott suspected Virgil dyed his hair.

There had been a mad dash to hospital after that. Two scorched the lawn in the reserve opposite the Auckland Hospital...again. One of these days, they would give iR a reserved space to land. It would save Scott from having to pay for extra greenskeepers every damn time there was an emergency.

Of course, it wasn’t your usual everyday flu. No, Alan was a Tracy, therefore it was a life threatening rare, tear your hair out as it goes grey kind of virus and it had been very scary for a few days there.

Virgil had been beside himself and Scott worried out of his mind. All the brothers had gathered terrified that they were about to lose their youngest.

There had been tears.

But Alan was tough. Life had always been hard to their littlest. He had lost so much, missed out on so much, and apparently that virus wasn’t up to the fight Alan was willing to throw at it, so it died.

And Alan slowly, ever so slowly, started getting better.

Those days were long past now and Alan only had the dregs. He had been cleared by disease control and allowed home. None of the older brothers had tested positive and it seemed they had escaped another bullet aimed at the Tracy family.

But it had been terrifying.

So Alan was under general moddle-coddling and if Grandma found him out here in the middle of the night there would be all hell to pay.

Scott understood his little brother’s reasoning though.

It was his ‘bird and he wasn’t flying.

“She performed perfectly.”

“Didn’t expect she wouldn’t.” His brother snuggled into his side, the sixteen-year-old reduced to six-year-old behaviour by his illness. “Was lonely.”

“Oh.” Scott tightened his hold.

With Virgil and Gordon out on a mission, the house would be quiet.

“Are they okay?”

“They were when I dropped off John. He would let us know if there were any problems.” Didn’t stop Scott from wanting to double check anyway. Hence his presence in the lounge.

“Can we watch?”

Scott blinked. “I guess so.”

Fumbling in the dark, he found the ‘projector remote and hit the on button. “John?”

His space brother’s tired hologram flickered into the middle of the lounge. “Scott? What are you still doing up? Is there a problem?” A frown as John noticed the other occupant of the sofa. “Alan? You should be in bed. Grandma will blow a circuit if she finds you up.”

“Alan was waiting for me.” It was the Commander’s voice. God, he was tired. A sigh. “Sorry, John, could you relay Virgil and Gordon’s monitoring feed down here? Alan wants to check on them.”

John stared at them a moment. “Okay. FAB.”

His holographic form flickered out to be replaced by a view from Two’s external camera. Virgil walked past covered in mud yelling at someone.

The someone turned out to be an equally mud-covered Gordon. Hell, the strawberry blond was a brunet. Both brothers looked as exhausted as Scott felt as they had a rather energetic discussion. Fortunately, it appeared that the rescue was over and Virgil was loading up the pod into its module. Unfortunately, tired meant grumpy and impatient.

“They look exhausted.”

“It was a nasty rescue. Far too many people died.”

“But they made a difference, didn’t they?” It was a child-like question that they both knew the answer to, but Alan had asked it anyway.

“Yes, they made a difference. Two hundred and three people hauled alive out of the mud today because of International Rescue.”

“We do good.”

“Yeah, we do.”

Gordon threw a glob of mud at Virgil’s head and the resultant yelling match was extensive. Scott sighed. “They need to come home.” He fiddled with the controls and set it to transmit his voice. “Thunderbird Two from Tracy Island. What the hell do you two think you are doing?”

On the ‘projector both brothers jumped as if a voice had come from above. Which it had since both Two’s camera and external speaker were a considerable distance over their heads.

“Mission complete, Tracy Island. Working through clean up. Estimated departure, ten minutes.” At least Virgil managed to regain most of his composure.

“Good. Now stop mucking around and drag your tired butts home.”

“Uh, FAB, Tracy Island.” Virgil stared at Gordon as if Scott had lost a few marbles. But the two of them executed the last of the pack up in an orderly fashion and exactly ten minutes later, their view launched with a flare of VTOL. The ground disappeared beneath and as Virgil hit the rear thrusters, it all became a blur.

Scott hit the kill switch and the room fell into darkness once again.

“They’ll be home soon.”

“Mmmhmm.”

Alan’s head was heavy on his shoulder, but warm and reassuring. Scott brought his other arm around and turned slightly so his brother could curl in a little closer, his head now more under Scott’s chin. Alan muttered something and snuggled up.

Scott rested his cheek against soft hair as Alan’s breathing drifted into the even pace of sleep, the remains of the infection that had brought them so close to losing him, now little more than a rough edge to each breath.

Closing his eyes, Scott revelled in having this moment, of not being denied it, of having another chance.

A moment where exhaustion and relief met and he drifted away.

-o-o-o-

Virgil entered the comms room to find it dark except for the moonlight shining through the rafters. It was just enough light to outline two brothers curled up on the couch together, both deeply asleep.

Deep enough that Virgil was surprised to find his inadvertent entrance hadn’t disturbed the ever fragile slumber of his eldest brother. So, feeling daring, he grabbed a throw rug and wrapped it gently about the two of them.

Neither stirred at all.

Miracles were possible.

Virgil smiled before tiptoeing out and leaving them there in the moonlight.

Together.

-o-o-o-

FIN.