Scott crumpled as the fist connected with his temple and sent his world spinning. Through the thick haze of pain, he resisted the urge to retaliate with a punch of his own, although the idea was more than tempting. Instead, he settled for a rough shove.
"You've gotta get a hold of yourself," he snapped. "I'm trying to help you!" The man in question, spurned by his treatment at Scott's hands, merely launched himself at the pilot a second time. The resulting tackle sent both men crashing into the gritty soil where the panicked civilian continued his instinctive assault. This time Scott didn't hold back the right hook.
Two hours ago he'd been lying comfortably on the couch, petting a sleepy Sherbert on the head while the pug nestled against his chest. It was a rare weekend of dog-sitting Lady P's cherished furry companion, and no Tracy was immune to the little puppy's charm. Virgil's gentle strokes of the piano keys had nearly lulled Scott into a dreamy sleep before the sound of sirens shattered any thoughts of a lazy afternoon.
An afternoon that had quickly turned into nothing short of a nightmare. Scott shielded his face from another strike.
"Let's just talk, all right?" he hissed through gritted teeth. "Just listen—" The pilot choked on his words as a fist rammed into his stomach. So much for diplomacy. Right, then. Back to a language the man would actually understand. Scott responded in kind with a brutal punch that made his knuckles ache from the impact and watched his opponent stumble. Scott didn't have any qualms defending himself, even if it meant raising a hand against one of the people he'd been called to protect. Especially if that person was currently incapable of rational thought. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth to stem the trickle of blood from his split lip. "Stay over there. Just stay put. Don't move. I said STOP."
Scott repeated the simple commands again and again, raising his voice well above the fighter's labored breathing. He needed a moment to think. Just one blessed moment without assuming his acquired role as a human punching bag. He rolled his shoulders, easing a deep-set pain in his back that had nothing to do with his previous assault. The eldest Tracy tapped his comm without success. Communications were still down. He hid his disappointment behind a well-placed mask as he paced the dreary glade.
"This is all your fault," the figure simmered, clenching and unclenching his fists as he eyed Scott with red-rimmed eyes. "You didn't reach me in time. You weren't fast enough! And look where we are! Stranded!"
Scott chose not to answer as he scanned the untamed wilderness with a trained eye. His companion continued, undeterred.
"I would've made it to that rescue pod if it hadn't been for you. I would've been SAVED. But you and those pathetic dogs from International Rescue—"
"HEY!" Scott snarled, stilling his steps. He matched the man's glare with one of his own. "My team stopped your plane from taking a nose dive into the mountains. All of your passengers are safe thanks to them."
"All but ME!" came the icy retort. Scott stood his ground as his charge stepped forward and covered the distance between them. He grabbed Scott's collar and gave his frame a harsh shake. "You weren't able to get me on Thunderbird Two with everyone else! You couldn't get me out in time! It's your fault! Everything! Do you know what you've done? You've sentenced me to death!"
"You don't have to agree with me. You don't have to like me. But, if you want to get out of here, ALIVE, then you have to listen to me," Scott demanded as he wrenched himself free from the shaky grasp. He pointed above their heads through the thick canopy of trees to a blurry smudge in the sky. "Do you see that? It's smoke from the wreckage of your plane. That's the focal point International Rescue will use when they come looking for us. The closer we are to the plane, the better shot we have at survival."
"SURVIVAL?" The civilian's breathing became increasingly erratic as his body visibly trembled. "WE'RE ALONE OUT HERE! THEY'LL NEVER FIND US!" Scott raised his hands in front of him in a placating (and defensive) gesture.
"Hey, listen—" The eldest Tracy expected the shoddy punch and dodged it with ease. "This again? C'mon, buddy. I need you to stop!"
"YOU! IT'S YOUR FAULT! IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT!" The choked sobs were repeated like a mantra as the frightened man hurled himself at the Thunderbird One pilot with renewed force. Scott tried to hold him at bay, but even he couldn't escape the wide-arced elbow that glanced off his cheekbone. His broad-shouldered opponent easily had twenty pounds on him, and used that weight to his advantage to plow his rescuer into the ground.
The edges of Scott's vision blurred the second his head smacked against the packed earth. "WHY WEREN'T YOU FAST ENOUGH? WHY COULDN'T YOU DO ANYTHING TO SAVE ME?"
"ENOUGH!" Scott snapped. His hands eventually found enough purchase to immobilize his attacker with an arm bar and put an end to the hysterical onslaught. The man sobbed and writhed under his grip. "I'm here to HELP you! Stop fighting!" When the body continued to struggle, he applied ample pressure to the arm at his mercy until the motions ceased. He waited until the rise and fall of the victim's chest steadied before addressing him once more.
"Are you ready to cooperate now?" This earned Scott a weak nod. He kept the arm bar in place, not entirely convinced. "If I release you, will you attack me again?" He saw the man shake his head minutely from side-to-side. "Good. Let's keep it that way." Scott freed his opponent, expecting another bout of retaliation, but the figure remained curled on his side in mute exhaustion.
Thank goodness for small miracles. Scott struggled to his feet and glanced at the smoky tendrils in the sky to regain his bearings. He then knelt beside the motionless man, ready to spring away at a moment's notice.
"Let's start over. I'm Scott. What's your name?" There was a moment of silence, then—
"Marcus."
"Okay, Marcus. Our only chance out of here is to make it to the wreckage, but we need to work together. Can you do that for me?" When Marcus failed to answer, Scott pressed him further. "Stay with me, Marcus. Let's get you on your feet. C'mon."
The hike was long and arduous, thanks to Scott's insufferable new friend, who found every opportunity to flop himself down on the damp earth. Marcus drifted between silent acceptance to outright defiance, but his fists, at least, remained passive. Four miles into the trek, and Scott could almost feel the last remnants of patience slip away as his reluctant companion drilled him mercilessly.
"Was that really the best you idiots could come up with? The golden boys of International Rescue. What a joke. I could do it, you know. Ruin your life. Your career. All in the blink of an eye."
"Watch your step. Tree root," Scott growled a beat too late as he prodded the man forward. He feigned concern as the man tripped and nearly fell face-first into the brush. Scott took up the rear, traversing easily over the knotted obstacle. He hid the smirk as he hauled Marcus to his feet. "Sorry about that, Marcus. What were you saying?" The scruffy figure pushed him aside and marched ahead in anger.
"Do you know how much I make in a year, Scott?"
"No, but I have a pretty good idea you're about to tell me."
"More than you're worth," Marcus retorted flippantly. "Enough money to buy a team of the best lawyers this world has to offer." Scott rolled his eyes at the obvious threat.
"You have the right to legal counsel, if you so choose. Oh, look out for that rock." The figure smacked his shin against the outcropping and cursed. "Sorry, buddy. The sun was in my eyes or else I would've warned you sooner." Marcus suddenly turned to face his rescuer, his face flushed in anger. He jabbed a finger into Scott's chest.
"If I'm unable to go back to work due to my…unforeseen injuries…then there's only one person they'll hold responsible. You." Scott brushed the hand aside and gave Marcus an encouraging shove forward.
"That's a conversation for your lawyer. In the meantime, we've gotta pick up the pace before the sun goes down. Shall we?" With a final glare, the man turned away and a heavy silence fell between them.
Scott could barely contain the flare of anger that burned through his core, simmering just below the surface. With a clenched jaw he followed Marcus through the foliage and tried to keep the rising anger at bay.
The miles passed slowly as Scott was subjected to Marcus's continued tirade. He was mocked and insulted at every turn and constantly reminded of his inferior social status. The view of the wreckage was a blessing for both men as they staggered, exhausted, next to the smoldering aircraft and stalked away from each other's company to nurse their searing tempers. Memories of the mission came unbidden to Scott's mind as the crackling embers pulled his gaze to the twisted mess of metal at his feet.
The plane's controls had jammed, forcing the vessel into a set collision course into the craggy wilderness below. Scott had elected to board the aircraft through an open hatch with his jetpack while Virgil remained in Thunderbird Two and steadied the descending airliner with grapples from above.
One by one, the passengers were safety relocated to the green transport vehicle, save for the pilot, whose torso remained trapped under a pile of unsecured cargo. Despite his best efforts, Scott couldn't free Marcus in time before the plane tore from Thunderbird Two's hold and careened into a dizzying free fall. At some point during the disorienting shift in gravity, Scott was thrown across the cargo bay and his head struck the side of the steel interior. The rest of the rescue resurfaced as a confusing blur of frightening images and sounds.
Scott pieced together his fragmented thoughts, bridging the gaps that his stunned mind hadn't been able to remember. He gathered that he'd somehow secured Marcus against his chest and completed an emergency tandem jump with the jetpack out of the doomed aircraft. And, by some miracle, they'd survived the harsh landing. Scott had the vague feeling that he'd taken the brunt of the impact, if his screaming body was any indication.
Even a crash is a good landing as long as everyone's alive. Scott smiled a little sadly at the words. It was one of the first lessons he'd learned under his Dad's tutelage, and the simple advice soothed his frayed nerves. He spared a glance at his disheveled companion. Apparently Marcus didn't feel the same way.
Scott shielded his eyes from a familiar spotlight as Thunderbird Two hovered overhead and bathed him in a golden orb. He breathed a sigh of relief. It was time to go home. Scott approached the surly man in his care. He offered Marcus his hand, as an olive branch of sorts, but his help was predictably refused.
"You'll be hearing from my attorney within the hour," the man sneered, brushing by Scott's shoulder as he stood. "You'll pay for what you've done."
The eldest Tracy brother bit back an ugly retort while he watched Marcus turn on his heel and enter the landed Thunderbird. He barely registered Virgil's arrival as his brother wrapped an arm around his shoulders and steered him toward the rescue vehicle.
"Get me outta here, Virg" was all Scott could manage without tearing down his carefully placed walls in a full-blown rage. If his younger sibling noticed his tense frame and clenched fists, he didn't comment on it. Instead he strengthened his hold as Scott's legs nearly buckled beneath him.
"FAB, Scott. Let's go home."
By the time Scott and Virgil had dropped off their seething passenger and returned to the comfy confines of Tracy Island, the Thunderbird One pilot's restraint had finally snapped. They sat alone in the hangar against the side of Virgil's pride and joy while Scott unleashed his full fury.
"I SAVED him, Virg! I saved his LIFE!" Scott screamed. His chest heaved as the bottled emotions from earlier started to bleed out as visibly as his myriad of weeping cuts. "I did everything I could for that man! EVERYTHING! I risked my life for him! I did my JOB!" He buried his head in his hands and tried to quell the tremors that wracked his body. He was grateful for Virgil's comforting silence and felt the calloused hand of his brother clasp his shoulder reassuringly. Scott leaned into the touch as another sob tore from his lips. "He's going to end my career, Virg." At this, the pianist gave Scott a light shake.
"Take it easy, Scott. You did everything right. A textbook rescue. I saw it happen with my own eyes, remember?"
"What if they take away my pilot's license?" Scott persisted, voice cracking as he shielded his face with his forearms. "Virgil, he's gonna sue me. They're gonna pick apart my decisions. The time I was in that plane is all a blur. What if he twists my story? Oh, God, Virg, what if that man makes something up and uses it against me—"
"You'll be fine, Scott," the dark-haired sibling said with a wry grin. "Because you have something he doesn't."
"What's that? Integrity?" scoffed Scott.
"No. Even better. A built in recorder," came the reply. He gave Scott's comm a gentle tap. "Just because communications were down doesn't mean it wrecked the audio. And I have a feeling we're gonna find all the proof we need to face any legal action this Marcus takes against us. Well, that and my shining testimony." He ruffled Scott's hair obnoxiously and evoked a small chuckle from the eldest Tracy. "Really, Scott. It's gonna be okay. Did you know that the passengers you single-handedly rescued all volunteered to help look for you? That's the kind of impression you made. Trust me. We'll make it through this."
"I know," Scott finally answered. His battered body gave in to Virgil's embrace and he rested against him for support. Virgil took this as a cue to help Scott to his feet and guide him to med bay. "Thanks, Virg."
"What are brothers for?" There was a pleasant silence, then— "Hey, Scott. At least tell me that you punched that rat-faced weasel in the face." Scott grinned.
"I did better than that. Arm bar."
"Arm bar? Now this I've gotta hear."