Thunderbirds – All For a Pair of Shoes.
By Allyson.
(A/N – I don't own Thunderbirds, just having a bit of fun.)
"Goddamn shoes!"
Her feet were killing her. She could already feel the blisters welling up on her toes and arches, rubbing against the painted leather of her killer heels in sore red blobs. She came to an abrupt halt causing her companion in front of her to turn around in panic. Ignoring him, she pulled off her shoes and picked them up before continuing to run. The sting of gravel chips had never felt so good.
"Tin-Tin! What are you doing? Leave the shoes!"
She speared the man a look as she ran passed him, causing him to chase after her.
"You do not leave designer heels behind, Virgil," she snapped.
"Isn't your life more important?" he managed to say without panting as he caught up with her.
"Not when they're Lady Penelope's shoes!" protested Tin-Tin.
Virgil just growled in response before grabbing her hand and pulling her onwards. Behind them, the avalanche of snow built up in momentum and ate up the landscape. The roar of snow reverberated in their ears as the snow rushed towards their heels at an alarming rate.
Tin-Tin stumbled on numb toes, dropping one of the shoes. She snatched it back before Virgil could pull her away.
"Go!" shouted Virgil, pushing her forwards and grasping the shoe straps out of her hand.
"Virgil," she protested, before seeing him stuff the shoes into the backpack he had slung over one shoulder, never once breaking his stride.
She flashed him a grateful smile before focussing her attention on running for her life. The small Swiss village had obviously managed to evacuate everybody once the emergency alarm had first sounded. Evidently, the locals were used to such occurrences. Unlike Tin-Tin, Virgil and Gordon who had arrived the day before a well-earned vacation. Tin-Tin frowned in concern. Where was Gordon? Glancing at Virgil, she could see a similar worried expression gracing his features as he scanned the empty streets. While Virgil and Tin-Tin had left the hotel that morning for a scenic walk around the base of the mountains, Gordon had mentioned taking a dip in the hotel pool before hitting the slopes.
"Gordon, where are you?" Virgil shouted into the communicator hidden in his watch, hoping he would be heard over the crashing snow.
"Heads up, kids!" Gordon's cheerful voice, laced heavily with static, caused both Virgil and Tin-Tin to jerk their heads up in surprise. Just in front of them hovered the private Tracy jet they had used to get to Switzerland. "No time to play in the snow today, get on board quick!"
Swooping the jet further to the ground, a set of steps emerged from the open doorway. Virgil watched as Tin-Tin practically hurled herself up the steps, landing in an ungraceful heap inside. With a last spurt of energy, Virgil jumped onto the bottom step, turning in time to see a deadly curtain of white catching his heels.
"Gordon! Take her up!" He called out as he pulled himself to safety and slammed the hatch closed.
The jet banked upwards as the roar of snow passed millimetres beneath its wings. Tin-Tin and Virgil managed to find their seats behind Gordon and strap in before their getaway was buffeted by bone-wracking turbulence. The next five minutes of haphazard flight threatened to reveal the contents of Tin-Tin's stomach and even caused Gordon to loose a shade of colouring. Virgil, however, watched the innocent-looking white path of destruction engulf their empty hotel.
"That'd make a great watercolour," he murmured to himself, eyes riveted on the rainbow-tinted snowflakes that coated the ground and only allowed the odd wooden roof to peek through.
Gordon's jaw all but dropped as he briefly pitched an astonished look at his older brother. "You want me to drop you off so you can paint an avalanche!?"
Virgil smiled in amusement and shook his head. "Let's just go home."
They arrived back at Tracy Island to a wonderful reception of warm blankets, hot food and hot chocolate (as Virgil had called his Father in advance to tell him what had happened and to reassure everyone that they were all unharmed). While Grandma fussed over Tin-Tin's frozen feet and Gordon was entertaining Scott and his father on hi amazing skills as a pilot, Virgil found himself content to listen to everyone else's conversations. Sat on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket and clutching his empty mug of chocolate in his hands, Virgil had almost fallen asleep against Scott's shoulder when Alan stormed into the room.
"Why are Tin-Tin's shoes in your bag?" demanded Alan, standing over Virgil, trying to look threatening while brandishing a pair of bright pink stilettos.
"Get a grip, Alan," replied Scott.
"Yeah, Al, I didn't know you were so attached to those pink heels," smirked Gordon, causing Tin-Tin to giggle. "Though they do match the colour of your cheeks."
"She wouldn't leave them behind," replied Virgil, trying to stifle a yawn. "Could'a just bought a new pair," he mumbled, sleepily, after a moments thought.
"I'd like to see you pay $2,500 for a new pair of shoes for Lady Penelope," responded Tin-Tin, grinning at the scandalized expressions on the Tracy men's faces.
"But they're just shoes!" Scott spluttered, in shock.
Tin-Tin reached over and took the pink items from Alan's disapproving hands. She frowned in disappointment to herself.
"Shoes that are scuffed," she muttered, in disappointment to herself, as she rubbed at an almost invisible mark on the toe of one of the shoes. "She'll never lend me a pair of shoes again."
"Don't worry," grinned Gordon. "You can always borrow a pair of my work boots."
Tin-Tin wrinkled her nose in disgust as Alan smirked at the suggestion.
"Hey, guys keep it down, will you?" Scott said, gesturing to a slumbering Virgil by his side. "Sleeping Beauty's finally out of it. Who'd have thought that rescuing a pair of shoes would be so tiring?"
The End.