Lucky or Unlucky? Chapter 1, a thunderbirds fanfic

Disclaimer: I don't own thunderbirds or anything mentioned/ referenced from the tv show such as the charcaters- I just own the plot of this story the contents of the story and my OC

Enjoy

Lucky or Unlucky

Chapter 1~ Trapped

She was forced awake by a massive cough; it was so forceful that her whole entire body moved with the cough forcing her to sit on her hands and knees as her body attempted to rid itself of dust and small bits of debris. Her hands and knees started to bleed due to the amount of force and movement her body shook against the pieces of ceiling, shrapnel, and glass that was covering the floor. She eventually stopped managing to raise her head away from all the dust on the ground and took a slow breath in, managing to avoid another coughing fit from the dust swirling around her.

"Ow. That hurt."

Her mouth moved into a small smile at the understatement of how much pain she was in right at that moment. Not only was her throat sore, scratchy and dry as a desert, her palms and knees were stingy from the open wounds, not mention how her whole body felt like it had just been slammed into a concrete wall. Somehow just saying "ow" was ridiculous. She felt a bubble in the pit of her stomach and bit her lip to keep it from spilling out.

Hysteric giggle fits were not what the situation called for.

Speaking of situations, she pushed herself up onto her knees and looked up at where she had originally been before. There was just massive hole above her head where the ceiling of the third floor down from her original floor would have been. She left out a small sigh of relief at the dimensions of all the floors above the ground floor, and that this floor had held out otherwise she doubted she would have made it without a few broken bones and a concussion. Or worse. She looked down to see the elevators and the stairwell.

The blocked stairwell.

What would have been her only chance to get out was completely blocked off by fallen concrete, wood and large massive parts of the ceiling. It would take a miracle and super strength to move it all, plus she had no way of knowing how structurally sound it was or if even the staircase has survived at all or if the exit right at the bottom was blocked. She was trapped. Unless, unless she could get help.

Wincing at a sudden pang of pain coming from her knees, she gently stood up, reaching her arms out wide to lessen the chance of falling due to bad balance, or her legs giving out. It took longer than she would have liked due to the wounds on her knees, but eventually she was standing, on unsteady legs, but they were good enough to walk on for the time being. Ignoring the feel of liquid running down her claves she took a small step towards an area that had several rays of light streaming into the room in between several large pieces of wood and ceiling. Carefully pushing the debris out of her way, she discovered a window looking down into the streets of London. Using the sleeve of her jacket she cleaned the window and looked down.

She wished she hadn't.

What had once been a busy bustling street of pedestrians and vehicles was now a wasteland of blown out cars and buses on fire, piles of glass and pieces of pavement scattered around. This didn't look like London, and where there had once been thousands of people just walking down the street there were now just hundreds of bodies and a splatters of red all over. Part of her prayed that all those bodies were just mannequins blown out from whatever blast had happened, but she knew deep down that not all of the lifeless figures on the ground were just moulded plastic.

The bubbling she has felt earlier in the pit of her stomach suddenly returned and she clamped a hand over her mouth. Her shoulders started to shake at the force of her trying to suppress the hysterics that were bubbling higher and higher up through her chest. She stumbled away from the window and lost her balance, falling onto the ground just managing to miss impaling herself on piece of shrapnel metal sticking out of the ground. She clamped her other hand on her mouth breathing hard as she tried to force the bubbling sensation back down. It took so much force and effort that her stomach wretched and she was on her hands and knees again, emptying the contents of her stomach. Her body was soon dry heaving and she pulled herself back up onto her knees even as her body continued dry heaving.

She took a few unsteady breaths in as her body continued to dry heave and eventually managed to make it stop. She went to wipe her mouth with her hand only to stop just in time to remember that her mouth was covered in sick and she had no way of cleaning it off.

"Ugh, great, just great." Was all she could say as she searched her jacket pockets for a tissue, sending a pray of thanks as she found a scrunched up one tucked away in her breast pocket, along with a couple of mints. At least they would stop her mouth tasting of regurgitated breakfast. She wiped her mouth and re-scrunched up the tissue and went to throw it away, only to realise that there was no bin, nor was there any point. She let out a bitter laugh at her actions, even amongst all this chaos she didn't want to litter. She knelt there laughing bitterly with the tissue scrunched up in her cupped her hands until her laughter turned to tears and she rested her head on her thumbs rocking slightly as she wept.

And then there was a sound of screaming.

The sun was already hot and bright, despite it being early in the day as its rays glided their way through the patio doors and into the living room of the Tracy household in the early hours of the day. The tropic birds that lived on the island were calling each other softly in the distance while the gentle Pacific Ocean waves lapped against golden sandy beach in a soothing manner.

All of this was ignored by the man in his late fifties sitting at a large mahogany desk in front of a tall bookshelf. His classic handsome features that age had only accentuated were marred by the deep frown he was wearing as he read the most up to date newspaper. As he continued to read he shook his head seemingly disgusted at the contents of the article. He was so engrossed he didn't notice a tall young man in his late thirties enter the room.

"Father?" His voice was deep, which went along with his classic handsome features and aura of masculinity in its prime. "You wanted to see me?" At that moment his voice was unsure and slightly annoyed.

Jeff looked up from his desk and blinked surprise evident on his face that he hadn't heard his son come in. He closed his paper and then went about folding it width wise then length wise before putting it down onto his desk and smoothing it out. During that time he kept glancing at his son who was standing back straight, legs shoulder width apart and arms straight and hanging down by his side. Even now Jeff wondered when his eldest son would forget all that the air force had taught him, it had been 5 years since he had left, and still Scott had yet to let go of the armed forces way of standing. He gave a glance at his son's face not surprised that he showed a calm and happy face, not even any slight annoyance at waiting so long for his father's reply. He looked down at the photo in the newspaper and frowned.

"I wanted to talk to you about something." Jeff said picking up a brown folder off the desk labelled as `project streamline' and placing it in front of him. Jeff briefly looked up at his eldest son to watch his reaction and wasn't surprised that his face was still the same, Jeff opened the folder nonchalantly and began flicking through the contents all the time aware of his son's eyes watching him like a hawk.

Scott had a reason to be watching his father like a hawk, the project his father was glancing through was something that he had personally been working on for the last two years. A project to not only expand Tracy corporations but to also bring in a new kind of air experience for standard class passengers that was cost effective and quick. He had done a large amount of research into global and local airlines for standard class, going into not only the most commonly used series of planes for such journeys, but also the seating plans, details into a typical travellers experience and the economic side of it all. There had been a lot of number crunching into how much each traveller cost and how the pricing worked, and if he wanted to take it globally like it said in his plan then he had also crunched the numbers for each country. It had been a lot of work, but he had been thankful and lucky enough to work with a small loyal group that had liked his idea when he had pitched it to them two years ago. Even with their help though he had had to do a lot of the work himself, from the business plan, to the design of a new type of plane series that could revolutionise global air travel.

It was also something he had left his entire family in the dark about, even his father and Brains- whose loyalty was unquestionably to the head patriarch of the family. Scott had not wanted his father's involvement in this until the very end when he was hundred percent positive, and had the facts and figures and specialists backing, that the project was steady enough to last at least ten years not matter what happened in the global financial market. Alongside the other projects his father had him working on and International Rescue it had been a very tiring two years, but two years he had enjoyed nonetheless. This project was ready, all it needed was his father's approval in front of the board members, who were behind Scott all the way with it, and then he could get it started. On that thought he gripped his hands tighter behind his back and straightened even more as he watched his father come to the end of the folder.

Neither spoke as Jeff finished the folder and went back to the business plan Scott had suggested for the next ten years, each seeming to size each other up waiting for the other to make the first move. Jeff was secretly surprised that his son hadn't asked him anything on his thoughts about the project, while Scott was not a rash impulsive and impatient person like many of his other sons; he was never usually this patient when it came to projects like the one he was suggesting. In fact Jeff was impressed with the way he was acting; it gave him more confidence that Scott was thinking more like a business man rather than a RAF pilot would.

Jeff studied Scott for a moment in the way his was presenting to himself like he would do to any worker in his business if they were presenting a new idea for the company and waiting for his answer. Scott was standing tall and with his back straight, feet shoulder width apart with his hand behind his back, giving the impression of a calm and collected man with a lot of confidence in both his abilities and the proposed project. It was the crisp sky blue eyes that was just watching, missing nothing, that gave his son's leadership skills away, his eyes in any business meeting would speak of man who was always in control an could make quick decisive decisions, even if they were hard decisions to make. Those eyes made Jeff swell with a small amount of pride that his eldest was slowly growing into the kind of man suited to take over Tracy corporation, he glanced back down at the folder, it was a good plan, something that would not only out Tracy corporation on top but help with the growing concerns of the environment and the cost of fuel, he understood why the board of directors were practically begging him to except the proposal. He looked back up at Scott who still hadn't moved, nonetheless it was too soon.

"It's a great idea." Jeff started giving his son his due praises, "I'm really impressed with what you've done in just two years." Jeff stopped at the sight of the frown on his son's face, his sky blue eyes had darkened to that of a stormy day's promise, anyone else would have probably shrunk away from that gaze, but Jeff wasn't anyone else.

"What's the matter?" Jeff asked his son curious about the frown, "I'm telling you it's a great idea."

"That praise sounds like you have a problem with the project sir." Scott stated calmly in his deep masculine voice.

Jeff inwardly winced, he had hit the nail on the head, he did have a problem with the project, small praises of encouragement was obviously not what Scott wanted. A definite answer of yes or no was all he was looking for, though all the evidence and hard work pointed to a yes, Jeff was leaning towards a no and Scott had picked that up. In some ways Jeff mused, Scott was too much like him in many ways, while his younger brothers would have been chuffed at that praise Scott had seen past that and heard the underlying issue.

Scott was inwardly churning all the plans and proposals of his idea in his head trying to find something that he had missed, a weak link of some sort that his father would question, anything to understand the doubt in his father's eyes at his proposal. His small team and is father's most trusted colleague had all assured Scott that the proposal was water tight, that only a madman would reject the idea. Even as he went over everything he knew that there was nothing wrong with what he had outlined, that everything was planned and prepared for, any financial or global disaster taken into account for, the design of the planes themselves were what should have sold them to his father, let alone the careful thought out plan.

So why the doubt? It didn't make any sense.

"It's an amazing plan, well thought out, planned for anything that could affect it, all possible problems have several possible methods of resolve." Jeff continued on as he went through each page, ignoring the deepening of his son's frown and eye colour, "The series of planes you've designed are not only beautiful, but practical for the market you're aiming for. The advanced engineering for the planes...well I've never seen anything like it."

"All I had was an idea, Tom Foster had the skills to help me bring it out of my head into a working successful possibility." Scott said, "No actually," Scott said shaking his head, "he helped bring it to life as the new way forward."

On that sign of praise Jeff did note that Scott's eye lightened and his frown lessened, giving the impression of a proud young man in his creation. In the back of his mind Jeff wondered how long it had been since he had seen such a look in his eldest's face, that boyish smile of achievement, pride and joy. He filled that thought away for later; he had more impending things to worry about, like his son's reaction to the reason behind his doubt.

"Really Scott I am impressed with what you've achieved," Jeff watched the deep frown return as well as the darker eyes, "But I'm just concerned about one small thing." Jeff said still proud that Scott had not once shown hurt, rejection or any sign of giving up at his doubts on the project. In fact Scott had seemed to grow taller; his eyes darkened considerably giving the impression that he was someone you should not say no to or cross.

"What's the area you have concerns for sir?" Scott asked, "If you layout all the points I can get back to my team and have it sorted in under an hour." His confidence in both himself and his team and their abilities to work out anything to make it more presentable was impressive, Jeff just didn't know if it could be sorted.

"My concern," Jeff began surprised at the steely impenetrable gaze of his son, "Is that it's too soon." Scott's frown deepened and his eyes once again returning to the colour that promised of a storm on the way.

"Too soon?" Scott asked cocking his head slightly to the left, giving Jeff the impression that he found that statement funny, "Sir I can reassure you that with what I'm proposing that it's not too soon." The corners of his mouth lifted for a slight fraction, Jeff felt a little bit ruffled at his son's amusement, "In fact sir it may be advanced but with the rising prices in fuel and the inflation, for any price it couldn't come sooner, it's what the market needs to kick start it."

"I agree with you there." Jeff said and he watched the amusement disappear from his son's posture, and a small flicker on confusion appeared briefly in his eyes before being replaced by the imposing frown.

"Then may I ask what you feel is too soon about the project I'm proposing?" Scott asked his voice a sea of calm, not giving away the annoyance and anger at his father's doubts that was boiling in the pit of his stomach. The only give away sign was the tightening grip on his hands, but they were out of view. He had been so sure; the facts and figures were all there saying that now was the time to act. So what was it that his father couldn't get past? What was it?

"I meant Scott that..." Jeff began only to stop and sigh. He relaxed his pose and closed the file, standing up and taking the folder round his desk until he was standing head to toe to his son. He handed the file out to his son, who refused to even look at it, his eyes focused solely on Jeff's own face, even Jeff who was a man experienced in business and a force to be reckoned with was a little put off by the level of intimidation and demand that swirled in his son's usually sky blue eyes. Jeff sighed again and rubbed his face.

"What I meant Scott, "Jeff tired again softly, not meeting Scott entirely in the eyes, "son what I meant is that it's too soon for you." Jeff saw confusion flicker in his son's face for a small moment before it was replaced by a blank wall of calm; the only sign of any reaction to his words was the storm of emotions, emotions that Jeff couldn't label, and the straightening of his son's back to his full height.

"What exactly do you mean that it's too soon for me sir?" Scott asked in an eerily calm voice, while inside he was choked full of bitter emotions that he was struggling to keep a hold of. His only outlet for them was the deathlike grip he had on his hands. There had to be a valid reason behind his father's statement, there always was, even if it didn't make any sense to Scott his father always had a valid reason.

"What I mean Scott, for something of this calibre," Jeff waved his hand over the folder to indicate what he was talking about, "Needs someone capable to make tough decisions, to take on a huge amount of responsibility and leadership." Jeff glanced at his son; the calm face he had worn earlier had vanished and was replaced with a look of pure dumbfounded confusion, and something else in his eyes that Jeff couldn't put his finger on.

"Son," Jeff said softly smiling as he placed a supportive hand in his eldest's shoulders, "you just need to wait a little while longer to build up the necessary skills for this kind of project, in three or four years you can start again."

Scott stared at his father blankly while his mind tried to go over everything that his father had just said. He didn't have the necessary leadership skills for this? Couldn't make any hard decisions? Wait three or four years and then start all over again? Before he knew it he body was burning with a quiet bubbling rage that was slowly building up to a huge force of emotion that Scott desperately tried to keep a lid on. Blowing up in his father's face was not the way to gain support or change his mind. So he kept the blank expression on his face to not show his father how badly those statements had affected him, the only physical indicator that his father might have noticed was how white his hands had gotten from the amount of pressure Scott was forcing on them.

"May I speak sir?" Scott asked, happy that his voice was calm and neutral.

"Of course son." Jeff said giving him a reassuring squeeze that was when Scott looked down to see his father's hand on his shoulder. He shrugged the hand off his shoulder and took a step back to try and calm the boiling rage before he attempted to speak.

"With all due respect sir I think," Scott paused, "in fact I know have the necessary leadership skills sir in order to make my proposal work successfully." Scott emphasised, "Father for the past four years I have been the mobile control leader of International Rescue. For the past four years I have lead my brothers into dangerous situations which could have got any or all of us killed. I have been at the worst of humanity and nature and have skilfully managed each time to lead me and my brothers through each rescues call, through each mission, each crisis. "Scott said, his voice rising slightly in volume, his hands now shaking with the pressure he was forcing on them in order to suppress the anger he felt.

"I understand that Scott however..." Jeff started but Scott cut him off, knowing if he stopped now then it would be all over and had to fight for this. Scott had to fight for this, knowing his father was wrong.

"Do you?" Scott asked his father raising an eyebrow, silencing has father before he could protest, "Most of those missions sir I have made the decisions of which equipment would be best for each mission, I have dealt with concerned families, politicians, various rescue teams from several different cultures. I've had to tackle armed forces commanders, deal with men and woman who don't like not being first in command even when they are completely out of their depth." Scott explained taking a determined step back towards his father.

"Yes but tough decisions Scott..." Jeff started but once again was interrupted by Scott.

"Tough decisions like destroying that Pyramid? Purposely destroying an entire culture for the greater good of the world?" Scott asked looking his father right in the eye; Jeff was met with the darkest swirls of blue he had ever seen in his son's eyes.

"Tough decisions like shooting down people who have either taken video or photographic recordings of our equipment, or put both our team and innocent lives at risk? Allowing innocent civilians to die because there was no possible way to save them despite the equipment we have because we can't save a small set of lives over many more? Like sending my own brothers, my own flesh and blood, into such dangerous situations, watching them risks their lives for people who at the end of it will carry on with their lives regardless of whether or not we live?" Scott demanded.

Jeff collapsed on his desk too stunned for words, shocked at his usually clam son's sudden outburst of protest. He didn't know what to make of it. His eldest son, his Scott, his son that always followed his orders without question, who always believed in his every word to the very last letter, who had never stepped out of line was saying no. Scott was saying no to his father. He really didn't know what to make of it. However Scott had to see it his way, he had to understand that there was more to it than that. Scott wasn't ready for this kind of responsibility.

"Scott while you have made some very good points about what you've achieved in International Rescue that does not mean..." Jeff started

"Don't you dare." Scott seethed shocking Jeff out his speech, their eyes locking. They fell into a heavy silence filled only with the sound of their breathing.

There was loud familiar beeping noise and both Scott and Jeff immediately turned their heads to see John's eyes of his portrait light up and flash. The tensions in the room breaking as if it had never been there. A button was pressed and the gold plated paper weight lifted up. Scott felt his father's gaze on him and he looked back at him.

"We'll continue with this later son." Jeff said ending their conversation and turning his attention to the John's face, "Go ahead John."

When John's face came onto the screen, Scott knew that this was going to be a bad one; his usual pale face was so white that he looked like a ghost and the dark sad look in his eye was one Scott hadn't seen for a long time.

"There's been several bombs go off in one of the busier streets of London father..."John paused as if to recollect his thoughts, "It's bad, really bad."

"John how bad?" Scott asked a sinking feeling started in the pit of his stomach, how many lives had already been lost? How many bodies were they just going to be bringing up so grieving families could have some time of closure?

"The worst of it happened in the street a lot..." John's voice cracked and he took a deep breath to keep his composure, "a lot of civilians on the streets were hit in what the police have worked out as seven blasts so far, the rescue services are completely out of their depth with this."

"What's the situation there?" Jeff asked, "I thought the rescue services of London were prepared for events like this."

"From what I've gathered it's just the sheer scale of it." John said, "There was no warning or indication of anything suspicious. It's like they just got blitz attacked." John said, "The bombs seemed to have been placed randomly, that's what the Police are saying."

"What do they need us to do?" Scott asked

"The Police are barely coping with the amount of hysteria and hoards of people trying to make it into that part of the city. The local rescue, ambulances are struggling with the sheer volume of injured, fires and amount of people in need. There are a lot of buildings severely damaged in the blasts and the fire teams are trying to assert whether or not any of the buildings are structurally safe, then there's finding any survivors among the rubble, wreckage and bodies." John informed them.

"So they want help to not only clear the area but help with rescuing survivors." Jeff said, "This is going to be difficult with just the clean up let alone the rescues. John do they know the exact numbers that were caught in the blast? Or the size of the area that was hit?" Jeff asked

"The area they said was affected was about a mile roughly." John said

"Well at least that's not too bad." Jeff mumbled, "What about the numbers? What are we looking at here?"

"Anywhere from two thousand to seven thousand I'm afraid." John said in his apologetic tone.

Jeff paled slightly at the numbers; this was going to be the hardest test for International Rescue, for the equipment and for his boys. He glanced up at Scott slightly not surprised to see him watching his brother intently. Yes this was going to be a difficult test, one which Jeff knew with confidence they would prevail.

"You can't get a better fix on the figures can you?" Jeff asked. John shook his head.

"The Police have told me there's no way of clearly knowing, the only lists of figures they do have are the electronic sign in sheets from the office buildings and each stores employees lists. Even those are numbering in the hundreds, they have no way of knowing about the civilians on the streets, and then there's the road, the road itself had a traffic jam. They just have no way of knowing." John said.

"A traffic jam along a mile stretch of road." Jeff mumbled, trying desperately to take it all on. Would their equipment be able handle such a huge job? Would they have enough to help out? Would the equipment they had be right for the job? Jeff shook his head now was not the time to question what him and Brains had built.

"Jesus." Jeff looked up at his son's curse and saw him rubbing his eyes with his hands. Now was not the time for thought, time for action.

"Scott set off immediately and get the rest of the details from John as you head towards London." Jeff commanded, "John I want to relay all incoming calls to Scott from the rescue services in charge, the more information Scott has the quicker he can tell us which equipment Thunderbird 2 will need."

"Yes sir." John said

"Yes sir." Scott said running towards the door to his bird.

"I'm getting Virgil, Gordon, Alan and Brains to Thunderbird two, we're going to need all the help we can get." Jeff said to Scott as he placed his hands in on the light feature mechanisms, said men entered through the living room door.

"Right this is a bad one boys, I'm going to need all of you for this one, London's been hit and the rescue services..." Scott didn't manage to here the rest as the swinging door mechanism locked him to place in front of Thunderbird One.

Usually in any situation Scott always had a small amount of enjoyment and amazement and the mechanics it took to get to Thunderbirds One however today the advanced technology seemed slow and heavy. It was probably impatience that made him feel like this. Impatience at getting in touch with those in charge of the rescue operations currently under way at the danger zone. Still a little thought niggled at Scott's conscious that he should talk to Brains at updating the systems to make them quicker.

As he changed into uniform there was another thought that entered his mind. Were they able to cope with the scale of this mission? Were he and his brothers especially ready for what waited for them when they arrived? Scott wasn't naive he knew that they would be seeing more dead bodies than survivors of all ages.

He tightened his grip on his controls as set off.

He just had to make sure that every life they saved was worth it.

The scream was one of pain and fear. It was loud and slightly high pitched as if a child's cry had been turned up. It was slightly distorted eswell, as if inside metal. She looked dazedly at the only metal in her sights, the elevators. How strange for a scream to sound so child like.

Like a child had screamed.

A child.

Children going down the elevator with a colleague right before the first blast.

Oh God! No!

She shot up and raced over towards the elevators. Her mind had finally clicked into place her earlier fascination with them, the kids- those stupid rotten spoiled kids had just gone down in the elevator when the first blast had struck. She knew from the staff training days if such a situation would ever occur even if it was an inkling of smoke, fire or a threat to the structure of the building the elevators would automatically stop on the nearest floor and lock all the doors. Thus stopping anyone from entering the elevators in an emergency. Or in this case any possible escape.

As she ran over all the rubble, she stumbled on something soft and fell to the floor face first; she splayed her hands out and cried out on pain as her open wounds came in contact with the harsh surface. Not giving any more though into it she pushed herself off and continued to run towards the elevators. She slammed into the first elevator door and pressed her ear against it trying to determine if the screams were coming inside. There was nothing at first, and she banged her first onto the door trying to get a response.

"Hello?" She cried out banging her fist again, trying desperately to remember if it had been Mavis who had collected the kids, and if she could remember anyone going into the elevator with the kids who would know the protocol. "If anyone is in there let me know." She banged two more times, "Just bang on the doors! Please let me know you're alright!"

Bang

Her head turned to the elevator in her right she pushed herself off and placed her head against the right elevators doors.

"Do that again." She called out crossing her fingers.

Bang

"Oh thank god." She sighed out, someone one is in there, it must have been Mavis, she was glad that she had managed to remember that someone had gone in the elevator with them "Okay I need to know something are all ten children in there...just bang once for yes and two for no."

Bang

"Are any of you injured?"

Bang

"Are any of your seriously injured?" There was no bang at all, what did that mean? Jesus what did that mean? She took in a shuddery breath in an attempt to calm herself down. Maybe there wasn't enough light? Or maybe Mavis didn't know what counted as a serious injury in a situation like this.

"Okay ignore that question. Mavis do you remember what you need to do in order to open the doors?" Again there was more silence. Oh god please don't say that Mavis can't remember or hadn't gone through the training yet.

"Mavis what's wrong?" there was still no answer and she banged on the door with her fist, "MAVIS! Answer me god damn it!" Still no reply, "MAVIS" Are you even in there?" She screamed slamming both fists down onto the doors.

Bang

Her whole body went still.

"The woman who came to pick you up earlier to take you downstairs," She gulped, "is she in there with you?"

Bang

"Was she with you when the first blast occurred?"

Bang

That didn't make any sense; she should have been in there with them. She saw Mavis go in the elevator earlier. How? Unless, unless someone had opened the elevator just before the blast and pulled Mavis off to talk to her. But then that would of had to of occurred in a space of 20 seconds...did the elevators go that fast? Or was it more likely that when she fell through the floors earlier she had been given concussion causing her memory to be a little fuzzy?

She shook her head, now wasn't the time to think about things like this. Her priority was getting the doors open and getting those kids out.

The designer and engineers of the building had made sure that if anyone for whatever reason were in the elevators at the time of an emergency, then they would immediately stop at the nearest floor while those trained, mainly first aiders would be able to open the doors via a manual operation system which was in a hidden panel between each elevator stall on ever floor. She was thankful she had received the training.

Her hands fumbled along wall in between the two elevators containing the call buttons, she scratched her nails against the wall in a desperate attempt to find the latch that would open the panel to the override system. Her nails suddenly went over a bump and her fingers fumbled in to press down hard enough to open the latch. A satisfactory click was heard and she pried the latch door open.

The latch door revealed a small cut out of the wall which hosted a grey panel that had one side a large first aid kit, a phone for contact for inside and outside help, another fire extinguisher, on the other side it contained another silver latch that was host to information on the elevators, a glass box containing a hammer and a large read lever inside another glass box. And it as that last glass box that she needed.

With as much force as she could she brought her fist down onto the glass, satisfied when she heard a small smash, it hadn't been enough to break completely but it was cracked. She brought down her fist a second time and was met with a satisfying sight of shattered and broken glass.

Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang.

She turned her head to elevator with the trapped kids, suddenly aware she wasn't sure how long she had not spoken to them.

"I'm here." She shouted out banging the door to give them some sort of comfort, "I've got what I need; I promise I will get you out as soon as I can. I'll be silent for a little while..." A large amount of banging interrupted her.

"Okay, okay stop." She shouted out, "I know, I know you're scared but to get you out I need all my concentration on the system to get you out." The banging stopped, "Do you understand?"

One small bang came out and she sighed with relief, "I'll be as quick as I can, but I promise you I'm not going anywhere. Is that okay?" another small bang answered, "Right I'm going to start now, on the count of three I'll be silent and will try to get the doors open is that okay?" Another bang. Right let's do this.

"On the count of three. 1...2...3..." She turned back to the lever and flipped up the silver latch. In the latch were a series of lights and switches indicating which floor the elevators were on, switches for each floor and two lights, one read and one green to operate the lever properly. She checked the lights and found that they were one the sixth floor. She linked, a little stunned.

They were on the sixth floor.

She glanced at the stairwell and took in the sight of the broken pieces of rubble blocking the way both up and down. They had originally been on the ninth and the stairwell was blocked both ends. How were they going to get out?

She shook her head, now was not the time to think about that. Get the elevator doors open, get the kids out and patch them up as best as she could. Worry about the rest after.

Taking the lever in one hand firmly checking that she had a good enough grip, she pulled the plastic tab covering the switch for her floor and pressed the switch down and quickly grabbed the lever with her other hand, eyes focused on the red light flashing. Ten seconds then she had to pull with all her might. She counted each second in her head, making it feel like longer, but never taking her eyes off the light. At the last second the red light was replaced by a green one and with as much force as she could muster she pulled the heavy lever to the other side. Not letting go until she heard a loud click. She looked up, glad to see that the green light had stayed green. Now she had to wait.

Her eyes switched to the elevator doors, her heart rate starting to pick up. Dear god it hadn't worked. The system had failed, or it had taken too much damage. Or...or...a loud sound of straining metal was heard and the doors to both elevators started to tremble. A whoosh of air followed and she let out a sigh of relief as the doors opened. She moved her head to look in to find ten pairs of eyes looking back at her in diluted light.

"Hi there." She said softly as the sight of ten injury ridden, terrified but otherwise okay children. "Let's get you guys patched up."

Okay that was one thing down, then she just had to patch them up then, then... how were they going to get out the building? Ignoring the rather depressing voice she went to grab the first aid kit.

Only to meet with the emergency phone ringing.

Too stunned to question she picked the phone up and held it to her ear.

"He...hello?" She asked unsure of what was going on.

"Hello?" Came the frantic reply, "This is International Rescue are you alright?"

She leaned against the wall. They were going to be saved.

Do you like so far? I know I've done Scott a little differently to others but this is how I see Scott being treated by his father- like all fanfiction it's personal opinion, and anyway there wasn't much in character development for Scott in the series.

I do hope you like it. Just no flames please- it's going to be ignored so not much point of flaming- just rant a bit out loud that always helps me!

Will have to wait a bit as I'm still currently writing chapter 2 keep checking in the next couple of weeks!

Review please