A/N: This is the longest and most serious/mildly angsty chapter. Things will pick up from next chapter, I promise!

Ever wondered what happened when Scott and Tin-Tin spent two days Christmas shopping on the mainland? Me too. Here's one possibility.

Chapter Two.

It took him a while, but Alan eventually started talking to Tin-Tin again. At first he was coolly polite, only speaking when necessary. Then he had a month on duty on Thunderbird 5, which gave him time to think, and seemed to help somewhat. When he'd come back, things had settled down almost to what they were.

Tin-Tin herself had been enjoying single life, taking the time to get her head together and her feelings in order. Once she'd done that, she'd taken a proper look at her life and realised with a jolt that it had barely changed. She felt awful. Alan had wanted a girlfriend, and she'd been possibly the most unsuitable woman for the job. She was ashamed that she'd let it go on so long.

Surprisingly, he seemed to have come to the same conclusion. On his first day back from space, he'd sought her out and apologised for the argument, and had followed it up with the admission that he thought she'd done the right thing (punch in the face notwithstanding – she'd already apologised multiple times for that). From that point on, their friendship had tentatively renewed itself.

Tin-Tin always felt a wave of relief when he flew off to the mainland for a date. It eased her guilty conscience. Guilt had been her constant shadow for far too long. She was getting tired of it, although she didn't feel enough time had passed to let herself off the hook. Whenever Alan returned, she interrogated him to find out how his evening had been, teasing out strands of information like unravelling wool from a sweater. The more he spoke about other women, the better she felt.

The other Tracys had just about stopped asking how she was. She was touched that they all cared, but she didn't like to be smothered. Only Gordon continued to ask on an almost-daily basis, because he knew it annoyed her. There was no maliciousness behind it, he just thought it was hilarious to see her glaring at him. She knew he was trying to make her smile, and it worked, so she forgave him. That didn't mean she didn't pelt him with cushions every time he asked, though.

On one occasion, when he'd been in a rare serious mood, he'd asked her and meant it, and she'd reassured him that all was well. Unlike everyone else, he'd looked decidedly unconvinced, and had made some off-hand comment about Scott. She couldn't remember what it was exactly, only that the look he gave her sent a ripple of alarm through her. Gordon was far more perceptive than anyone gave him credit for, but he was subtle with it, injecting enough levity to knock his own credibility slightly askew. When he didn't say anything more, Tin-Tin had put it down to her imagination, determined to assume that Gordon knew nothing.

She hadn't avoided Scott. On the contrary, she'd carried on as normal, never hesitating to seek him out when her job or her conversation needed his attention. Still, she was faintly taken aback by how often he sneaked his way into her thoughts. Had that been the case before? She wasn't entirely sure. Perhaps she'd simply not noticed. Either way, it was troubling. Despite what had happened at Christmas, it seemed grossly unfair to Alan to even consider getting involved with one of his brothers. After everything, she owed him that much. And so, she'd resigned herself to her fate: what had happened at Christmas was going to torture her, and there was nothing she could do about it.

Her good intentions turned out to be embarrassingly flimsy. Scott still drew her in, even without trying. She knew he suffered the same torture. The guilt got to him perhaps more than it got to her, but that wasn't all. She'd been hesitant to acknowledge the possibility that the guilt wasn't all that bothered him. She knew full well that she was risking her heart to even consider that he felt the other side of it too, but she was starting to detect things that could not be denied. As she found herself caught up in the exhausting habit of noticing every little thing there was to notice about him, it occurred to her that perhaps he was doing the same. Perhaps there was more scrutiny in his seemingly-casual glances than there appeared. He cared for her, she'd always known that. She was almost family, the same way that her father, Brains, and Lady Penelope were almost family, and if there was one thing Scott never held back on, it was caring for the people who mattered. The way he cared about her, however, was different. Instinctively she knew it, even though the part of her that suffered with low self-esteem kept telling her otherwise. The fact that nobody had seemed to notice was a testament to his control. It was humbling, all of it. She didn't know quite how to react.

When she thought about their shared past, which she tried to avoid doing for obvious reasons, there were one or two pieces of evidence that had slipped through his defences. Not least were his playful comments about her choice of swimwear. It was the most unsubtle he was capable of being. The rest were little things: times when she'd caught a certain expression on his face when he'd seen her with Alan, times when she'd glanced up unexpectedly and met his gaze, times when they'd been alone, (for whatever reason), and he'd been unusually tense, and times when Lady Penelope had made attempts to engage him in some causal flirting, to which he'd been increasingly, and rather endearingly, oblivious.

The evidence seemed conclusive, and yet she couldn't accept it. It was too…unlikely. What could she possibly have to offer a man who could, and pretty much did, have any woman he wanted? But he wouldn't toy with her, she knew that. So that implied something more, something thrilling and terrifying and depressing. Something she couldn't even admit, even in her head. It probably wasn't true. Just her overworked imagination. And even if it was true, she'd never know. His self-control was too strong. Save for that one time, his only slip-up.

Tin-Tin put down the book she was supposed to be reading, realising that she'd been on the same page for the past fifteen minutes. Letting out a brief grumble, she raised it again, determined to focus. She couldn't afford to think about it. It hurt, and the guilt was still there. But her mind never seemed to pay attention to her wishes. Inevitably, she thought back to that time, almost four months ago.

It was December 21st, and the island was in uproar preparing for its special guest, a child from Coralville Children's Hospital. Most of the patients were terminal, and Mr. Tracy had felt very strongly about giving one child the experience of a lifetime to brighten their short lives. They all wished they could do more, but there were some people in the world who were beyond even International Rescue's help.

Tin-Tin had let herself get caught up in the excitement. She liked having a lot to think about. She and Alan had been growing apart, despite his attempts to fish for reassurance at the Paradise Peaks Hotel. He'd asked her about Cass Carnaby, and there had been barely a trace of his usual all-consuming jealousy. Not that there was anything for him to be jealous of. She'd had fun accepting compliments from a famous musician, but that had been the extent of it. It could have been much more if she'd let it. She'd chosen not to. At the time she'd not been entirely sure why, since Cass had long been a crush of hers, and she probably would have enjoyed dating him. She'd attributed it to Alan at first. Now she was unsure, and she didn't like it.

Living with the Tracy brothers, (all fine, good-looking young men in their own right), and being the only young woman on the island for them to pay attention to, was something Tin-Tin enjoyed on a purely shallow level. She loved them all too much for it to get uncomfortable, and they her. When she'd hooked up with Alan, even though their relationship wasn't exclusive, there'd been no jealousy among the brothers. She didn't think they thought of her that way, and she'd been able to spend time with them without awkwardness.

But then Scott's beloved Thunderbird 1 had been shot down in the desert, and he'd stopped responding to communications. All of a sudden, Tin-Tin had developed an urgent smoking habit and a penchant for biting her nails. She'd not known what worry was until that moment. It had pulled her thoughts up short, and she'd been forced to face some difficult truths. Scott had gotten under her skin, and after noticing it once, she couldn't help noticing it every time she saw him. She'd brushed it aside, convinced that it would pass and that she'd fall in love with Alan the way she was supposed to. In hindsight, she knew she should have ended things then and there. Hindsight was smug that way.

Steadily, over the following months, it became increasingly hard to ignore, and put her feelings for Alan in perspective, which seemed entirely unfair. He could be very sweet, and she was sure she'd feel something more than the warm affection she currently felt towards him. Their relationship was comfortable, in every aspect. But, a disloyal little voice told her, some aspects of a relationship weren't supposed to be only comfortable.

Realising she was being unfair to Alan, she'd cautiously suggested that they take a break. Alan had met the suggestion with annoyance, and the whole thing had spiralled into an argument. She'd declared them over, and had hurried away to keep herself busy with the Christmas prep.

When Mr. Tracy assigned the task of present-buying on the mainland to Scott and her, she smiled, already looking forward to hitting the shops and burying her irritation over the argument. She took shopping very seriously, and was rivalled in her success only by Penelope, whose seemingly-unlimited budget gave her an unfair advantage. It wasn't until later, when she was strapped in the co-pilot's chair of the Ladybird jet with Scott barely half a foot away, that the butterflies decided to take up residence in her stomach, reminding her rather cruelly that her companion for the day was the guy she couldn't get out of her head. He was wearing his aviator shades, and was managing to look effortlessly cool as only he could. She slipped her own shades on, and smirked. They looked good together, she knew. It wasn't boasting, it was just one of those things. Undeniable, like whenever Virgil took Penelope out, his gentle charisma paired with her timeless grace. They made a handsome couple, and nobody could dispute it.

Scott cut into her thoughts, asking whether there was much to get. With some dry irony, she held up the list that Mr. Tracy had given her. The expression on Scott's face mirrored how her own had looked when she had first seen it. It was the length of at least five sheets of paper, covered with a mixture of Grandma Tracy's blocky, old fashioned handwriting, Jeff's neat scrawl, and her father's clumsy print.

"That's a joke, right?" Scott said, sounding more than a little unsure. "Tell me it's a joke."

"Why, are you amused?" she asked sweetly.

The radio crackled to life, informing them that they were clear for take-off.

"Is all this stuff absolutely necessary?" Scott said wearily.

"Yyyess," Jeff answered, sarcasm creeping into his slightly confused tone. "Otherwise you might fly into something."

"Not what I meant, and you know it!" he snapped back, guiding the little jet down the runway. "This isn't a list, it's an inventory! We're off duty!"

"Your point being?"

"This is clearly a military operation. We're unprepared. Tin-Tin's wearing heels!"

"Quit your complaining and concentrate on your flying! That was the worst take-off I've seen from you in a long time. Jeff out."

Scott let out a huff of mild irritation. He knew his take-off had been perfect, as it always was. Tin-Tin smiled, neatly folding the list.

"I already asked your father about this," she told him. "He says at least half of it is pre-ordered stuff that we just have to pick up. He's written the shops in brackets at the side."

Scott acknowledged her words with a nod. "I really hate shopping," he announced.

"Come on now, Scott, it might be fun! Shopping is an endurance sport, you're good at those. And at least you're off duty for a few hours."

"There is that," he conceded. "I guess it'll be okay. I mean, how bad can it be?"

When they reached their destination and surveyed the seething crowds of shoppers, they both knew immediately just how bad it could be.

"Why do people leave it to the last minute?" Scott grumbled.

"We're leaving it to the last minute," Tin-Tin pointed out.

"That's different!"

"Are you going to complain this much all day?"

"I might," he said, a twinkle in his eye. "It's a perk of being off duty."

Tin-Tin took an unwilling, clumsy step forward as she was elbowed aside by an enthusiastic customer. Scott automatically put a protective arm around her shoulders. She sternly told herself not to read too much into it. He was being kind.

"Where do we start?" he asked.

Fighting to keep the blush from her cheeks, she studied the list. "I...uh...hmm. Gosh. I think we need to strategize."

"Great! I need a coffee. There's a place over there."

He pointed to a shop on the opposite side of the mall. A thick layer of people crowded the way, moving like a parade of determined ants. They both stood and stared for a moment, wondering how they were going to cut through, and whether it was really worth it.

She turned to him, one eyebrow raised in question. "Do you really, really need coffee?"

She knew the answer, and he didn't disappoint. "Yup. Come on, deep breath."

He darted forward, plunging into the crowd, and she hurried to catch up. She almost lost him, her petite stature making it difficult for her to see over people's heads. He reached back an arm, and she grabbed his hand thankfully, letting him pull her through.

By some miracle, there was a free table near the door. Tin-Tin pounced on it immediately, letting Scott pay for the drinks. He sat patiently while she pored over the list, rewriting it on the back in an order that made the most sense based on the location of each shop. After that, and after the coffee had gone, there was nothing to keep them from facing the madness outside.

"I really don't think we're going to get all of this done in the time we have," Tin-Tin spoke up, biting her lip.

"I concur. Let's see where we are at 4:30, then we can decide what to do."

As it turned out, they'd not made as much of an impact on the list as they'd hoped. The jet was in a secure facility, so they loaded up what they'd bought, and hunted for a hotel to check into. Scott radioed the island to let them know what was going on. There was some minor embarrassment at the foyer when the receptionist mistook them for a couple, but they were soon on their way up to the 25th floor.

They settled into their rooms, were apologised to multiple times about the fact that there was a connecting door they didn't ask for, then headed down to dinner. Tin-Tin had mixed feelings about the cosy, candlelit tables in the restaurant. She was no stranger to intimate dinners. Every man she'd ever dated had known how to treat her well. There was a little awkwardness when she thought about dining with Scott that way, but she soon relaxed as they chatted, expressing their mutual admiration for the quality of the hotel, and discussing plans for the following day. They'd booked their rooms for two nights, just in case, and had purchased provisions, as Tin-Tin had firmly declared that she couldn't go without deodorant and clean underwear.

The food was surprisingly good. While they were waiting for dessert, Tin-Tin couldn't help but notice the admiring glances that Scott was receiving, from an impressive range of ages.

"What?" he asked her, observing her smirk over the top of his wine glass.

"Oh...nothing."

"I disagree, Miss Kyrano. Since I'm paying for dinner, the least you could do is tell me what's amusing you."

She leaned her elbows on the table, resting her chin on her clasped hands. "Well, Mr. Tracy, since you put it that way. I was amused by the looks you're receiving. At least half the women in the restaurant, and the blonde waitress, and the gay bartender."

"Uh huh," he said, nodding. Being looked at didn't faze him. "And what about yours?"

"My what?"

"Looks. You've been admired by at least seven men since we've been here."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "Have I? I didn't notice."

Scott smiled affectionately, apparently thinking of something he kept to himself. "No, you really didn't, did you? You genuinely have no idea."

She frowned, fixing him with a sharp look. "About what?"

"Have you looked in the mirror lately?"

"Why? Have I got something on my face? Is that what they're staring at?"

It was partly paranoia, and partly for effect, to see what he'd say next. Tin-Tin didn't always understand what men saw in her, but she wasn't ignorant of the fact that they saw something. She knew she shouldn't bait him, but she couldn't help herself.

He met her gaze for a long moment, perhaps sussing if she was fishing for compliments.

"No," he said simply, and didn't elaborate. "I've been getting quite a few glares from your admirers," he went on. "Guess they think we're a couple too."

"I can't blame them."

"No. It does look that way. Sorry."

"What for?"

"I thought it might be awkward for you, you know, because of Alan."

Tin-Tin felt a wave of guilt that she'd barely spared a thought for Alan all day.

"It's not awkward," she said. "We...I don't know what will happen. We've been growing apart. And we argued before I left. I...I tried to say I needed a break, but he wouldn't have it. I broke things off, but the conversation isn't over."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Scott said with a frown.

She shrugged, making it seem more casual than it was. "Maybe it's time."

"You've been together for a long time."

"Sort of. We were never really official. Other people made it so, throwing us together. Like your grandmother, for instance. I'll always be very fond of Alan, but people grow apart for all sorts of reasons. It might be foolish to ignore that and carry on regardless."

"I guess," he said, fidgeting in his seat. "You should discuss this with him."

She glanced down at the tablecloth, a blush sweeping her cheeks. "Of course. Sorry, Scott."

"Hey, don't be."

He gave her a reassuring smile, but there was a hint of distraction in it. She wondered what he was thinking about. He hadn't been distracted before she'd mentioned her troubles with Alan. With a jolt, a whisper of suspicion materialised. Surely he didn't... She couldn't even complete the thought. It wasn't possible.

The waitress arrived with their desserts, and the conversation moved on, much to Tin-Tin's relief. There was no more awkwardness for the remainder of the evening, until they'd both retired, and Scott had knocked on the connecting door in search of toothpaste. She was in her underwear, so she made him close his eyes, which he obediently did, despite pointing out that it was no different to when she swam in a bikini. She didn't comment, but it was different. Vastly so.

If he peeked while she was fumbling with the lid of the toothpaste, he gave no indication. She squeezed some paste onto his new toothbrush and bade him goodnight, shutting the door and leaning back against it. She wasn't actually embarrassed, not really. Why? Then it hit her. She thought he was too noble to look, but she didn't mind if he did.

Unthinkingly, she buried her face in her hands, whacking herself on the forehead with the tube of toothpaste. She gave a soft yelp, more in surprise than pain, then collapsed into giggles. With two large glasses of wine inside her, it seemed remarkably funny.

"Are you okay in there?" Scott asked through the door.

"I'm fine," she called back. "Just having a blonde moment."

"Don't let Penelope hear you say that."

"Goodnight, Scott."

"G'night."

The following day they both awoke with a single-minded determination to conquer the list. At nine a.m. sharp they were in the first shop. By five, they'd completed their mission and the jet was packed and ready to go.

Scott declared himself too exhausted to fly back, and radioed the island to report in. It was mostly true, Tin-Tin guessed. He was tired, and every pilot knew the dangers of flying without sufficient rest. But on the other hand, the International Rescue boys were trained to operate under harsh conditions. She was pretty sure he could have made the flight back if he really put his mind to it. She was secretly rather glad that he'd chosen to stay. He was more relaxed when off duty, and she felt it was good for him. On a more selfish basis, she was enjoying the time they were spending together. The butterflies and the constant feeling of hyper-awareness were addicting.

They ate another nice dinner in the hotel restaurant, taking turns to keep tally counts of the other's admirers. Once or twice, Tin-Tin caught herself actually flirting with him, which embarrassed and thrilled her in equal measure, especially when he responded in kind. Occasionally, a brief look of concern or self-reprimand crossed his face, and she realised that he was saying things almost against his will, aware that it would probably hurt Alan's feelings if he knew. She had no remedy to offer him, because despite that knowledge, she couldn't help herself either.

Out of nowhere, she was struck with the dizzying feeling that they were caught up in something that was bigger than they were, something they couldn't fight, like the undertow of the tide. She met Scott's gaze, the flickering candle flame reflected in his eyes, turning their usual azure calmness into an unexpected smoulder. He did not look like a man who was enjoying a nice relaxing dinner, but one whose mind was working overtime. She couldn't help but think that he felt a little of what she was feeling.

Back in her room, she kicked off her shoes, enjoying the feeling of the soft carpet under her sore feet. Tin-Tin was a natural in high-heeled shoes, but two whole days of shopping in them was not one of her best ideas. She threw her jacket over a chair and began to pace, agitated, excited, confused. He'd come knocking on her door soon, she knew. In search of the toothpaste again.

She bit her lip in thought. She knew what she wanted to do, and what was the right thing to do. They were not one and the same. She spent her life doing the right thing, sacrificing some freedoms for the sake of the organisation and the people it served. She never minded. On a more personal level, she'd given up a lot to keep Alan happy, and hadn't received quite what she'd hoped in return. It wasn't his fault, but it didn't make it any easier.

She came to a sudden halt. She had to end it for good. She had to end it, because it wasn't him she wanted. It was simple, really. In theory, at least.

There came a soft tap on the connecting door. With a sense of calm that surprised her, she crossed the room to open it. Scott gave her an apologetic smile, and she allowed herself a moment to study him. He was all confidence. He didn't know how else to be. A man who was fully aware of how handsome he was, how smart, how quick-witted, but with absolutely no trace of arrogance. She wondered how he kept all of that in balance, and how he managed to be so perfect without being dull. But of course, she was biased.

"Are you okay? You're just...staring at me."

Her eyes widened slightly, and she bit her lip. "Oh. Um...sorry. I was thinking."

"What about?"

"Despite the mission, I've had a nice time away," she said truthfully.

"Me too."

"You know how to treat a lady."

"I should hope so."

Taking her courage in both hands, she stepped forward and lightly pressed her lips to his. He moved back half a step.

"Whoa. What are you doing?"

She hesitated. What was she doing?

"You're drunk," he said gently.

"I'm tipsy," she corrected. "It doesn't make any difference. I'm...I suppose I'm doing what I want."

"And what about Alan?"

"We're not…I said we were over. I'm going to end it properly. After Christmas. I've decided. He won't even notice me while Penelope's staying. When we're both in the room, he…"

"Always looks at her," he cut in. "I know. I've noticed."

Shyly, she placed her palm on his chest, feeling his heartbeat under her fingers. "But you look at me," she went on. "I've...seen you."

He paused, then nodded wordlessly.

"Why?" She felt it was a question that needed to be asked.

He paused again, seemingly searching for the right thing to say. Finally he sighed. "Isn't it obvious?"

"No. You're unreadable."

"Well of course I'm unreadable," he muttered, contradicting himself. "You're my brother's girlfriend."

She sensed that that was as much of an admission as she was going to get. "You give up so much for the others," she said softly. "More than they know. You're strong, but who is there for you? You protect all of them, your father and your brothers."

"It's my duty."

"It's your compulsion. Why do you think I bring you coffee when you're too busy to ask for it? It's the only way I can support you."

"I just thought you could read my mind."

"Scott, I'm being serious."

"I know," he said quietly. "Thank you."

"I wish I could read your mind. Because maybe then I'd know what to do. Right now, I mean."

He held her gaze for a long, drawn out moment. Not because he had nothing to say, she realised, but so she'd treat it seriously when he did say something.

"We can't," he spoke up at length. "It's not fair on Alan. I don't know that it ever would be, even if you did break up for good."

She nodded. The rational side of her agreed, and she'd known he was going to say something like that.

He let out a sigh. "I was hoping we'd never need to have this conversation. I'd pretty much convinced myself that it was only me who was getting hurt."

She shook her head, slightly amazed that he could have thought that way at all. "So…" she began, "whatever this is...this is all it may ever be?" The thought made her chest ache.

Scott struggled with his answer, most likely choosing the one that would turn out to be true.

Finally, he settled on, "Probably."

Outwardly, his demeanour didn't alter, but she could see how torn up he was. For once he let his guard down and let her in, and didn't hide how he was feeling.

For the second time, Tin-Tin rose up on tiptoe and kissed him. He tensed and moved her backwards, his hands gentle but firm on her shoulders. Before he could put his mixed expression into words and chide her, she spoke up, her voice barely above a whisper.

"This is all this may ever be," she reminded him. "I…I just…" With an irritated huff, she snapped, "Be selfish just this once, Scott, please. I don't..."

The pressure of his lips on hers cut her off. One arm was around her waist, the other hand at the back of her neck, making her skin tingle pleasantly. She scarcely remembered tangling her arms around him, pressing herself closer than was wise. He tasted of coffee, with a faint touch of cigarette smoke, and an even fainter touch of wine. It was inherently Scott and entirely what she'd imagined.

They both knew that one kiss was all they had, and that it wasn't enough. They both knew they wanted more, and the longer they clung to each other, the more they became aware of just how easy it would be to give in. But they couldn't. It wasn't right. And with that heavy knowledge, they broke apart, both breathless, both with hearts too full for words.

There was a lengthy moment of silence. They gazed at each other without awkwardness, taking the opportunity to comprehend what each understood of the other. Then, inevitably, the mood was broken and Scott looked at the floor, running a hand through his hair.

"I shouldn't have done that," he said.

Tin-Tin swallowed a lump in her throat. She would not cry. Not now. "I...I'm sorry."

"It wasn't your fault."

She appreciated him saying so, but she knew it was. She was the one who had pushed him.

"I just want to..." she began. "If...if you regret it, please keep it to yourself. I'm not brave enough to hear it, I'm afraid."

A flicker of a frown crossed his brow. He cupped her face in his hands and fixed her with an earnest stare. "Tin-Tin, whatever happens in the future, however I act, know this: I will never regret it. I just...shouldn't have done it. We both know that."

"Yes," she agreed reluctantly.

He let his hands drop to his sides and he took a step backwards. "I'm going to go through that door and go to bed," he said firmly, "and in the morning we're going to fly home. Everything will be as it was."

"Okay." She gave a nod, ignoring the slight crack in her voice.

With one last, encouraging smile, he turned resolutely away and closed the door behind him. Tin-Tin closed her own door and spent several minutes standing perfectly still in the middle of her room, letting her mind process everything that had happened. She didn't cry, which surprised her. She'd been expecting to. But she was always stronger than she thought she was, and this was no exception. She'd do as he asked, carry on as normal, put it behind her. She only hoped it would get easier.

It hadn't, of course. Nothing was ever easy, especially living as they did. The house was spacious, but even still, there were limited places to escape to on an island. Not that she'd really tried to escape. She still enjoyed Scott's company, and she continued to bring him coffee.

Her plans to permanently end things with Alan after Christmas hadn't worked out. In early January, he'd received word that one of his racing driver friends had been killed in a crash. She'd stayed by his side while he grieved, and they'd all but picked up where they'd been before, as if he'd forgotten that they'd essentially broken up.

During February he got over it, but it still didn't seem fair to spring the news on him. So she waited, aware that Alan was puzzled by her lack of physical affection but unwilling to say anything. Scott was his usual considerate self, but for one occasion when he'd sent her a look that was half pain, half gratitude. He'd known what she was doing and why. He'd appreciated her thoughtfulness, but it still hurt him to see her with Alan. It was this that caused her to pause in thought, and she'd realised just how good she'd become at reading his expressions.

In March, she'd woken up and known that the day had arrived. The argument had been awful, but they were past it now. One problem was solved, but the other... Not even close.

She sighed and closed her book. She was neglecting it anyway, getting lost in dangerous memories. Something had to give, and she wasn't entirely sure what, or what would happen when it did. All she could do, as always, was carry on.

A/N: I remember in one of the Thunderbirds movies there was a weird dream sequence thing where Alan imagines going on a night out with Lady Penelope, (which really confused my mum because she was convinced that Penny was Alan's real mother! I don't buy it!), so I vaguely hinted at his slight interest here.