"Talk to me, Virgil."

"We're ok, Scott. I'm helping Gordon with the last of the casualties."

Scott leaned back in the pilots seat of Thunderbird One, using the back of his hand to uselessly rub at the sweat and grime on his face.

He could see the late morning sun high in the sky outside his hatch. The attack had happened in the early evening in London's time and the Tracy brothers had worked tirelessly through the night. The fire and rescue services in London had proved to be far more prepared than in the previous attack. It still didn't make it any easier dealing with the massive loss of life. Scott groaned, feeling a huge tension headache beginning to brew, sending stabs of pain from between his eyes that shot around his skull like a bolt of lightning. He took a hissing breath before grabbing his microphone.

"Thunderbird Five from Thunderbird One," said Scott, "That's the boys finishing up at Cooper Hospital."

He thought a silent wish that they were done, that they had done all they could.

"OK, Scott," said Robert, "I think you can breathe now. It looks like the local services have everything in hand."

"Any news on who did this?"

"Nothing concrete," sighed Robert, "But no alarm bells this time, thank goodness."

"That's good, Rob," said Scott, "I'll update father for you. Get some rest."

"I'll rest only when you do," said Robert, "After all, I'm not doing the hard work."

Scott smiled, "Fine, then."

"I'll contact Jeff. Relax, you're looking wound up."

"Headache. I'll contact you when the boys are finished."

"FAB."

Scott knew from past experiences it could be just as taxing being helpless thousands of miles above the action. He felt his eyes vibrate in their sockets as his headache started creeping into migraine territory. He had to pull his eyes open against the daylight to answer his buzzing comms.

"Thunderbird One from Thunderbird Two. Come on, Scott. Answer me." Virgil was almost shouting, sounding uncharacteristically anxious.

"Here, Virgil! God, I just-"

"Oh, there you are! I thought you'd fallen asleep on us."

Scott tried and failed to ignore the laughter from Alan in the background. It's nice at least one of them had the energy for it.

"Yeah, yeah, it's been a long day... uh, night. Report, Virgil."

"All casualties have been safely transported into the hospital. Alan and I are almost-" Virgil began, but he was interrupted when Gordon's voice rang out over the comms.

"You two head back to Base," he said, chipper as ever, "Scott, can you give me another half hour? They're full to capacity here and could use an extra pair of hands."

Not that he ever voices it enough, Scott could never stop admiring Gordon and his altruistic attitude. His kneejerk response, selfishly, was to say no. Ever since that afternoon with that crazy psychic he'd felt more spooked than he would ever admit. It wasn't because she had seen John, because that was impossible. It was because she had known so much about them. Then the attempt to break into his 'Bird... Part of him felt like he should have seen it coming.

He shook his head at his own idiocy. Looking on the bright side, half an hour would give him time to inhale a couple of painkillers and let them kick in before he had to take the long flight back to base.

"FAB, Gordon," he said, opening the comms to Robert, "All fine up there?"

"All the better for hearing you're on your way back soon," Robert smiled, the unrestrained joy in his voice giving Scott another lift to his spirits. This didn't last long, sadly, as he watched Robert's brow crease with confusion.

"Spill," said Scott.

Robert looked at him with dismay, as if he forgot he was watching.

"Scott, did you..." he began, hesitated, then continued, "I have the command logs in front of me. It says you approved to open Thunderbird Two's hatch."

Scott's military brain switched on in an instant.

"When?"

"Ten minutes ago."

He certainly hadn't done that. That could only mean one thing. A millisecond to glance out the hatch confirmed what he didn't want to see. Thunderbird Two, in all her gigantic green glory, was hovering above Cooper Hospital, about to depart for home. He grabbed the microphone in his sweating palms, almost smacking it into his face in urgency .

"Virgil! Emergency landing. Now!"

The green lady froze in her ascent in the distance as Virgil's confused voice sounded over the comms.

"Scott, what-" There was a hiss and screech, followed by the unmistakable static sound of the radio going dead.

Then all Scott could see was fire. The sound of the bomb going off drowned out his cry of terror. Thunderbird Two went down, vanishing in plumes of black smoke as it tumbled out of sight behind the hospital.