Unforgotten

AN - Another quickfire chapter! This will be the last update for a bit, but I didn't want to leave the night hanging any longer. I'd love to know what you think of the last 4 chapters taken as a whole.

Disclaimer - I do not own Thunderbirds

Chapter Seventeen – Tintin's Birthday Part 4 - Scott

Scott was standing in a corridor. He wasn't even sure which, he'd had to press all the buttons on the elevator and this was the one where he thought he had seen movement. But now there was no one to see, he didn't know whether he should try knocking on the doors randomly or give up.

Except, he couldn't just give up. He had to find out if what he saw was real or a figment of his imagination.

The day had been going so well. A light breakfast on the pretty veranda attached to the hotel, overlooking the harbour. Then a walk around the old part of the city following the freedom trail - and hadn't that been fun! Following the red tiles embedded into the roads and learning all about American history. He'd even managed to find some incredible street food on the way around.

It had been great hanging out with Tintin, Brains and John. It wasn't that often that John could be pried away from his studies but today they'd had a good chance to catch up. Tintin had regaled them with stories of her time in Boston, reminiscing about certain places she'd visited with friends and colleagues from MIT.

When they'd returned to the hotel he'd popped out to see Virgil, but his middle brother was deep in concentration. Scott knew better than to ask Virgil to show him his progress, Virgil never showed anybody unfinished pieces and often not the finished versions either. He did make sure that Virgil had something to eat and drink before leaving him to it, it wasn't unheard of for Virgil to forget the basics when he was caught up in painting.

He'd then gone up to his room before getting dressed up and going back downstairs to decorate the veranda. John and Gordon had joined him while Alan and Virgil collected Tintin's watch from the jewellers they had dropped the watch face at the day before. Brains had worked the technology brilliantly for the face, but nobody on the Island had the skills to create an elegant strap suitable to Tintin's petite physique.

Tintin's expression when she saw their work made all the effort worthwhile. The reception on the veranda had been lovely, at least until he and John were packed off to the bar with a long list of drinks - some of which he were convinced his younger brothers may have made up. To say that the bartender wasn't pleased would be an understatement, but John tipped him well.

The ballroom was fun and Scott had been having a great time - up until the point where Penelope had all but dragged him into the middle of the dance floor. He had been caught off guard when she asked him to dance and hadn't been able to think up an excuse that wouldn't have been rude. It had started off just fine, a nice energetic song that he had easily been able to dance with her too without getting too close. But then it had changed to a slower song and Penelope had pulled him far closer than he was comfortable with.

His embarrassment was so acute that he instead stared out across the crowds, trying desperately not to make eye contact.

And that was when he saw her.

Her hair was cut differently and she was wearing a dress that he wouldn't have said she would choose, but there was no mistaking her.

Angel, whom he thought dead - whose absence left a hole that nothing had been able to fill - was standing in the same ballroom in Boston that he was. He couldn't believe what his eyes were telling him. He hadn't been able to see who she was talking to, though it was apparent that she was talking to someone. The crowds shifted again and he lost sight of her, scanning desperately for a further glimpse.

It must have been a mistake, someone who looked like her. It couldn't have been Angel. It simply wasn't possible.

"Scott, are you ok?" He felt a slight tug on his arm and actually looked down at his dance partner. Penelope was looking up at him in concern.

"I'm sorry Penelope, I thought I saw..." he had tailed off, still looking through the dancers for the figure he had seen. He had almost given up hope and convinced himself that he had just imagined it. But then the crowds parted and a jolt shot through him as he realised she was looking directly at him.

The room fell away, all that remained was the eyes he caught across the ballroom. The moment hung, the second stretching out forever, as his gaze was caught by those eyes. But then a dancer swung back into the way and the spell was broken.

"Excuse me," he muttered to Penelope, no longer caring about manners or propriety or anything else. All he knew was that he had to get to that woman, find out if it was truly Angel or if he'd made a terrible mistake.

It took him far too long to escape from the crush of dancers in the ballroom and she was out of sight by the time he was free. He knocked into Tintin in his haste, waving a quick apology but not prepared to waste any more time talking to her. Not right now.

By the time he reached the hotel lobby she was nowhere in sight, but he asked at the desk if they'd seen a brunette in a black dress go by and they directed him to the elevator. Not knowing what floor, Scott punched all the numbers and each time the elevator stopped he checked the hallway for any sign of her before moving onto the next.

Until he saw what he thought was a flash of a dress reflected in a bronze panel in a hallway. He sprinted out of the elevator but couldn't see anyone, couldn't hear the tell-tale click of a locking door.

And that led to him standing here now, debating whether or not to rouse all the inhabitants of this floor just to find out if a shadow he had followed was in fact the woman he had lost.

Now that he was standing here, his certainty faded. It had been very dark in the ballroom, it would have been easy to make a mistake. Probably just someone with similar features. But it was the eyes that had him convinced, the gaze he had caught across the room.

He was still standing in indecision a few minutes later, when a voice called from behind him. "Are you ok, Scott?"

He spun in surprise, breathing deeply when he saw Tintin standing there. For a moment he had hoped it was Angel. "Tintin! What are you doing here?"

Tintin was looking at him curiously, he tried not to react. She couldn't know the emotions that had played out within him over the last few minutes. "This is my floor. I could ask you the same question."

Scott looked around, still hoping for a glimpse of the ghost he had followed. "I thought I saw someone I knew, but I guess I was wrong."

"Oh so that's why you left so suddenly," Tintin exclaimed, a look of dawning understanding on her face. "The others thought it was something you'd eaten. John went to check up on you, you should probably let him know you are ok."

Scott focussed on the small brunette in front of him. "I will do Tintin, thank you. Sorry about this." He turned and strode back to the elevator, relieved when it was still available from Tintin's arrival. Letting the door close behind him, he puffed his cheeks out and exhaled. Being caught standing randomly in a corridor searching for someone who didn't exist was not on his agenda for the night.

Remembering Tintin's words, Scott thought he should probably go and catch his brother if John was indeed looking for him. He hit the button for his floor and the elevator made the short journey to the level below. When the doors opened, he was confronted by his closest brother in the corridor.

"There you are!" John called. "I was looking for you. Where did you get off to?"

"Long story," Scott muttered, moving past John and over to the door of his room. "And one I'd rather not discuss here. Quick drink?"

John raised an eyebrow. "You know there is plenty of champagne left downstairs?" But he followed his brother into his room anyway.

Scott went over to the minibar and pulled out a small bottle of whisky. He waved a second at John, who accepted with a request for ice. Scott duly provided the drink for his brother then tipped the bottle back neat.

"Whoa, what's got into you? Are you ok?" John took in his brother's wild stare and pale face. In the corridor it had been difficult to see, but Scott had turned the lights on in his room and it was clear that his brother was extremely rattled.

"I guess. Well, no. No I'm not. I'm seeing ghosts, John."

It was to John's credit that he said nothing, simply sat on the sofa and gestured for his brother to continue. Scott didn't sit, he paced across the room.

"I thought I saw her John. Angel. I was on the dance floor and I looked up and there she was. But it was busy and crowded and now I'm doubting myself." Scott turned at looked at his closest brother. "I know it sounds crazy, I know she died that night, but I'm so certain I saw her! I would bet my life on it. No, I would bet Thunderbird 1."

Scott expected many reactions to this statement. He expected John to look worried, concerned for his sanity. He expected John to laugh, tell him he was imagining things. But instead John simply sat and looked at his drink, swirling it around before knocking back the contents quickly.

John then turned back to his older brother and looked him straight in the eye. No hint of deception lay in his blue gaze as he slowly and clearly said "I think you may well have done."

Scott sat heavily on one of the small chairs. The one thing he hadn't expected was for John to agree with him. It caused his world to tilt, suddenly faced with the wild hope that maybe, just maybe it wasn't a dream. "You...you saw her too?"

John shook his head. "No."

"Then...but what?"

"I did have a very interesting talk with Tintin. You've never met Annie, have you?"

"No," now Scott was really confused. "What has Annie got to do with it? Are you saying Annie is Angel? But, I don't understand. If she knew Tintin the whole time then why wouldn't she come to find me?"

John could tell Scott was running through the whole gauntlet of emotions this evening. Now he looked devastated, running one hand through his hair. John quickly explained to try to alleviate his brother's pain. "Annie was involved in a bad accident, they pulled her from the Pacific off the coast of California about two years ago with severe injuries." John could see the dawning understanding on Scott's face but he hadn't yet gotten to the most important fact so he ploughed on. "She has amnesia Scott, she doesn't even know if Annie is her real name. She doesn't remember anything from her life before the accident. Even if she was Angel, she wouldn't know to come and find you because she doesn't remember you."

Scott looked almost overwhelmed. "But what now? She's staying in Tintin's room, isn't she?" He made to get up but John pushed him back down into his chair.

"Scott, it's late and she isn't feeling very well. You can't just burst in on her like this! Firstly, you need to calm down."

"John, I have to." Scott looked at John, unshed tears swimming in his eyes. "If she's alive... I have to go and see her." His hands were shaking with barely repressed emotion.

"Waiting until the morning won't make any difference now," John soothed. He had never seen his brother as emotional as this, except for that one night in California. "She isn't going anywhere, but if you go barrelling into her room in the middle of the night you are going to scare her."

"She doesn't remember me," Scott said softly, the meaning of that now beginning to sink in after the euphoria of realising she was probably alive. "She won't remember...anything about what we shared, what we meant... what am I going to do?"

"Show her again," John stated simply. "Somehow you got her to fall for you before, you can certainly do it again. Just woo her whatever way you did the first time."

Scott shook his head. "She wasn't easy to get close to John, I wouldn't know where to start." He now looked heartbroken all over again, the realisation dawning that the woman he lost was seemingly so close but still so far.

John stood, depositing his glass on the top of the desk. He squeezed Scott's shoulder. "You don't have to start now. Get some sleep, I'll make an excuse for you downstairs. Tomorrow, you'll be able to talk to her, find out for sure if she is Angel or if it all just a horrible coincidence."

Scott nodded slowly. "Thanks Johnny."

John left Scott behind in his room, the elder not even looking up to wave goodbye. John's last image before the door shut behind him was of Scott sitting with his head in his hands.

Scott stayed there for a long time, before rousing himself and moving instead onto his balcony. He had an incredible view of the harbour lit up at night but he didn't see any of it. His mind was racing, torn between hope and despair. The idea that somewhere, just one floor away, Angel might be sleeping. Living. Breathing. It didn't matter that she didn't remember, he would give his right arm just to hold her one more time, to feel her soft skin underneath his fingers and to drown in her presence.

But at the same time, it did matter. It mattered a lot. She wouldn't know anything about him, about what they shared together. What if she didn't like him? Or worse, chose one of his brothers over him? He had heard how Virgil had spoken about Annie. She may want nothing to do with him and he would have to watch while she lived a life completely separate from him. But at least she was living. Scott would do anything to ensure her happiness, even if it meant sacrificing his own.

Eventually he slipped into bed, no resolution to his thoughts but only more confusion. He tossed and turned for a long time before finally succumbing to a fitful sleep, dreams of brown hair, golden eyes and a teasing smile filling his mind.