Unforgotten

AN - Thanks to the lovely reviewers of the last chapter! Please don't hate me after this chapter! I can't make things too easy for them all.

Disclaimer - I do not own Thunderbirds

Chapter Eighteen - Cacophony

Scott woke suddenly, disorientated. He was completely tangled up in the bedding and half lying on the floor of his room. He righted himself and climbed back into bed, where he tried to remember where he was.

It all came rushing back. Boston, the party, Tintin, Annie, Angel.

No sooner had he remembered the events of yesterday than the persistent noise started to filter in. The noise that had roused him from a deep sleep at six in the morning. The irritating, persistent beeping noise that could only mean one thing.

He dived for his watch, finding it at the bottom of the pile of clothes he had discarded the night before. "Come in," he responded sleepily.

"Ah Scott, I'm glad I've managed to get hold of you," his father was sat at his desk, nursing a coffee. It must have been the middle of the night at the Island, it was very dark and his father looked tired. There was also a loud noise in the background that sounded as though it was an alert for a rescue. "Sorry for waking you son, but I need you to rouse John and maybe some more of your brothers - I need John back here ASAP as we have an issue with the monitor on Thunderbird 5. I'm really hoping one of you is in a fit state to bring him back in Thunderbird 1."

"F.A.B., father. Wake up John, get to Thunderbird 1, fly home." Scott stopped and thought about the night before and the alcohol limits from his air force training. "I really didn't drink much, I would be fine to fly."

"Excellent," Jeff breathed a sigh of relief. "The monitor has been too sensitive and been on constant alert – none of us have been able to get a wink of sleep and we have no idea if we're missing something important. We need John or Brains to go up and fix it, no one else knows enough about it. Given the circumstances, I'd rather not disturb Brains."

Scott grimaced at the thought of trying to disturb Brains and Tintin the morning after her birthday. "Sensible."

"I thought so. Thanks son, let me know your ETA when you get going. John knows where he's left the Thunderbirds."

"F.A.B., father." Scott hung up and started to dress. He was pulling on his shirt when the full implications of the conversation hit him. He was going back to the Island. He was going back to the Island extremely early in the morning, which meant that he wouldn't be able to see Annie. He sank on his bed, despair washing over him. He had to know. How could he rest not knowing if Angel was alive?

Not having much choice, he pulled on his shoes and stuffed his belongings in a bag. That done, he went into the corridor and started banging on John's door.

It was a few minutes before John emerged, rubbing his eyes and with his hair stuck in all directions wearing only a pair of pyjama bottoms. He had obviously been deeply asleep, if it had been any other morning Scott would have felt incredibly apologetic to be waking him up at this hour but today he was too preoccupied. Instead Scott swept by his brother into the room, leaving John to shut the door behind them.

"I know I said to wait until morning, but this is still too early to wake her up, Scott."

Scott didn't answer as he rummaged through John's belongings. "Ah ha!" He crowed triumphantly, holding up John's watch. It was no longer beeping but it was still flashing, indicating a missed message.

"A call from home?" Now John was alert. "What's up?"

"Something to do with the remote monitoring system, they need you back at home to sort it out, apparently only you or Brains can."

John rubbed his hand down his face. He looked pretty rough. "And there is no way anyone is prising Brains away from Tintin right now. But how am I going to get home? I'm in no state to fly."

Scott looked grim. "I can tell. What state was Alan in last night?"

John shook his head. "Worse than me, and I've had far too much to drink. It got fairly messy once the ladies and Brains disappeared. Last time I saw Alan he was showing off some of his dances moves to a crowd."

Scott winced. "Well that settles it, Alan never dances unless he's already off his face. I guess I'll be your pilot for today, you can focus on sobering up on the flight."

"But Scott!"

"I know," the oldest brother's voice was curt. "There is no helping it, International Rescue has to come first."

"I'm sorry," John said sincerely, starting to pack his bags. "I really am."

Scott was incredibly disappointed but pushed it to the back of his mind. "Go and get dressed, I'll pack the rest. Dad said you'd know where my Thunderbird is parked?"

"Sure do," John replied, disappearing into the bedroom although leaving the door open so he could still talk. "It's at a farm just outside the city, I think rented by one of the agents in the network. Won't take us too long to get there at this hour."

"Great, we'll have to apologise to Tintin later." John emerged looking slightly more alive just in time for Scott to finish putting his possessions in a bag.

The brothers left the hotel quietly, catching a taxi and getting to the small farm easily. Soon Thunderbird 1 was taking to the skies, charting a course back to Tracy Island. Any other day Scott would have rejoiced to be back in his 'bird again, but today he was leaving a small part of himself in the hotel in Boston.

Once Scott had landed, the brothers immediately went up to the lounge where their father was waiting. It was soon clear why they had been called back - the lounge was a cacophony of noise with every alert going off all at the same time. Scott winced, whilst he didn't have a hangover he hadn't got much sleep and it wasn't particularly fun to sit through.

Along with Jeff both Grandma and Kyrano were in the lounge. Grandma was wearing some form of giant ear muffs while Kyrano looked incredibly stressed. They all looked very tired.

"How long has this been going on for?" Asked Scott, having to raise his voice to be heard.

"Since midday yesterday," Came the reply, causing both brothers to wince in sympathy. It was now the early hours of the next day on the Island and by the looks of it nobody had been able to sleep at all. Their father had installed alarms in every room and even all the outdoor spaces so there would be no escaping the noise.

"I need you two to take Thunderbird 3 up to the space station to see what's going on," Jeff informed them. "John, if you don't mind staying up there until your brother gets back it would be appreciated."

"Sure thing, father."

"Does that mean I'm coming back alone?" Scott asked. It was possible to pilot Thunderbird 3 alone, both he and Alan had in the past, but it certainly wasn't standard procedure.

"No, I'll be coming along with you," Jeff informed them. Both sons looked surprised, they couldn't remember the last time their father had been into space. At their expressions, Jeff elaborated. "While it is useful having me here at base, if I take a more active role occasionally it frees you all up a little bit more. I've realised recently how few breaks you all have, with Tintin here more and if I take part occasionally then it should help us all out a bit."

"Well then," John pulled a face, the sound of the alarms beginning to hurt his ears. "Shall we get going? I have enough stuff on Thunderbird 5 to last me a week or two."

"There are some provisions in that bag," Grandma informed him, pointing at a coolbag slung next to the sofa. "That will keep you going for a few days."

"Thanks Grandma," John gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before settling on the sofa. Jeff took the other end and Scott ended up sitting between them. With a quick wave they dropped below the lounge, passed by the duplicate sofa that quickly took its place.

As they passed through the long tunnel that led to Thunderbird 3's launch bay, Scott told his father that he'd left a message with reception to be passed onto the others. "Nothing that could give us away, just that John had been requested to go home for a family issue and I was the only one ok to drive him."

"Well I'm relieved you were," Jeff stated, rubbing his head. The alarm was still ringing loudly throughout the tunnel. Scott already was developing a massive headache, he didn't quite know how his father had coped for over sixteen hours.

The quiet when they finally ascended into Thunderbird 3 was blissful. Jeff breathed a sigh of relief.

"Are you sure you didn't want to come just to escape the noise?" John asked, trademark eyebrow quirk in place.

"It may have been a factor," their father admitted. "But I really should keep my eye in more."

"Do you want to co-pilot?" Asked Scott. "I can sit in the lounge."

"No it's ok, you co-pilot for the journey out and I will for the way back." Jeff waved off his boys, who nodded and entered the elevator that took them to the front of rocket. He settled himself into one of the chairs, strapping in tight. Soon he heard John's voice over the radio.

"Are we clear for take-off?"

Kyrano replied, the sound of the alarm still blaring in the background. "Affirmative, Master John."

"F.A.B. Kyrano."

There was a roar followed by a surge as the rocket took off. Jeff hung on tight - he hadn't been to space for years. A part of him was thrilled by this opportunity. He really should get more involved in rescues instead of having to rely on his boys every time.

In the cockpit John and Scott were monitoring the rocket controls. As soon as the launch was finished John checked in with his father and disconnected the comms.

"Are you OK?" He asked his brother.

Scott sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "No," he admitted honestly. "But this is a rescue, even if just of the sanity of everyone in the Island. I have to put everything else aside."

John looked at him critically. "You've come a long way since two years ago."

"I think I'd almost come to terms with it," Scott fiddled with a couple of monitors. "I'd moved on, almost. Or at least found peace. This is... just incredible. You said last night it was a coincidence, but it's also such a coincidence for one of Tintin's friends to just happen to be the woman I love with amnesia. I can't help but think we must be wrong."

John noted the use of the present verb in that sentence, Scott may say he had moved on but his actions suggested otherwise.

"Why don't you offer to go and pick Tintin up after her trip?" John suggested. "Take over the jet, offer to take her and Annie out for lunch. Then you'll know for certain."

"I'll think about it," Scott promised. In reality, he was scared. The cold light of the morning had begun to sink in and now he wasn't more scared about meeting Annie and finding out she wasn't Angel after all - or finding out that she was but didn't know him. He almost didn't think he could bear that.

John seemed to understand at least some of what was running through his mind. "But at least you'd know for sure? Even if she doesn't remember you, she will. I saw what you were like after she fell - if she felt anywhere near the same for you as you did for her a part of her will remember you. You may even be able to help her remember the rest."

"That feels selfish. She didn't have an easy life, John. If she is happy as Annie, then shouldn't I just let her be?"

"I think you won't know unless you talk to her, which means meeting her. Go and pick up Tintin, meet Annie, see how you feel then."

Scott nodded. "We're not far off Thunderbird 5 now. Want to check up on dad?"

"Sure," John turned him comms back on. "Enjoying the ride back there?"

"It's been too long since I was last up here." Their father sounded regretful. "I've relied on you boys alone too much. Ah well, we must be getting close now?"

"We're about three minutes out," replied John, switching the Thunderbird to manual for the docking procedure. "Time to buckle up."

"F.A.B." Came the response. With a skill that belied how difficult the procedure was, borne from years of practice, John deftly aligned Thunderbird 3 with the docking bay on Thunderbird 5. With a gentle hiss the clamps activated and the airlock pressurised.

"And we're here," he announced across the comms. "Let's go see what's been going on."

Scott was surprised to see that his father had dug out one of his old flight suits to wear. It wasn't quite up to the standard of the International Rescue uniform, but it was essentially an early prototype and would do the job. The trio made their way into the airlock, John leading as he went to find out what had happened to his space station.

Inside Thunderbird 5, Scott was surprised to see a large machine set up near to the audio feeds. Rationally, he knew that John and Brains had been cooking up a remote monitoring system but seeing it in place was something else. However, it didn't look happy - several cogs were whirring and screeching. Scott could tell from John's expression that it wasn't doing what it was supposed to do. The blond dove straight in, opening up a control panel and pressing several buttons in quick succession.

Scott and his father stood and watched while John was working. Well, Scott watched anyway. Jeff was busy walking around the space station, poking his nose in to all the small cubby holes. Scott didn't think he could recall a time when his father had been up to the Thunderbird 5, so it was likely he hadn't seen it since it had been in pieces on the ground.

Eventually John straightened up. "I think I know what this issue is," he stated. "I'll need to wait until Brains comes back to confirm, but essentially the calibration is off. It was doing an okay job at filtering the reports but then it looked into too many, ones that it shouldn't have decided were worth noticing. It carried on working for some time but then became overwhelmed and it started alerting base for every single report it detected. Which is why all the alarms went - and you wouldn't have been able to silence them because as soon as you ignore one report another ten take its place."

John pursed his lips, thinking hard. "The good news is, it hasn't actually failed. I need to hard reset and adjust the calibration manually. I think if I kept it running alongside me being up here then we can test and adjust until we get it right. The bad news is, hard resetting this thing is going to take some work."

"What do you need us to do, son?"

"Right," John turned to them both. "Scott, I need you to hold the auxiliary power unit, we'll need to disconnect and then patch it back in to reboot. Dad, I need you to help me to uncouple the solid state drive so that the hydronics can be reset."

"Sure," Scott moved into position and took hold of the unit John was indicating. With a little elbow grease he managed to unscrew the clamps that held it into place. Meanwhile, he could see his father assisting John by pulling out cables from within the unit and laying them out. John himself was up to his elbows inside the structure with a spanner, doing something although Scott had no clue what it was.

It took significantly longer and far more curses than it should have done to put the monitoring system to rights. Scott suspected that lack of sleep was a major factor for all three of them - Jeff because alarms had been blaring non-stop within the villa, John as he'd been partying hard and Scott because he'd had far too much on his mind.

Eventually John was satisfied and he slammed his hand onto a button. Immediately all the lights stopped flashing, indicating that the alarms were no longer being triggered. Jeff blew a sigh of relief. "Thanks sons, I'm sorry to have to call you back but we couldn't have coped with that going on for any longer."

"It's no problem, father." John smiled. "Now, I need to trawl through this list of reports and see if there are any that actually require International Rescue support, and I suspect you need some sleep. Have a safe flight."

"Thanks John, get in touch if you need us to send a Thunderbird out."

Scott led his father through the airlock and back into Thunderbird 3. This time, Jeff took the co-pilot position while Scott took the primary seat. "Decoupling in five, four, three, two, one. Bye John, speak soon."

"F.A.B. Thunderbird 3, get home safely."

There wasn't much talk on the way home. Scott was beginning to fret again while Jeff was barely staying awake. Scott was relieved when they touched down, he felt the need to go and burn off some energy somehow.

As the couch returned to the lounge, Scott could see his Grandma asleep in her chair, a pile of fabric laying in front of her. He smiled as he stood, going over to wake her gently.

"Wake up Grandma, you'll hurt your back if you sleep like this."

"Sleep?" Grandma's eyes shot open. "Who said I was asleep, young man? Just resting my eyes is all. Although, now you mention it, I may just go and lie down for a bit."

"Where did Kyrano go, mother?"

"Oh he said something about resting once the alarms finished ringing. But I wanted to wait for you to get back safely."

"Well we're back now, Grandma."

"That's true enough. I'll just take this dress down to Tintin's room," Grandma announced, swaying as she stood up. Scott quickly caught her elbow and steadied her.

"I think you should go to bed," he told her. "You too dad, John will call if there are any emergencies."

"But I promised Tintin that I'd finish this dress!" Grandma protested. "It will be all crumpled if it's left out here."

"I'll take it down and put it on her bed," Scott promised. "She won't mind me going in quickly. Come on." He helped his Grandma to the elevator, stepping in with her holding the dress. He made sure that Grandma was securely escorted to her own room before popping back to Tintin's.

Scott noted that Tintin's room was very elegant and tidy as he stepped into it. He'd never really been in here, personal rooms were considered off limits unless specifically invited. He carefully laid the dress out on the bed as per Grandma's instructions and turned to leave when something caught his eye.

Around Tintin's small dressing table there were a range of photographs stuck into the edge of the mirror. Some of the family, some of her with her father, many of Brains. But there was one in particular that Scott plucked out of the mirror and held up for a closer look. It was a photo of three girls, each wearing giant sunglasses, lounging up against a building. Tintin was in the background and Penelope in the middle. But neither of these women, lovely as they were, held Scott's attention. His eyes were focussed on the girl in the foreground, half her face hidden but that didn't matter, he would recognise those features anywhere. After all, how many times had he seen her wearing a mask across the top half of her face? A quick scan of the words scrawled on the back told him everything he needed to know.

He was holding in his hand incontrovertible proof that Annie, Tintin's friend from California, was none other than Angelique Dubois. His Angel.