Unforgotten

AN - Hi all! Thank you so much for the positive response so far, particularly around the Boston chapters. This was a tricky chapter to write, so I'd love to know thoughts. Don't hate me too much!

Disclaimer - I do not own Thunderbirds

Chapter Nineteen – The best laid plans...

Scott was in the pool. Swimming, turning, swimming, turning. Trying to keep his mind occupied, unable to disturb John whilst he was trying to sort out the mess on the space station to talk about his recent discovery. Luckily everyone else on the Island was asleep after their disturbed night and couldn't be witness to his agitation. Swim, turn, repeat.

Annie was Angel. Angel was alive. Angel was Annie. Thoughts that kept swirling around his mind. She didn't remember. She didn't know who he was. But she was Angel. His Angel. Swim, turn, repeat.

Scott lost track of the amount of time he spent in the water, trying desperately to make sense of his thoughts. It was difficult. His first impulse on finding the photo had been to launch Thunderbird 1 and fly straight back to Boston. Even though John had told him last night about Annie's amnesia, despite being sure he had seen Angel at the ball, he had still been convinced that it would all turn out to be a mistake. That it would simply be too good to be true, that he was grasping at straws because there was a part of him that would never accept that Angel was dead. But then. Then he had seen the photo, seen the features that had only existed in his memory, and he had known.

He had taken the photo. If Tintin ever asked, he would plead ignorance. But he didn't have a single photo of Angel, nothing but his memories and the metal claw he kept around his neck even now. The single photo, even with her mostly obscured, was now one of his most precious possessions. He'd taken it on an impulse, scurrying back up to his room as though someone would jump out and accuse him at any moment, then just sat and stared at it. He'd lost track of time as he'd gently rubbed his finger over her face, committing every single curve to memory all over again.

Then he'd sought out the pool, trying to make sense of his jumbled thoughts. He'd actually had an impulse to go running instead but the Island wasn't big enough. He needed the open moorland around Angel's home where it was just him and land and sky.

Angel's home. The home she would be able to return to. Maybe. If she remembered. Could he help her remember? Should he? He knew her life was hard and unfair, was it selfish for him to want her to remember it, remember him? No answers were coming in the pool. Swim, turn, repeat.

He was suddenly aware that he wasn't alone in the pool - a tanned body streaked past him creating turbulence and splash. Spluttering, he surfaced. Not easy to breathe when water was being kicked all over you.

A bobbing ginger head indicated the culprit. "You've been in here a while," Gordon stated. "Come on, get out and get a drink. You'll be dehydrated."

Scott was about to round on his brother for treating him like a child when he realised Virgil and Alan were stood watching from the edge of the pool, expressions of concern on their faces. Virgil had a tray of drinks on the side table next to him. Scott realised that he was actually really thirsty and hungry too. He swam over to the edge of the pool, hoisting himself out with considerable difficulty. His arms and legs felt like jelly. Gordon swam up next to him and steadied him.

Scott sat for a moment on the edge, gratefully taking a bottle of water from Virgil, while he waited for his muscles to regain some strength so he could stand up without wobbling. "You're back already? You made good time." He stated, looking at his brothers. "I thought the plan was to head back home after lunch?"

"Scott, we did." Virgil's concern deepened. "How long have you been in the pool?"

"I don't know. What time is it?"

"Nearly dinner time."

"Dinner?" Scott was shocked. He'd entered the pool before lunch. No wonder he was starving.

"We've sat and watched you for an hour at least," Gordon confirmed. "We weren't sure you'd ever stop, so I thought I'd better get in."

Scott looked down at his wrinkled hands. "I had no idea. I was just thinking."

"That's some thinking time," Virgil stated. "And here we thought it was Gordon that would be the one to try to drown himself in thought."

"Well, thanks guys."

"So what were you thinking about that deeply?" Asked Alan, sitting down next to his brother. "Must be something important."

"Not really," Scott lied. "I was just thinking about the last couple of days, there has been a lot going on."

"Are you feeling better today?" Virgil asked, sitting on Scott's other side. "John said you weren't feeling great last night - something about seafood?"

"Something like that," Scott muttered. "Yeah, I'm ok now. Just a bit sorry to have missed out on the party."

"You sure did miss out," Alan chirped, splashing Gordon with his legs. "We had a swell time, lots of dancing. There were some lovely girls there."

"There were some girls there," Virgil corrected. "I noticed you and Gordon making the most of that. But the only truly lovely girls were those we went with."

"And Annie," Gordon added. "Even if she wasn't feeling well either. She looked better this morning though."

"Oh?" Scott asked, trying not to appear too eager as he hung on every word uttered about Annie. "She was at breakfast?"

"Yeah, it's a shame you and John had to head back so early," Alan noted. "You missed out on breakfast too. Still, dad filled us in and it did sound as though you were needed here. I'm sure grateful you didn't wake me up to fly your bird home."

"Well one of the disadvantages of not feeling great last night was that I barely drank anything." Scott pulled a face. "I thought I was probably the only one fit to fly this morning."

"You could be right about that," Virgil muttered. "I saw how much these two were putting away last night." He swept his gaze from Alan to Gordon, both of whom looked unrepentant.

"Well, if you hadn't been so grumpy all evening you would have too," Alan countered. "Anyway, we all had breakfast this morning and Annie was able to join us at last. She said she felt a lot better, some form of bad headache last night. She and Tintin went off earlier to go on holiday for a bit."

Gordon leaned against the edge of the pool, his eyes dreamy. "She sure is gorgeous," he sighed. "Shame Tintin has banned us from asking her out." Scott felt a swell of anger, quickly repressed. It wasn't Gordon's fault, he didn't know about the long and complicated history between them. Scott was suddenly very glad of Tintin's firm stance towards the brothers.

"You hardly minded last night." Virgil pointed out sardonically. "What was her name again?"

"Oh would you look at the time!" Gordon deflected. "Grandma will be wanting us in for dinner. Come on!" The aquanaut pulled himself out of the water with a heave, grabbing a towel to get dry. Alan and Virgil scrambled up to follow suit. Scott found that he'd dried in the sun while talking to his brothers, but still wasn't sure his tired legs would be able to hold his weight.

"Need a hand?" Virgil offered, reaching back down. Scott accepted gratefully, allowing his brother to take most of the strain as he hauled himself up. "So what's really got you in such a tiz that you tried to do a Gordon?"

"Nothing, really."

"Nothing, hmm? That wouldn't be a code name for Angel, would it?" Scott stumbled at the words, leading to Virgil having to reach out and catch him. "I'll take that as a yes then."

"No! I mean, what?"

"Articulate, Scott." Virgil turned to his brother. "I didn't actually buy the story about dodgy whelks. You hardly look like someone who has food poisoning last night. You do look like someone with girl troubles though. Ever going to tell us about it?"

"Maybe one day, Virgil." Scott sighed. His middle brother was just a little too perceptive. "Not today though."

Virgil seemed to accept that and stop pushing, walking with Scott back into the villa. Scott made a beeline for his hot shower, ready to wash off the chlorine and get something to eat.

Grandma looked much better for getting some sleep. She was bustling around the kitchen putting the final touches onto dinner. It appeared to be one of her ranch staples - brisket with fries and slaw. Also one of Scott's favourites, he was almost drooling at the smell throughout the kitchen. His spirits lifted further when he saw the large pie sat on the side - given the season it was probably cherry pie, but in his view that came a close second to apple anyway.

"You're spoiling us, Grandma." He stated as he sat down. Truthfully, after his stint in the pool he felt hungry enough to eat everything in the kitchen.

"Oh hush," his Grandma chided fondly. "After you getting up so early the night after Tintin's party to come and help us all out, I thought you deserved a little treat."

"Well we certainly aren't complaining," Virgil said, sliding into the seat next to Scott. "This looks great."

This sentiment was echoed by Gordon, Alan and Brains who all came to find seats around the table.

"Hi Brains," Scott called to the engineer. "Tintin get away ok?"

"H-hi Scott. Yes, she did and A-Annie took a, um, car over to Cape Cod."

"It was a pretty sweet convertible," Alan jumped in. "A Bravetta XC, one of the fastest hydrogen powered cars out there. Tintin knows her stuff."

"T-that's my girl." Brains stated proudly.

"When is she getting home," Scott asked, helping himself to some of the food.

"T-they fly back to California on T-Thursday, then Tintin will fly the Ladybird home after that. She'll be here T-Thursday evening."

Scott's hopes sank in disappointment. He'd forgotten that the Ladybird was undergoing a major refit on the mainland, Tintin would naturally want to fly her own jet home. He'd have to find another excuse to get to California in the near future. He fell silent, thinking about this problem, while the others talked and laughed around him. If his subdued demeanour was noticed, it was attributed to being ill the night before and not getting much rest subsequently. Only Virgil wondered if perhaps there may be a little more to it.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Over the next few days Scott thought long and hard but couldn't come up with a good reason for him to go and escort Tintin home. Not one that didn't make it sound as though he didn't trust her to fly her own jet anyway, which was ridiculous as she was a perfectly competent pilot and he knew it.

His sour mood had been noticed on the Island. Not only was he irritated that he couldn't find an excuse to go and meet Annie, but he also had constant thoughts swirling inside his mind about whether or not he should just let her be. This was keeping him up at night, so in the morning he was feeling even more tired than he had the night before. He was throwing himself into the gym to try to run the thoughts out of his mind on the treadmill but it wasn't working.

He'd spoken to John in the morning, after he'd confirmed that his brother had managed to deal with the mess up on Thunderbird 5 and actually got some sleep himself. Scott told John of his discovery, showing him the precious photograph that was all the proof Scott needed. John listened and nodded where appropriate. He still knew very little about the woman Scott loved, but he knew enough to know that whilst this development was incredible it would probably cause a whole new set of problems in the near future. There was a reason Scott had kept her existence a secret from the rest of the Island, after all.

A lifeline came for Scott the day before Tintin was due to arrive home. He was in the lounge with his father and Virgil, who was playing the piano, when Tintin's brand new portrait started flashing.

"Come in Tintin," Jeff answered. "Is everything ok?"

"Hello Mr Tracy," Tintin's smiling face appeared on the screen. Scott could see pristine white sands behind her and the sea beyond that. "Hello Scott. Everything is ok, but I've just a call that there will be a delay to Ladybird - apparently one of the aft thrusters misfired during the shake down and they want to do some further testing before she's cleared for flight."

"Oh I'm sorry to hear that," Jeff replied. "I know how much you were looking forward to getting her back."

"Well, I am disappointed." Tintin admitted. "But more importantly, I now don't have a ride home from California tomorrow."

"Say, father, why don't I go and pick up Tintin?" Scott asked casually, inwardly rejoicing. "I didn't get a chance to get into any shops in Boston and I have a few things I need. We could even grab a quick dinner together before heading home. How does that sound, Tintin?"

"Oh what a lovely idea Scott! Would you mind if Annie joined us? I promised her that we'd go to some shops together tomorrow."

"Not at all, it'd be swell to finally meet her. How about it, dad?"

"Seems like you have it all worked out," Jeff was smiling. "Sounds like a good solution to me, makes up in some way for you being called home so early."

"Great," Tintin enthused. "Our flight is the XS214, Scott. Due into Los Angeles at half past two."

"I'll be there to meet you," Scott promised, jotting down the details as Tintin rang off. He straightened up and stretched his back. "Guess I'll have to get onto Tracy industry's airport to let them know I'm coming tomorrow."

"Did I hear that you were off to the mainland, Scott?" Virgil called from the piano.

"Yes you did, picking up Tintin tomorrow as Ladybird still isn't ready yet."

"Shame about Ladybird," Virgil replied, closing the piano lid and moving to join them at the desk. "But great that you'll actually be able to meet Annie! I can't believe you haven't managed to so far, when she's Tintin's best friend."

"Ah yes, Annie." Jeff stated. "What do you think of her, Virgil?"

"She's nice," he replied with a shrug. "A bit quiet maybe, but I've only met her when she's in a large group."

"Mike Clifford thinks highly of her," Jeff noted, sorting through some paperwork on his desk. "I asked him when Tintin first befriended her - it seemed a bit of a coincidence that Annie turned up out of the blue with amnesia and just happening to make friends with Tintin. But Mike vouches for her, she really had a horrific injury and only has some very vague memories of her life before."

"Poor girl," Virgil sympathised. "It must be horrible not knowing who you are or who your family is."

"I need to go try to clear our flight," Scott informed them both, picking up the piece of paper he'd written the details on. "I'll call John as well, he can track Tintin's flight for me and let me know if it's delayed."

"Your brother isn't an air traffic controller," Jeff said, exasperated.

"Well no," Scott replied. "But he needs something to keep him busy on quiet days!"

Scott duly informed John of the change in plans, who could feel the excitement and nervousness radiating off his elder brother in waves. "You may need to tone it down a bit," he informed Scott. "At this rate you really are going to scare her off."

"I need to let it out now," Scott countered, almost bouncing in his chair.

The whole Island could feel the change in Scott's mood. Alan and Gordon held whispered discussions regarding Scott's sudden obsession with the mall, Brains worried that the excitement was directed at seeing Tintin and Virgil couldn't work out where the mysterious Angel fitted into it all. The rest didn't care, it felt like the last two years had melted away and the old Scott was back for a while.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

That excitement lasted until the next morning. John called early to say that Tintin's flight had successfully departed. Scott had eaten breakfast and was attacking the puzzles in the paper to while away the time before he had to leave. Virgil and Gordon were chatting about an article on deep sea exploration they had watched on the television, Brains was setting up a chessboard and Alan was painting a model car he'd built from a kit.

This meant that all the brothers were all in the lounge when John's portrait started flashing. Scott smothered the feeling of disappointment - if a rescue came in then he wouldn't be able to pick up Tintin, but a as he'd said in Boston International Rescue was more important.

"Come in John, what's happening?" Jeff was also in the lounge, sat at his desk.

"I've had reports of a plane going missing in the middle of its flight," John replied, face pale in the monitor which immediately set alarm bells ringing for Scott.

"Missing? How does a plane go missing?" Scott queried.

"Sounds like some form of communications failure," Jeff replied. "Must have been in mid-flight when the communications system went down. But that shouldn't cause it too many problems, it's not really something for International Rescue.

"But that's the thing father," John continued, drawn expression resting on Scott and Brains in turn. "It's not just any plane. It's Tintin's flight to Los Angeles."