The next day dawned cool and grey. A twelve-hour crash out had left Virgil awake at 6am local time, a time in the morning completely alien to him unless he was on a mission. Fortunately, the London Azure was a five-star hotel with a well-equipped gym and Virgil had spent the few hours until breakfast opened going through his workout routine, with special attention on the damn shoulder. Both John and their father preferred the calm security and anonymity of a high-priced hotel to the chance of going unnoticed at a budget b'n'b. Usually, the kind of money the Tracy's had would keep the staff a respectable distance away when asked to and it also ensured that keeping their stay a secret was well worth the managers discretion. After all, the Tracy family could always choose to stay elsewhere and money talked. Virgil hated that side of things and would have much preferred a small out of the way room to the high-end suit he'd found himself in – no matter how comfortable it was. But, should he be 'spotted' they would be able to explain away a luxury London break far better than the son of a billionaire hiding in what the sensationalist press would no doubt dub a sleezy hotel. Virgil shook his head as he walked down the bank of the Thames. Sometimes the sort of 'problems' he had away from the island were still astounding to him.

It was a luxury, having the morning to himself. At home there was always something that needed doing and, when it came to the 'birds, there was always the pressure to get it done now, just in case they were needed. When Thunderbird Two wasn't demanding his attention one of his brothers was, be it a prank, to fix something they'd broken or just for company. Usually, Virgil didn't mind it. Being part of a larger family meant that constant noise and chaos were welcome companions. But now that they were gone, he felt like he could breathe again. The feeling would pass, he knew. But now, as he walked next to the great river, taking the scenic route to his meeting with Jasmine, he was just enjoying the solitude.

Out here, miles from home, he felt like he could finally, objectively, think about what Jasmine was doing for them. Or at least what she claimed to be doing. Ever since the shock of hearing John's recording of her initial call had passed, he'd been a bit numb to it all. The threat hadn't seemed real. Someone they'd never heard of had a vague plan to steal his 'bird – what was he meant to do with that? He'd thought that he'd be looking over his shoulder every time they got called out but, in reality, as soon as they got to the danger zone, he forgot all about it. Now here he was, in London, supposedly the same city as the people who wanted to abduct him and he felt fine.

Didn't he?

Focus on the problem at hand he thought to himself, leaving the river behind. But what was the problem at hand, exactly? If dad hadn't said the word biomechanoid then Virgil would have sworn the problem was whatever had happened to Jasmine and the people imprisoned with her. Seeing her like that, in that cell, was all the more chilling now he'd spoken to her properly. The passive, bruised girl in the cell was nothing like the wary, dry humoured girl he'd met. Somehow, he still had to ask her about that but, for now, he had no idea how to bring it up. On the video her stillness and acceptance of what was happening to her was something that Virgil had found the most disturbing. (He knew for a fact Scott did too and Virgil also knew that had more to do with what Scott himself had been though.) But in person she almost vibrated with coiled energy. She seemed ready to cut and run at a moment's notice and he was sure she could be over the horizon before he realised she'd started to move. He suddenly spared a thought for Gordon who had faced that energy coming towards him in the ring and he knew, without shame, that in Gordon's position Virgil would have been properly intimidated by her.

Then there was that word hanging over her: biomechanoid. Like Gordon and John, he was now sure she couldn't be. Though his father had expressly forbidden it, Virgil had researched biomechanoids anyway. By the third night he kicked himself and called John only to kick himself again when he realised just how much further along John was than Virgil could have hoped to get in a month. John was able to send him all his notes as well as those Brains had made seeing as Brains had taken it upon himself to become an expert in the technology, just in case. In many people that would be a danger sign but they all knew Brain's simply wasn't wired that way. His preliminary research was the reason Virgil knew they only way to actually confirm or deny whether or not she was a biomech would be with a blood sample. The nanites used the cardiovascular system to travel through the body. Get a blood sample and you could see them under a microscope. But, as he'd said to John, it was highly unlikely that he'd be able to get one. Again, it just wasn't the sort of thing you could ask someone for.

The other problem was that, despite the Bionics War being relatively recent, the reports of what a biomechanoid could supposedly do were so full of hyperbole. In the first week after his injury Virgil had poured through as many reports as he could trying to get a picture for what a biomechanoid actually was and what they could do. John had already spent time sorting idiotic propaganda from potential fact. From what they could tell there wasn't actually that many of them. Certainly not the battalions immortalised in popular film. What news footage there was of them only ever showed them individually or the occasional pair. The footage itself could have been of any soldier or sometimes just of any random person. There was nothing to give away that they were some kind of super-soldier. Unless they were attacked. The one file that had bothered Virgil the most showed a young man receive a call, clearly orders, then turn and shoot out every surveillance camera. The written report afterwards stated he'd then killed everyone in the vicinity. But there was no proof either way. What bothered Virgil was the change in the man's body language. The longer he spent on the phone the more he looked, well, sad. Then the sadness turned to resignation and finally his spine stiffened and he turned, drew out a hidden gun and took out the cameras.

It was all too much and just briefly Virgil considered that his father was right. He and his brothers were in over their heads. International Rescue was not equipped to take down super soldiers or to decide if they were the evil that popular belief said they were.

But that's what it all comes back to, isn't it? He thought as he approached the fountain where Jasmine was waiting. He could see her, leaning against a wall, arms folded and generally giving off stay-away-from-me vibes. We don't choose who deserves saving. We don't want or deserve that kind of power and we don't bow to popular opinion either.

Jasmine smiled as she caught sight of him and pushed off the wall to join him. She wore the same skinny jeans as the day before but, in deference to the cooler weather today, she had on a black hoodie which Virgil internally frowned at. He could hardly assess her condition if she was under a load of lose black fabric.

"So, are you on UK time yet?" she said by way of greeting. They turned as one and walked toward the café from yesterday.

"More or less" he said. "Though I found myself awake at 6am and thought I'd over slept."

"I take it 6am is not a usual time for you?"

"Not by choice no."

"Really? I wouldn't have thought your job ran to a schedule."

"That's kind of the point" he said opening the door to the café for her. "I never know when I'm going to get called out so I take lie-ins when I can get them."

There seemed to be a different staff on today and their order was taken by a waiter who barely paid them any attention at all. For Virgil this was odd, as he was used to servers trying to make an impression in order to get a higher tip but Jasmine didn't seem to notice at all. In fact, she seemed much more relaxed than yesterday and pulled the hoodie off once the waiter had gone to place their order. Underneath she had on another three-quarter sleeved top, this one a deep green which the artist in him immediately noticed was reflected in her eyes.

"You did that yesterday, you know?" she said.

He blinked.

"Did what?"

"Spent the first few minutes trying not to get noticed whilst checking me over."

"I can't help it" he said causing her sharp eyes to narrow at him and a subtle stiffness to her posture. He decided to go for honesty. "I know you had a match last night. Your" he hunted for the appropriate word for their surroundings, "sport, isn't exactly safe."

She regarded him again and, similar to yesterday, he fought the urge to squirm under her gaze. It was fascinating watching her face and all the things she worked so hard to hide. Virgil was sure that, had he not been looking for something, he wouldn't have seen anything at all. Instead, like yesterday, he saw open disbelief turn to hesitant acceptance.

"I don't break easily" she said with a light smile. "Also, these matches aren't very hard. Last night was one not too dissimilar to your brother. Someone looking to prove a manly point who had been set up by his mates."

"Gordon took that match to talk to you" he pointed out.

"Funny how your way works better" she said raising her glass (water again) in a mock salute.

"Well, people say you catch more flies with honey."

She huffed a quick laugh.

"Is that what I am?" she leant forward smiling slightly at him.

"No. You are still a mystery. One I want to solve."

Her shoulders dropped slightly and she leant back in her seat.

"I'm not, you know" she said and he could swear she sounded just a little sad. "Thun-" she cleared her throat to cover her slip. "The Voice of Calm had a lot of my background right, despite making it up on the fly. Spotty school record, no fixed address for the last few years. He missed the ability to piss people off by existing and the inability to hold down a sensible job but, I think you probably figured both of those out for yourself."

"I can't speak about your choice of job" he said choosing his words carefully. "But you haven't been that irritating so far."

She laughed dryly.

"Give it time."

The waiter bought over their food. Jasmine had ordered the All Day Breakfast, something Virgil had been quietly opposed to. Breakfast in England tended to be a small affair. The few times he'd stayed at the Creighton-Ward manor he'd been offered a bowl of cereal or a couple of slices of toast. Not the usual array of pancakes, waffles and fruit that made up an International Rescue breakfast, but seeing the size of it now he whistled appreciatively. Bacon, sausage, beans, scrambled eggs, hash browns and something round and black all battled for space on a large plate, there was also a side order of toast and liberal amounts of butter.

"You said eat" she said gesturing to the plate. "I take it this counts?"

"I get the impression you're not really the sort to do as she's told" he said secretly thinking he'd missed out, his own fish and chips looked very small in comparison.

"I do sometimes" she said with a wink. Virgil quickly busied himself with his own lunch.

Her comm beeped and she sighed as she checked it.

"Bollocks" she said under her breath before swiping the message away and stabbing a sausage.

"Problem?"

"No" she huffed. "Not really." She had a brief internal battle before continuing. "I was meant to be singing at Cascade tonight but I've been bumped."

"Why?" he asked before he could think better of it. She toyed with the food on her plate before putting down her fork.

"I'm the alternatives alternative" she said. "Literally the last resort, so, I suppose I should have expected it, but still…" she tailed off.

"Why are you the last resort?" he asked gently.

"Because I don't play well with others" she huffed wiping her fingers and threw down the paper napkin angry. "I won't wear the outfits or rub myself over the damn male dancers they have. It's my body, I decide how much of it I show off and what I do with it and yes, I know, what am I doing at a burlesque club if I think like that? But when I signed on it was under the understanding that I was singing only but after one night they put all this pressure on to strip off for the punters… I don't know. I should just leave but… It's not like there's anywhere else to go." The last was said quietly and Virgil felt righteously angry for her and, perhaps under the surface, a little defensive for her as well. "But, then I went and hit one of the arseholes in the audience, and got myself a reputation anyway and now I can't sing anywhere else."

Virgil wanted to ask why she'd hit a member of the audience but he could guess.

"You prefer singing to fighting?" He asked instead.

"Are you kidding?" she raised an eyebrow at him. "Wouldn't you if those were your choices?"

Virgil wanted to assure her that those weren't her only options but something stopped him. He doubted she wanted anything from him, but if she did, it certainly wasn't mindless platitudes. But what could he offer her instead? She was clearly independent, fiercely so, even. Though she was just as clearly in need of help, even if she wouldn't or maybe couldn't admit it. He was also no closer to answers than when they sat down. She seemed physically well after the match the night before, but then, by Gordon's own admission he'd hardly landed a blow on her and Virgil knew he was more than capable. He'd had his own backside handed to him by his younger brother in several training session before he'd finally called enough and refused to do any more. It was entirely possible that her match had really been an easy one.

"I'm going to St James Park" he said surprising even himself. "Come with me. We can go have a look at Buckingham Palace."

"What, pretend like we're tourists for the day?" she said but he thought she was giving it consideration.

"Yeah, something like that. It's not like you have work later now, after all. Why not take the day off?" He held his breath knowing that if she said no now then the chances of getting her to meet with him again were low. It could mean a mission failure.

"Is this part of your welfare check?" she hedged narrowing her eyes at him.

"No" he waved her off. "You're clearly fine. Maybe I just want your company."

"More likely you want to ask me whatever it was the Gordon wanted to ask me and you're still building up to it" she said astutely.

He frowned.

"You're right. You are annoying."

To his surprise she laughed, the first truly open laugh he'd seen from her. No calculated mischievousness, no derision or self-deprecation. It opened up her face and made her seem younger, somehow, like he'd gotten a glimpse of the girl she would have been had she been dealt a slightly different hand. Virgil wanted to see more.

"So, are you coming?" he said leaving some notes on the table for the bill.

"Sure" she said. "I've never seen the palace before. Besides, you probably have an engraved invitation to meet the King. We don't do that here, by the way" she said gesturing to the money. "You need to take it to the till."

"Right" he did as she said and followed her out pulling on his jacket. "It's a lot less busy today" he observed.

"Yeah, that'll happen on a Monday" she replied.

"It's Monday?"

"All day long. Are you sure you're in the rescue business? You'd think knowing which day it was would be pretty important."

"Not really, it's not like we take the weekends off."

They walked to a taxi rank and Virgil held the door open for her. She shot him a quizzical look before climbing in and letting him programme the destination.

"Why St James' Park?" she asked ignoring the view in favour of watching him. Honestly, he had no idea, he was making things up on the fly. He'd picked a park because she'd said she liked outdoor spaces and St James' was the only one he could remember the name of. The fact that it was near to the Palace was a flash of inspiration he probably had John to thank for.

"Why do you think I have an invite to see the King?" he countered.

"When Gordon arrived at the club the dancers only had two things to say about him. Well, three but seeing as he's your brother I'm not repeating the last one" she gave herself a quick shake as though removing a disturbing image. "The two things were Olympic Gold Medallist and billionaire. Doesn't that put your family in royal circles?"

He laughed before realising that she was being serious.

"No, it doesn't work that way. Our family money is relatively new" he explained "we still get a degree of snobbery from the families with what they like to call 'old money'."

"Ah so the mega rich still have problems like the rest of us" she said. She was teasing him; he was ninety per cent sure.

"Is that why you've agreed to come with me today" he countered carefully matching his tone to hers. "Because you think my family is loaded?"

"Your family is loaded" she pointed out. "But no, you can keep it. Tends to bring more problems than solutions in my experience."

"You've got me there" he said. "So, how is it that you've lived in London all your life but you've never been to the Palace before?"

Their conversation carried on like that until the taxi dropped them off. Virgil was pleased to see that Jasmine was relaxing, her comments becoming less guarded, though also completely unrevealing. Virgil was proud of the fact that he could talk to anyone. Something that had come in useful many times down the years, firstly when he'd had to settle into a new school or university and then later at the functions and conferences his father demanded he attend. But getting any kind of insight into Jasmine was like getting blood out of a stone. She'd never really seen the need to go sightseeing, she didn't have a favourite restaurant and was happy to go with the flow of whoever she was out with, she didn't think much about clothes or have any interest in sports. Finally, more than an hour later, as they crossed the bridge over St James Lake, Virgil stopped and folded his arms, leaning on the bridge but looking directly at her.

"Alright then; what's your favourite colour?"

"Pardon?" she laughed.

"Everything I ask you, you don't have a firm opinion on. You must have a favourite colour, at least."

"Uh" she suddenly looked unsure of herself.

Neither of them noticed the two men taking a constitutional. The two couldn't have been more different, one short and plump and dressed in outdated light-coloured fabrics. The other tall and rake thin, dressed almost entirely in black which served to show off his long red hair tied off at the nape of his neck with a black ribbon. His eyes were completely hidden by dark sunglasses. As the two walked past both Jasmine and Virgil shivered slightly as a pleasant yet unfamiliar sensation washed over them.

"You old softie" said the shorter man, glancing up at his friend with a smile.

"Well," said the tall man drawing out the word. "They'd have never got anywhere otherwise. At least this way they've got a chance." He seemed to realise what he'd said and rushed on, "an incredibly small chance, minute really. Definitely destined to all end in tears."

"Of course, my dear" said the shorter man, patting the red head on the arm as they continued on their way.

"It's purple" Jasmine said. "And I like the name Jasmine a lot too. Even if I haven't quite managed to think of myself that way yet. No one's ever asked me about my opinions on sport or food before. I didn't really grow up in an environment where people actually cared. They tended to care only if they could use it to their advantage later." She looked surprised to have said so much.

Virgil felt his heart lighten just a little bit and the tension left his frame. He'd forgotten, in his singlemindedness about his mission, that she was most likely this guarded for a reason. She wasn't being difficult on purpose - okay maybe she was, but it wasn't out of maliciousness. She was doing it out of self-preservation.

"I wouldn't ask if I wasn't interested" he said. "Genuinely interested, I mean. I have also spent a great deal of my life surrounded by people who claim to want to get to know you but in reality, they always want something else. Father's money, usually. Though sometimes there is the odd social climber who thinks she can get further up the ladder by bedding a Tracy." He hadn't meant to sound so bitter as he'd said that last, after all it wasn't something that had only happened to him. The three eldest had all been caught out by someone they were sure wasn't like that. Only to find out the hard way that, actually, they were.

"That's awful" Jasmine said and Virgil snapped his head up, sure she was making fun of him in that dry way of hers. But one look at her dark green eyes told him she wasn't. "I never thought for a second that someone like you would have to look out for people trying to take advantage the way they do someone like me."

"What do you mean, someone like you?"

Jasmine shrugged and began to walk again leaving Virgil no choice but to follow. He thought she might have closed the door on the subject but instead she seemed to be looking for the right words.

"I can't really explain it now" she eventually said haltingly. "But, when you're a kid with no name, no memories and no family, there are people who assume they can turn you into whatever they want. They don't see that there might be a person in there, they just see what they can use you for. Fighting, in my case. But, apparently, a better social standing in yours."

"I don't understand how anyone could take a child and train them solely to fight" Virgil said, his voice bitter. "No one deserves that."

"I think if people actually got what they deserve the world would erupt into chaos" she said. "But" she said her now light tone shattering the sombre atmosphere. "I know what you and I deserve right now."

"What's that?"

"Ice cream!" she said her eyes sparkling. Much to his surprise she took his hand and pulled him over to a vendor with a hand cart.

"It's twelve degrees out!" he protested subconsciously huddling into his jacket.

"I know! Positively balmy. Oh, let me guess, you live on a tropical island somewhere with cabana boys to bring you refreshing cocktails whenever your heart desires?"

"They're girls, actually" Virgil rallied, gesturing for 2 cones from the seller. The seller looked at him affronted before thrusting the cones at Jasmine and taking payment with a sharp motion.

As they moved away Virgil heard Jasmine make an odd noise and he realised she was trying very hard not to laugh at him.

"What?" he said getting caught up in her merriment. "What did I do?"

She got herself under control, though it took a couple of goes.

"In your own time" he tried to gripe. It was a line that always worked to knock a younger brother back into line. Naturally it didn't work on her. She blew out a breath.

"Okay, I'm good. Right, hold up two fingers for me."

He did, not understanding. She took his hand and gently twisted it round so his palm was facing her.

"This," she said, "means peace or that you want two of something." She guided his hand back around so the backs of his two fingers were facing her. "This, means screw you. You basically asked for ice cream and then flipped him off" she starting giggling again. "Oh, don't worry about it" she said taking in his mortified expression. "He's used to tourists and probably gets it all day long."

Now Virgil was properly conflicted. The way he was brought up meant he knew he should go and apologise. But on the other hand, he'd made her laugh. Now, as she walked next to him in companionable silence, he realised that maybe that's what he'd been trying to do all afternoon. Virgil looked out over the lake. It wasn't like back home where the evening sun would sparkle off a body of water, highlighting colours from the trees in the surface reflection. The water in the lake looked cold and grey, reflecting instead the darkening of the low clouds. March in Kansas was much similar but on the island March saw cooler days that were still bright. A crisp breeze would blow in bringing the salt tang that he'd come to associate with home. When had he changed so that tropical weather was what he thought of as normal?

A shrill ringing cut through the evening air and before he could turn to see what it was something knocked him harshly from behind. He barely got a glimpse of the cyclist as he flashed past.

"Bastard!" Jasmine shouted at him from where she'd been knocked to the ground. The cyclist raised a hand and flipped the V at them before carrying on.

"See?" Jasmine said moving to get back up. "That's what that sign is usually used for."

"Are you alright?" he said helping her up.

"Yeah, no harm done" she replied dusting herself off. As she bent down to try and get some of the muck off her jeans, he noticed a small dark stain on the outside of her calf.

"You sure?"

She followed his gaze and brushed at the stain a few times.

"Yeah, no hole. I must have landed in something." She looked at something over his shoulder. "I'm just going to go clean myself up" she said holding up muddy hands and nodding towards a public rest room. Without waiting for an answer, she set off.

At a loss for the moment Virgil walked to the nearest park bench then decided to stay standing as he realised how wet it was. Instead, he moved to the water's edge. The knock hadn't been hard – to him at least – but he was glad he'd taken it on his right shoulder and not his left. He looked over at the restroom and wondered how long it would take her to wash her hands. As he thought that he noticed the first few spots of rain break the surface of the lake. Over the next few minutes the spots turned to drizzle and then to rain. The kind that fell consistently for hours and drenched everyone and everything in a quiet and unassuming way.

He realised Jasmine had been quite a while.

Virgil warred with himself for a moment. There could be any number of reasons she was still in there after all. But he couldn't help the nagging voice that said she'd vanished and left him there and there was only one way to silence that voice.

He took a deep breath and opened the door to the women's bathroom.

"Are you alright in…" he tailed off. Whatever he'd been expecting to see it wasn't this. Jasmine had one leg out of her jeans, her sock and boot still on the floor. Her left leg was up on the sink in something that a small part of his brain noticed was quite a feat of balance. What he noticed most though where the bloody bandages and the long cut that ran down the outside of her leg from just below her knee to a few inches above the ankle.

"What are you doing? This is the women's bathroom!" she said shocked at getting caught. As if being in the wrong bathroom was the real problem here. The emergency responder in him acted in an instant, covering the distance between them before assessing the wound.

"The cyclist didn't do this to you, how did this happen?" he all but demanded washing his hands.

Jasmine moved to drop her leg down but he was faster, catching her ankle with a wet hand and keeping her in place. He gestured for the balled-up paper towel she was holding and she passed it to him without comment. Gently he inspected the wound. It was deeper than he'd originally thought. It looked as though it had started scabbing over, only to be torn open again by the fall. A gentle probe showed it was bleeding freely in places but there were no signs of infection or foreign bodies. He sighed to himself. It was better than it could have been, but still…

"Why-" the question died on his lips as he looked at her. She was breathing quickly, eyes wide, frozen in place.

She's terrified.

"Hey" he said gently. The voice of Thunderbird Two coming out without him realising it. "It's alright. Everything is going to be okay. Just tell me what happened here."

"Got caught by a knife" she said, her voice small. "I wasn't quite fast enough."

"Does it hurt?"

"No, I can't feel it"

He frowned at that. It wasn't a good sign. She'd been in his company for hours now, more than long enough for any painkillers to wear off. If she still couldn't feel the wound then it could indicate nerve damage. She'd also been walking round on it all that time without giving anything away, he realised, his frown deepening.

"We need to get you to a hospital" he said. "This looks like it might need stitches."

"No." It was said firmly and seemed to snap her out of whatever had taken hold of her a moment ago. She reached across him and took hold of the soiled bandage making as though to re-wrap her leg. He took it back from her.

"You can't put this back on. Look at it" he held it in front of her and have it a shake for emphasis. "It's filthy and it's been sitting on a sink that was last cleaned who-knows-when." The wound was weeping again. "Stay" he commanded before moving to grab a fresh load of paper towels. They were woefully inadequate for the task at hand but it would have to do until her some proper medical attention.

"I'm not going to a hospital, Virgil" she said a warning tone in her voice. "Do you know what they ask you the moment you arrive? They want your name. I might have a shiny new record curtesy of Thunderbird Five but do you really want to put it to the test? Because I don't."

That wasn't it. Virgil knew that wasn't the reason she didn't want to go. Unfortunately, it was something he didn't really want to push – not with John on the line.

"It needs dressing properly" he insisted.

"It was dressed properly" she countered snatching the clean towels and beginning to apply them to the wound. Despite the pressure she was putting on it she never so much as flinched. "Then I got hit by a wanker and now I need to do it again, but I don't have anything clean on me. Do you?" she challenged.

"Alright" he said thinking fast. "My hotel isn't too far from here-"

"Not a chance."

"-I can pick up some supplies on the way and we can get it properly clean there" he carried on as though she hadn't spoken.

"Those are your choices Jasmine. I'm a paramedic, I know what I'm doing. I'll take a proper look at it back at the hotel or I'm taking you to the hospital" he said firmly. "I'm not leaving you like that. Choose."