2. Edge of Reality

The wall clock lay smashed on the floor, the shards of glass that had once been it's screen broken into even smaller pieces by human hands. Beside it, trailing from the second hand (which was just underneath the bedside cabinet) to the bathroom door were little showers of dark red blood.

John bit his lower lip, the rich salty tears on his cheeks shining against the bathroom lights. He knelt on the floor, wrapping a strip of gauze around the seven long, deep, deliberate cuts on the underside of his arm, stiffling a small sob as he tied off the makeshift bandage. A few months ago, he had promised himself 'never again'. Never. He had even asked Gordon to take home all of the knives in the kitchenette drawer, and the razors in the bathroom. He had never seen his little brother look so scared, or...what was the other feeling he'd detected...? Oh yea - disgusted. John buried his face in his hands, not wanting to think about his brother - it bought back too many memories of Earth, of what life was like before stupid International Res-

He paused in his thoughts. What am I thinking? IR isn't supid...why...why...

He gripped the edge of the bathtub as he felt a wave of nausia sweep over him, and he was forced to lie back on the floor for a few seconds. The hate he'd felt seething through his veins a few seconds before both shocked and elated him - shock because he had never felt thus before, and elation because it showed he had feelings other that empathy. He smiled at nothing in particular.

"Sumimasen! Sumimasen! Um... International Rescue? Watakushi no namae wa Chiro-san desu...oyobi..."

He sat up again as the distress transmitter began to spout random Japanese at him. The girl sounded vety scared indeed. He stared through the bathroom wall at it for a few moments, then stood up shakily and teetered over to it.

"Hai, International Rescue. Nan desho ka." I hope I said the right thing...my Japanese is rusty.

They should speak English. Another voice in his head spat back. He tried to ignore it, but it continued. She's porbably just lost her cat. Leave her alone.

"Hai! Hai! Tasukete!"

"Chotto o-machi kudasai." He forced himself to reply, stunned at the rogue thoughts. He requested the locating program find where the girl was transmiting from. "Watakushi wa igirisujin desu..."

"I speak little Igirisujin! Help me please!"

"What's wrong?"

"My father and six of his male people are trapped in well shaft at edge of... of...moutains! Please help them!"

"Calm down."

"Noni?"

"Um...ssh. We'll help." The tracking system locked in on the location. He smiled. "Sure we'll help."

"Arigato! Arigato gonsaimasu!"

Jeff sat and stared into space, the news Scott had just informed him of still echoing in his mind. There was no collapsed mine shaft, no girl waiting there. There wasn't even a well shaft, Dad.

John lied. He'd actually lied. Or worse, he'd imagined the call. After so long without anything...his mind fabricated it, like a mad man's mind visages an oasis in the middle of the Sahara.

"Dad?" Scott asked quietly from Thunderbird one. He looked at his eldest, took in the concern, the un- natural unsureness.

"You're sure."

"Yes."

"Have you told John?"

"No...no, I thought it was best to tell you first..."

"Oh God..."

"Dad?"

"N-nothing. Alright, um...c-come home, Scott, come home. And Virgil."

"Should we get Thunderbird Three ready for action?"

"No. No, I'm going to put a call through to an old friend of mine. I think...she'd be a bigger help..."

"Lady Penelope? How?"

"Not Lady Penelope, no."

"Who?"

"You'll know her. Come home, get in the shower, do whatever, but be ready when she comes. You know what she was like the last time you surprised her in your bathrobe."

"No way! How can she help? Dad, you can't let her anywhere near -"