"Subject: An explanation and thanks
Dear Doctor Kershaw
Gordon suggested that I should write to you. He said that he's emailed you a couple of times over the past month and kept you up with the play. But, until now, he hasn't been able to give you good news.
He's given me that pleasure.
Please forgive me. I have been thoughtless in not introducing myself. My name is Virgil Tracy and I can state that with absolute conviction. I am as sure of that fact as I am that night follows day, that water is wet, that the sun and stars are in the sky, and that I've just endured the worst month in my life.
By now you will have gathered that I have recovered from my amnesia. Gordon's shown me the emails that he sent you, and your replies, and I think you've got a pretty good idea of how tough things have been for him. It's been tough for everyone in my family, especially me.
When I think of the things I've said to my family and friends, and the things I did, or was prepared to do, I cringe, and thank my lucky stars that they are such a wonderful, understanding, loving group of people. I think otherwise we all would have been torn apart and International Rescue would have ceased to function.
The knowledge that I nearly destroyed the things that I hold dearest is hard to live with, but not as hard as having no knowledge of what these things were. I feel as if I've spent the last month with my mind cloaked in darkness. Every now and then a light managed to penetrate the gloom and then, just as quickly, it would fade again. Snuffed out as much by my own actions as by the amnesia.
But you don't want to read my melancholic ramblings. I'm sure you would rather know exactly what happened that fateful day, one month ago.
I don't think I'm jeopardising any of International Rescue's secrets by telling you that I'm the pilot of Thunderbird Two. During that rescue my principle task was ferrying the injured from your field hospital to others with more permanent facilities. It's not the most glamorous of jobs, and not as exciting as some of my International Rescue duties, but it's an important role and one that, I hope, helped to save many lives.
On my last trip back I was talking with my brother, Scott, who's the rescue co-ordinator at Mobile Control (he's the bossy one) when I saw a flash of something white on the cliff face. Normally I would have dismissed this as being a bit of rock, but something told me that I should have a closer look. Thunderbird Two was too big to get close enough to the cliff, so I told Scott what I was planning to do and landed so I could scout about on foot.
I came to the mudslide. It was filled with bits of rubble and, I've no doubt, bits of people's lives. I'm sure that it was also the tomb for many of those that we were unable to rescue. As you are aware, that's a cross that all rescue services have to bear, the knowledge that we can't save everyone.
Anyway, when I got to the base of this mudslide, I could hear a voice calling. The voice of a child in fear. I couldn't climb at this point, the mud was too unstable, so I ran around it until I found a more solid rock fall. I managed to climb until I was almost level with the girl. She was standing on a ledge on the cliff. I can only assume that she'd crept to the edge, by what remained of her home, to see what had happened and the edge had given way. She was standing, and, apart from a few scratches and grazes, appeared to be unhurt. But I couldn't reach her. The river had cut a path between us and the gap was too wide for either of us to jump. The rushing water was cutting into the hillside beneath her and also washing away the pile of debris that I was standing on.
Scott tells me her name was Maria. I wasn't able to find it out for myself. Maria couldn't speak English and I couldn't speak her language.
Some things, emotions and gestures, are universal though, and I could tell that she was terrified. Until she saw me. I'm sure she recognised my uniform or my International Rescue insignia and knew that I would help her. I could see in her face, the relief she felt in knowing that safety wasn't far away.
I called out to her and told her to keep calm, I'd think of some way to help. I'm sure she didn't understand my words, but she smiled and nodded as if she understood and had complete faith in me.
I did the usual things. I checked our surroundings, looking for obstacles and dangers and anything that would provide assistance. I was at the top of a pile of mud, rock and debris and a raging river was between my objective and me. I needed to bridge the gap, but felt that if I tried to build a bridge or flying fox across, the cliff wall that she was standing against would give way with disastrous results. To tell the truth I didn't feel very secure where I was standing, but I wasn't worried about me, my goal was to rescue Maria.
I told her everything was okay. I was going to call for help. Scott would fly Thunderbird One and lower Gordon down and he would lift her off her ledge and take her to safety.
She smiled at me.
She felt safe.
She knew she would be rescued.
I don't know what happened next. I looked down for the briefest of moments to ensure that my radio was switched on. I think I did manage to turn it on. I don't remember.
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Sorry. Even now, one month later and after all that's happened, the memories are still painful. I looked down and looked up, and Maria had fallen. I don't know how, and I don't know why. I don't know if she moved to get closer to me, or if the ledge she was standing on collapsed, but the next thing I knew was that she wasn't there anymore.
It was as if everything was happening in slow motion. I saw her face change from relief, to surprise, to fear, and even, I swear it's true, to reproachfulness towards me for not saving her.
I watched her fall.
I watched her die.
It's an image that will haunt me forever. That little girl falling helplessly. The phrase 'like a rag doll' is used frequently in novels and dramas, and that is what she reminded me of as she fell. She hit the cliff numerous times before she finally came to rest far below me. It was a miracle that she didn't land in the river. If that had happened you would never have found her.
It's not as if I've never seen death before. I've tried to rescue people who are beyond help. I've battled against the clock and lost. I've even held dying people in my arms and tried to offer them some comfort even though I've known, and sometimes they've known, that there's nothing I could do.
This was different. Maria was young, fit, healthy, and had her whole life in front of her and I watched, helpless, as her life was ripped from her.
At that moment I only had one thought. I don't think I allowed myself to consider that she must be dead, I knew that I had to reach her and give her what help I could. I didn't help her get safely to the ground, but I had to do all I could to get her help now. I don't know why I didn't think of using the radio. Maybe I had dropped it with the initial shock.
I must have retained some sensibilities because I tried to run down the same way that I'd climbed up rather than taking the direct, but impossible route to reach her. Unfortunately I hadn't managed to get very far when I slipped and fell.
Next thing I know I'm lying at the bottom, and this kind man, a stranger, is looking after me and telling me that I'm going to be okay. I had no knowledge of what had just happened to me. Then, more chillingly, I realised that I had no knowledge of who I was, or who these people around me were. I now know them as Gordon, Scott, and you, Doctor Kershaw, but then I had no idea.
I had forgotten my brothers.
There's not much point in going on. You know what happened. I didn't say anything to anyone. I was too frightened that if I said that I couldn't remember it would turn out to be true. I kept on hoping and praying that the memories would return.
They did, but not until a month and a blinding headache later, and by that time a lot of water had passed under the bridge. In that time I nearly ruined my brother's health, alienated my closest friend, accused my family of being something they weren't, and came close to destroying International Rescue. All because I couldn't let myself believe what they were telling me, despite every word they said being the truth.
I don't know if I ever said thank you to you before you left me in the care of my family. Gordon told me that you are off on some humanitarian effort, in some inaccessible part of the world. I hope my email can reach you.
I admire the work you do. As a member of International Rescue I arrive on the scene, do the difficult and dangerous, some would even say glamorous, jobs, and then leave people like you to do the mopping up. We leave you to try and repair the broken lives of those who have survived. I don't know that I would have the stamina or sense of commitment to stay on long term in some of the places where I've worked. You, and people like you, are a treasure the human race should value.
I would like to thank you in a more tangible way, but the probability is that our paths will never cross again. There are those who consider me to be something of an artist, so I've attached a picture that I've drawn for you. I hope that you will look at it occasionally and remember one of the many you've helped.
Wishing you a happy, healthy, and successful life
Yours, with my deepest gratitude
Virgil Tracy."
Virgil smiled to himself and then made a copy of the letter before he, reluctantly, deleted any mention of his surname from the copy. He then re-read it, editing out all the information that could betray his family and International Rescue. He proof read it twice more, then added a note to the original copy which he addressed to each of his family and friends…
And pushed the send button, hoping that it marked the end of this particular chapter in his life.
Gordon frowned at his computer screen. A sound in the hallway made him look around to see who it was.
"Scott! Would you mind coming in here a moment?"
"What's up, Gordon?"
"Shut the door," Gordon instructed and waited until Scott had complied. "Has Virgil spoken to you about what happened at the rock fall before he got amnesia?"
"Not really. All he's said to me was what he told me up at the lookout and that was pretty hard to follow. I guess he doesn't want to talk about it. I was going to give him a few days to get back into the swing of things and then talk to him."
"So you haven't checked your emails yet?"
"No. Why?"
Gordon indicated his screen. "I think you should read this."
Virgil knocked on the door. "Sorry to interrupt you…"
His father looked up from his study desk with a broad smile. "That's okay. Come in."
Virgil entered the room and shut the door behind him.
"Sit down," Jeff indicated a chair. "What can I do for you?"
Virgil sat down uneasily. "This place feels different to the last time I was in here."
"It's still the same room," Jeff reminded him. "I haven't changed anything."
"I know. But it's as if it's got a different… colour to it."
"Colour?"
"As if before it was dark, all blacks and greys."
Jeff looked at Virgil with interest. "And now? What colour is it?"
"It's lighter… Maybe a dark lilac."
"And that's good?"
"It's better."
"You're the only one who would come up with a description like that," Jeff noted. "I'm having trouble imagining it. To me it's just a room. Do you often think of things in terms of colour?"
Virgil shrugged. "Sometimes."
"And what's better than dark lilac?"
"A sunny yellow, or pure white."
"And this room isn't as light as that?" Jeff asked.
Virgil shook his head. "No. The associations with this room aren't that good."
His father frowned. "Why?"
"Because of the things I did in here the other day. That's why I came here. I wanted to apologise."
"Apologise?" Jeff frowned. "For what?"
"For everything I said and did… and nearly did, while I had amnesia."
"You have nothing to apologise for," Jeff said.
"Yes, I do," Virgil rebutted. He leant forward and picked up the family photo on his father's desk. He looked at the damaged glass. "I nearly ripped the family apart, to say nothing about what I could have done to Internation…"
"Virgil," Jeff interrupted. "I repeat. You have nothing to apologise for. It wasn't you who did those things."
"Wasn't it? I sure wish I knew who it was then. I'd like to give him a black eye for treating you all that way. When I think of what I said about Brains…"
"You haven't told him have you?" Jeff cut in quickly.
Virgil shook his head. "No. I was thinking of apologising though."
"Don't. He doesn't know what went on in this room, and if I have my way he never will. It will stay between you, Scott, and me. You didn't know who Brains was, or who any of us were. And it's possible that if any of us had have been in your position we would have acted in exactly the same way."
Virgil gave a wry smile. "I can't see it myself."
"And I couldn't imagine you not knowing who we were and forgetting all those things you forgot. The idea of you forgetting how to play the piano or how to fly Thunderbird Two is unthinkable. But it happened. It wasn't your fault."
"Maybe," Virgil said reluctantly and he replaced the photo. "I wanted to believe everything everyone told me, but for some reason I wouldn't let myself. That's why I threw the Traceset against the wall. I was getting frustrated with my own stubbornness."
"It's been a tough month," Jeff said. "But it's over now. You can get on with your life. You've had no relapses have you?"
"No." Virgil shook his head. "I guess it's been a tough month for everyone."
"Yes it has. But we survived. We've had hard times before, and, with our line of business, odds are we will again. But we're strong... Together," Jeff clasped his hands together in an expressive gesture, "we can cope with just about anything. I will admit though," he added, "that I didn't enjoy not being able to trust you."
"Is that why the 'phone's password protected?" Virgil indicated the word 'Kansas' stuck to the face of the videophone.
Jeff removed the piece of paper and then the password protection. "Sadly, yes. I wasn't going to, but when you said you didn't believe us and then stormed out, I thought I'd better err on the side of caution… I was tracking your movements when you went into the hangar and the boatshed. How did you know the code to the shed?"
"Did I?"
"You punched it in correctly. I had to be pretty quick to bolt it again. I didn't want you to risk your neck by trying to operate the yacht alone."
"So that's why the lock made that sound," Virgil looked a little amazed. "I just keyed in the first thing that came to mind. I never dreamt that it was correct. So you were tracking me the entire time?"
"Yes. You had me worried when you got into the pilot's seat of that plane."
"And here I was thinking I was so clever at escaping detection," Virgil gave a wry grin. "I was quite proud of myself and all the time…" he shook his head. "Talk about '1984'."
Jeff chuckled. "That's exactly how I felt. I think I even made a comment to Kyrano that I felt more like 'Big Brother' than your father. That was after he'd told me that he knew you were hiding in the hallway."
"It's impossible to have any secrets in this place…" Virgil thought a moment. "So I remembered the code to the boatshed… It was funny how occasionally things popped to the surface that I would have said I didn't remember."
"It's one of the reasons why I was reluctant to discuss that treatment with you. I kept on telling myself that if you were remembering bits and pieces then you must be getting better. I was probably deluding myself because I couldn't bear the thought of you having to go through that medical procedure." Jeff screwed his face into a grimace. "If you thought what you said about Brains in here was bad, you should have heard what I said to his face when he told me what the treatment entailed. If anyone should be apologising to the poor guy, it's me."
Virgil shuddered. "I don't even want to think about what they would have done to me."
"No. Me neither." Jeff looked earnestly at Virgil. "I'm glad you came in here, I've wanted to ask you how you feel about continuing on with International Rescue. I'd understand if you don't…"
"What? Are you trying to get rid of me?" Virgil asked seriously, and then smiled at his father. "No, I'm fine. That flight in Thunderbird Two reminded me how much I enjoy my work. I know we won't always be able to rescue everyone, but I intend to continue trying. I just hope I never have another experience like that last one."
"Are you sure?" Jeff asked. "No one would blame you if you want to take some time off…"
"I'm sure." Virgil stood. "I'm holding you up. I'd better let you get back to work."
Jeff indicated his desk. "This is nothing important. What is important is that I am able to talk with my son."
Virgil smiled. "Do you know how wonderful it feels to hear you say that and know that it is true? I think I said early on that I liked the idea of having you as a father. I like it even better when I know you are."
Jeff's smile mirrored his son's. "Thank you, Virgil. I'm glad I've got you back as my son again."
Virgil took a step towards the door and then stopped and turned back to the desk. "Can I ask you something?"
"Of course."
"When everyone was off on the rescue to save the car on the cliff - the genuine one, you said that if you were sick and had to get to hospital, you'd prefer me to fly you there rather than Scott. Did you mean that?"
Jeff grinned. "What do you think?"
"I think that if Scott had've been in my position you would have said that you preferred him."
Jeff winked. "You know me too well, Virgil… Now let me ask you something. What colour is the room now?"
Virgil looked around. "Tangerine."
"Better?"
Virgil gave his father a warm smile. "Yep! Much better."
Scott sat back. "Heck," he said simply.
"Yeah," Gordon agreed. "Is that what Virgil said up at the lookout?"
"Pretty much, but I wasn't taking it in at the time. I was more concerned over how pale he was and how violently he was shaking. I honestly thought he was having some kind of a fit."
"Do you still want to wait a few days before you talk with him?"
"No," Scott shook his head. "Do you know where he is?"
"I haven't seen him since lunchtime."
"I think the logical place we should start looking is in Thunderbird Two's hangar."
Images and scenes, familiar yet distant, moved in the darkened room.
A door opened, admitting light, and then swung shut.
The darkness returned.
"So this is where you're hiding."
Virgil paused the video and turned to look at Scott, who was standing in the entrance to the theatre.
Gordon took a step closer to the screen. "Home movies?" he asked in pretend disgust. "Isn't once a decade enough for watching these things?"
"They're memories," Virgil rebuked him. "They're important! Besides," he turned back to the screen, "I wasn't able to properly appreciate them last time."
Scott slipped into a seat beside him as Gordon vaulted a couple of rows and slouched into the seat in front. He looked up at the movie screen. "I must admit, I do enjoy watching Ma, since I don't really remember her."
"Do you want me to turn the lights up?" Virgil reached for the theatre's controls.
"No. The picture's easier to see in the dark," Scott said and then added. "We've been looking for you."
"Well, you've found me."
"We read your email," Gordon informed his brother.
Virgil uttered a quiet "Oh."
"Want to talk?" Scott asked.
Virgil shrugged. "I don't know that there's much more to say…" Then he changed his mind. "Yes there is. I'd like to thank the both of you for all you've done for me this past month."
"It was nothin'," Gordon said dismissively. "Any insomniac would have been willing to do it."
"No, I mean it!" Virgil protested. "You've got no idea what you being there 24 hours a day meant to me. It kept me relatively sane."
"I wasn't much help," Scott said in shame.
"Yes you were, maybe not full time like Gordon was, but when it mattered most. Like when you gave me the new toiletries. At that point I was feeling really lost and scared, because here I was in this 'strange' house and didn't have anything that I 'knew' was mine. You gave me some certainty. It may not have been much and it may sound silly now, but it was something I could cling to. And I appreciated that."
"Why'd you decide that I was your guardian angel and Scott was the son of Satan?" Gordon asked.
"Thanks!" Scott complained.
Virgil smiled at the description. "I've been thinking about that. I think that possibly it was because yours was the first voice I heard, and you were calm and reassuring and you told me everything was going to be okay."
"And my voice was the last you heard before Maria fell," Scott said reflectively. "Or maybe as she fell?"
"And you had your 'everything's slipping out of my control and I don't like it' voice on too," Gordon ventured. "That can be pretty off-putting when people don't know you."
"My what?"
Virgil looked down. "Maybe it was that," he said quietly. "I don't remember…" He twisted his hands together. "Can I ask you guys something?"
"Sure," Gordon replied.
"How…" Virgil hesitated, a frown creasing his forehead as if he were reluctant to continue. "How did you find out her name was Maria? I didn't know that."
"We found her while we were looking for you," Scott told him. "Then her mother found her. The poor woman was totally devastated. She was crying her daughter's name over and over again."
"We never connected what happened to you with Maria," Gordon added. "You were on opposite sides of the slip. If we'd thought about it maybe we could've…"
Virgil suddenly thumped the armrest of his chair. "If I had to forget anything, why can't I forget her death? Why can't I forget the way she looked at me? It haunts me! I close my eyes and I can see her face! Falling down, away from me! Asking for my help! And I couldn't give it to her!"
"Calm down, Virgil," Gordon said. "We're not miracle workers. We can't save everyone."
"But she thought I was going to help her! She trusted me! And I failed her! I can't forget that!"
"Her death wasn't your fault," Gordon reminded him.
"Wasn't it? Maybe I was the cause! What if she'd tried to get closer to me and upset the balance of the ledge she was on? What if she'd done a happy dance at the thought she was going to be saved? What if…?"
"Virgil!" Scott admonished him gently. "Haven't you punished yourself enough?"
Virgil halted his anguished tirade, the light from the projector reflecting off a glistening dot on his cheek. "What do you mean?"
"Is it possible," Scott said slowly, "that you thought you had to punish yourself for not helping Maria, so you made yourself forget all the good things in your life?"
Virgil looked at him, his eyes bright in the projector's beam. "That's silly."
"Can you think of another reason why you got amnesia? Brains couldn't!"
"But I wouldn't want to forget you guys. I would never want to forget Father, or Grandma, or Brains, or Tin-Tin or Kyrano. That's crazy! And why would I want to forget Ma?" Virgil asked. He indicated the screen ahead of them. On it was projected a picture of their mother. It had been paused at the moment that she'd picked up Virgil as a child. She was smiling and the young boy was looking lovingly up at her. "The day she died I made a promise to her that I would think about her every day. I told her that I would never forget her. And I have remembered her every day until the day I got amnesia. Why would I knowingly break that promise?" He turned off the projector.
The theatre was plunged into darkness.
"I don't know, Virgil," Scott said in a soft voice.
They were quiet for a time.
Eventually Virgil turned the house lights back on. They all blinked against the unaccustomed brightness.
Virgil sneezed three times.
"You don't have to stop watching the videos on our account," Gordon told Virgil when he'd finished.
"No," Virgil tossed the remote to one side. "I've seen enough for today."
They sat together in silence.
Scott decided to break it. "Can I ask you guys something?"
Hoping for a change in topic Gordon said a breezy "Sure."
"Am I…?" Scott looked at his hands.
"Yes?" Virgil pressed him.
Scott looked up. "Am I really that unlikeable?" he asked, and looked at his brothers in consternation when they both burst out laughing.
"Oh, yeah," Gordon snorted. "Really unlikeable. You're so terrible I can't bear to be around you."
"Who was the most popular guy in school?" Virgil asked. "And how many friends did you have in the Air Force? Of course you're likeable. I'm the one who had the problem, not you."
"Virgil…"
"I don't mind you calling me Virg."
"But I thought you didn't like it," Scott looked surprised.
"If anyone not in the family called me that I'd soon put them right," Virgil admitted. "But coming from you guys, it's as if… I belong. Do you understand?"
"Yep," Scott agreed. "But it might be too late now. I've finally got used to calling you Virgil. It might be too hard to start calling you Virg again."
"Virgie, pirgie, puddin' and pie," Gordon chanted. "Kissed Tin-Tin and made Alan cry."
"I didn't kiss her. She kissed me," Virgil reminded him.
"You might have been in with a chance there," Gordon said. "You had her sympathy. You could have elbowed Alan out while she felt sorry for you."
"No way," Virgil insisted. "Tin-Tin's definitely in the 'little sister' category. Besides…" he gave a mischievous grin, "I prefer blondes."
"Blondes?" Scott and Gordon stared at him.
"Uh, huh."
"Not…" Scott's face held a dazed expression, "not Lady Penelope?"
"You're kidding!" Gordon exclaimed. Then he snapped his fingers. "Paradise Peaks Hotel!"
"Where?" Virgil asked in mock innocence.
"You and Penny and Tin-Tin and Alan had dinner there after you had rescued Penny, Parker and Tin-Tin from the cable car."
"Did we?"
"You took your dinner suits! Alan and Tin-Tin probably wondered off together, and Parker wouldn't eat with you, not at a posh place like that. So what did you and Penny get up to?"
"That's right," Scott rounded on him. "Spill it, Virg."
"Spill what? I don't know what you're talking about. I guess I'm not totally recovered from the amnesia."
His brothers looked at his smiling face and didn't believe him. Gordon scrambled out of his seat. "I can't resist this. I'm going to call Alan and find out what went on."
Scott waited until he'd left the theatre. "Okay, Virg. Talk. What happened?"
"You think I'd tell you?"
"Yep."
Virgil laughed. "Then you don't know me as well as you think you do."
"Come on, Virg…"
"Didn't take you long to get back into the habit, did it."
"You can tell me. You know I won't tell anyone else."
"I'm not saying another word," Virgil was grinning from ear to ear.
"You're enjoying this."
"Yes I am. Do you know how good it feels to remember something about me that the rest of my family don't know?"
Scott's face broke into a delighted grin. "Do you know how good it is to hear you call us 'my family'?"
"Do you know how good it is to say it?"
Scott gave Virgil an affectionate punch on the arm. "I've missed you."
"Yeah, I know. I've missed me too." Then Virgil looked seriously at his brother. "I'm sorry, Scott."
"Sorry? For what?"
"For the way I've treated you over the last month. I know I upset you. Don't ask me to explain why I did, because I don't know. I just know I'm sorry."
"It wasn't your fault."
"But I was the…"
"Don't start that again!" Scott insisted.
"Know what I'd like to do now?" Virgil asked. "I feel like checking out the storeroom."
"The storeroom? Why?"
"Seeing what memories are stored away in there."
"…So you see, Alan, Virgil's not going to tell us anything, and there's no way I'd ask Lady Penelope, and Tin-Tin would probably keep quiet just to support Virgil. So you're our only hope. What happened at Paradise Peaks?"
Alan frowned at the question. "Are you telling me that Virgil's got a thing for Lady Penelope?"
"That's what he insinuated."
"And she might feel the same way about him?"
"He didn't say that in so many words. That's why I'm asking you."
"Are you sure, Gordon?"
"Yep. He was enjoying teasing us."
Alan's frown deepened. "I can't remember…"
"Don't you start that. We've just got Virgil over his amnesia. Now what happened?"
"I don't know. Tin-Tin and I decided to… get some fresh air. Virgil and Lady P were still eating so we left them to it. They were at the table, talking, when we got back."
"And how long were you gone for?"
"I don't remember."
Gordon sighed in exasperation. "I'm going for a swim. If you remember call me!"
"Look what I've found!" Virgil held up an old, toy, cowboy hat. "Remember this?" He put it on his head.
Scott chuckled. "The Sundance Kid rides again. Where's my one?"
"Here," Virgil pulled a battered hat out from a box.
Scott put it on. Then he found a plastic gun in its holster. He held it up. "I don't think this'll go round my waist now." He removed the gun and tried twirling it about his finger. It fell off. "My finger's grown too."
"You know, Butch," Virgil looked at his brother slyly, "John's home…"
John placed a glass of home-made lemonade at his father's elbow and then sat down on the lounger by the pool. He sipped at his drink, watched Gordon in the pool for a moment, and then picked up the latest book he was reading. He wriggled in contentment as he felt the warm sun on his bare chest, opened his book at the place marked by the bookmark and…
"Oh, John-ny!"
John looked round at the singsong chorus. He groaned. "I thought you two had grown up."
Scott and Virgil were standing there; wearing their too small cowboy hats, bandannas, and with plastic pistols tucked into the waistband of their trousers.
"We're on a trip down memory lane," Virgil told him. "You know the drill."
"Yeah," Scott drawled. He removed his gun and pointed it in John's direction "Humour us or the book gets it." Water shot out of the gun's barrel and landed on the paving stones beside John's lounger.
John quickly put his book down on the table next to him, out of range of the water-pistols, and just as quickly stood to form a shield for his prize. "Don't you dare!"
"Try and stop us, Johnny," Virgil said, removing his own water-pistol.
"Not the book. Anything but the book," John protested. Water splashed his feet as it shot from Virgil's gun. "Gordon, help me!"
Gordon was still in the pool, leaning on the edge, watching the drama unfold. "I'm already wet. Why would I want to get in the path of a water-pistol?"
John decided a little pleading was in order. "Gordon! I'm appealing to you!"
"No you're not. Not in the slightest. Maybe if you were built more like Tin-Tin and your hair was longer..."
John gave up on his brother. "Dad?"
Jeff looked over the top of his spectacles and his paper. "Sorry, Son. I'm too old to go against those two."
"But I'd be helping."
Jeff smiled benignly. "You're on your own, John."
"Yeah, John," Virgil agreed.
"Okay," John held his hands up in surrender. "Just let me get my book. And keep those things pointed in the other direction!"
His gun-toting brothers replaced their water-pistols in their waistbands.
"Got the rope, Virg?" Scott asked.
"Yep. Come on, Johnny. There's a tree here with your name on it."
"What does it read? 'Sucker'?" John asked.
"No. 'Friend'," Scott told him.
John grinned.
"There ya are," Virgil had pulled some cushions off one of the poolside seats and placed them at the base of the tree. "Can't have your old, arthritic bones aching can we."
"If I weren't so pleased that you're back to normal… I think," John submitted to having the rope wrapped around his torso, "I'd be annoyed with you for saying that. Still," he leant back against the cushion that protected his back from the bark of the palm tree, "this is better than that ant's nest. Whose idea was it to sit me on it, Virgil?"
Virgil looked surprised at the question. "Scott's of course."
"Ha! I knew it!" John said triumphantly. His waited until his two brothers finished tying the knots that bound him to the tree. "Now you children run away and play elsewhere, and leave me in peace." He made a shooing gesture with his hands and then picked up his book again.
Scott didn't move. Instead he folded his hands and looked down at his captive. "You weren't much of a challenge, John."
"Was I ever?" John carried on reading his book.
"You're right," Virgil agreed. "We need someone who'll be more of a challenge." They both turned and looked towards Gordon who had climbed out of the pool and was towelling himself down before dropping onto a lounger to relax.
"Jeff? What are you doing up here? I thought you were planning on relaxing with the paper."
Jeff turned from where he was looking over the balcony rail into the pool area. He smiled at his mother. "I'm keeping out of harm's way."
"Harm's way?" she queried.
"Look," he indicated down to the poolside. "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid have decided on a new victim."
She looked down below and chuckled in amusement. "Gordon hasn't got a chance."
"He must still be tired if he doesn't realise that they wouldn't be happy with tying up only John," Jeff said. "I got out of there as soon as they dragged him away."
"John? Where is he?" Grandma shaded her eyes against the glare of the reflected light from the ocean.
"There," Jeff pointed. "Tied up at the base of that palm."
"They've left him his book as usual I see."
"They wouldn't be so cruel as to deprive him of that." Jeff watched the drama below him. "Look at them! They don't say a word to each other, but they're moving in perfect unison. I wish I knew their secret."
They watched as both Scott and Virgil crawled closer to their target.
"It's good to have them together as a team again," Grandma stated. "Things just haven't been right around here this last month. Having Virgil with amnesia was bad enough, but having Scott shut out of his life was just plain unnatural."
The 'cowboys' inched closer.
Gordon dozed, oblivious of the trouble he was in.
Even John had put down his book in order to watch what was happening.
They were only a couple of metres away. Scott looked at Virgil. He held up a hand with three fingers extended. He folded one finger back onto his palm… then the next…
Gordon didn't know what hit him. There was twin yells, quickly followed by his startled squawk as the sleeping swimmer was suddenly assaulted and tied to the lounger on which he'd been relaxing. "Guys!"
Virgil tested his knot. "Done!" He pulled another lounger closer and stretched out on it. "That was fun."
"Virgil!" Gordon complained.
Scott removed the cowboy hat from his head and dropped it over Gordon's face. "Yep!" He pulled up the lounger on Gordon's other side and settled down on it. He sighed happily.
"Scott!" Gordon protested through the hat.
"This is the life," Scott said.
"Virgil!" Gordon tried again. "Please untie me."
Virgil ignored him, preferring to agree with Scott. "You can say that again."
"Guys!"
"This is the life," Scott repeated.
"Help me!" Gordon pleaded, his voice muffled. "This hat stinks! Where's it been?"
"Can you hear someone, Scott?" Virgil asked.
"Me? Nah. You've got voices in your head, Virg."
"Well, makes a change from having nothing in my head." Virgil pulled the water-pistol out. "Ten points if I hit his right big toe."
He scored a bulls-eye.
Scott decided to have a turn. "50 points on his left little toe." He took aim.
"You missed!" Virgil crowed.
"Got his middle toe, though. That's worth 30 points."
Gordon tried to shake the hat loose from off his face. He succeeded in slipping it off his eyes and tried to blow it away from his mouth, but the material was too heavy to shift. "Will you remove this thing?"
Scott stretched luxuriously before aiming at Gordon's foot again. "Yes! That's 50 points to me Virg."
"I hope you're remembering your score."
"Please, Scott. At least remove the hat," Gordon pleaded.
"Nope. That'll teach you for getting everyone to pull that prank on me."
"Virgil? Please!"
"You know me, Gordon. What Braman is to Brains, I am to Scott. I just do what he tells me to."
Scott snorted. "Since when?"
"Are you going to hold that against me?" Gordon succeeded in shaking his head violently enough that the hat fell to the ground. It made breathing easier, but he was still held captive. "I wish your amnesia had reversed itself so you wouldn't remember what I said!" He decided to appeal elsewhere. "Dad! Help me!"
"It's a nice day for sunbathing, Gordon," Jeff called down. "Enjoy lying about while you can. You may be called away at any moment."
"But I don't want rope lines in my tan! I'll look like a zebra!"
Jeff gave him a cheerful wave.
"Grandma?" Gordon begged optimistically.
"Yes, Darling?"
Jeff heard a sound from inside and turned back to the lounge.
"You'll untie me won't you?" Gordon continued begging.
"Sorry, Darling. I've got to make a start on tonight's dinner." Infuriatingly she didn't move.
Equally infuriatingly, to Gordon anyway, Scott and Virgil burst out laughing. Behind him he could hear John's laughter as well.
The annoying sounds were abruptly drowned out by a more strident one.
Immediately Scott and Virgil were on their feet. Virgil untied Gordon as Scott sprinted across to the palm tree and helped John slip out from his bonds. Then all four of them were racing for the house.
"If this is Dad's idea of helping us, remind me to give him a big hug," Gordon puffed in John's ear as they tore up the steps.
Alan was looking down on them from his portrait.
Brains was in discussion with Jeff and Tin-Tin. They were bent over a map.
"Get going, Scott," Jeff ordered. "There's a dam about to burst. It's in a remote area and you'll have to co-ordinate the rescue. Alan will give you the co-ordinates."
"F-A-B." Scott was already spinning out of sight.
"John! Gordon! Take Thunderbird Four and The Domo." Jeff glanced at Brains for confirmation, who nodded his agreement.
"Father?" Virgil was poised, ready to move into action, hoping he was going to be allowed to assist at the rescue.
"Do you feel up to it?" Jeff asked.
"Yep!" Virgil said impatiently.
"What do you think, Brains?" Jeff queried.
"I think you'll be o-okay, Virgil. S-So long as you promise to tell anyone should you…"
"Great! Thanks!" Virgil ran for the painting of the rocket. "Out of my way, Gordon! Thunderbird Two's mine!"
Gordon grinned as he diverted his course and headed for the passenger lift. "We've got him back!"
"We have indeed," Jeff agreed.
"Be careful, Boys," Grandma called after them.
"Ready for lift off," Scott's voice came out of the intercom.
"You're cleared to go, Scott," his father instructed. "Virgil's piloting Thunderbird Two."
"Really! Great! It'll be like old times…" Scott's final words were drowned out by the rockets of Thunderbird One.
"It looks like everyone's back to normal, Mr Tracy," Tin-Tin said.
Virgil experienced the buzz of adrenaline as he slid off his pilot's chute and the seat folded into position beneath him. He activated Thunderbird Two's final diagnostic check and then changed into his uniform.
He was back in his seat, whistling cheerfully when Gordon and John arrived in the cabin.
"Now that's a sight I like to see," Gordon said as he sat in his traditional passenger seat. "The back of Virgil's head."
Virgil's whistling didn't abate as he started Thunderbird Two trundling down the runway.
"I take if you're pleased to be back in the saddle," John said.
"Yep," Virgil was practically purring with pleasure.
"Want me to explain any of the controls?" Gordon teased. "That thing you've got your hands on is called a control yoke."
"Thanks, Gordon. I remember."
"And the bits sticking out the sides of Thunderbird Two are called wings," John said helpfully.
"Really?" Virgil exclaimed.
"And the bit at the back is the tail," John added.
"I must try to remember that." Virgil glanced briefly backwards, and his passengers saw the smile on his face. "Are you two ready for take off?"
"Ready," John stated.
"I've got my, … what do you call this strappy thing, John?" Gordon asked his brother.
"Um, dunno. Faller outer stopper?" John suggested.
"Well, whatever it is, I've got it done up."
They stopped their game while Virgil radioed his father for clearance.
They had reached the end of the runway.
Thunderbird Two starting tipping up towards the heavens.
"Safety Harnesses done up securely?" Virgil asked.
"So that's what this thing's called!" Gordon exclaimed.
"Now we know," John added.
"I'll take that as an affirmative," Virgil pulled back on the throttle. He felt a thrill of pleasure as the motors built up to full power and Thunderbird Two lifted clear of the ground.
"Thunderbird One to Thunderbird Two."
"This is Thunderbird Two, reading you loud and clear, Thunderbird One."
"Hello stranger, welcome back," Scott smiled. "It's good to have you as part of the team again, Virg."
"Thanks, Scott. It's good to know I am part of the team."
"Well don't ever forget it again!"
"I won't," Virgil promised. His brothers shared a smile of delight as he let out a triumphant cheer...
"Thunderbirds are Go!"
The end.
The tale's complete… I think.
Someone asked me why I chose Virgil to get amnesia over the other characters. There's several reasons:
1. Closetfan's "Funeral for a Brother" had Virgil getting amnesia. That story was what created the idea for "Familiar Strangers". If you haven't read "Funeral for a Brother" go find it now.
2. I thought it would be interesting to see how the perceived bond between Virgil and Scott would be tested under these circumstances.
3. I thought that Virgil had characteristics and interests that I could exploit…
and
4. Virgil's my favourite character so, perversely, I enjoy beating him up!
Once again I would like to acknowledge Closetfan's inspiration, and Quiller's assistance. It was Quiller who suggested the Virgil/Tin-Tin/Alan triangle… though I don't think what eventuated was what she expected!
And finally I would like to thank everyone who took the time to submit reviews or email me personally, especially to those who reviewed daily – that was a buzz that I will remember.
Thank you all.
Purupuss