Again, don't own the Thunderbirds...I can dream though...
John looked around and smiled in contentment. "This is great."
Christ shot him a quizzical look. "What?"
"All this!" John gestured around at everyone gathered on the Esplanade. "All these people! I can't remember the last time I spent a Fourth down here on Ear—in the states."
"Don't get off the island much do you?" She smirked.
He frowned down at her. "Behave or I take you home."
Her indigo eyes twinkled. "Promise?" She burst out laughing at the blush that spread across his face. She stood up on tiptoe and placed a kiss on his nose. "You're so cute!"
He grumbled something she couldn't make out, and she laughed again. John grabbed her hand and they continued walking down the path. They paused near the Hatch Shell to listen to the music, then turned back the other way. They paused to buy ice cream off a vendor, strawberry for Christa and chocolate of course, for John.
They continued walking, John stopping at one point to help a little boy whose remote control boat had stalled in the pond. He opened the control, and twiddled around for a few minutes, then handed it back. The boy yelped with pleasure as his boat started once again.
Christa leaned up and placed a soft kiss on John's lips.
"What was that for?" He asked, bemused.
"Just because." She replied.
"Christa, you are the most—" He stiffened, his gaze caught by something.
She turned. "What is it John?" He didn't answer, and she looked up at him. "John? Are you alright?"
He had gone pale, and his eyes darted around as if searching for something. "I just thought I saw someone, that's all."
"Who?"
He shook his head. "No one. It's nothing."
"John."
He smiled down at her. "Forget it. I'm seeing things. Let's find a place to sit and get something to eat." He took her hand and led her back to the vendors, pausing occasionally to glance around. Finally they took seats on the grass amidst the hundreds of other people waiting for the fireworks to begin.
John's mind whirled. I saw him. I know I did. I saw the Hood. Somehow, he was here. John gave himself a mental shake. Dammit he can't be here! Scott talked to Penny. She said he's still in jail!
"I hope it doesn't rain."
John turned. "Sorry, what did you say?"
"Hello! Earth to John!" She waved her hands in front of his face. "I said I hope it doesn't rain." Christa pointed off in the distance where dark clouds were starting to gather.
John sighed. Great, a thunderstorm. Well, isn't that just perfect.
"Are you alright?" Christa's face was filled with concern.
John smiled. "Just thinking."
"Of anything in particular?"
"No, not really." He sighed. "OK, but you have to promise not to laugh."
She nodded. "I promise."
"The rain. It's been hot, and that's a cold front, which means a thunderstorm."
She looked at him, puzzled. "And your point would be…"
He frowned, then looked away. "I hate thunderstorms." He said quietly.
"What?"
"I said I hate thunderstorms. Always have, ever since I was a kid." John replied, still not looking at her.
"You're kidding me?" Christa tried to cover her giggle by taking a sip from her water bottle. John merely glared at her. "Oh John, please! You're what twenty-seven years old?"
"Twenty-five."
"I stand corrected, twenty-five, and afraid of thunder and lightning?" She chuckled, then sobered at the serious expression on his face. "John?" She called softly. "I'm sorry." He didn't turn, so she tilted his face towards her. His blue eyes were full of hurt. Hurt and something else she couldn't read. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were serious." She said again, kissing him tenderly.
John's eyes softened and his shoulders relaxed. "It's OK. Just something I'm sensitive about."
"I'll make it up to you." Christa said huskily. She placed her lips on his again, this time deepening the kiss. They stayed together that way until the first explosions thundered into the darkening sky.
Christa and John, along with everyone else, turned to watch the fireworks. As usual, they were timed to music and everyone Ohhed and Ahhed over them. Some time later, Christa turned to say something to John, when she noticed he wasn't there. Alarmed, she glanced around. Not seeing him, she got up and started walking calling his name. She finally spied him, standing under a tree and hurried to his side.
"John! What happened? I've been looking everywhere for you?" She asked.
John started to speak when another roar went up from the fireworks. He flinched, ducking down to his knees with his hands pressed to his temples.
Christa knelt by his side, her hand on his shoulder. "John?"
He looked up, his eyes wide with fear. "I want to get out of here." He rasped.
She nodded and taking his hand, led him through the crowd. He continued to cringe at each explosion and she quickened her steps. They were in the middle of the pedestrian bridge over Storrow Drive, when the first clap of thunder rumbled. A few seconds later, the sky opened and rain began pouring down.
By the time they reached the Tracy brownstone, both were soaked to the skin. John quickly unlocked the door, and they rushed inside. An enormous thunderclap, accompanied by bright lightning sounded just as John shut the door. He instantly dropped to the floor, covering his head with his hands.
Christa knelt down next to him and forced his head up to look at her. "John, honey it's OK, you're safe."
John was shaking uncontrollably and his eyes darted wildly around the room. Christa sat down on the floor and pulled him into her arms. She continued talking soothingly to him, until she felt him start to relax.
"Christa…" He said hoarsely.
"Shhhh!" She held him close, running her hands through his wet hair. "God! You're freezing! We need to get you out of these wet things." She got to her feet and helped him to his, noting with concern, the way he winced as his hand moved automatically to his side.
"Easy John. Where's the bathroom in this place?" She asked, leading him down the hallway.
"U-U-Upstairs." He chattered.
She led him up the stairs and he pointed to a door at the end of the hall. It opened into a large suite. They walked into the bathroom, and Christa turned the shower on. While the water was warming, she helped John out of his wet shirt and jeans, leaving him wearing only his boxers. She frowned at the scars on his chest, arm, and back, and made a mental note to ask him about them later. "Where are your clothes?" She asked.
"Top floor." He replied tonelessly.
"Are you going to be alright by yourself?" He nodded, still staring off into space. "John!"
He jumped, her voice startling him out of his reverie. "What! Yes, I'll be fine."
"OK then. I'll go find you some clothes. Holler if you need anything." She turned and left, closing the door behind her. Christa made her way through the house, finally finding the staircase leading to the attic room. Turning on the lights, she found the bureau and quickly pulled out a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. She pulled out another set for herself, and spying another bathroom, quickly stripped off her own wet clothes and hopped into the shower.
When she emerged a few minutes later, she held the pants up against her. Deciding they were too big, she rummaged through the drawer and found a pair of drawstring shorts instead. Pulling them on and the sweatshirt over her head, she made her way downstairs.
John had finished in the bathroom, so she laid the clothes on the bed and went searching for him. She found him sitting on the couch in the living room. He wore a dark burgundy robe and his hair was slicked back from his face. He had started a fire in the fireplace and held a glass of amber liquid in his hands. "John?" She called out softly.
He looked up and had to smile. The sweatshirt she had on was one of Scott's old Air Force ones, and she had the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. The waistband came down almost to her knees. "My brother Alan might have something here that will fit you better." He told her.
She spun in a circle. "What, you don't like this look?"
He laughed as she sat down next to him. "What are you drinking?" Christa asked, nodding at his glass.
"Whiskey." She made a face and John had to laugh. "Your last name's Lynch and you don't drink whiskey?"
"Guinness either."
John frowned at her. "We may have to rethink this relationship."
Before she could reply, another thunderclap shook the house. John flinched, dropping his glass. Christa wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "Easy John, you're safe here." Instead of replying, he buried his face in her lap, clenching his eyes shut. She felt him shuddering and gently ran her fingers through his hair.
They sat there like that until eventually the storm moved off, and John's trembling stopped. He sat up and looked around warily. "John?" Christa said softly. He put his head in his hands. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"No." He quickly got to his feet, wincing and clutching his side. "Dammit!" He growled and waited for the pain to ebb.
Christa walked over and standing on tiptoe, turned his head to look at her. "John. Talk to me."
"I…I can't…"
She smiled, her indigo eyes filled with concern. "I won't hurt you John."
He pulled her close and closing his eyes, rested his head on top of hers. "I know."
They stood there for a few minutes before Christa pulled away. "Look, I left some clothes on the bed upstairs, why don't you get dressed, and I'll make us something to eat."
"Christa, you don't have to do this for me." John told her shaking his head.
She leaned up and kissed him. "I know. Now get up there and put something on before I take what you do have on off and have my way with you!"
She was rewarding for her teasing by a blush from John. He grinned though and went upstairs. She made her way into the kitchen and after a few minutes of searching, found a can of soup.
When John came down, she had the steaming soup in bowls on the table, and was just taking a pair of grilled cheese sandwiches off the stove. "Get 'em while they're hot!"
John smiled and sat down at the table. "Smells great."
"Then start eating. You're too thin." Christa said as she sat down across from him.
John rolled his eyes. "You sound like our cook at home. Onaha's always telling me the same thing."
"Two women can't be wrong. Eat."
John smiled and ate his soup, even though he had no appetite. Christa saw him picking at it and sighed. "So John, you told me you grew up on a farm in Kansas. Then why do you own this giant brownstone in Boston?"
John chuckled. "Well, my Mom's family is from Winchester, in fact my aunt and uncle still live there, and when we would come to visit, it was always a mess. There were seven of us and we're not really the quietest of families. So Dad figured it would be easier if he just bought a place for us. After Mom died, we didn't get here as often as we used to, and it's stayed empty, lucky for me."
"So why aren't you back with your family? I mean they're all still on your island right?"
"I had some things I had to do." He got up and put his bowl in the sink. "Want a tour of the house?" He asked, changing the subject.
Christa shook her head. Just like a man. "Sure." She took his outstretched hand and let him lead her through the house. She was in awe of the library, lovingly touching the rows of books on the shelves. "Wow…."
"Like books do you?" John asked, smiling.
"Who doesn't? I read anything I can get my hands on." She smiled dazzlingly at him. "What else do you have hidden around here?"
If you only knew, John thought to himself. "The next floor is basically the bedrooms. Alan and Gordon share a room, Virgil has one of his own since he has the piano in it, and Dad's suite is where I showered. Then there's a couple of guest rooms. Scott and I used to share the attic."
"Used to?"
"Well he's not here now is he?" John grinned, then rubbed the back of his neck.
"Headache?" Christa asked.
John nodded. "Yeah, a little."
"Want a backrub?"
John looked up at her and grinned wolfishly. "Sure."
Christa rolled her eyes. "I'll bet you do. Come on." They went upstairs to John's room. "Take off the shirt, I can't work through material." She called as she walked into the bathroom.
John peeled off his sweatshirt, and lay facedown on the bed. He folded his arms under his head and closed his eyes. Within moments, he was fast asleep.
"Don't you have any moisturizer or anything around here? I'd even settle for hand cream at this point." She came out of the bathroom and stopped, staring at the figure on the bed. "John?" She called softly. He didn't move. She took the blanket off the other bed and placed it over him. Then she tucked herself in beside him and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. "Good night John." She turned off the light.
"CRASH!"
John bolted up, his eyes wide with fear, his heart pounding wildly in his chest.
"Easy John, it's just another thunderstorm."
John jumped at the voice next to him. "Jesus Christa! You scared the hell out of me!"
"BOOM!"
John dove back under the covers. Christa stifled a laugh. "John, come on out."
He peeked out. "You're laughing at me."
She smiled. "Yes, I am."
He sat up carefully, and tucked his arm around her, pulling her close. "I'm glad you're here." He said
"I am too." She felt him tense at each thunderclap, and as the storm moved off, he gradually relaxed. "What would you have done if I hadn't been here?" She asked.
"Easy. I'd have hid out in the cellar." John responded automatically.
Christa sat up and stared at him. "You're kidding right?"
John shook his head and got up. He carefully stretched his arms over his head, idly massaging his left side.
Christa padded up next to him and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her cheek against his bare back. "Ribs bothering you?" She said, lightly caressing his chest.
John shivered at her touch. "Some. I'm almost used to it by now."
They stood together, listening as the storm moved off. "John, how did you get this scar?" Christa asked, running her fingers along his back.
John tensed. "The…the crash. I had a piece of metal imbedded in there."
"Well whoever stitched you up really did a botch job. This is one of the worst scars I've ever seen." She said matter of factly.
"It's my fault. I didn't take it easy like I was supposed to, and tore them all to hell."
"Why am I not surprised?" She touched his right arm. "And this? Is this from the crash too?"
John nodded. "Burn."
She moved to his chest. "And this was from the chest tube?" John nodded.
Christa frowned. "When did this happen again?" The injuries just didn't make sense. The chest and back ones seemed much fresher than the arm.
"A little over a month ago. Near the end of May. Why?" He turned his head to look down at her.
She smiled up at him. "No reason. Just call it a professional curiosity."
John didn't reply and she wrapped her arms around him again. This time, he rested his hands on top of hers and sighed. "I'm glad you're here." He said again softly.
"John, what's really bothering you? You were upset at the fireworks, before the storm even started."
He broke free of her embrace and walked over to stand in front of the large bay window that over looked the Common. "Nothing's bothering me." His voice was strangely emotionless.
She walked over near, but not touching him. "Yes there is."
"I…I…" His hands clenched into fists.
"I want to help you John, but I can't if you won't let me in."
John stared out the widow, but she knew he wasn't seeing anything. "I'm afraid." He said so softly that she barely heard him.
Now she took his hand. "Take it slow. I'm here."
He closed his eyes and let the memories wash over him. I was going over my data when the proximity alarm went off… "I was flying home when I had engine trouble. I couldn't keep her in the air, and went down hard. I got a mayday out seconds before I crashed." He took a deep breath. "There had been a massive systems failure and I never received a reply of any kind, so I figured no one heard me. Luckily I was wrong." He broke free of her hand and paced the room. "I blacked out for a while. When I came to, I hurt all over. I couldn't breathe and my head was killing me. There was smoke everywhere." He sighed. "I must have blacked out again, because the next time I came to, I was looking into the face of my fath—a rescue worker. They had heard my call and came as fast as they could. Turns out it took my fam—the rescue team two hours to get to me. And another four to get me out of there. I really thought I was going to die. That we'd never get back." His voice shook.
"Get back?"
John shook his head. "Get out of the wreckage and back home. It's all kind of hazy after that. I spent a couple of days in the hospital and then did the rest of my recuperating back home."
Christa looked skeptical. "A couple of days? With a chest tube?"
Shit. "Maybe it was longer…I don't know. I kept floating in and out of consciousness. Next thing I knew, my family was around me and I was home."
"So what happened tonight?" She asked when the silence had gone on too long.
"The fireworks…they reminded me of…of the crash. There was so much noise. The smoke, the fire…." He clenched his eyes shut, his body trembling. "It all came back…" He whispered.
"Oh John…" Christa walked over and took him in her arms. He bent his head to her shoulder and his body shook with silent sobs. She held him close, gently running her fingers through his hair, until finally he started to pull back. He paced the short length of the room coming to sit back down on the window seat, his face in his hands.
"Christa, I'm sorry." He said hoarsely.
"For what?" She walked over and knelt down next to him. She pulled his hands from his face. "John look at me." He raised his red rimmed eyes to hers. "You have absolutely nothing to be sorry about." He started to look away again, but she caught his face in her hands. "John listen. Remember what I am? What I do? I'm a nurse. I've seen it all, and believe me when I tell you that a lesser person would have cracked up by now. You went through that horrible crash, and instead of dealing with it, you buried in down deep inside. Tonight, circumstances forced you to face it, and while is was terrifying, you survived. Again." Her tone softened. "John, it's going to be alright." She leaned forward and kissed him gently on the lips. It was meant to be a friendly kiss.
It didn't stay friendly for long.
John hauled her to her feet, crushing his lips against hers. He ran his hands up her body, making her moan with pleasure. Suddenly, he broke off the embrace and stepped back.
"Christa, God I'm sorry." Even in the dark, she could tell by his tone that he was blushing.
Instead of replying, she grabbed him and pulled him to her, this time leaving him breathless. "Do you want me to apologize now?"
"No." His eyes burned into hers. "Stay with me tonight. Please."
Such a simple request, spoken from his heart. She smiled and ran her hands, then her mouth, up his bare chest, making him tremble. The hell with this. He reached down and swept her up in his arms, then carried her to his bed.