Summary: Tin-Tin Kyrano seems to always find herself in situations that are beyond her range of experience. But for all those situations in her life, she's about to encounter one that goes way beyond what any of us know what to do with. She's about to become the ultimate fish out of water.

Author's Note: This story was written in response to the TIWF 2007 Fish Out of Water challenge.

FLIRTING WITH DANGER

It's one of those lovely days that makes your spirit rise, makes you want to open your arms to the heavens and proclaim the Earth's beauty to anyone who can hear the sound of your voice. The sun shines brightly, and you beam right back to it. The soft breeze whispers promises of grander things to come, and you whisper your hopes in return. The smells of life waft past your nose and you give thanks to the Masters for allowing this extraordinary life to proceed the way in which it is, in fact, doing so.

And then you run into Alan Tracy.

"Tin-Tin!" he smiles brightly, giving me a warm hug. Then his face pouts in the look I know so well. "You didn't come say hello last night."

"No, Alan, I was tired after debriefing your father. I felt it best to get some sleep," I respond, trying to sound casual as we meander into the Lounge. He gestures to the sofa and I nod and seat myself. He sits down awfully close, but that's Alan, what can a girl do?

I'd been gone for two weeks helping Brains get Susan Beasley's home outfitted with the very latest in International Rescue Agent gear. Alan asks me about my trip, about the installation, about Ladybird's behavior. I'm intrigued by the fact that he doesn't ask me about Brains, but does wonder about what kind of person this Susan is. I wonder why. But instead of saying anything, I answer his questions and find myself moving right back into our easy, flirtatious relationship.

I suppose the whole thing is my fault, really. It started the day I moved to Tracy Island. Actually, truth be told, it probably started long before that. Perhaps it would be better to give you the whole story before I start regaling you with tales of Alan and me.

Though I have always been secure in my father's love, and as I grew I came to understand that his thoughts were always of my safety from my uncle first and foremost, it is an unnerving life moving from place to place in order to stay one step ahead of someone who means to do you harm. It seems we were always looking over our shoulders. Even as a young child I remember the days and nights spent in fear. I remember waking in the middle of so many nights to find Father sitting in the front doorway of wherever we were at the time, eyes closed in prayer or meditation. But never sleep. Father never did sleep very much.

I would crawl from our bed, for so often we had to share everything from beds to clothing to food, and move across the room. He would turn, look up at me from the floor and open his eyes. He would smile and yet I would feel the sadness I saw in his eyes as surely as if it were a tangible thing I could hold. He has never spoken openly of what his feelings really were, but I suspect now as I think on it that perhaps he always felt guilty. Guilty for bringing me into such an unsafe world.

It never mattered to me. His arms would open and in them I would find a place soft, warm and safe. He would hold me so tight, planting kisses on my hair, my face, my arms and hands. Telling me how beautiful I was. How good and kind. How I would grow into my own life without such fear as we had known, and how I must never forget all he had taught me. I believe my father treated each day, indeed each moment, as though it could be his last, for he often talked of the future. And he often made it sound like he would not be in mine.

That he survived those years is testament to his resourcefulness and commitment to me. But however much I always knew Father loved me, there was an emptiness inside. A longing. I never knew my mother, but Father would tell me stories of her. Again, always with a sadness in his eyes. I don't really understand it, I suppose. It is difficult to miss someone you never knew, which is one way I can identify with Alan. As I grew, Father would tell me how much I reminded him of her. Intelligent, fearless and beautiful, he would say.

Yet for all his words of love, for all the things he taught me and for all he did to keep me safe, I developed an innate shyness and lack of self-esteem that crippled me as I grew into my teenage years. It isn't difficult to understand, really, if you think about how our life was. If we were in one place long enough for me to make friends, I lost them the next time we had to move. I was always what Alan calls the "new kid," and I envied those of my schoolmates who had a mother and father, brothers and sisters, who'd lived in the same home their whole lives. The children always knew each other, but I? I was always alone.

By the time I was sixteen, the plans for Tracy Island and International Rescue were well under way, and my father had told me that upon my graduation from high school, I was going to be treated to the best schools in England compliments of an old friend he had met when I was just a toddler. A man named Jeff Tracy.

I was terrified. At the time we were living in Paris, where my father was a master chef. I attended a local high school under a name not my own and spoke French as my native language so that no one would know my true ancestry. It was partially through my father's teachings and partially there at that school that I learned English. I also became fluent in German, Latin and, thanks to a private tutor, Mandarin.

But I could not fathom how I was going to stand to be away from the man who had been my whole life. I spent age 16 trying to find a way to keep from going. I spent age 17 learning of Jeff Tracy, meeting him, getting to know him. And I spent age 18 not only trying to find out who I was, but how to deal with others in a forthright manner, rather than turning away from every encounter.

I cannot continue without recalling my meeting with Mr. Tracy when I was 17. Father had told me Mr. Tracy had saved my life when I was only three years of age, but I don't remember him, nor has Father given me any details about it. I have never asked. Our past is better left in the past.

What a handsome man Jeff Tracy was, and still is, in my estimation. Father had asked that I ensure the flat in which we lived was clean and tidy for the arrival of a guest that evening. I did as he asked, then took a shower and dressed myself in the nicest dress I owned. For I knew of Jeff Tracy, and to a shy teenager who'd never met one such as him, he was like royalty.

Everyone hears about him in school, no matter what country you're going to school in. The famous American astronaut. The successful businessman. At Father's suggestion I had done quite a bit of research into the man I was going to meet that night, so that I could competently talk with him during his visit. But I was frightened of how I would respond. I came from a humble life, and here was someone who could probably buy his own country coming to see my father and me.

I need not have worried. When the doorbell rang at half past eight, it was with trembling hands that I opened the door, for Mr. Tracy was early. Father was not due home for another 30 minutes, and I had no idea what I would speak with our guest about. I opened the door and there he was in khaki pants and a nice dark blue shirt. I only remember the shirt because it brought out the blue tone of his grayish eyes, and it was those eyes that affected me so deeply.

He smiled, a warm, friendly smile, and held out his hand. "You must be Tin-Tin."

"Yes, sir," I nodded shyly, dipping my head and taking his hand. But instead of shaking it, he kissed the back of it and I know I blushed terribly. "Won't you please come in?"

"Thank you," he rumbled. His voice was so deep it seemed to go right through me.

"Father has not yet returned from work, Mr. Tracy. Perhaps you will make yourself comfortable here while I bring you some tea or coffee?" I said as I led him into our small living room.

"Coffee sounds good, thanks."

I nodded and went to pour it. I returned with it and some biscuits in case he was hungry, and placed them on the coffee table in front of him before taking a seat on the far end of our sofa.

"This is a nice place you have," he said as he picked up the coffee. He looked down at it, then back at me. "How'd you know I take it black?"

That was a very good question. "I...I'm not sure," I answered honestly.

He looked at me a moment longer, seemingly mystified, before smiling and bringing the mug to his lips. "Like father, like daughter," he said before taking a drink. In that instant, I fell in love with him.

Oh, not the way you're thinking, to be certain! You see, with me, falling in love is something I must do to forge even a friendship, let alone any sort of romantic relationship. His compliment to me, his warmth, his charm, his sharp eyes and the open and honest love I felt coming from him were simply overwhelming to a young lady. And so I fell in love with him and before my father had even come home, we were on the road to becoming fast friends.

It was Jeff Tracy who, after listening to what interested me most in school, first introduced me to the idea of becoming an engineer. He said he would send me to the finest schools to be trained in that vocation if I wished, and when that evening ended, my head was filled with dreams of America and engineering and someone he knew that he thought would be the ideal hostess and friend for the summer between my graduation and beginning university. Her name? Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward.

Now as I think about how I spend my days and nights helping to maintain the most magnificent feats of engineering on the planet, I cannot express the gratitude I feel toward Mr. Tracy. Both he and Father encouraged my interest in engineering, with Father purchasing me everything I needed to further my knowledge outside of what I was learning in school. He even bought me things I asked for to perform my own experiments. So much so that by the time I graduated and was ready for university, my bedroom resembled a laboratory more than a place to sleep.

But there was never any pressure upon me to join International Rescue. I always knew the door was standing open. The invitation to become part of their organization, and indeed the Tracy family, was extended several times. But I also knew that it was my decision to make, and whatever I decided, both the Tracys and my father would support me and help in any way they could. Having come from times when bread was all there was to eat, my adventures as an eighteen-year old college student among some of the richest students in the world was both an eye-opener and, in a way, a coming of age for me.

Meeting Lady Penelope was an honor, and again, with her, I fell in love immediately. I hadn't been certain what to expect at first, but the time she spent shopping with me, buying me clothes that would allow me to fit in with the other students, and ensuring I had everything I needed while attending school showed me her true nature. She is warm, caring and down-to-Earth, yet the smartest, most savvy woman I have ever met to this day. If I didn't love her so, I might find myself frightened by what I know she's capable of.

Of course, at the time I knew she was somehow involved with International Rescue, but I didn't know in what capacity exactly. She would leave, sometimes for days or even weeks at a time that summer, with Parker, who is an adorable, gruff but lovable man. I had no idea she was an agent for Mr. Tracy, nor had I any idea of her past. Her home is magnificent, her Rolls Royce a great treat to ride in, and Penny is, to this day, my very best friend in the world.

Where my flirtatious nature began was at Harvard. I was no longer so different from those my age because of who I was or what I wore. Yet I was different enough that I was paid a lot of attention by the young men. My first sexual experience came six months after I began my studies, and it was then that I learned of the power a woman wields using nothing more than looks and her body. Penelope had taught me some of the finer graces of being ladylike, but it was through my own experiences there that I learned how much attention I could get through the simple act of flirting.

It never got me into trouble, really, though at times I think more than one boy may have been quite angry with me. I also had a difficult time making girlfriends, and I didn't find out why until my final year there. One girl named Ana, with whom I had made friends two years prior, confided to me that most girls there hated me because of how much I flirted with their boyfriends. It wasn't until that moment I began to understand that being flirtatious all the time was not a good thing.

Harvard's Engineering Sciences program is intense, but I enjoyed every moment. In spite of the great attention I paid to men, most of my time, really, was spent with my nose buried in textbooks, experiments and supplemental materials. I was even one of the first students to take part in Harvard's new PRISE, the Program for Research in Science and Engineering. The summer after my freshman year, I studied Applied Physics with Professor Capasso. The summer after my sophomore year, I did research with Professor Aziz on Materials Science, which I found utterly fascinating. The summer after my junior year was spent deep in a laboratory with Professor Brockett working on Electrical Engineering, and by the time I graduated suma cum laude at age 22, I had made lasting friendships with a great number of the professors and doctors there.

Other than a few short romances, however, all my flirting had honestly gotten me nowhere. Yet by then it had become part of my nature. It was who I was. With graduation just around the corner, I felt I still had some growing up to do, like I wasn't quite ready to go to this magical place I'd heard of called Tracy Island. My father said it was a wonderfully peaceful place, and it did sound heavenly. After a long talk with Penny, she agreed to escort me on a European tour. Oh, what a magnificent time that was, and what a lot of fun! I confided in her about my insecurities, my difficulties at Harvard with regards to how I interacted with the boys. I told her the truth - that at last I was being paid attention to, and in a good way. The feeling I get when a man notices me, when I make suggestive comments or simply perch on his lap, is comparable to none.

At least, it was until five days ago when I met Susan Beasley for the first time, and watched her and Brains interact. But I'm afraid I'm getting ahead of myself.

After the whirlwind of the tour, which lasted nearly a year, I had decided that I definitely wanted to work for International Rescue. I missed my father, and I looked forward to putting my skills to use for a cause as wonderful as saving lives. I had been told of the incredible man who'd invented a good number of the vehicles, including all the Thunderbirds, and was nervous, but secure in the fact that if Mr. Tracy hadn't thought me capable, he never would have let me anywhere near their equipment.

And so came that ill-fated trip on Fireflash, where we left London and then came right back to a rough but thankfully survivable landing. It was amazing to me that my life, and the lives of the rest of the passengers and crew, had been saved by the very family I had been on my way to become a member of. I'll never forget that first time meeting Scott and Virgil Tracy.

Especially Virgil.