The Tracy Boys and Thunderbirds are the creation of Sylvia and Gerry Anderson
Author's Note: This chapter is meant to be deeply sensitive; I hope you take it as such.
Chapter 15
It was just about midday and Scott was still in a deep sleep, totally exhausted from his bout of illness. Jenna had come back from a pro-longed breakfast to find Jeff sitting quietly with his son, obviously deep in thought. She had urged him to go and get something to eat and eventually he had left. He must have informed his brothers of Scott's condition because a short while later they all came down to see how he was and also to offer Jenna their support, telling her not to blame herself for she had no way of knowing.
Her routine was well and truly out the window this morning but that was the beauty of this relaxed atmosphere, though, with Scott still sleeping she decided she was going to have to start his wash without him. She hung the DO NOT ENTER – PLEASE KNOCK sign on the door, crossed to the comlink and spoke softly, "Tin-tin, please don't bring lunch down. I'm just about to give Scott his bath and we don't want to be disturbed. Would you let everyone else know and I'll get something to eat later. Thanks." After selecting some relaxing music Jenna gathered the things she needed, bringing them to his bedside.
Coming into wakefulness, his body ached, his throat hurt and his head throbbed. He had no idea of how long he had been asleep; time meant nothing to him and all he wanted was for this all to go away so that he could get back to normal. He was sure, though, he had felt that wonderful, comforting sensation of being bathed in warm water and he thought he heard music.
Focusing sleepy eyes Scott was aware of her sitting on his bed; she was doing something, something to him. Trying to kick his brain into gear he realised she was washing him, that sensation of being bathed in warm water was for real. His mind became a mixture of tortured confusion. It was one thing to dream about such things but another entirely to wake up to the reality of it.
He was lying here weak, helpless and totally exposed in front of this young woman who he could not deny he found attractive, not just physically but every which way. He found her both emotionally and mentally stimulating, he was excited by her and to lie like this, for him, was unthinkable.
"Noo..Jen…please," Scott rasped out in a hoarse whisper.
"Scott," she said gently "I've been looking after you for more than a week."
"Looking after me," he thought, his mind in a daze. "She said that before," but he hadn't really thought what that meant.
Now she could see him trying to pick through the pieces of his shattered memory in an effort to put back together his lost week as if he were trying to put back together a broken glass in order to make it whole again, just trying to make sense of it all. A look of mild horror filled his face.
"Nooo….Jen…," he begged.
Jenna guessed this must be hard for him, a guy like this, independent and in his prime. She knew him to be a seasoned USAF pilot, men served under him and he had been awarded Medals of Honour for Valour. He was involved in the business of Tracy Enterprises, a multi-corporate organisation, as eldest son of Jeff Tracy. Heck, he even designed and oversaw the building of prototype aircraft for Tracy Aerospace. To have to lie here in front of her, completely helpless and defenceless, she knew must be deeply humiliating for him. Her heart went out to him.
He grimaced as he swallowed hard. Even that simple action was painful.
She stopped what she was doing. "I'll get you the ice chips and the hypo spray," she offered sympathetically. Washing her hands, Jenna went to the Prep Room to get the things she needed. On coming back she pressed the spray to his neck, sending a soothing relief to his aching throat. Taking an ice chip, she rubbed it over his lips; then placed it into his open mouth. He closed his mouth over her fingers, sucking gratefully on the cool ice. The sensation she experienced was the same as before. In truth, she could have just popped it into his mouth or withdrew her fingers quickly; she chose not to.
Dipping her hand into the basin, Jenna feigned a shiver. "That's cold. I'd better get you some more warm water," she smiled, then added wryly in order to put him at his ease and make him smile, "I don't want you catching a cold."
"No Jen," he rasped out a little more emphatically.
She smiled softly. "Would you like me to get Tin-Tin for you?" Jenna asked.
A look of horror spread across his face, then he pulled his brows into a frown. "Tin-Tin's like my little sister," he rasped again.
"On seconds thoughts, maybe not," she thought to herself. "He would probably be even more embarrassed." "Would you rather I get your Grandma, then?" she smiled a cheeky smile, teasing him.
Her smile was infectious. He couldn't help but allow himself a smile; she always seemed to be able to do that. "Grandma hasn't seen me since I was a little boy," he responded hoarsely.
"I think Grandma still thinks of you as a little boy," Jenna grinned as the vision of Grandma smacking his wrists over stolen apple pie came into her mind. His smile broadened. "All right. What about … your brothers. Any particular one?" she suggested with a wry grin.
"Hell no," was his immediate response. "I wouldn't let any of them near me with a sponge."
"I guess we're running out of options, then," she added, still smiling.
His smile faded. He could see she was right.
"Of course, I suppose, there is always your father?" Jenna further suggested. "Kyrano? Or what about Brains?" she added, biting her lip, trying to suppress a huge smile. "Brains would probably try to approach this from some scientific point of view," she imagined "and end up so flustered he wouldn't even know what a sponge was, never mind what it was for."
He returned her gaze with a look of utter defeat that said 'you've gotta be kiddin' me'.
Jenna returned with the warm water and proceeded to bathe him from where she had stopped. Maybe it wouldn't have been so bad if she hadn't watched every line and curve of his body as she washed him. He lay back on the pillows resigned to his fate, fixing his gaze at some far point on the wall.
It started as a warm tingle, rising in intensity until a fierce heat filled his body, like an immense wave that crashed over him.
"Pleeease … Jen …. Nooo ..," Scott pleaded but his pleas went unheeded.
He tried to toss and turn but that just made it worse. He had never felt such an intense feeling before. He groaned and closed his eyes as he felt himself being carried into another time and place.
He had to look away; he couldn't face her as he suffered his ultimate humiliation. Staring blankly out of the window, he just wished he were dead.
Without any fuss or comment Jenna re-washed him and finished. "Scott," she called gently. She got no response. "Scott, please look at me," she encouraged.
He couldn't bring himself to look at her.
"Scott," she called again gently, this time putting her hand to his face and pulling him round to look at her.
He was so supersensitive right now that he couldn't even bare her to touch his face.
"Please don't worry about it," she said softly, "it happens sometimes."
"Not to me it doesn't," he snapped angrily but it wasn't with her, he was angry with himself.
Not to him, Scott Tracy, veteran Air Force combatant who had men under his command. He had been trained to the highest level, the highest standard to keep his emotions in check, to stay in control. He was always in total control, of his situation, of his environment, unless, of course, he chose not to be but then he picked the time and the place. Then there was his other life. He sent his brothers into danger, often going himself, he co-ordinated the various local authorities, telling them what to do in his capacity as Field Commander for International Rescue. No, this just did not happen to a guy like him, not like this, to lie like this, helpless at her hands. This was total humiliation, he thought in his tortured mind, although he would come to know these sessions as his 'sweet agony'.
A sudden horrific thought filled him, what if his brothers got to here of this juicy bit of information. He looked around the room as if half expecting to hear stifled sniggers. He felt himself die a little piece at a time.
Jenna, realising what he must be thinking, was quick to reassure him. "Scott, no one is going to know," she promised. "What goes on inside these four walls stays here, I can assure you," she added.
"Think I don't know what nurses find amusing?" he retorted almost coldly. He was referring to the time Gordon had been in hospital following his terrible accident. Retiring to the corridor one afternoon he had overheard two young nurses, giggling over his brother's lack of control and who they would tell. It had made him angry and he had made mention of it to the senior nurse in charge such was his loyalty and desire to preserve his brother's dignity. Of course Gordon never knew and he had never told him. He told all this to Jenna. "Gordon may be a prick sometimes and find certain things amusing," he half laughed "but he didn't deserve that." And he had no intention of becoming the source of such amusement.
"I'm sorry," Jenna apologised "that you had a bad experience. But that's not me."
His face softened. He wanted to believe her, he really did.
"Trust me Scott. This is between you and I. No one will know," she said so adamantly and firmly that he couldn't help but believe her. She smiled softly at him. He smiled weakly and turned his gaze to look out of the window contemplating how he had ever come to this.
Something niggled at her, something that had begun to bother her when she had been washing his thighs. Other things, though, had distracted her thoughts and Scott obviously hadn't noticed it either. Sometimes you can feel so much that you forget about the things you can't.
She had watched the muscles of his thighs twitch and flex under her touch as she washed them, now, she needed to check something out.
Jenna sat on the bed on his left side as Scott continued to gaze out of the window to his right. "Scott," she said gently "can you feel me do that?"
He turned to look at her, a puzzled expression on his face. She wasn't touching him, he thought to himself. He looked down anyway, to see her heavily manipulating and massaging his left arm. That panic he had felt when he couldn't remember the climbing accident engulfed him.
"Jen," Scott whispered hoarsely "I can't feel my arm."
