International Rescue and The Tracy Boys belong to Sylvia and Gerry Anderson

Chapter 21

"You know, don't you," he whispered.

"About you being the pilot of Thunderbird One, yes I know", Jenna replied quietly. "I wasn't sure if you would remember waking from your dream, though you did pass out," she continued with a gentle smile, totally unaware that he had come awake while she was rocking him.

"Yeah, I remember," he said, taking in her still concerned face. "How could I forget wanting you," he thought to himself as he studied her features.

She continued to massage his temples. "You know I would never, could never do anything to hurt you or your family," she assured him. "Your secret is safe with me, you do know that, don't you," Jenna added, wanting him to know he had nothing to worry about, "After all, I've already kept one secret for you," she smiled coyly.

Scott reddened and smiled embarrassingly, "I know."

He had deliberately not mentioned it earlier that morning; part of him wanting to know if she would be more interested in International Rescue than in him. He knew she must be curious, it was only natural but she hadn't mentioned that she'd heard him call out in his dreams and for that he was grateful. It was always the same; eventually everyone he'd ever known had always wanted to know what his secret was, his secret was always coming between him and happiness. Granted, she already knew more than most but would she be the same, he thought, wanting to know more about this seemingly glamorous side of his life than about who he was as a person.

"Jen, don't ask me any questions," he pleaded, hoping she would give him the answer he wanted to hear.

She studied him for a few moments. Seeing the serious look on his face and the earnest plea in his voice she replied, "That's important to you, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it is," Scott answered, still waiting anxiously for her answer.

"All right, if that's what you want," Jenna agreed "no questions." "But if you want to talk about anything, you know I'll listen," she smiled reassuringly.

That was all the answer he needed. A smile creased his lips, "Thanks Jen, maybe someday I will."

"I hope you will too, Scott Tracy," she said to herself, losing herself in the smile that lit up his face. She suddenly thought of something. "Oh, you will let me have a bit of fun, though, pleeease," Jenna pleaded, a cheeky grin now gracing her face.

Scott looked puzzled so she whispered in his ear and a slow grin spread across his face. He was glad she hadn't lingered too long, her breathing and whispering in his ear was driving him nuts. "Yeah, go for it," he laughed wearily.

As she continued to massage his temples she couldn't help wondering what had brought him to this state but she had promised to ask no questions and she guessed that included the source of his emotional distress. She could take a pretty good guess, though, knowing who he was now and what he stood to lose. She knew he loved to fly and to be able to fly Thunderbird One must be the ultimate for any pilot. The thought of, perhaps, never doing that again must be excruciating for him, she thought. Then there was his job, although nobody knew who the pilot of TB1 was, it was known that he was the Field Leader. He was the one who was always there first on the scene of a rescue, he was the one who co-ordinated the local authorities and services with International Rescue. It was a highly responsible position and on top of that, she mused, he had to send his brothers into dangerous situations as well as placing himself in danger. She guessed too, that if he were anything like her, then his father also played a part in this emotional trauma that he was suffering.

She thought back to the time when she had asked Jeff if Scott worked hard and had a lot of responsibility and he gave the curt answer of "Yes." Jenna sighed and smiled to herself, "Why couldn't you have trusted me, Jeff?" The more she thought about it, though, the more she understood and realised the awkward position that Jeff was in. There was a need to keep all that high-tech equipment a secret from sources that would exploit it for selfish and violent reasons and the fact was that Scott had needed help and nursing. It didn't really matter what the cause of his injury was or in what capacity he sustained it, the outcome was the same. In truth, she didn't need to know who they were but now she did.

"Do you want me to tell your father that I know," she asked him.

"No, I'll tell him," Scott replied determinedly and without hesitation. He didn't know what his father's reaction would be; part of him felt it was his duty to be the one to tell him but another part of him felt a strange desire to protect her.

"I won't let you go getting upset again, Scott," Jenna said protectively.

Something about the way she said it strangely warmed his heart as if she were being protective of him or was she just doing her job. That voice came to taunt him again, "Of course she's just doin' her job, Scott. Don't go getting' any ideas."

"You know you're father's very worried about you," she continued as she worked with him.

He made no comment, just listened to her soothing voice. His headache was easing but it had taken it's toll and he was feeling increasingly tired. He wondered when he would ever stop feeling tired and was he getting better at all. Jenna had assured him it was his body's way of healing itself and not to worry.

"He was here every night after you got out of surgery," Jenna added, wanting to bring him some comfort. "In fact, he would have stayed all night if I hadn't made him leave to get some rest," she continued, "and he's here first thing in the morning."

He knew deep down his father cared about him. Maybe the problem was they were too much alike, both finding it hard to express their inner most feelings and emotions but then, after all, he was his father's eldest son. Scott felt himself grimace and wince but it wasn't from his headache, rather from the emotion that he felt welling up inside him again.

There was one more thing she wanted to tell him. "That night that he found out about your arm," Jenna started to say. "He told me as he watched you sleeping, that if it would help, he would give his arm for you if it meant you could fly again," she added softly. She had remembered feeling enormous respect, admiration and a deepening fondness for this man, for this father who had already been through a traumatic event with another son.

"H-He s-said that," Scott tried to say, his voice now shaking with emotion.

"Yes he did," Jenna assured him. "Hey, what's this," she said gently, wiping a tear that had rolled down his face. "I told you I don't want you getting upset and I don't want to be the cause of it," she said, giving a slight smile of concern. She could see that he was becoming exhausted by his emotion. "Why don't I disconnect you from all this for a while," she gestured to his feed tube and IV drips, "and I can roll you over and give your back a massage." Jenna thought that perhaps a change of position might help to make him feel good and more relaxed. "And we could even think about getting you off all this permanently," she added "but we'll see tomorrow."

"You can do that?" Scott asked, thinking how good it would feel just to be in a different position.

"Of course I can," Jenna replied with a wry grin. "I'm in charge here, I can do anything I want," she added lightly as she began to shut off the drips and disconnect them.

"Yeah, I guess you can," Scott smiled wearily. She always managed to be able to make him smile. It felt strangely good to be free of all those drips, like he had been released from chains that were binding him.

Jenna told him she was lowering the bed and rolling him over into a comfortable position. It involved placing an arm down parallel to the body and lifting the opposite arm across the chest. The farthest knee was brought up and over the other leg, then holding the shoulder and hip the person could easily be rolled over. The knee and arm that were rolled over are then bent to a comfortable position. Once Jenna had him in the right position she grinned, "Are we ready to roll, Mr Tracy."

"Sure, I'll roll with you any time, Jen," he said, flashing her a tired smile which sent tiny shivers coursing through her system and causing her to feel flushed.

"Really, Mr Tracy," she replied, pretending to be shocked, then quipped "and I thought we had you off the morphine." Anything to take her mind off the fact that rolling in bed with Mr Tracy was, indeed, a tantalizing thought.

Taking a deep breath she placed her hands on his hip and shoulder then rolled him over. She had to admit, placing her hands anywhere on Scott Tracy's anatomy was getting harder and harder. Jenna made sure he was totally comfortable before going to get the aromatherapy oils for his massage.

He felt so good lying like this he could have fallen asleep almost right away if it wasn't for her warm hands kneading into his back. She started at the small of his back, her thumbs towards his spine. As soon as her fingers brushed his sides, though, he jerked suddenly. "Ahh, Jen please," he said, trying not to laugh.

"Why, whatever's wrong, Mr Tracy," Jenna smiled, though trying to sound serious, knowing full well that he found it ticklish.

"It tickles, that's what," Scott grimaced along with a laugh.

"Tickles? What, this?" she asked, doing it again as if she didn't know already.

"Ahh… yeah, that," he responded with another laugh. If he didn't know any better he would swear she was doing it on purpose!

(Author's Note: Was she doing it on purpose? What do you think?)

"OK, OK, I'm sorry," she laughed apologetically, though really she wasn't. She deepened the pressure of her fingers as she rotated her thumbs into the small of his back, gradually sliding her hands upwards. Scott groaned. "That's not too hard for you, is it?" Jenna inquired, taking in the form of his muscular shape.

"Hhmmm…oh no," he sighed, "That's just great." Inwardly he was thinking what fantastic hands she had and how she always made him feel good.

Jenna bit her lip. Stifling a laugh and shaking her head she thought, "Men, they do love their comfort." Secretly, though, she was pleased that his mind seemed to be lifted from his distress. As she massaged upwards, changing from her thumbs to her fingers and then to her hands, she couldn't help but notice scars on his otherwise perfect shoulder blades. There were scars too, on his lower back and across the backs of his muscular thighs she observed.

As she massaged her fingers into his shoulder blades he knew what she was seeing. Would her curiosity get the better of her, he wondered as he lay there feeling ever more relaxed under her soothing touch. He didn't expect her not to be curious, the issue was whether or not she would forget her promise not to ask any questions.

They looked like the kind of scars that were the result of being pinned under something heavy and she winced at the thought of him being trapped, especially if it was somewhere dark or lonely. She was mindful of her promise, though, and kept her thoughts to herself, not wishing to bring him any painful reminders after what he had already suffered. She guessed they were the result of some rescue; the price he'd had to pay to save someone's life and she found herself loving him all the more.

She continued the deep massage up to his shoulders, against which he moved and groaned. On reaching his neck, however, he jerked again only this time not with tickles. "Aw, Jen don't, please," Scott begged.

Somehow she knew he was being more serious so she backed off. "Sorry," Jenna apologised and this time she meant it.

He sighed with relief. "She couldn't have any idea what that's doin' to me," he groaned inwardly to himself. Gradually the tiredness overtook him, his eyelids became heavier until he could no longer keep them open and he allowed himself to drift into sleep.

On seeing that Scott had fallen into sleep she couldn't resist the urge to lean down and kiss tenderly the scars on his back; his scars of self-sacrifice as she thought of them.

He momentarily opened sleepy eyes and smiled weakly; drifting back into sleep he enjoyed a different kind of dream.