There were chains on his wrists, on his ankles, around his neck... She was clawing at his face, tearing at his clothes. She was smiling, showing her teeth...
No!
This time when John awoke from his nightmare, he still leapt onto his feet but he didn't flee. His breathing was laboured but he tried his best to control his gasps. Breathe in, breathe out... It was just a dream. It wasn't real.
Forcing himself to sit back down, he clutched the edge of the bed and pushed the bad memories away. Just a dream. It was just a dream.
He rubbed at his wrists, feeling an echo of the bindings that had held him in place. Some of the cuts hadn't healed well and he had been left with scars. Thankfully, the red lines were fading, though not as fast as John would have liked. Conscious of them, he didn't like to wear short sleeved shirts any more. I know it's stupid but I can't help it, he thought. What was it my therapist said? The only one judging me is me.
Nightmares hadn't been a problem until lately. He wondered if it was the anticipation of Amelia's visit. Much as he cared for the girl, her presence was a stark reminder of the dark times. John sighed. Whatever the reason, it was hardly the best way to begin Christmas Eve. Dad's first Christmas as a grandfather. My first Christmas as a dad.
John glanced around the empty room, his eyes coming to rest where Lyra's crib had been for such a brief time. I need to start looking after her overnight, he thought. I can't expect Dad to do it forever. And... I think I'm nearly ready. Or at least will be once the nightmares stop.
Sliding back under the covers, John set his head on the pillow and closed his eyes. Just as he had when he had first gone to bed that night, he found himself yearning for company. His arms felt empty. Perhaps, one day, they wouldn't be.
~oOo~
"Geronimo!"
"Gordon, no-"
Too late. John threw himself in front of his baby, shielding her from the the tsunami that escaped from the pool as his brother leapt in. Nothing could soak you more than a Gordon Tracy cannonball.
The sound of Amelia's laughter, loud and healthy, was the only reason John tolerated his brother's antics. Lyra was unaware of the danger; instead she simply looked adorable. She lounged under an umbrella in a purple sun suit, topped off with star-shaped sunglasses and a straw hat.
"Gordon, dear," Lady Penelope called out, looking over the top of her tablet. "Please don't do that again. Parker can't take another soaking."
"Quite right, Milady."
Mirroring John, Parker had leapt in front of Penelope to protect her from the splash. He was thoroughly drenched.
"Sorry, Parker!" Gordon called, though since he immediately launched into a splash fight with Amelia and Virgil, his apology was somewhat vetoed.
John settled himself back onto the sun lounger. Scott appeared with drinks and sat down on the chair beside him.
"You look tired," he said, holding out a glass of iced tea.
"I am," John said.
"Another nightmare?"
John nodded and sipped his drink.
"Yeah. I'm coping better with them, though," he said. "I'm not as panicked."
"Good," Scott said. "If you want to grab a mid-morning nap, I'm happy to watch Little Miss, here."
John lifted his sunglasses and gave his brother a pointed stare.
"Scott, if I didn't know better, I'd say you were broody."
"Maybe I am," Scott replied with a chuckle. "But I'll stick with nieces and nephews for now. I can give them back at the end of the day!"
John let his sunglasses drop and made himself comfortable in the lounger again. The sounds of merriment mingled with insect song and the next thing John knew, he was awoken by his brother's voice.
"Johnny... Earth to Johnny..." It was Gordon.
John cracked open one eye.
"Yes?" he asked.
"If you don't come in now, you're going to be crispier than Saturday morning bacon."
Rubbing his face, John sat up. His skin felt tight. He looked across to see that Lyra was gone, no doubt spirited away by one uncle or another.
"What time is it?" he asked.
"Nearly noon," Gordon replied. His skin was glistening with a fine sheen of sweat and he had a towel wrapped around his waist. "You've been out for a while."
"I needed it," John said, stretching as he stood up.
"Bad dreams again?" Gordon asked.
John nodded in reply.
"C'mon," Gordon said. "I promised Amelia I would teach her how to play pool."
"She seems to be enjoying herself," John said as he collected his belongings before starting the walk back to the villa.
"Definitely," Gordon said.
"She's so different from the hollow shell I knew before," John said. "It's like she's finally had the chance to flourish."
"All thanks to you, bro," Gordon said.
John shook his head.
"No. A lot of it came down to her own bravery," he said. "She made the decision to come with me. That can't have been easy."
"True, true," Gordon said, pausing outside his bedroom door. "Well, I'll meet you in the games room in about fifteen, alright?"
"See you then," John said. "Prepare for a butt-whupping."
"Oh, is that so?" Gordon said. "It's on now, boy!"
~oOo~
Sipping her post-dinner martini, Georgie closed her eyes. Virgil smiled as she exhaled in delight.
"Now that's what I call a martini," she said.
"Glad you like it," Virgil said, refraining from the obligatory clichéd James Bond joke.
Family and friends had gathered in the lounge and, with sixteen bodies in the room, space was at a premium. Every seat was filled. The air vibrated with merriment and there was a contentment in the air Virgil hadn't felt since the old days of Kansas Christmases on his grandfather's farm.
John and Elijah were wedged into one armchair just across from them, while Gordon and Matthew were on the floor with the babies. Virgil couldn't help but smile when he saw his blond brother look so contented, almost sitting in the lap of the other man. He deserves happiness, Virgil thought.
"So," Georgie said, her voice pulling him out of his revue. "Tell me about Virgil Tracy. I hear you're an artist."
"I dabble," Virgil said.
Gordon snorted and rolled his eyes.
"He doesn't just dabble," he said. "Virgil here is a master of his craft. Plays the piano, too."
Georgie raised an eyebrow and sipped her drink again.
"So that's why piano is there," she said. "I had wondered if it was just an expensive decoration."
"No, no," Virgil said. "I've played since I was a kid." Sitting up straight, he returned her one-raised-eyebrow stare. "So tell me something about you," he said. "I don't even know your last name."
"Well," Georgie said, setting her glass on the coffee table, "my real name is Georgina. My surname is Jones. I'm five foot four, and architect, I eat and drink too much, I never exercise, and just recently I've become a foster carer for my cousin. That's about it."
From the corner of his eyes, Virgil say Matthew stiffen at the words 'foster carer.' Elijah's attention was caught, too.
"It's pretty tough," Georgie continued. "I don't know anything about teenagers. Haven't the slightest clue how to deal with them. I never really wanted children." She sighed. "Sometimes I wonder if I did the right thing, taking her in. Not for me, but for her. I worry that I'll get everything wrong and hurt her."
Before Virgil could reply, Matthew piped up.
"As aficionados of the foster system," he said, gesturing between himself and his brother, "I reckon you've already done the right thing." His face darkened. "Elijah and I bounced around the system for years because no one from our family would take us in. Then none of our foster carers stuck by us when we went through hard times." He stole a quick glance at Elijah, who ducked his head. "You end up feeling abandoned over and over again... Which makes you act out more. Which makes the carers less likely to stick with you..." He sighed. "It's a vicious circle. So if you do nothing else but provide a stable roof over that wee girl's head, you're doing all right."
"Hmm," Georgie said. "I never really thought of it that way." She picked up her martini again and raised it in a toast. "To survival."
"Survival," the group chorused.
Then Georgie threw back the rest of her drink.
"C'mon, Virgil," she said, grasping his hand. "Play me a song - I'll do the singing."
Virgil found himself being pulled out of his seat and couldn't help but grin as he was led to the piano.
"Uh oh," Scott said. "No singing!"
Georgie waved him off.
"You won't say that in a minute. Hit it, piano man."
Virgil settled his hands on the piano keys.
"What exactly do you want me to hit?" he asked.
Georgie thought for a moment before clicking her fingers.
"Hit me up with a few bars of 'Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.'"
Virgil acquiesced and he didn't regret it. Within a few notes, Georgie had the attention of everyone in the lounge. Her voice was clear and deep; Virgil couldn't help but join in with a harmony. Beautiful, he thought. Just beautiful.
~oOo~
"I wasn't expecting that," John said as Georgie began to sing.
Amelia made her way over to take her cousin's empty seat and grinned.
"She's amazing, right?" she said. "I wish I was as confident as she is."
"You will be," John said. "I can guarantee that."
Shifting on the chair, he found his arm around Elijah's shoulder. He didn't move it. Elijah didn't shrug him off.
When the song ended, Georgie and Virgil received a raucous round of applause - though it was rudely interrupted by a sound that made Amelia jump.
It was the emergency signal.
"Uh oh," Gordon said, rising from the floor.
John rose and lifted Lyra.
"What's going on?" Amelia asked.
"Someone's in trouble," John replied.
The eyes of Alan's portrait were flashing as normal, but when Jeff opened the channel, it didn't flick to a live feed of Thunderbird Five. Instead, the lounge was filled with the noise and static of an emergency call. Still technically on satellite duty, Alan stepped in to answer.
"International Rescue, please help!"
"This is international Rescue receiving you. Go ahead," he said.
"There's been a terrible accident. There was an explosion. The whole place is on fire! We're trapped!"
"Try to stay calm," Alan said, his brows drawing together. "Where are you?"
"At the Nzema Solar Park in Ghana. One of the collectors went haywire and exploded, and now we can't get out!"
"Okay," Alan said. "Try to remain calm. We are on the way. Stay in contact and I'll keep you informed."
At a nod from his father, Alan muted the feed.
"Scott, take Thunderbird One," Jeff said. "Get out there are fast as you can."
"F.A.B.," Scott replied, already heading for the hangar entrance.
Mouths agape at the swiftness of the action, Georgie and Amelia shook their heads.
"Wow," Amelia breathed.
"Ditto," Georgie said.
"Virgil," Jeff continued. "Take pod three with the Firefly. Matthew, we could use your expertise here."
"Yessir," Matthew said.
"Gordon, you'll go too," Jeff said. "Christmas Eve or not, Thunderbirds are still go!"