"You're way too chilled to be real, you know that?"
John turned to face Selene, surprised by her words. "What do you mean?"
She waved her hand vaguely at the rocks around them. "This! All this! We're trapped inside a mine that's collapsed around us, I'm freaking out and you're sitting there like you're on the beach."
"I guess it's because I know there's no point worrying about something we can't do anything about. I trust my organisation, I know they will get us out of here, it's just a matter of waiting it out." John lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug, not knowing what else to say. How did he explain to a civilian that they had all been in tighter spots than this without giving away details of their previous rescue operations?
Selene didn't look convinced. "How long have you known these guys you work with? I'm not doubting them, I'm just asking," she hurriedly tacked on, worried that she'd offend him.
"Feels like I've always known them," John answered carefully. He couldn't say they were related and if he said he'd known them all his life she could easily put two and two together. It was essential that they kept everything about their operation secret and that meant he had to watch every word he said. "I'd trust them with my life."
"And like, did you guys have to go through a lot of training for this, or is it like a superhero thing where you just dive right in and hope it all works out?" She edged closer, turning bodily to face him. Sitting as she was with her legs crossed she looked innocently childlike to him. Her face was pinched with tension, her worry obvious and he wanted nothing more than to make her feel better.
"Yes," he laughed, amused at the image of them going through some comic book-style metamorphosis to gain superpowers. "We have training, quite intensive training at that. Our equipment is amongst the most advanced in the world, they don't let just anyone operate it you know."
"Can you blame me for asking when I'm stuck here because they apparently do let just anyone hire a rocket and blast off into space?"
"I think this is a little different, we're preventing disasters not actively causing them."
She sighed and with her exhale relaxed a little, uncrossing her legs and drawing her knees up to her chest, hugging them with her arms. "I know you are. Sorry, I didn't mean to sound so ungrateful. I'm just not used to situations like this. I know this is partly my fault, I should never have allowed myself to get swept up in this harebrained scheme."
"It's not your fault," he soothed, hating how despondent she sounded. "You trusted your friends, that's not a bad thing."
"But what about this?" she whispered, resting her cheek on her knee. "If I hadn't come down here you might have caught them and this wouldn't have happened."
So that was her worry? That she'd done something wrong. Sure, he would have preferred if she had listened to him and kept far away from the situation where she was safe, but he had to admit that he admired her bravery. She had thrown herself into a dangerous situation because she was trying to save her friends. It wasn't too dissimilar to his own job. Who was he to criticise her for doing what she had thought was best?
"This is not your fault either," he repeated. "Sel, listen to me, okay? You did what you thought was best, you were trying to help, and that's never a bad thing. They had the charges in place before you got in there, they were planning this from the start. We just happened to get caught in the middle. It's highly likely that I would have been in this position if you were here or not, but at least this way I have some company, which honestly makes a nice change."
"That's the second time you've done that," she said, lifting her head from her knees to look at him.
"Done what?" he asked, mentally rewinding the conversation to figure out what she was talking about.
"Called me Sel."
"Oh." He winced, realising his mistake. "I apologise, I never meant to be so informal, I should have asked."
"No, no, it's okay," she assured him, smiling a little, though he noticed there was a sadness to it that he didn't like. "I don't mind it, it's what my friends always call me, though I guess that won't be happening again now that I've lost most of them."
He sighed, wishing that he could say or do something to make her feel better. He wanted so badly to assure her that she didn't need them, that she had him now, that he would be her friend. But he knew that wasn't possible even if he wanted to. They didn't make new friends, they only associated with people who knew them before they were involved with International Rescue. New friends would ask questions they couldn't answer, or would wonder what kind of job they did where they were locked away for months on end with barely any leave to speak of that wasn't at risk of being interrupted or cancelled at the last minute.
She was looking at him, waiting for him to say something that would make her feel better, and all he could do was tell the truth as he saw it. "They didn't deserve you, they're the ones who have lost someone special, not the other way around. You're better off without them."
Her head tipped to the side as she studied him, assessing the validity of his words. He didn't seem like the type of person who would say something he didn't believe just to make someone feel better. Which meant she could assume he was also being honest when he said that his pals would be doing all they could to get them out of there. That was what she would focus on, not the slight embarrassment, not to mention the butterflies, she felt hearing his words. No, that was something she'd push aside to think about later. She turned away, feeling her face flame.
John couldn't help being grateful that she was giving him a moment as he felt his own face heating up. Why had he said that? Why hadn't he said something less personal? Had he really spent so long away from people that he'd lost all social skills? He'd said the wrong thing, he was sure of it, he just didn't know how to fix it. She wasn't saying anything, and he found he hated it. He might have only known her a short amount of time, but she'd always seemed so full of life, so cheerful, even when she was worried they were going to die. This quiet seemed almost alien.
"Are you okay?" he asked before he could talk himself out of it. "You're too quiet, it's not like you."
"It has been known to happen occasionally," she deadpanned, but there was a hint of amusement in her tone that he clung to.
"You didn't answer my question," he reminded gently. "I'm sorry if anything I said upset you, that wasn't my intention."
She smiled softly. "I know it wasn't, don't worry. I'm alright, but I guess I am stuck in my own head a little."
"That's perfectly understandable, you're in a situation you weren't prepared for nor equipped to deal with, it's only right that you're scared."
Selene shook her head. "I'm not really that scared, not anymore. You said there was nothing to worry about, you said you trust your team, and I trust you, ergo…" she trailed off, ending with a little shrug that said it all.
"Then what's got your brain whirling so much?" he asked gently, trying to push down the little burst of happiness he felt when she'd admitted she trusted him. "We're stuck here for the next few hours at least, so you might as well get it off your chest."
She seemed to visibly crumble in on herself, deflating before his eyes. "It's gonna sound stupid."
"Nothing is stupid if it's bothering you. I'm a good listener," he wheedled.
"Promise you won't judge me?" she asked, looking up at him with liquid eyes that glistened with unshed tears.
"I promise, just talk to me," he pleaded, knowing even as he said it that it was suddenly the most important thing that she believed him enough to confide in him. He didn't know why, all he knew was that it mattered that she trusted him as much as she said she did. On instinct he reached over to catch her hand in his, lacing their fingers together tightly, be it for support, or just because the urge to touch her, to soothe her, was too much. "Please?"
She stared down at their joined hands, his tanned fingers practically engulfing her own smaller digits. It should have felt uncomfortable, she didn't go around holding hands with strangers, she'd been taught better than that, but weirdly enough he didn't feel that way. There was something about him that made her feel like she had known him forever, something that called out to her, made her want to share everything with him, holding nothing back.
"Do you ever feel like you don't fit in?" she asked softly, not quite sure how to give voice to the thoughts in her head. "Like you don't know what you're supposed to be doing with your life?" She snorted softly, dismissing her own question. "Ignore me, it's stupid, I mean look at you, of course you don't-"
"Yes," he answered, interrupting her rambling. "I do."
She frowned, an adorable crumpling of her eyebrows that made him want to kiss them until they relaxed again. "But you're doing the most important job in the world."
He let his breath out slowly, his eyes drifting to the rocky ceiling. "Believe me, it doesn't always feel that way."
"Because idiots like me keep ruining your efforts?"
He laughed softly, a smiling exhale that somehow lightened her heart a little. "No, that's not it."
"Then why?"
"My primary job in International Rescue is quite different from this."
There was that frown of hers again, almost familiar to him now. "It is?"
He nodded. "My colleagues are the ones that do the majority of the rescues. Scott is our first responder, he is dispatched to the danger zone first to scout out the situation and report back to base so our commander can decide what equipment is needed, which operatives to send and our course of action. It's almost always Thunderbird Two and her pilot, sometimes Thunderbird Four for sea or water-based rescues, or Thunderbird Three for space."
"Thunderbird Three is your ship, right?"
"Only on an off month, I share her with another operative, Alan, he was the one you spoke with when you called for help."
Her eyes widened with understanding. "You take the calls too?"
"More often than not, yes. We have regular shift changes, but they don't always work out equally, and neither do the rescues. Scott, for example, has been on almost every rescue we've done, as has Thunderbird Two's pilot, but I've only been on a handful."
"Well you wouldn't know it, you've done an amazing job so far."
His lips twitched in a brief smile. "I appreciate that, but it doesn't always feel like it. The others have far more experience than I do, they're the ones out in the field making a difference."
Realisation dawned, making her heart ache for him as she asked gently, "You don't feel like you make a difference?"
He shrugged as if it was no big deal. "Not like they do, I just answer the calls and pass it on."
"You just answer the calls?" she scoffed. "And you don't think that's important?"
"Not compared to doing the actual saving," he confessed. It felt weird to say it out loud, something he'd never shared with another person. He couldn't talk to his friends about International Rescue, because they couldn't know he was involved, and he couldn't talk to his brothers about it, they wouldn't understand or he'd worry they would think he was being an ungrateful glory hound. Only Alan might get it, but he always seemed to luck out and get drafted to rescues while he was on base, and John was worried that saying anything would make him sound bitter when he really wasn't. "The others get to meet the people I talk to, they can put faces to the names and know that when they finish their job they are leaving them behind in a far better situation than they were before. I just sit up in my space station and wait for the report at the end of the day."
Selene shook her head, wondering how they had moved from him comforting her, to her needing to be the one to make him see sense. But it was good, it put her back on an even footing that she knew well, making others feel better.
She squeezed his hand, making sure he was paying attention and looking at her before she spoke, "I say this with love, but you're talking rubbish."
John's eyes widened, both at the implied love but more so at the blunt way she had said that he was talking trash. "How so?"
"You only get one side of the picture," she explained patiently. "But, talking as the person who had to make the call, rather than the one receiving it, you have the most important job."
He stayed quiet, knowing she would elaborate to hammer her point home.
"When I made that call, I was so scared. I was staring out of the window of that spaceship and thinking that that view was the last I'd ever see." She realised she'd been absently stroking the back of his hand with her thumb but did nothing to stop it, finding it to be as soothing for her as she hoped it was for him. "I felt helpless, there was nothing I could do. I put out that call hoping for a miracle, and your friend, Alan is it? He was there, he answered, he listened, and he sent help. He sent you."
"That was his job," John pointed out, ignoring the possessive way her hand had tightened on his when she said that he'd been sent to her.
"No, that's not just a job, don't you see that? When you are in a situation that is out of your control, when you need help and you call out into the void, the fact that someone actually answers is just incredible." She squeezed his hand again for emphasis before continuing, "We live in a world where asking for help is hard and receiving it is even harder. Humans as a species are inherently selfish, concerned only by what is happening in their lives and how they can help themselves, so much so that they hardly ever notice when those around them are struggling. To put your trust in someone you don't know, to make a call and get an answer, that's priceless."
John nodded, but she could tell that he still wasn't convinced. She didn't know why, but making him believe her was important. He was a good guy and to know that he was doubting his worth, and for her to do nothing to try and change that, was unthinkable.
"When I was fourteen my granddad had a heart attack at home, which led to a cardiac arrest. I was the only one there at the time."
"My god, I'm so sorry," he whispered, his eyes showing more compassion and understanding than anyone else had the few times she'd told this story. "That's a terrible thing to go through."
"It's okay, he was okay," she rushed to assure him, "You see, as kids we are told over and over that if there is an emergency you call for help, it's drummed into us, that emergency number. 999, it's such a simple thing, but it can make a huge difference. I called the number, and this lovely lady picked up. She asked me questions and she talked me through what to do, lay him down and start chest compressions, she counted with me, all the while assuring me that she'd sent an ambulance and help was coming. They got there within three minutes and they saved his life."
"I'm glad to hear it."
She laughed softly, wondering where this need to confide in him was coming from, especially telling him a story that was all the more painful to remember now that her grandfather had actually passed away from another heart attack where he hadn't been so lucky, but she knew she had a point that only a real-life experience could make.
"I didn't tell you this for the fun of it but because I never forgot that lady, because she helped me, and I never forget someone who does that. I know to her I was probably just one caller in the hundreds she dealt with every week, but to me, she was the person who really saved his life. Because she got help to him when he needed it the most, and she talked me through how to help him until the professionals got there. The ambulance guys said my work helped bring him back, it kept the blood flowing to his brain and organs so they could restart his heart again, but I wouldn't have been able to do that without her. There's no use in having emergency services if they don't know where to go. So don't you dare think that your job isn't important, because without you there is no hope, no help will come, and the whole organisation will fall down," she finished firmly, pointing a finger at him for emphasis.
John held his free hand up in mock surrender but squeezed her hand with the other. She'd spoken so passionately, so firmly, that he really found himself believing her. The heaviness that often lingered in his chest, the feeling of redundantness he felt whenever he passed a call on and waited to hear about his brothers exploits, eased with the surety with which she spoke. "Thank you, truly. It means a lot that you shared something like that with me, I really appreciate it."
"Good, because it's not something I tell just anyone," she grumbled, feeling a little exposed and embarrassed now that she'd finished making her point.
"Why not?" he had to ask. "You did an amazing job, you saved his life, you should be proud of that."
Selene shrugged uncomfortably, her fingers absently rubbing against his own as she thought about it. "I don't really know. I told my friends at school once, just after it happened, and they acted like I was being big-headed about it, so I never bothered again. I never really fitted in at school anyway, so it wasn't a big surprise."
John nodded, knowing just how cruel kids could be. He and his brothers had lost their mother and their grandfather in the same accident and, while they hadn't been as young as she had been, it had been difficult to talk about with their peers who didn't understand.
"Is that why you asked if I knew what it felt like to not fit in?" he asked suddenly, remembering her original question. "Do you still feel like that?"
"You saw how they acted earlier, my so-called friends."
"I did, yes."
"Fairweather friends, my granddad used to call them. You know the type, that only cares if you are there when you are useful to them. And I guess I just outlived my usefulness."
"That's not true," he protested hotly, hating that she had been made to feel that way.
"It is," she insisted. "I just… I wanted to be part of something important, you know? To feel like I was doing something good and that I belonged there, that's why I joined. Don't get me wrong, they aren't all like that, Genevieve and the others are great, but they do things a little differently, and I guess I'm just a throw myself in at the deep end kind of girl."
"I never would have guessed," he teased gently.
She gave him a raised eyebrow in warning, but he was starting to recognise her expressions and knew she didn't mean it.
"My mother always says that I'm a people pleaser, I do too much for people. And I know she's right. If someone needs help I can't ignore it, if someone asks me for a favour I can't say no. So when Cosmo and the others started making plans and asked me to help I jumped at the chance. I like to feel useful, which I know is an oxymoron after what I just said, but I am nothing if not a mass of contradictions. It started out as a few little things, like printing and putting up posters and handing out flyers, then I started helping organise things and before I knew it I was involved in their offshoot plans more than the official ones." She sighed wistfully, the ghost of a sad smile on her lips. "It felt good, to be part of something, they needed me and the more I helped the more I felt like I belonged there. But clearly, that wasn't the case."
"You didn't do anything wrong," he repeated. "They did. They used you and pretended to be your friends and betrayed your trust. That's on them."
"I know that logically, but I can't help but feel I'm partially to blame because I let them and I didn't learn from past mistakes enough to see that it was happening again. It's weird, I'm always surrounded by people, but the hard part is keeping them. When I stop being fun, when I stop doing things for them, they drift away."
"I can understand that, believe me when I say that keeping friends when you have a job like mine is hard."
She looked at him then, her eyes locked on his as if she were looking deep down into his soul as she asked the one question he had been dreading.
"Do you get lonely up there in your space station?"
The way she was gazing at him made him feel almost naked, like he was stripped bare to her, but weirdly it gave him the confidence to admit the thing he always glossed over when talking to his family. Because he knew she would understand.
"Every day." He huffed out a shaky little laugh, partly in relief at having said it out loud, and partly because it still seemed ridiculous to him. "Don't get me wrong, I do love it, it's an amazing universe out there and in between calls I have the time to enjoy it."
"You'd just rather not be doing it alone?" she asked softly, confirming his suspicion that she must be some kind of mind reader, as she had hit the nail firmly on the head with her verbal hammer.
"It's kinda hard to make friends when you can't tell anyone who you are or don't have much time to spend with the ones you already have."
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked you that. It was none of my business, I'm just feeling a bit sorry for myself. I'll be fine, I have other friends and I still believe in our cause, so this won't put me off." She wiped away a stray tear that had formed and wiggled her shoulders like a bird settling its feathers, pulling herself together, not wanting to make him feel any worse, she'd done a good enough job already. "Just ignore me, please, I'm tired and stressed and I'm being pathetic, I'll get over it."
"No, you're not, don't say that," he warned, relieved that they were back on more familiar territory, him making someone else feel better.
"But I am, I'm a grown woman bitching like a schoolgirl to a man who spends his life stuck in space because she can't make friends."
"Well, I can only talk from my experience, but I think you're doing a pretty good job of making friends with me right now," he reminded her, giving her hand another squeeze.
"But this is temporary too, isn't it?" she argued, another tear forming. "Because it's not like we can meet up for coffee after this, is it?"
The shaking of his head was barely noticeable, the thought almost painful to admit.
"We're never going to see each other again, are we?" she pushed, needing to hear it from him, needing a definitive answer even though she knew what he would say.
"No." How he hated saying it. He wanted nothing more than to say differently, he wanted to be a regular guy who could take her number and call her up, meet her for coffee and keep exploring this connection they seemed to have. He was enjoying their easy banter and how they seemed to think in much the same way. She was the whole package, she had the looks that heated his blood, a personality that complimented his own and the same moral code that he and his family lived by that pushed them to continue to do their jobs, even when it seemed impossible. In short, she was perfect, she wanted to spend time with him, and he had to say no.
"Yeah, I figured you'd say that," she said, withdrawing from him physically as well as mentally as her fingers slipped away from his.
His fingers clenched around thin air, feeling the loss of hers and managed to croak out, "I'm sorry."
"It's okay," she said, her voice full of forced cheer. "It's fine, it's cool, I get it."
"Okay," he echoed, not knowing what else to say. He wanted to take his words back, to grab her hand and haul her in close, hating the way she had broken contact and moved away from him, hating the way the sparkle in her eyes had dulled. But he knew he couldn't, to do that would just be lying to her and himself, which would make them both feel worse.
Selene cleared her throat, breaking the tense silence, saying the first thing that came to mind. "So, weird thing that happened back there with Atlas, huh?"
The abrupt change subject change confused him for a moment before his brain caught up to the fact that she was giving him an out which he was more than happy to grab on to. "Oh, yes, I'd been wondering how to ask you about that."
"Ask me what?" she inquired, her tone heavy with suspicion. "I wasn't involved with their plan if that's what you're getting at."
"No, no, that wasn't what I meant," John hurried to assure her, waving his hand to dismiss the notion. "I'd never think that. No, I meant-" he paused, not really knowing how to phrase it in a way that wouldn't give away too much information about International Rescue. Once again he decided that sticking as close to the truth as possible would be the best course of action.
He leaned back against the nearest wall, stretching out his legs in an effort to get just a little more comfortable on the hard stone floor. He ruffled his hair, words and information tumbling around in his head as he tried to piece together what he should say. She watched him, her eyes slightly narrowed as if waiting for something bad to happen.
"How long have you known him, Atlas I mean?" he eventually asked.
Selene frowned, wondering where this conversation was going, but she still answered honestly. "Not long at all, less than a week. As I said before, I've known Cosmo and the others for about two years, since I joined their little society, they've all known each other since university. I didn't go so I'm the latecomer. But Atlas, he's very new. Cosmo said he met him recently but wouldn't elaborate on where or how. And before you ask, no I didn't question him on it, people like us… we don't always follow the law to the letter and if they had met somewhere that they shouldn't have been, well it's not my place to ask. He said that he trusted him, that Atlas was a kindred spirit and on the same page as us but, crucially, he knew where to hire a rocket and a driver. He seemed like the answer to our prayers, we'd been asking around for more than six months with no success, yet this guy came along and got it done within a week. I guess it was one of those situations where it seemed too good to be true so you just don't question it."
John listened silently, nodding now and then. He didn't blame her for not investigating the man, it wasn't her place. She was the type of person to place her trust in her friends and their judgement until she had a reason not to. Only once she had wound down did he speak, not wanting to interrupt.
"That man, he wasn't who he said he was," he started, not wanting to say something that would make her feel worse. "He was using you all for his own gain."
"Well, that much is obvious. In this community you're bound to run into the same people at more than one meeting or event, yet no one had heard of him, no one had seen him before. There was something fishy about him from the start, I was leaning towards him being an undercover cop but I guess I can rule that one out now."
John burst out laughing, the very idea of the Hood being an undercover police officer was just so absurd. "No," he chuckled, wiping his eyes with a grimy hand. "I can assure you he is the furthest thing to law enforcement."
Selene peered at him. "Wait, do you mean that you know this guy? Because that's sure what it sounds like."
Damn, she was too clever for her own good. She should have been a reporter or a spy, the way she scented information and tried to ferret it out. He had to be more careful with her.
"Our organisation has come up against him a time or two," he admitted, careful to not say too much. "He's dangerous and the more information we get on him, the better."
"He seems like a delight," she drawled, her words dripping sarcasm.
From the moment she had met Atlas, there had been something about him, something that she hadn't been able to put her finger on, but her every instinct had screamed at her that he was wrong. He had appeared to be a charming man, willing to help out with anything, including footing the bill for some of Cosmo's more outlandish plans, yet the moment he thought no one was looking, his eyes would harden, his mouth would twist in a cruel smile that she had found totally unnerving. She hadn't liked to be left alone with him and had made sure that she always had someone else in the room with her when he was there. As her granddad would have said, she didn't trust him as far as she could throw him and, while her friends might have been content to take everything he said at face value, she was glad she hadn't. If what John said was true, and she had no reason to doubt that it was, the man she knew as Atlas was anything but the harmless environmental activist he presented himself as.
She tossed her hair back over her shoulder and lifted her head determinedly, her eyes locking on to John's as she said, "I know you can't tell me anything about your organisation, but I deserve to know what that monster has done to my friends. I'm assuming that his little eye trick is something that he's pulled before, which means any one of them could be under his influence and in danger. So, tell me what you can, and I'll help."
Once again she had astounded him with her reasoning and selflessness. Here she was, stuck in a dangerous situation that wasn't of her making, and she was still thinking of her friends, still trying to reason away their behaviour, still trying to help them. He'd thought from the moment he'd seen her that there was something special about her, but now he was sure of it.
"How did you resist his powers?" he asked, needing to keep his mind on the job and away from inappropriate thoughts of the woman he was currently trapped with.
Selene's lips pouted out adorably as she thought about it, her head tipped to one side. "I don't really know."
"Try to remember for me," he encouraged gently, trying to ignore her pout and his urge to kiss it. "Don't try to explain it, just talk me through it if you can."
He might well say that now, but she'd been here before where people had asked her to explain something to them and nothing had been the same again. She didn't want to think that he would be the same, she was quite enjoying the fact that he seemed to be a pretty decent guy, the secrecy notwithstanding. Although, something in her wanted her to take a chance on him, to place her trust in him, but still she cautiously asked, "Promise you won't judge me or think I'm weird?"
"Believe me when I tell you that the things I've seen and heard in my time at International Rescue have made me change my stance on what it worthy of judgement or being considered weird."
"Is that a promise or not?"
"It's a promise."
She nodded slowly, still unsure but feeling the need to talk it out. She could still recall how it felt to have that man trying to force his way into her mind. It was a violation, his thoughts had felt slimy and nasty, evil and dark, everything she wasn't and when she thought about it, she could still feel an echo of them.
"It wasn't nice," she started, lacing her fingers together where they rested in her lap. "He wasn't nice."
John nodded, understanding completely. From what Tin-Tin, Brains and his brothers had told him of their experiences, the underlying theme had been not nice.
"He felt dark, like he was somehow out of place…," she trailed off. "It's so hard to explain, I'm sorry, I'm trying."
"It's okay," John assured her, giving into the urge to touch her and covering her hands with his own. "Just take your time, and if you want to stop, that's fine."
"But will me talking about it help you?" she asked, looking up at him. "Like will it be of any use?"
"Undoubtably. We've tried all we can to figure out a way of doing exactly what you did back there, but been unsuccessful. So anything you can tell me, no matter how small or insignificant it might seem, might help us tremendously."
"Okay, I'll try." She felt his hand squeeze hers and took comfort from it as she closed her eyes, all the better to visualise the moment she was supposed to be thinking about instead of staring at the handsome man in front of her.
"Just start at the beginning, and keep talking," John suggested. "Don't worry about it making sense."
"I remember yelling at him," she started. "I was just so annoyed that he could have put my friends in danger, as well as you guys and all the innocent people on this base. He was supposed to be a good guy, but if I'm honest with myself, I sensed from the start that there was something off about him."
John snorted softly, 'off' was definitely one way to describe the man.
"He felt wrong the moment his voice changed, it was like he dropped whatever mask he had been wearing and showed his true self for the first time. His voice had always held this edge to it, you know? But it was like all warmth had leaked away, leaving behind this cold monster." She shivered, even the thought of it enough to make her feel cold all over. "It was like everything about him had gotten darker, bigger, more imposing."
"I know he's scary, but you stood up to him," John reminded her. "And I promise you, I won't let him hurt you again."
"But you need me to keep talking and tell you everything?" she guessed, more of a statement than a question, to which he nodded. "Okay." She took another deep breath and then continued to speak, letting the words pour out of her without stopping to think how they might sound, she just wanted to get it over with, like purging her brain. "It was then that his eyes did that thing. It was like they were glowing from the inside. I know it sounds crazy, but that's all I could think of, like embers burning away inside his head."
John squeezed her hand again, letting her know he was right there with her, but wasn't going to interrupt.
"He started talking then, giving his orders. I knew what he was saying was wrong yet I couldn't stop the visuals from forming in my head, even though it was nothing like how I would act."
"What did you see?" John asked softly, unable to imagine what images the monster could have forced upon her.
"Me."
At his frown, she elaborated, "I saw myself, on the ground. I was holding my leg, and you and Scott talking to me, while forced myself to cry to keep you there," she told him honestly. It was embarrassing to admit it, she hated that he might think, even for a second, that she would do something like that of her own accord. "He wanted me to keep you busy while he got away. But I'd never do that! I wouldn't even think of it!"
"I know you wouldn't," he assured her, needing her to know that he believed her. "Tell me how you broke free."
Selene rolled her shoulders to dismiss the image, her eyes still closed as she thought back. "I knew, somewhere at the back of my mind, that it was wrong, that the thoughts weren't my own." She opened her eyes then, the rest of the encounter clear in her memory. John watched her intently, but she saw no judgement in his eyes, only concern.
"It was like a meditation," she mused, half to him, half to understand it herself by speaking aloud. "When unwanted thoughts come in, you push them back out. You find something else to focus on, something that will help you and you picture that in your mind. You hold that picture, hold on to it as tight as you can. You focus on the feeling you get from it, you keep that focus, holding on as hard as you can and, when the intrusive thoughts come in you ignore them as best you can. You shove away all the thoughts that don't belong there."
Had it really been that simple? John thought, astounded by her matter-of-fact explanation as if it were no big deal, just an everyday occurrence. Had her focus, her will, simply been stronger than the Hoods? There had to be more to it than that…
"What did you focus on?" he asked softly. Maybe if he knew what she had been picturing it would help them if they ever went up against the hood again.
Selene wanted to look away, to tell him to mind his own business, but she couldn't. She knew this was important, more so than he was letting on. She could tell him any random thing and he wouldn't know the difference. But she had a policy to never lie if she could help it, and even then, only in the direst of circumstances. In this case, she knew that lying could make the situation so much worse. Besides, it wasn't like she was going to see him again, what was a little embarrassment between almost temporary friends?
"What did you picture?" he asked again, keeping his voice low, supportive. He knew he was likely asking a very personal question and ordinarily he would never dream of doing so, but they needed this information. The safety of others depended on it.
Her hands shifted under his, the fingers unlocking as if she wished to move. Aware that he had been touching her again without her permission and had likely been making her uncomfortable not just with his questioning but his invasion of her personal space, he released his hold and started to move away. But she was too quick for him. This time it was her hand taking his, her fingers sliding between his, holding him in place.
"You," she all but whispered, so low that he had to lean a little closer to be sure he'd heard her. "I pictured you."
"M-me?" he stammered, feeling his face heating. How could she…what did she mean?
"You," she confirmed, her cheeks flushing almost as much as his were.
"But why?" he asked, unable to believe what he was hearing.
"Because he was trying to make me do something bad, something that felt so incredibly wrong and I knew I had to find something to focus on that went against everything he was. So, I thought about you, how he was trying to hurt people, while all you were doing was trying to save them. You came out to the middle of space to rescue a bunch of idiot hippies. You sat there in that pilot seat and you promised me that everything would be alright. You told me you would save me and you did." She laughed self-consciously. "I guess I hoped that you could do it a second time."
"I… well… I guess…" John stammered. He couldn't have been more stunned if she had whipped out a baseball bat and smacked him around the head with it. He didn't know what to say in response. Anything he thought about saying seemed inadequate. She had done something that no one else they knew of had managed, not even Lady Penelope. Selene had broken through the Hood's influence and, if she was to believed, she had used the thought of him as some kind of symbol to give her the strength and power to do so. What did one say to that? How was he supposed to accept that kind of knowledge? How was he supposed to spend the next however many hours with her knowing that she had thought of him that way?
Selene saw the look on his face and groaned inwardly. Great, now she had made him uncomfortable. Great going, Sel. Way to come across as an obsessed weirdo that the poor man is now trapped with. That's the way to make friends and influence people. Quick, damage control!
"It's okay," she assured him, patting his hand briefly before letting it go. "I'm not expecting you to say anything, in fact, I think I'd rather you didn't, because it's a little embarrassing. But you asked for the truth and I figured you deserved it." She flung her hands out in a 'there you go, nothing to it,' way. "There was no big secret, nothing spectacular, I've just had practice in focusing my mind and blocking out intrusive thoughts and, because of the situation, my mind automatically went in your direction. He tried to push through but then I pictured a door slamming shut and locking and that was when he got all mad and handsy. That's all there is to tell." There, that sounded reasonable, didn't it? That sounded like a believable reason for her to be conjuring up visions of him in her head that wouldn't make her seem like a stalker?
John nodded, relaxing a little as she continued to explain. This was better, this was okay. Honestly, he was glad that she had cleared things up, it made it easier to understand. It wasn't that she had been thinking of him for any special reason, it was purely down to the situation and the way her brain now associated him with the Hood and rescue. He could understand that, it was simple really…
So why did he feel so disappointed?
He could admit, if only to himself, that, for a brief moment, it had felt nice to consider himself as somewhat special, important, needed. No, he told himself firmly, you will not go down this mental route. But he couldn't help it. Somehow she had managed to tap into the secret part of him that only reared its head in the silent, lonely times in the dark of space. When he was alone in Thunderbird Five, knowing that the rest of his family was down on the island, probably enjoying a relaxed evening after a good meal. In those moments when he resented his role in their organisation, knowing that he would never be as important or needed as his brothers.
That made him sound so selfish, didn't it? He could hear himself and thought the same, a self-centred idiot with a hero complex. Yet he couldn't help it. Ordinarily, he loved his job, and, Selene had been right earlier when she said that those who called for help deserved to know that there was someone out there listening, that someone would answer. And he loved that he was able to be that person, the one that gave hope to the hopeless, the voice that answers.
But being the one stuck in space for most of the time did mean that he rarely, if ever, got a chance to go out on rescues as his brothers did. The closest he got to the action was reading the reports and, seeing the newspaper and magazine articles that were written about the mysterious and handsome men of International Rescue that appeared out of nowhere, swooping down in their Thunderbird crafts to save the day, the brave, inspirational heroes that risked their lives to save others and never wanted anything for it, only cemented his insecurities. They never once praised the person who had been there when they had called out for help they thought would never come.
It wasn't like he begrudged his brothers that love and attention, he knew they richly deserved it, they were the ones out there risking their lives day in and day out, but if he had the opportunity, like he had today, he would be there in a heartbeat.
So he refused to feel bad that if, for once, the idea of him being the one to inspire someone, to lend someone strength, had kindled a warm glow inside him that he hadn't realised had frozen over. But he'd been stupid to think it. Why would he, the often overlooked middle child in a family of exceptional men, ever be the special one?
"Did that help?"
Selene's question broke through his thoughts so abruptly that he wasn't quite sure what she was referring to as he said, "Oh, yes, thank you. Most helpful."
"Good." She cleared her throat and flexed her fingers, still able to feel the ghostly warmth from his hands on hers. Something she had said had upset him, she could tell. Not that she knew him well enough to know his every thought, but he had such an open, honest and expressive face and suddenly it had been like a shutter had come down, his face wiped of all emotion. He'd sat back too, like he'd wanted to distance himself from her somehow and she didn't like it. He had wanted the truth and now, apparently, that had been wrong too.
"Yes," John started, trying valiantly to get his mind back on the conversation and out of the self-pity spiral he'd fallen into. So what if she didn't see him as special in any way? It was better that way, he'd never see her again after they got out, so what was the point of wishing for something that would never happen?
She was still looking at him, her eyes tracking his face like she was analysing his every movement, which didn't make sense.
He shook his head to clear his thoughts, forced a smile onto his face and tried again. "I mean yes, that was very helpful. Now that we know something like that is possible it means we can be better prepared next time. So, thank you."
"Oh, then you're welcome."
Maybe she had been imagining his change in mood? He was smiling now as if everything was just as it had been before. Before she had opened her big mouth and asked him stupid, personal questions that she had no right to ask. She had stuck her big feet in her even bigger mouth and made him uncomfortable and wished she could take it back. He probably dealt with people like her every day and recognised the signs of people getting too close, so he'd backed off. That was the right thing to do. He wasn't acting weird, she was and she needed to stop thinking anything different. She needed to put overactive imagination down to her being overtired, oversensitive, stressed out and scared, all the things that she should legitimately be feeling at that moment, that would be a legitimate reason to mistake his quiet thinking for moodiness.
But that didn't feel right, mostly because she wasn't actually feeling any of that. Sure a lot had happened that would ruin anyone's day, she felt dead tired and wasn't entirely convinced they were getting out of there any time soon, if ever, but she wasn't alone, and that was helping a lot. From the moment he had stepped through the airlock into their deathtrap rocket, she had known she should trust him. She'd felt at ease with him, she knew that he'd do everything in his power to get her out of the situation safely and, once the shock of being buried alive in a mine had worn off, the same calm had settled over her like his proximity was a balm that soothed her senses and her nerves.
But now it felt like the atmosphere around them had changed. One moment they had felt close, they had even been laughing a little and, while things had grown tense when she'd messed up by asking if they would ever see each other again, he hadn't hesitated to reach out and support her while she'd answered his questions about Atlas.
If she was feeling like as soon as she had opened up and told him the truth that same uncomfortable distance had sprung up between them, she was wrong. It was all in her head, her messed up, still dwelling on her argument with Meadow, head.
And she needed to get over it because he might now be prepared to sit in uncomfortable silence while they awaited rescue, but she was not. She would do whatever she could to bring back the laughing, relaxed International Rescue man she'd first met in that rocket, even at the expense of her own sanity and good character. She was the one who had stepped out of line and gotten too close, not him, so she had to be the one to take the first step.
Having no better idea, and before she could talk herself out of it, she dove straight in.
"Since we're stuck here, we might as well do something to pass the time," she started. "So, truth or dare, let's go."