FLIRTING WITH DANGER by LMC RATED FRT

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.

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 hung. Then his faces 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 and I move away ever-so-slightly. Best to begin this discussion with body language.

He asks me about my trip, about the installation, about Ladybird's behavior, about Parker and Penelope. I'm intrigued by the fact that he doesn't ask me about Brains. 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 myself. Or of myself and anyone.

Though I have always been secure in my father's love, though 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 the 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 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 college. 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 college 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 that 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 came upon Brains in Lady Penelope's garden. 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.

Local fire tenders and rescue personnel got us off Fireflash rather quickly. They herded us into the London Airport Fireflash terminal, into a conference room designed for fifty people. We were hundreds. I found myself, as one of the first into the room, squashed in the furthest corner from the door behind a pregnant mother with her three-year old son, who couldn't stop crying, and her husband, who was more than just a little irritated. And sweaty.

A hush fell over us as a voice came from the loudspeaker, explaining that we would all need to be carefully screened by medical professionals to ensure our health and safety before being released to wherever it was we were going to go. With what I knew of the Fireflash and its radiation shields, I knew the truth of the matter was they wanted to make certain we hadn't been exposed to radiation poisoning. The thought made me shudder. I was only twenty-two. What if the shields hadn't completely held? What if I, along with all of these people, was going to die of radiation sickness? Even if we lived, there was nothing to say parts of us couldn't have been damaged. It made me angry.

Of course, at the time I had no idea who was behind the bomb. It wasn't until years later when, after undergoing extensive self-hypnosis and meditation, my father realized he had been the means by which my uncle had discovered International Rescue was ready to begin operations. And it had been my uncle who had very nearly taken my life and the lives of all these innocent people. The discovery only fueled my disgust for sharing even a small portion of the blood that ran through his veins. I have never been happier as I was the moment my father told me Mr. Tracy had killed Belah Gaat. Our troubles, it seemed, were over.

At any rate, they were taking those who hadn't fit into the conference room first. An hour passed. Two hours. Exhausted, I'd wound up curling into something like a sitting-up ball in my corner and wondered how much longer I was going to have to wait. Thankfully, it turned out to be only ten minutes.

I heard another hush descend over the tired and angry crowd, but the voice I heard next wasn't coming from a loudspeaker. "Tin-Tin!" I heard. "Tin-Tin Kyrano!" I struggled to my feet, but at only five feet, four inches tall, I couldn't possibly see over the people in front of me. That's when I heard the whispers.

"Who are these guys?"

"Look, they're coming this way!"

And then the voice again. Clipped. Professional. "Tin-Tin Kyrano!"

"Here!" I called out, raising my hand. "I'm over here!"

The sea of people parted in a fashion that would have made the biblical Moses proud. And from that throng emerged two huge men wearing blue flight suits and matching hats. I saw at once the logo of the white hand on their chests and grinned.

"There you are," the dark-haired one said, his face breaking into a wide grin. "I'm Scott."

The second one stepped out from behind him, broader in chest but an inch shorter. "And I'm Virgil."

They shook my hand in succession. "Come on, we're getting you out of here," Scott said. I nodded my head as he turned and led the way, with Virgil falling into step behind me. Here I was sandwiched between the two most perfect men I had ever laid eyes on. And I was going to live with them! I couldn't believe it. I had seen photographs of them, of course, but nothing compares with seeing the real flesh-and-blood men of International Rescue in person. I was completely smitten.

And though I found Scott attractive, it was Virgil who captured me so completely that I found myself slipping back into the shy girl of only five years before. He kept up a lively conversation as we rode to Tracy Island in Thunderbird Two. I was fascinated by the aircraft and asked incessant questions, which he, as a fellow engineer, was more than happy to answer. I don't think either of us stopped talking the entire ride.

But it wasn't just our mutual backgrounds in education. It was his voice. His eyes. I came to think of him as a gentle giant, and by the time we returned to Tracy Island, I was practically clinging to him. I remember wishing the ride hadn't ended so soon. We disembarked and Virgil rode up the elevator with me to Tracy Villa. My father was waiting there for me. What a joyous reunion! I could tell he was full of relief at my safety. He thanked Scott and Virgil profusely for what they had done on their first rescue mission.

I then spoke with Mr. Tracy, from whom I also received a relieved and welcoming hug. John was on Thunderbird Five, so I didn't meet him until much later, but I also met Gordon that night, as well as Brains. Mrs. Tracy had not yet moved to the island. They allowed me that week to get settled in, learn my way around the island and get to know them a little better before I really dug into working with Brains. Alan? Oh, Alan was around, but strangely enough I never met him. He'd been spending most of his time in the hangar working on his racing car, and left the very next morning after my arrival.

I remember the next events clearly. Because of what had happened aboard Fireflash, Mr. Tracy insisted I had to submit to a barrage of tests and a thorough examination by their resident medical expert, Brains. I'd had no idea prior to that next morning after my arrival that Brains held a medical degree in addition to his other five degrees. It unnerved me, I suppose, that he was so young – the same age as I. It wasn't that I didn't believe he was capable, it was only that I was new to this place, to this island and this family, and here was someone I'd never met who was suddenly going to get very personal with me.

And I mean very personal.

At first they were easy things like drawing blood, taking cell samples from my mouth, skin and hair and doing thorough examinations of both eyes. But then, as I sat in the sick room waiting for Brains to return from collecting my urine sample, I suddenly realized that he'd have to do at least one other thing in order to make certain I hadn't been harmed by radiation. Reproduction. There was every possibility that my reproductive organs had been damaged, and though no reports of medical problems with any of the other passengers had been made, the fact remained that I had to be checked.

There is a huge difference between spreading your legs for a lover and spreading them for the man with the highest IQ in the world so he can take samples from you.

To his credit, Brains never once appeared nervous. He never once acted unprofessionally and indeed was quite quick at what he did. I, on the other hand, was a nervous wreck. And that was the day, three days after my arrival, that I got a glimpse of the man beneath the thick blue glasses and stammering voice. Because after he was finished, he helped me sit up, took my hand and asked me if I was okay. His smile was small, his eyes were soft and his touch was gentle.

"Yes, I'm fine, thank you. When do you think you'll have the results?"

"Ah, well, with my accelerated testing equipment, i-it shouldn't be more than eighteen hours, ah, Tin-Tin."

I was still uncomfortable. I hadn't yet actually worked with Brains, and to have to expose myself before we even had a professional relationship affected me deeply, for a reason I wasn't able to fathom until just recently. He backed away from me a little and removed his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose as he squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them again, I couldn't help but stare. His eyes were beautiful. They were large and round and surrounded by thick black lashes, giving him an almost boyish look. It hadn't been apparent with the glasses on, and I was taken aback.

"Your eyes," I said, "are beautiful, Brains."

He blushed – actually blushed – and suddenly I felt at ease. I hopped off the bed and went to change back into my clothes. And never once have I been able to stop admiring his eyes when I'm near him. There's simply something about them. Windows into the soul, my father has always said, and it's so true. I find the eyes are what attracts me first to a man. If I see something in his eyes, the right something, the rest is simply gravy, as Gordon might say.

After the examinations, I was pronounced unaffected by radiation and in perfect health. I was so relieved, and spent the remainder of that first week flirting mercilessly with Virgil. I simply shake my head now as I look back on it. I was a terrible tease, but Virgil is nothing if not a saint, and never brings up the past. Thank heavens for that. I don't think anyone knows that for a short time, we were quite the hot and heavy couple. Not even Alan knows that.

Alan. What can I say about the youngest member of the Tracy family? When he came home from racing he was on Cloud 9 because he'd taken the entire thing, winning every one of the three he'd run. His family planned a celebration dinner, and it was at that dinner that I first saw him in person. He was seated on the opposite side of the table, at the end next to Mrs. Tracy's chair. I knew immediately that he had an interest in me, mainly because he stared at me the whole night. But rather than it making me uncomfortable, it excited me to no end.

Now I had two of them to flirt with! Make no mistake, each and every one of the Tracys have faces I never tire of looking at. Beautiful eyes, beautiful bodies – everything simply gorgeous. Any woman would kill to live as I do, among these men. But from the get-go, Scott, John and Gordon always treated me like a sister. They'd never had a sister, of course, and so I think I filled that gap for them quite nicely. Though I hadn't yet gotten over being smitten with Virgil, I couldn't help but flirt with Alan. In my defense, I must say he started the whole thing. But I admit that I encouraged it.

Those were the days. At last Virgil and I came together, but though it was fun and I enjoyed every moment we spent together, it became clear fairly quickly that we weren't meant to be more than brother and sister to one another. I don't know that either of us would be able to pinpoint it, but I think perhaps I took my cues from Virgil as to the direction our relationship was headed. And so we mutually decided that it was best to stop what we'd started and instead became friends. Of course, that doesn't keep me from sometimes falling into old habits with him, but what's a girl to do when confronted by a man such as Virgil Tracy? I doubt any of you women out there would fare so well against the Tracy charm!

That's when I realized I was free to really lay it on thick with Alan. He was by far the most approachable now in that respect, and it was simply fun. He ate up every word I said, every move I made. What girl isn't going to fall for that? Yet as time wore on, I started getting frustrated. Frustrated by his inability to take it beyond kissing or hand-holding. He was only four years younger than I, but it was like trying to get a child to understand a foreign language. He simply did not get it.

For the first year, I kept trying to take the relationship to the next level. I was certain I was madly in love with Alan, and wanted there to be more than just necking going on between us. But the closer I got, the further he seemed to retreat. It upset me, especially when he would then become so jealous when I went out with anyone else, like Eddie Houseman. The trick Mrs. Tracy played to make me think Alan was sick was quite ingenious of her, I must say. Talk about a smart cookie – Ruth Tracy makes it pretty clear where Jeff and his sons got their brains.

The second year of my time on Tracy Island found me heavily involved with Brains in several experiments, including one that led to the invention of a magnetic healing device which we co-own the patent on through Tracy Corporation. The hours I spent in the lab or somewhere on the island with Brains involved in maintenance, upgrades, experiments...once we even spent two weeks on Thunderbird Five with John working out some glitches in the mainframe for Mandarin translation. Being fluent in the language, it was wonderful for me to feel so important in solving the issue at hand.

We've been through so much together, Brains and I. Though I'm not a woman who babbles endlessly by any means, I do tend to talk a lot more than any of the men I live with. Most of my chit-chat is with Penny, of course, but sometimes I just had too much work to do, and it was during my times of frustration over Alan that I turned to Brains. It wasn't intentional, really, it was simply that I was down or upset, and he would notice and ask me what was wrong. It would come spilling out as bitten-off words of anger or sorrowful words of regret or any other number of emotions that Alan Tracy evokes in me.

Make no mistake, Alan and I always do end up having a good time. Sometimes we're inseparable to the point where he'll hang around the lab with me while I'm working, whenever he's not involved in some sort of maintenance or other work of his own. But it wasn't until my third year on Tracy Island that I finally got Alan Tracy into bed. I shan't reveal too much, Alan may get testy, especially with things as they are now. But I will tell you that having already rounded that corner with older brother Virgil, it seems that all Tracys are...how shall I put this gently...well-endowed. And full of energy.

I would say that probably for about three months we were stupidly giddy and ecstatic...basically, we were in love. But then Skyship One happened. And that was the trip upon which I discovered that perhaps my feelings for Alan, though deep, were not quite what I'd always assumed. And it was where I discovered what his feelings were as well.

Our flight to England in the Tiger Moth had been wonderfully exciting. The days were spent in the cockpit, each of us taking turns piloting. Nights were spent in each other's arms. And though it was as fulfilling physically as it had been three months prior, I sensed something different in Alan, something I couldn't put my finger on until that night at the dinner table with Captain Foster...or, the man who purported himself to be Captain of the airship.

I must admit that at first I was incensed. I couldn't help it. He'd sat there in front of my best friend and a complete stranger and basically said he'd never marry me. So where had all these years been leading? What of the closeness we'd only just begun to share? I was humiliated, though I am proud of the poise and grace with which I handled the situation. Poise and grace that fell apart as soon as Penny and I were alone.

I think we stayed awake that entire night talking about it. Eventually Penelope led me to trying to understand why he'd done it rather than simply being angry.

"Is it possible he said it in public because he was too afraid to tell you alone?"

Afraid? Alan? He was fearless! Surely that couldn't be the case.

"What if now you're together he's had second thoughts and simply doesn't know how to end what the relationship has become?"

Penelope is as wise as she is beautiful. When I confronted Alan the next day, it turned out her theories had been right on the nose. Before, it had always been just fun and games – two young people with raging hormones who just fell into a role play. A role play that, eventually, advanced for both.

But what I came to understand that day while talking with Alan was that it wasn't only that he'd started to realize what he felt for me wasn't the "in love" you should be feeling for someone you plan to marry. Instead it was a deep love borne of spending so much time together, learning so much about each other and risking your lives for one another. Basically, what it boiled down to was that Alan and I loved each other the same way his brothers and I loved each other. It isn't purely platonic, there's definitely a physical attraction, especially with Virgil and Alan. But for all our huffing and puffing about jealousy and taking our relationship to the next level, Alan had discovered it just didn't feel right somehow.

He'd also made another discovery, and this was the one that eventually led me to that point in Penny's garden.

That day, in the silence of my guest room aboard the air ship, he told me he'd been talking with Brains about two weeks before we left for the trip. Aside from the sadness Brains had been feeling over not being able to make the maiden voyage with us, Alan said he'd known something else was bothering him. It had taken him three days of badgering to get it out of him, but at last Brains had told him the truth.

The truth was, he was depressed about me going away for such a long time. And though those weren't his words, I believed Alan's interpretation of what he had said, and the way he'd looked. One thing you must know about Alan Tracy: that man is perceptive. Of all his brothers, he is the one who shows emotion the most, and on whom emotions are easiest to read. He's very in tune with people. In fact, he'd always been able to sense my moods and emotions, and had always surprised me with his efforts to improve them when they weren't so good.

Alan then told me that in the next moment after he realized how down Brains was about my impending trip, he suddenly realized why. "He's in love with you, Tin-Tin," he'd said, his face serious as he held my hands in his. "He's in love with you or my name isn't Alan Tracy."

At the time it had seemed an impossible idea. I had never before considered it. Not because I didn't like Brains – quite the contrary. I think perhaps of all those on the island, I have spent the most time with Brains and shared the most of who I am. Though he was never really good at small talk, he would always listen, and sometimes offer advice. And we would have such fun talking about women as I tried to help him understand us as a gender, and he would practice his observations on me. I was quite proud of how far he'd come in terms of reading women.

That day, after Alan left my room, I began to wonder if it was really all women Brains was good at reading...or if it was just me.

But I never really knew what to do about it. They always teach you that as a woman, you should never be the one to chase the man. Well, everything I'd done to that point had flown in the face of that advice. My flirting had gotten me involved with two Tracys, and I was adamant in my own mind that it wouldn't happen again. I know the others noticed a change when we returned from our near-death on the airship and then Alan's Tiger Moth. But the one person I wasn't sure noticed was the one I really wanted to, and that was Brains.

The more I'd thought about it, the more I really started taking a hard look at what I was feeling deep down inside. It's funny how you think you know yourself until you start looking at your heart through a microscope. You suddenly discover things you didn't know were there, things that sometimes shock you, sometimes terrify you. Things that make you see you've been on the wrong path all along.

Now, once again, all my time was spent with Brains. Though I understood and agreed that Alan and I should stop seeing one another as lovers, that didn't make it any easier to heal the pain of the loss I experienced. After all, we'd been leading up to that point for three whole years and then within three months it had all come crashing down around us. I spent several nights on the vidphone with Penny, and though my father tried to speak with me about it, I couldn't open up to him. Not about my love life. It's a bit like going to one of those Catholic confessionals and telling your priest you've sinned because you've had sex. Not something I want to bring up with my father, who has been celibate since my mother's death.

As time wore on I found the sting of our separation less painful, and was seeing the romantic feelings slowly be replaced by a mutual respect and love that I cherish so much. Now we talk, and talk often. Sometimes we take a day and just hike the island or head to the mainland to shop. That's one thing that Alan's the only Tracy brother you can take with you for: shopping. He can outshop both me and Penny! He's a bit of a fashion plate, and it's something we always have fun doing together.

There are kisses on the lips, but chaste ones. Nips on the ears, pecks on the cheeks. We do a lot of hand-holding, yes, and sometimes stand with our arms around one another. But that's just how Alan is. I daresay if his brothers were sisters instead, he'd be just as openly affectionate. But as it is, the only other I've ever seen him act that way with even a little is Gordon, and not nearly so flamboyantly as he does with me. He's a guy through and through, absolutely. But he's also sweet, adorable, funny and my second best friend.

I find that I do still crave that contact from him. After all, we are very close. And it was that closeness that convinced me if I made myself seem available to Brains, it wasn't the same as chasing him. Alan explained to me that Brains just doesn't see things the way the rest of us do. Alan has quite a high IQ. As far as we know, he's in the top tenth percentile of IQ scores worldwide, which makes him something of a genius himself. And as such, he sometimes sees in Brains things which the rest of us don't.

"Right now I think he needs someone," he'd said to me after his father told us Brains was on his way from Michigan to Foxleyheath. "I can't imagine what he's going through right now, and he's not really close enough to any of us to talk about it."

"Why the concern, Alan?" I'd asked. "What makes you think he needs someone right now?"

And that's when another confession had come. Alan had spoken with Brains the day Brains left for Michigan. He'd helped Brains pack his suitcase, actually, and it was in those twenty minutes that Brains had talked of his reasons for wanting so badly to know about his past.

"He said he couldn't move forward into any sort of future with anyone without first knowing who he was. That he couldn't offer anyone anything or even think about having a family until he became a whole person."

"Does that mean if he doesn't find out who his parents are that he'll never move forward?"

Alan thought so, and he told me that was why he felt now was a critical time. He loved Brains as a brother, he said, and also as somewhat of a kindred spirit in the intelligence department. He also loved me, and he knew how Brains felt already, plus he knew I was more than curious as to my own feelings for the man whose assistant I had been for so many years.

And so rather than just sit back and do nothing, he'd felt he had no choice but to offer me some insights and advice. How I will ever thank him for his selflessness and kindness I will never know. Without him, I would never have gone to Penny's, whether a new device needed to be installed or not, at that moment. If I hadn't gone, I wouldn't have found out what I found out.

Of course, I left soon after we were finished with our work, as Brains' father, Mr. Flynn, only had four days in which to be away from his top secret undercover assignment for MI-6. And Brains needed all four of those days to learn about his father, his mother...his past. Needed time to spend with the father he'd never known. I tear up even now thinking about the emotional roller coaster he must be on, but what I'd told him in the garden was true. He has changed. It's a newer, more confident Brains that I left at Penny's four days ago. It's someone I really and truly think I'm in love with.

And it's no longer that puppy love or tinkly love as Scott once put it. It's a love that I feel into my very marrow. Just picturing me standing outside Ladybird right before take-off, picturing him jogging across the field and wrapping his arms around me as though he'd never treated me any other way, makes my heart melt and yet pick up pace at the same time.

"I'll be home soon," he'd said into my ear.

"I'll be waiting," I had replied. And then we'd looked into each other's eyes and for a moment I forgot where we were, forgot my own name almost. He leaned down to kiss me, and time seemed to stop altogether.

There is passion boiling beneath the surface of the man known to us all as Brains. Passion that I find myself unable to stop thinking about even as I board Thunderbird Two now on my way to a rescue.

It's all hands on deck for this one. Only Mr. Tracy and Mrs. Tracy remain on the island. Father had traveled to Sydney for a routine doctor's appointment. Scott, Alan, John and I, in Thunderbird Three, are heading out to space. The other two boys are en route to JPL in Pasadena, California. One of their satellites has begun rotating out of sequence to its three partners, moving seemingly at random, and has already blown a chunk out of International Space Station 4, killing three cosmonauts.

We're going to see if we can't help the rest of those aboard ISS-4, as well as try to stop the rogue satellite from wreaking further havoc on Earth's interests in space. At the same time, Virgil and Gordon are going to try and get the satellite to start accepting commands again from JPL's headquarters. Though John's a good astronaut, and would be invaluable staying with us on Three, his best forté is Communications. If anyone can get help JPL get that satellite to respond, it's John Tracy, but he can only attempt it with the equipment on Thunderbird Five.

And so we blast off. I never tire of the feeling I get when the G-forces press me back into the seat. I look over at John, who's in the passenger take-off compartment with me, and can see that he feels the same way. What a thrill to know one minute you're underground in a silo and the next you're going to be in space looking at the Earth from a distance. We don't come up here much anymore now that Five is automated and controlled from Tracy Island, so when we do, it is exciting. Of course, he's a trained astronaut, but I did manage to attend Tracy College, which specializes in training men and women for space travel and existence. I squeezed that in between familiarizing myself with the Thunderbirds and working on my doctorate in Mechanical Engineering, which I finally completed last year.

I suppose you could say I've kept busy.

John and I soon ride the elevator up to join Scott and Alan in the cockpit. "Okay, plans have changed," Scott says as soon as we emerge. "It seems we've completely lost communications with ISS-4," he continues grimly. "I need John there with Alan and me to try and re-establish a link. Tin-Tin, that means we're going to leave you start the work with Virgil and Gordon. Once they're set up at JPL, get them on an open comm and begin three-way with our suit helmets. I want us linked up at all times."

"Understood, Scott," I say. So I was going to be on Thunderbird Five alone. I liked our space station quite well, but hadn't been aboard for over ten months. It's been a long time since she was automated, and she was automated for a good reason. And that reason makes me a little apprehensive, though the chances of Five getting hit by yet another asteroid are astronomical. Still, I know Scott wouldn't chance leaving me there alone if he didn't feel it was safe.

Yet with trepidation I feel perspiration form on my brow. Because truly, alone on Thunderbird Five? I am, as Father might say, a child outside her own spectrum of comfort. Having lived with the Tracys for so many years, I can now translate that to me pretty much being a fish out of water.

An analogy that Gordon might perhaps appreciate.

It's funny when I think about it as I watch Thunderbird Three back away from Five. All the time growing up I was never in my element, never part of my surroundings. It took me a long time to get to the point where I thought I knew who I was but then suddenly there's this "thing" with Brains and I feel out of my element again because it's so very new and unexpected. And now? Now I'm all alone on Thunderbird Five...Tin-Tin Kyrano, the poor gypsy child who rarely had tuppence to rub together is now manning the most sophisticated space station in existence.

How is it that I continually find myself in these situations?

I establish the link with John and Gordon at JPL. I open a three-way channel between them, me and those on Thunderbird Three. On a side channel I keep those back on Tracy Island informed. And I do it almost on automatic. Then I realize as much and wonder where it is my mind is. Yes, I'm hearing them talk. Yes, I'm listening as they work to get the satellite back into place. Yes, I hear Gordon trying to keep from cursing a blue streak that it won't accept commands. And I hear that one more person on ISS-4 has died.

But something is niggling at the back of my mind. Some sense of foreboding. Is it because of this new relationship being forged with Brains? Is it because of the unknown we are about to embark upon? No. It's not anything to do with Brains, I decide. But then what? The rescue is progressing. John is crowing about the fact that the rogue satellite seems to be responding. I can almost hear Scott's sigh of relief as he directs his brothers and helps them load the injured onto Three.

But it's still there.

Being my father's daughter, I have learned to trust my intuition. And right now, there are alarm bells going off in my head louder than the klaxon on Tracy Island. But alarm bells about what?

"Shit! It's veering off-course!"

"But you had its telemetry!"

"I know! Dammit, it's reacting adversely to the change in command structure!"

"Can't you stabilize the feed?"

"Tin-Tin! Send an emergency signal on 3-3-0, authorize complete command override with code Alpha Beta Gamma Gamma Nine!"

I quickly do as John has instructed. As my hands move, I see they are shaking. Something is definitely very, very wrong.

"It didn't take it! Try it again, Tin-Tin!"

I do. And then a sound comes to my ears. I look up at one of the many screens in front of me. The radar. There's a blip.

"Scott, I have something here!" I say.

"No! Tin-Tin!"

John? Why is he shouting my...I look at the radar. The blip is moving much too fast. It's moving toward Thunderbird Five.

"Get into a suit! Get down into the--!"

I'm floating. I'm floating in the Void. I know the Void. Father and I have been here together. But right now I'm alone. At least I think I am. You can't see anything in the Void. I suddenly wonder if I'm dead. And then I remember the satellite. I remember John's frantic voice. I remember the blip on the radar. And then this.

Had it happened again? Had Thunderbird Five been hit again?

Somehow I have a feeling Jeff Tracy isn't going to ever let anyone on that space station ever again.

Funny how I'm not concerned. Not concerned with whether I'm dead or alive. Not concerned with the odd weightless feeling I'm experiencing. Not concerned about anything. Yet even though there is no worry, I feel like I'm somewhere I shouldn't be. Somewhere I don't know what to do. Someplace that isn't quite right for me, and I don't know what to do about it.

Once again, out of my element.

It seems to be a recurring theme in my life. If I'm still alive. What if I'm dead? That would certainly put me in unfamiliar territory. We don't remember what it's like between lives, at least, not once we get past four or five years of age. So if I've died, what do I do now? How do I get to the Plane of Souls? Where do I go? I suddenly start feeling panic. What do I do?

There's nobody here to help me. There's nobody here to talk to. There's no one to guide me. I'm not myself. I'm not on Tracy Island. I'm not part of International Rescue. I'm not the flirtatious girl I've always been. I'm not with my family. I'm just not me.

There are lights. There are sounds. There are colors. Forms. Shapes. Oh, god, what are they? What is this place? They're closing in around me. Beckoning me. What is this? Who are they? Do I stay here or do I follow?

I never got to talk to Alan about things.

And Brains...

Father?

What do I do? When do I find out whether or not I'm still alive?

Do you know? Do you?

Help me. Please help me.

Please?

(To be continued in a sequel coming soon!)