Found this Scott and Em Harris 'discussion' on my hard drive.
Em Harris is an OC from Gentle Rain.
Language warning for this as she is not happy at all.
-o-o-o-
“I’m just trying to keep you from dying! Don’t you see that? I care about you and you are the last person I ever want to see dead out there, so just fucking listen to me for once!”
Scott blinked at the fire in her words. He would have taken a step back, but he was held by his seat in One, its safety harness and back preventing him from moving an inch away from the fury of his wife.
Em hovered in front of him, the white of her medical baldric glaring at him. It had stains. Some identifiable, some not so much. But all of which he wished he could have protected her from.
But he couldn’t.
Because she was who she was and there was no way he could hold her back from helping people any more than he could himself. If there was one thing they both shared, it was that.
Her determination was what made her so beautiful.
“Emaline-“
“No!” She held up a hand. “You don’t get to speak after a stupid stunt like that. All you had to do was wait for Virgil.”
“There wasn’t time!”
“Another thirty seconds, Scott! If Virgil hadn’t caught you, YOU WOULD BE DEAD!” Her pale blue eyes electrified with a mixture of fury and fear. “I almost lost you! For no reason!”
“A life was saved!”
“Virgil nearly missed the both of you! He has enough bruising from his leap off that cliff after you to inspire his next painting. Kay is going to kick your ass, flyboy.”
Scott swallowed. Kayo he could handle, but he hadn’t realised Virgil had been hurt. “Is Virgil okay?”
Em sighed and looked down a moment before looking him in the eye. “No. No, he is not. You owe him an apology.”
As if he was aware of his name being mentioned, Virgil’s calm voice issued over comes. “Thunderbird Two departing danger zone. Transporting injured to Capetown Medical and returning to base.”
The line cut out before Scott could reply. The lack of personal address or even his callsign was enough to illustrate exactly how much shit he was in with his brother.
“Scott, please.” And suddenly the anger in her voice was gone. “Why? Why is your life not worth as much to you as it is to me?”
She wasn’t crying, but there was so much grief in her voice, he had to reach out and pull her to him.
There was resistance at first. She was as stubborn as she was determined to the point of the words being synonyms. But then, as light as she always was, he drew her into his arms, hoverscoot rising at an angle and their baldrics clattering as they met. Her head landed on his shoulder and he held her there, stroking the nape of her neck where her hair bun left it bare.
“I’m sorry.” It was an exhalation.
“Please don’t do that again.” It was muffled into his uniform.
“Em, you know I can’t guar-“
It was exactly the wrong thing to say. She flung herself backwards, pulling away. Practised reflexes let her go out of respect, but he grabbed at her again. No!
She didn’t let him reach her, her hoverjets humming almost as angrily as her expression.
“No, Scott Tracy, you can guarantee. You can tell me that you will wait. You can tell me that you will consider. You will tell me that you trust your brothers’ knowledge and experience. And you can tell me that I am important enough in your life for you to not give up that life in a situation that can be easily avoided.” She drew in a breath. “If you can’t value your own life enough yourself, then value it for me.” A breath. “I love you, Scott…please.”
Every rule, every philosophy, every self determination screamed at him to deny her. The thought of putting his life above others was anathema. But his strategic mind flipped the equation without permission and he saw his actions from her point of view.
His brain listed off his abilities, how he should have been able to handle the situation safely.
And how it had all gone so far south so quickly, and how only the quick actions of his engineer brother had prevented a very long plummet down a very high cliff.
His first thought had been gratitude and admiration for his brother’s skill and the fact the rescue was a successful one.
He didn’t register Virgil’s grunts as anything other than simple exertion. Now looking back, now he didn’t have his arms full of terrified rescuee, he could take a moment to examine exactly what had happened.
Virgil hadn’t said a thing.
He had rappelled them back up the cliff. It had been all business and as the adrenalin had waned, Scott had just felt tired. Em took the rescuee into Two and after a silent scan with Virgil’s mediscanner, Scott had returned to One.
It was just another rescue almost gone wrong.
Virgil had just saved the day…again.
What if he had waited? Would the man have fallen?
His heart feared what would have happened if he did. That was why he had jumped himself despite the fragility of the rockface.
He looked up at his beautiful wife. “I don’t know if I can stand by and risk a death I can prevent.”
Her lips thinned, but her eyes were sad. “Neither can I.” She drew in a breath. “Commander Scott Tracy, as Lead Medical Officer of International Rescue, I’m citing you for reckless self-endangerment and recommending psychological review.”
His eyes widened. “What?”
“I can’t lose you, Scott.” Little more than breath. “Not like this.
@gumnut-logic‘s fic Two Birds One Stone got me thinking... and this is the 500 ish word outcome of that thinking with an appearance from Nutty’s wonderful OC Emaline Harris from her Gentle Rain Series.
Obvious TW for mentions of blood and Scott Tracy being an insufferable Flirt
Scott looked up at the small scoff from across the infirmary, raising an eyebrow he watched Em shake her head. He couldn’t help but grin, knowing exactly what she was reading as she looked back to him and then to the line running from his arm down to the bag of blood.
“Your family literally cannot help it, can you?”
He shrugged, squeezing his hand around the stress ball, “Nope, it’s in our blood, literally.”
She grinned back at him, shaking her head again as she looked back to the chart.
“So both your parents were type O?”
“Yep. And as you can see I’m extra special.”
Rolling her eyes she looked back to him, her smile playing around her lips as she folded her arms, “Out of the five of you, you’re the only one Rhesus negative. Like your ego needed any more inflating.”
A whir of hover jets as she was beside him, checking the bag that was slowly filling with his blood.
“We keep a stock on hand for ourselves for obvious reasons, anything close to expiring or any surplus gets sent to blood banks that need it most, there’s more than one way to save a life.”
The way her eyebrows raised made him frown, it shouldn’t have been anything surprising to her.
“They let you send your blood anywhere in the world?”
He shrugged, “That’s what the second bag is for,” Reaching across himself he reached down to the smaller bag that had filled first, “This gets sent off for about a billion tests for safety, and then, yeah, it goes where it’s needed.”
“Huh.” Em shook her head, “That’s… that’s really something.”
“It’s made easier by the fact we’ve only ever received our own blood in transfusions,” He added, “That was Grandma’s idea.”
Her smile was soft as she looked back to him, her eyes full of that look of wonder as her hand reached out to brush at his hair.
“The longer I’m here the more amazed I am.”
Grinning, he reached up and took her hand, “Once we’re done here I’ll give you another good reason to be amazed.”
Her laugh was loud and magic in the sterile room, her hand swatting his away as she shook her head at him. Love filled her eyes as she scooted back out of his reach.
“Scott Tracy, you’re meant to rest after donating.”
She was a doctor, he knew he would never get his way, not that that stopped him from trying.
“Don’t pout,” She chided, that knowing smile still on her lips, “it doesn’t suit you.”
Scooting back to within reach she leant over him, dipping her lips to his ear as her breath warmed his skin.
Before she could say anything the buzzer of the pump next to him sounded, drawing her away again.
“Will you come and rest with me?” He grinned at her, watching the shift of colour on her cheeks.
“Rest.” She emphasised, eyeing him sideways, “And only rest.”
There are days that start shitty and will likely end shitty. Days where she is reminded, that yes, she is paraplegic and look, now a double amputee to polish it all off. Days when the nerve pain gets her down. Days where the bare necessities of survival get ahead of her and existence just sucks.
At home, she would call in sick - her practise has back up plans for this exact reason - they’re doctors, they know the deal. She would hole up at home and just get through the day. If it got really bad, she had the visiting nurse to call. There were ways and strategies to get through the suffering and out the other side. Ways to rebuild her core, reinforce her shields and get herself back out there, usually with a smile to face the world.
It was necessary. It happened. She managed it.
But today she wasn’t at home. Today she was on a sparsely populated island in the middle of the southern Pacific.
She had woken to find Scott gone. This was nothing new. The man was a rescue operative, for crying out loud. IR had callouts around the clock. But the moment she gained consciousness, she knew it was going to be one of those days and just for once she granted herself enough selfishness to wish he was there to hold her and simply tell her it was going to be all right.
But she was Em Bloody Harris and she had been doing this alone for a long time. Get your ass out of bed and get the necessaries done, because not doing the necessaries of paraplegic existence really weren’t worth the neglect.
So she got out of bed and to the bathroom and did what she had to do. If there was a moment or two that found her cheek leaning against the coolness of the tiled wall, so be it. She had to get through this, so she would do it any way she could.
By the time she got through her routine, she was exhausted.
The irony of neuropathic pain was that while it damn hurt, it was all fake signals. There was nothing wrong with her beyond what was always wrong with her. It was just a seriously damaged nervous system doing its best to do its job when it couldn’t anymore. Pain was the result and days like today, it could get bad enough to break through her reserves and take her down.
So Doctor Harris downed some painkillers and prescribed herself a day in bed. Curling up under the covers, she closed her eyes and willed the day away.
Unfortunately she forgot to tell the Tracy family.
Sometime after no lunch there was a discreet knock on her door.
She blinked herself awake. She had finally managed some sleep, but her brain hadn’t let her fully escape, providing warped dreams where she was falling and Scott was desperately trying to catch her, but never quite fast enough. Her whole head had spun and it was only the sound of knuckles on wood that had stopped her plunge.
“Em?” Virgil’s voice. “Are you okay?”
Her head was full of cotton wool. The medication had the lovely side effect of dulling her thought processes along with her nerve pathways.
“Em?”
She opened her mouth to reply, but her body chose that exact moment to spasm and instead she found herself curled up working through a wave of pain. There may have been a whimper.
She didn’t hear the click of the door’s lock being overridden, but the voice exclaiming her name and the gentle touch to her forehead was enough to shock her brain into functioning at a bare minimum.
Virgil was crouched beside her bed, worry in every line of his face. “Em, talk to me.”
“Virgil, w-what are you doing in here?”
“Grandma was worried. It is unlike you to miss a meal, much less two. What’s going on?”
She closed her eyes and rubbed her face with a hand. “I’m fine. Juss a bad day.”
She didn’t want to look at him. Em Harris didn’t like vulnerable. Her medical status put her in that position far more often than she preferred and she put up with it, but this was new. This was her boyfriend’s brother, her boyfriend’s family, and to top it all off, Virgil was also one of her patients.
Vulnerability was not an option.
“I’m fine. I just need to get throu-“ And yes, her nervous system was the master of betrayal as it paired up the previous spasm with a lovely demonstration of exactly how bad, bad could get.
She grit her teeth and worked through the pain. Goddamnit, why did it have to hurt so much. The fog in her head wasn’t strong enough. She was due for another dose. She screwed up her face and tears leaked out of her eyes. A moment and she was gasping. Okay, okay, that one sucked. Where was her damned medication?
She opened her eyes to find a hologram of her own body floating above her.
What the hell?
“Em, what medication have you taken?”
“Wha?”
“I need to know what medication you have taken for your neuropathic pain.”
She pointed towards the bedside table and the bottle of pills. Red flannel danced in the shadows.
“I want you in the infirmary.”
“Virgil, I’m fine. I’ve got this handled.” She was so proud of actually finding her voice, she almost missed what he said next.
“Doctor Harris, the patient is in chronic pain, dehydrated and, no doubt, suffering from a low blood sugar level due to self neglect. Our infirmary has equipment that can help. I want you there and I want you there now.”
“I’m the doctor.” It was a stupid thing to say, but her reserves were shot and the thought of being paraded through the house on a stretcher sent chills up what was left of her spine. He would see her. See her injuries. See the real Em Harris. The broken mess under the facade. “No.”
“Em.” He sighed and she suddenly realised she wasn’t talking to Virgil, Scott’s brother. This was emergency responder and medic, Virgil Tracy. The man knew what he was doing. “Trust me.” The voice so many desperate people had heard in the most dire of circumstances.
As with many a rescuee, it worked. “Okay.” Her voice was so small, it was pathetic. So bloody embarrassing. She closed her eyes and hid her face behind her hands.
“C’mon, let’s get you out of that bed.” She couldn’t see him at that exact moment, but she knew he was offering her his arms.
So bloody embarrassing.
She pushed her self up, but, of course, today was a bad day so her body protested.
Loudly.
He caught her as she fumbled, scooping her up with a ridiculous lack of effort and held her close as she rode through it. She ended up gasping, her head on his shoulder, and she discovered he used the same aftershave her father had.
And then she was in tears.
Oh god. Em Bloody Harris bawling her eyes out all over his red flannel shirt. There were comforting noises, his chest rumbling with his soft voice. There was movement. She clenched her eyes shut, desperate to keep the world at bay.
And then he was laying her down on soft, cool sheets. There were beeps of medical machinery. The gentle touch of his warm hands on the skin of her back.
And the pain disappeared.
Oh god, the relief had her sagging into the bed. All her breath rushed out in a whimpered sigh.
Warm fingers brushed her hair out of her eyes. She looked up to find worried brown looking down at her. “Better?”
“Better.”
A small smile of relief flashed across his face, but then he was fiddling with an IV bag, hanging it far above. Exhaustion washed over her.
She didn’t feel the prick in her arm as sleep finally took her.
-o-o-o-
The next time she opened her eyes she encountered a pair of worried blue.
“Em?”
She swallowed. “Scott.” He was sitting beside her bed. She was in the infirmary. How?
Her brain finally decided to start functioning properly and memories lined up in all their embarrassing glory.
Shit.
“Uh, uh, uh.” His hand came down gently on her shoulder, holding her in place as she made to push herself up off the mattress. “You are staying here.”
“But I’m fine.”
A single arched eyebrow. “Tell me what happened.”
“Nothing happened. It was just a bad day.”
“That has you curled up in bed in pain.”
“It happens. I deal with it.”
His lips thinned. “Em, you’re not alone anymore.”
She opened her mouth to scoff at his words, but then their meaning sunk in and her mind jack-knifed.
Her hand was wrapped in one of his and she frowned at it. His other hand reached up and caressed her cheek. “We are not unfamiliar with the effects of injury in this family, Em. We help each other. Yes, there are bad days. We all have bad days. But those days pass better with help.” A ghost of a smile. “This family specialises in help.” He swallowed. “The thought of you hurting alone...I am so glad my brother is a stubborn ass who will chase up any member of this family hiding a damned illness. Please, Em, we’re here. There is no shame in asking for help.”
Her heart was in her throat. It had never occurred to her. She had not even thought about it. All she had seen was embarrassment and inconvenience. His fingers were so warm on her cheek. She closed her eyes and revelled in his touch.
No longer alone.
Oh god, it had been so long.
She bit her lip and was astonished to find herself holding back a sob.
Bloody hell, not again! What the hell was wrong with her today?!
His fingers brushed away a tear. His shadow fell across her eyelids and his lips touched her forehead. Whispered. “Think about it.” A smile against her skin. “I love you, Em Harris, and with me comes a large, bumbling family. You will never be alone again.”
His words had her eyes open and seeking to look at his expression, but he was too close and his lips were brushing hers, his hand in her hair. Ever, ever so gentle. Her gorgeous Scott Tracy.
She fell into the moment.
But he eventually broke it off and she missed his touch as he stepped back, sitting in the chair beside her bed, that still slightly smug smile of his knowing exactly the effect he had on her.
“Virgil says he is going to order a second TEEPS machine for you. Until then you can use Gordon’s as needed. Knowing Virgil, he’ll go and pick it up himself just for peace of mind. No doubt the second machine will be here before we have to worry about the both of you needing it at the same time.”
She blinked. “Why does Gordon need a TEEPS machine?” The thought of the cost of one, much less two, froze her brain for a moment.
“Ah, you’ll have to speak to Gordon about that. You’d be the first one to kill me if I divulged my brother’s medical information to you.”
Bloody hell, yes, she would be following up on that immediately. She had to know this stuff. What if she had to treat him? What if he needed her help? An image of the younger Tracy’s laughing face danced across her mind. Why did he need a TEEPS machine? She was almost terrified to find out.
But then she had seen Virgil’s medical records. Why wouldn’t his brothers’ medical history be any different? Her heart clenched.
“Hey, Gordon’s fine. It’s managed. And yours will be, too.” His hand tightened briefly on her arm. “Now, you focus on you.” And his hand was touching her cheek again. So distracting.
He leant in again. Another kiss.
Oh.
Perhaps he was right. Perhaps her bad days could be a little less bad. Perhaps...and her mind lost its train of thought as his tongue begged entry.
This is also Gentle Rain, Scott/Em, Scott/OC and contains elements of romance. If not your thing, this one ain’t for you. I’ll write you something else later :D If you don’t know who Em Harris is, you can find the series here :D It should be noted that Gentle Rain is a subseries of Warm Rain which involves lots of Virgil/Kayo, however there is no V/K in this fic.
@symphony-of-flutes I haven’t forgotten your ask, I have something in the pipeline. My writing has just been haphazard of late ::hugs::
This fic is also new and complete. Almost a first for me this year :D There may be a sequel, Virg is being nosy in my head and John is a little pissed off.
Many thanks to @the-original-sineater and @janetm74 for the read throughs and support :D
It’s AU!April, and this one just happened. It was also Scott’s birthday and he deserves some nice stuff.
I hope you enjoy :D
-o-o-o-
He was hovering beside a mountain. He had Virgil in his ear, his voice churned across the mountain range by John, listing the stress limits of the rockface, and fretting over the storm lashing above.
And three climbers exposed, one seriously injured, and all desperately needing immediate rescue.
A soft voice from his left interrupted it all. “We’re fine, Thunderbird Two. Rescue underway. I’ll look after him, you know that.”
A sigh across comms. “FAB, Thunderbird White.” And Virgil signed off, no doubt to worry in silence while completing his own rescue.
“You are going to send your brother grey, you know that, don’t you?” Em smiled just a little as she unfastened her harness and reached for her helmet. Her uniform hoverscoot interfaced wirelessly with the systems in One and kept her stable as Scott adjusted for the buffeting the ship was receiving.
“He worries.”
“He has reason.” She shoved her helmet over her head and straightened her white baldric. “We doing this?”
Scott rolled his eyes just briefly. “Thunderbird Five, Eos, you’ve got control.”
“FAB, Thunderbird One.”
He reluctantly let go of the controls as they flashed the blue of remote. Eos could compensate for the massive turbulence even faster than he could.
But it felt wrong to give up control.
He climbed out of his seat and his body creaked protest. Sure, he was healed, but this was his first rescue back in the saddle for at least a couple of months and he knew Virgil had every right to worry.
Em kept her worry to herself and only glanced at him from time to time, medical eyes assessing in a way that he knew she would intervene if she felt it necessary.
If there was anything he knew about Em Harris, it was that she was as protective of her family as he was.
And at some point, his family and hers had merged.
The thought struck him sideways, out of the blue, and at completely the wrong time. He needed to focus.
A dark eyebrow arched in his direction and he knew she had noticed.
The funny thing was, if that eyebrow had belonged to Virgil, he would have been irritated. He knew Virgil’s motivation was similar to Em’s, but it was different.
Virgil was his brother. Em was his…girlfriend.
The word really wasn’t enough to express what she meant to him.
That thought sprouted about a dozen others better suited to a fancy restaurant and a candle lit dinner.
Instead, One shook them a little as Eos failed to fully compensate for the storm outside.
“Scott?”
Great. He’d advanced from arched eyebrow to verbal enquiry. He’d better move his ass before Em took command, wrapped him in cotton wool, and jumped out of One to save the climbers herself.
It wasn’t like she wasn’t capable. In the two years since they had become a couple, she had thrown herself into International Rescue almost as much as he. As the Thunderchicks became a force for the world to contend with, the Thunderbirds stepped back just a little. Em had kept an eye on Scott and reined him in, alongside Virgil, when the urge to jump in himself became too much. Today was one where Thunderbird One’s capabilities were needed. Thunderbird Two could also have sufficed, this storm battled even better by the massive green behemoth, but Virgil was hip deep in the floods in Bangladesh on the other end of the Himalayas.
Scott should be in Bangladesh as well, but both Em and Virgil had said no.
Grandma’s quiet hand on his shoulder had been the closer.
Virtually all of IR was in Bangladesh, a world-wide effort as the country was drowning under rising sea levels and its monsoon. Only a small contingent was available for the rest of the world and Scott was it.
Didn’t mean Em or Virgil liked it very much.
A soft hand on his cheek. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Pale blue eyes were as piercing as any yellow-eyed mediscanner.
He smiled just a little. “I’m fine.” But distracted, damnit.
He forced himself to ignore her hair tied back, the arch of her eyebrow, and the fact the word ‘girlfriend’ no longer described her well enough.
Scott shoved on his helmet and held out his hands signalling mutual safety check.
All business, he ran his hands across her harness, ever so careful to make sure she was properly secured to her specialist hoverscoot. Virgil’s handiwork was all over it and consequently, there was no way she was falling out of it.
Her hands ran over his harness and jetpack, fast, efficient…and to his shame, distracting.
Goddamnit, focus, you have a job to do!
Lines deployed he opened One’s hatch and stepped out into the weather.
Any chance of further distraction was immediately slapped sideways as wind and snow caught him.
If it wasn’t for his HUD, he would be blinded.
Thank god for Brains.
“Careful with that first step, White.”
“FAB.”
It was his job to secure the first of the climbers. It was her job to locate the injured person, do a medical assessment of their needs and prep for transport.
He hated the fact that she disappeared into the storm.
But they were professionals and as Scott’s feet made contact with the mountainside, his thoughts turned immediately to the rescuee and their safety.
As he lifted the woman off the mountain, her gushing thanks stolen by the storm, Em signalled Scott to attend the third rescuee. The injured person would need both of them.
The third climber was a man who did not want to leave his wife. Em had secured herself to the rockface with a piton, her hoverscoot managing her stability and her position beside the unconscious woman dangling against the cliff.
It only took him a glance to note she had followed procedure and secured the woman to herself before attempting any assessment.
Why he felt the need to check was frustrating. It wasn’t as if she didn’t know. Em was a professional on several fronts. She had passed every test he and Virgil and even John could think of throwing at her. It had still taken a little more convincing on Virgil’s part, not to mention several expletives on Kayo’s part, before Scott let her out into the field.
He couldn’t help it. He knew she was good. He trusted her with more than his life.
But he also knew what could happen out here and goddamnit, it still scared him.
“Please let me stay.” The man had tears in his voice while attempting to pull away. Scott’s external mic scratched together what the man was saying through the screaming wind. “This is my fault. Please, please let me stay!”
Outside of a rescue, Scott would probably have felt the pain in those words and those eyes. But this was a rescue. His goal was to keep these people safe.
He couldn’t afford to feel too much.
For anyone.
“Sir, we will do our best!” His external speakers fought to get the man to hear him. “We need to get you to safety first!”
He either didn’t hear Scott or chose to ignore him. Either way he yanked himself out of his grip and tried to climb closer to where Em was now huddled into a crack in the cliff, attempting to both provide first aid and get out of the wind.
Scott grabbed at him and felt his side twinge.
Shit. He couldn’t afford to stress his body. He could feel Virgil’s frown from the other side of the planet and the thought of facing Em again…
“Sir!” A gust of wind threw the both of them hard against the rockface.
Scott instinctively glanced at Em.
Again.
Hell, she was more secure than he was. Now well into that crack, she was immobilising the woman ready for transport.
But Scott wouldn’t be happy until Em was once again safe aboard One
Focus!
He turned back to his still struggling charge. “Sir, I need you in this harness, now!”
“She’s my wife!”
“And you’re endangering mine!”
The man stared at him, mouth open, snowflakes catching on his lips. His mouth closed without anything further falling out. Instead, he quietly reached for the harness and with Scott’s equally wordless help, put it on.
Moments to secure their line, a last glance at Em, and Scott reeled them up into One.
The sudden protection from the wind made him stumble as he steered himself and the rescuee onto the deckplates.
Little was said as Scott released him from his harness, directed him to a seat and strapped the man in. Once he was secured Scott could finally turn all his attention to Em and her patient.
He grabbed a basket stretcher and attached it to a line. Much like Em’s ‘scoot, it had hoverjets designed for stabilising in high winds.
Drawing it close to his body, he jumped out of his Thunderbird again. “White, report.”
“Broken arm and leg, bad concussion, still unconscious. Rescuee prepped for transport.” Her tone was ever so clipped and professional.
He still loved to hear her voice.
As he decelerated towards her position, he kicked himself yet again for his distraction. What the hell was wrong with him?
His feet hit the rockface again and he stalked across it sideways to her position, activating the basketstretcher as he moved. It’s hoverjets fired and stabilised.
Em had the woman fully splinted with a neck brace in place just in case.
Yellow light flickered as Dr Harris ran the mediscanner over her again. “Nothing life threatening, but I’d like to get her to a hospital before she regains consciousness.” Em’s entire attention was on her patient.
He loved her focus, her determination…
For goodness sake!
“FAB.” His acknowledgement was as distracted as he was, but he was efficient, he had that much going for him. Together, they bundled her patient into the stretcher and secured her for transport.
The wind howled and buffeted them the entire time, screaming between the peaks. Em’s hoverscoot fought the gusts, keeping her level and moving. No words, just efficiency and concentration. Within minutes the rescuee was ready to be lifted up into One.
Scott gripped the edge of the stretcher, keeping himself stable as much as stabilising it. White’s gloved hand swept the scanner across the woman one last time, Em’s fingers wrapped around the instrument, her pale blue eyes focussed and obscured by snow.
He stared at her, caught in the moment despite the situation, despite the howling wind. Words formed on his lips and fell out without thought.
“Marry me?”
She glanced up at him, and stared a full moment, before frowning. “Ready for evac.”
Scott blinked, and they were moving. Automatically, smoothly, as a team.
They clung to the stretcher as One hauled them up. Nothing was more was said.
In fact, they managed to deliver the climbers to the nearest hospital before anything was said outside professional questions and replies.
By the time they tore over the Bay of Bengal on the way back to base, Scott’s hands were sweaty inside his gloves on the controls. His heart was beating far too fast, and if he was honest, he was terrified.
“Thunderbird One, what is your status?” John voice was concerned.
Scott swore under his breath. Five had access to his vitals which were, no doubt, bouncing about in all their holographic glory.
“A-okay, Thunderbird Five.”
But Thunderbird Two cut in. “Scott what the hell is going on? I told you to take it easy! Thunderbird White, report!”
Scott opened his mouth to berate his brother into paying more attention to his rescue, but a hand landed gently on his.
Scott’s grip on his ‘bird was absolute, but that hand…
“Put her into a hover.” Em’s voice was ever so quiet…until she spoke to his brothers. “Thunderbirds Five and Two, situation is under control. Rescue complete, and we are on our way home. Her eyes flicked over to him as One’s engines slowed and switched to a hover over the Indian Ocean far below. “Scott is okay.” Pale blue eyes were fixed on him. “There is no need for concern.”
John butted in again, but Em cut him off. “Thunderbird One out.”
She was still staring at him.
Wordlessly, she removed her helmet, her curls falling out onto her shoulders despite being tied back. She put it aside and then quietly reached for his.
He was frozen. For one of the very few times in his life, he had no idea what to do. This was all her. She had all the answers.
All of them.
His helmet hissed as she released its catch and he continued to watch her as she put it beside hers.
And then her eyes were back on him.
Her hand touched his cheek. “How can you think that my answer would be anything but yes, flyboy?”
Something inside him snapped and a goofy smile spread across his lips. “Really?” God, he sounded like a child.
Her lips curled into a loving smile and she was kissing him.
His hands left the controls and she was in his arms, her slight body crushed against his chest, baldrics caught against each other.
“Thunderbird One! What the hell is going on down there?!” John’s patience was obviously shot.
Em pulled back and caught his eyes as she arched an eyebrow. “Your timing is questionable.” She hit her comms. “Thunderbird Five, everything is fine. Beyond fine, in fact. Just give us a minute.”
“Thunderbird White!”
“John, please.”
There was silence over comms for a grumbling minute. “FAB.” Five cut off.
And Em’s attention returned to Scott. Her eyes stared at him for a moment and when he did and said nothing, she frowned. “Scott?”
“You are so beautiful.”
Her lips smiled, but the frown didn’t quite go away. “You’ve been distracted all rescue. Are you sure you are okay?” Her hand hovered over her baldric, obviously ready to yank out that mediscanner and zap him for information.
Instead he pulled her close again, almost clinging. “I’m fine.” He held her ever so tight. “Couldn’t be better.”
Just binges my way through Gentle rain and associated works - I got caught on the line in Bad Days where Em ponders about Gordon's medical background and why it's be any different than Virgil's. What does Em know of Scott's own background, specifically his time in the Air force and what's her reaction to learning pieces of it?
I have been trying to write to reply to this for some time now, and I hope to write more in the future, but I fear you will forget sending the ask in the first place if I leave it much longer.
So here is the tiny bit of fic I started with the beginnings of this idea. I have had an ask about this subject before with more of a Gordon sway (which I also haven't answered yet - I am pathetic), so I've started with Em finding out about Gordon and then the Scott aspect would follow later.
So, with pending for later, here is the tiny bit I have written and I hope to write more. Sorry for the delay and well, not finishing it yet as well.
Oh, and a language warning on this.
-o-o-o-
Em had just finished up with a client call when John popped up beside her. She startled. She still wasn’t used to the high end of technology the Tracy family sported on a daily basis.
“Dr Harris?” The translucent figure of Thunderbird Five hung over the desk, his startling aquamarine eyes still striking even in the haze of hologram.
“I told you to call me Em.”
His lips pressed together. “Unfortunately, I’m speaking to you in a professional capacity. You are needed in the comms room. We have an injury.”
She dropped her stylus. “Situation?”
“Gordon slipped and fell part way down a scree slope. Virgil has him, but there are…complications. He needs back up.”
Em was already moving. “FAB. I’m on my way.”
As she flung open the door of her guest room, John blinked out behind her. She accelerated her hoverscoot and tore down the corridor to the elevator.
The elevators on the Island were like everything on the Island – fast. Before she her mind could generate any more permutations with the information she had, the doors were flung open and she got an earful of exactly what was going on.
“Goddamnit, Virgil, I’m fine. Leave me alone!”
“Gordon, you’re in pain-“
“I’m okay, shut it-“ But then there was a gasp that said the complete opposite. “Fuck.” It was hissed.
Em tore around the corner just in time to see Virgil catch his brother and prevent him from falling down the stairs into the sunken lounge. Gordon continued to spit profanities in a way she wouldn’t have thought possible for the usually joking and happy aquanaut. But the way Virgil was manhandling him spoke of experience and some medical knowledge regarding whatever injury was causing so much pain. He manoeuvred Gordon in his arms until he was carrying him.
Arms full of spitfire brother Virgil turned towards the elevator entrance only to stop in his tracks at the sight of Em.
Gordon caught sight of her and his face screwed up. “John, you are dead! You hear me! Dead!”
Em ignored him and, turning to Virgil, ushered the pair of them towards the elevator. “Situation?”
“He’s aggravated his back. A series of old injuries that flare up from time to time.”
Em stared at her soon-to-be brother-in-law. “He’s in jail?”
Virgil flinched under her glare. “Apparently, he and Gordon were involved in an altercation in a pub.”
“Here? In Margaret River?” Her fingers flexed over the ‘scoot controls on her palms.
Scratching the back of his head, he looked like nothing more than a guilty puppy. “Kay’s on it.”
“I should bloody hope so. If he thinks he can get out of this by hiding behind the law, he’s got another thing coming.”
He blinked and she was hard-put not to burst out laughing. If he thought she was going to let him off the hook without milking this for everything she could, Virgil had another thing coming.
“You’re the sane one. What happened to logistics and planning?”
Brown eyes flared. “Have you ever tried to herd Kip Harris?”
A snort managed to escape. The relationship between her uncle and Virgil was one worth both love and laughter. “He can be a bit of an act of god.”
“Exactly!” Virgil threw up his hands. “I’m only human.” He sighed. “They’re fine. Kay will have them out within the hour.”
“So you drew the short straw?”
He glanced up at her through his brows. “What?”
“Well, you’re not down at the police station bailing out your brothers, so I presume Kay beat you to it, and you got the job of telling me?”
He glared at her, but didn’t answer.
Em couldn’t help it, she burst into a grin. ‘Scooting a little closer to her much put upon brother-in-everything-but-law-until-tomorrow, she wrapped an arm around his hunched shoulders. “I don’t bite, Virgil.”
“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing? You’re not actually going to eat that are you?”
Scott looked up at her, spooning the last of the Marshmallow Fluff onto his peanut butter sandwich. “Yeah. Of course I am.”
“Scott Tracy, there is enough sugar in that concoction to feed a small nation.”
“Well, yeah, I’m a growing boy.” Smart ass grin as he grabbed a marshmallow and, with a toothpick, speared it onto the top of the sandwich.
Em reached over and nabbed the plate out from under his nose.
“I swear there are some laws of physics that forbid the combination of these ingredients.”
He nabbed his plate back and picking the sandwich up, took a massive bite. Spitting crumbs, “Yeah, well, there should be some law against distilling a yeast extract out the beer making process and spreading it on bread, as well.”
“Hah! There is nothing wrong with a good Vegemite sandwich. You just need to know how to spread it.”
“Tastes like something brewed went bad.”
She smirked. “It’s an acquired cuisine.”
“Yeah, acquired taste bud deficiency.” He took another bite.
She reached over to the bowl in front of him and picked up a nice round, nicely icing-sugar-dusted marshmallow. “Oh, really.” Her eyes targeted him and he froze. What?
With perfect aim, she lobbed the mallow and it hit him squarely in the middle of his forehead.
A squawk and he nearly choked on his sandwich. Mouth still full. “Oh, so is that a challenge?”
Em leant forward. “No, Mr Tracy, that is a promise.” And she smeared peanut butter onto the end of his nose.
Scott raised an eyebrow and calmly put the remains of his sandwich down on his plate.
As Em burst into a grin, he reached over for a marshmallow of his own and held it up in front of his face, eyeing her, then eyeing the confectionery in his fingers. “Doctor Harris, are you aware of who exactly you have issued a challenge to?”
“Oh, I have a good idea, Mr Tracy.” Her grin fought to be a laugh.
“I am Scott Tracy, eldest of five brothers, king of the Tracy pile, veteran of many a brotherly tussle, many a food fight and champion of the pillow war.” A smart ass smile. “And survivor of Gordon Tracy.”
Em arched an eyebrow. “Really?”
“Yes, really.”
“Well, I have one thing you do not.”
“And what exactly is that?”
“Hoverjets.” And with that, she spun about and tore out of the room at high speed.
-o-o-o-
She cracked up laughing as she barrelled out onto the patio passing a baffled Virgil, and an amused Gordon, before buzzing onto the pool deck. Behind her there was a clatter of a discarded chair as Scott yelled her name in outrage.
“Something wrong, Commander Tracy?” She laughed as he loped out of the kitchen. “Having trouble keeping up?”
The expression on his face as he barged out onto the deck was worth photography…and she did exactly that, grabbing her phone and snapping a good one as he stalked her.
“Doctor Harris, you are asking for it.”
“I am?” She couldn’t help herself, she giggled. “And what exactly am I asking for, Mr Tracy?” She shot sideways and around the pool, keeping the water between them.
“Oh, I’m sure I can come up with something suitable.”
“Ooh, so many promises, Mr Tracy. Sure you can follow through?” She was vaguely aware of both Virgil and Gordon staring like stunned mullets at the pair of them from the front of the house.
His grin grew feral. “Very sure.”
“Then come and get me, flyboy.” She darted inside at high speed, dodging Alan, who had likely been called by Gordon, nabbed the bowl of marshmallows and flew up the stairs. Skipping the elevator, she tore up the backup stairs, shooting through the main part of the house and out the back. A split second decision, and she threw herself up the stairs to the roundhouse.
Her hoverjets whined as she pushed them to the limit, looking behind to see if he was following.
There was no sign of him.
Partly triumphant, partly worried he wasn’t following, she executed her plan anyway and darted into the roundhouse through the backdoor.
And straight into his arms.
She yelped as he cackled, holding her tighter. “So, Doctor Harris, where were we?”
She let herself go limp. “Hmm, where would you like us to be?” A pair of dipped eyelashes, curved lips as she purposefully put on a suggestive smirk, and he was staring at her.
Just long enough for her to yank the neck of his shirt and dump the marshmallows down his front.
A yelp and he let go. She took the opportunity and buzzed off across the room and around the curve of the gallery.
Far above, paintings hung on the walls. Some were obviously family members, others landscapes, the occasional abstract. A frown. She had never noticed them before, far more attracted to the scenery through the windows.
“They’re Virgil’s.” And he was standing behind her. She darted away, but he didn’t try to catch her, just eyed her with a smile. “Oh, don’t worry, Doctor Harris, I can bide my time.” Icing sugar was all over his shirt and pants and a trail of marshmallows followed him on the floor.
She bit her lip. “So you plan to terrorise me with possibilities, Mr Tracy?”
“Oh, most definitely…Emaline.” His eyes fixed on her, fully armed, blue and alluring. He walked slowly towards her and she felt like a deer in headlights.
“Really, Scott?” But it was breathy and half-hearted. She let him approach. Let him take her in his arms. His face hovered in front of hers, his breath gentle on her skin, those eyes staring at her, suggesting, tempting…
His hands slipped around her sides, his fingers brushing gently against her ribs…
And he was tickling her!
She squawked and squirmed, but he held on and tortured her mercilessly. One of the side effects of her injury was the lack of sensitivity in her lower extremities had to some extent increased her sensitivities elsewhere. And she hadn’t told him that yet.
“Oh god, Scott! You shit!”
“Doctor Harris.” And he was laughing, still attacking her mercilessly. “You did ask for it.”
Defence wasn’t working, so she shifted to offence, firing up her jets to push herself forward to reach his own sensitive areas.
“Oh, no you don’t, Doctor.” He grabbed her wrists and they found themselves at a stalemate.
“So, now what do we do, Mr Tracy?” She couldn’t help the grin curling her lips.
“Oh, I don’t know.” But he pulled her gently towards him. He purposefully didn’t obstruct her ‘scoot controls on her palms. Ever the gentleman was Scott Tracy. The brief thought distracted her enough to find herself wrapped in those strong and warm arms once more. “But I can think of a few things.” His lips caught hers and the tussle was forgotten.
I’m writing a little Em at the moment, but I don’t have enough to share yet. Working 8am until 8pm is a long day and I’ve just run out of mojo. Though I do have about a page and a bit written. In the meantime, here a little Em Harris reblog.
Warnings: This series is full of ship. If this isn’t your thing, please don’t read. This one is a funny one, but it does contain Virgil/Kayo, Scott/Em (OC), John/Ridley and Gordon/Penelope.
-o-o-o-
This had been a very bad idea.
It had been for fun. The whole family was on vacation. Something that hadn’t happened in about ten years apparently. They holed up in a treehouse/penthouse in the Daintree. Luxury to the extreme, quiet, no one to bother them, rainforest for miles.
The Thunderchicks had the majority of emergencies. John had even dragged his girlfriend down from orbit and Gordon did similar with Penny. Considering the lovefest of the four couples in one house, it had taken Grandma to drag Alan along.
At first five hardworking men and five equally hardworking women had no idea what to do with themselves with all their responsibilities removed. Grandma had to drag both John and Scott away from the communications board at least twice. Kayo found Virgil making unneeded repairs to the building’s superstructure and had to drag him out to the garage where she had stashed his bike for this exact reason. Em noticed that the both of them stayed together in the garage for quite some time after that.
She couldn’t help but smile.
Gordon at least had the pool. One of those with the view to match the money that had been thrown at the building. Penny joined him...often.
Scott was fidgety. Em came up behind him several times and rubbed her fingers over tension points, medically attempting to get him to relax. He picked up on her technique and obviously didn’t mind in the slightest and in every case, they ended up in each other’s arms, him kissing her breathless.
Apparently, he liked doing that.
She didn’t mind at all.
Alan groaned when he walked in on them and spun on his heel and stalked out complaining.
Em ended up giggling.
But this idea? It was beyond giggling and well into hysteria.
Virgil was leaning on her to one side. Em wasn’t sure he was even aware of it. Kayo was staring into the middle of the circle at the pile of empty bottles, her face completely vague. Ridley was staring at Em, John snoring in her lap. The man could not handle his alcohol at all. Gordon was quite happy, bouncing on the spot, his eyes sparkling in the dim evening light. Penny was listing to one side, not quite colliding with Gordon, mostly because Alan was leaning against her, snoring as much as John.
Scott was conscious, but ramrod straight, controls all in place. She wanted to touch him, but she honestly wasn’t sure whether he would keel over or explode.
This was a very bad idea.
But then it had been Gordon’s after all.
“Your turn Em!” The aquanaut grinned at her.
“I think we should stop.”
“Aww, c’mon. Isn’t this what you wanted. They’re all relaxed.”
“Half of them are comatose, Gordon.” Who could possibly have thought that the Tracy brothers had done everything. The fact that all five had hung upside down from the top of a Ferris wheel had blown her mind. That had been a ridiculous suggestion, yet they had all had to drink. Apparently, it had been their last vacation in London, the Eye and an interrupting rescue. John had shuddered enough for Ridley to become concerned.
It was official. The Tracy boys had done everything.
She frantically attempted to think of something she hadn’t done that they hadn’t done.
A sigh. “Um....never have I ever...er...been arrested?” Surely, they hadn’t done that?
“Are you kidding me?” Gordon, glugged down some more drink. “That’s an easy one. Paris. The Louvre.”
What?
Scott raised his hand holding his glass. “Gordon.” As if that explained everything. He swallowed heavily.
Alan snorted, rolled and fell face first onto the carpet.
Gordon laughed. “Hey, bro. Time to take another drink. Remember the teddy bear at the fair?”
“Crap.” Alan grabbed his glass and toasted the air. “Gordon.” Apparently, it did explain everything.
“Gordon.” Kayo said it like a zombie and swallowed some more alcohol. Ridley just stared at her, but was distracted as apparently not-so-asleep John attempted to locate his glass by pawing blindly at the carpet with one hand. His mumbled “Gordon.” Was almost muffled as Ridley tried to grab his arm.
“Lawn flamingo.” Virgil attempted to bring the drink to his mouth, but missed and threw it over his shoulder instead. “Oops.”
Em blinked.
“Okay, that’s it. I’m calling this game. Off to bed with the lot of you. I have the strongest feeling that I should have taken Grandma’s advice and gone to bed early myself.”
There were many a muttered groan, mostly of ‘Awww’ and her name, but the brothers mostly stumbled to their feet. Kayo had to drag Virgil off of Em. The man was heavy.
Ridley smiled at her as she manhandled her space noodle off into their rooms. John was muttering something about ‘Gordon’s fault...didn’t want to do that in a book store.’ Penny helped Alan to his rooms, all the time shooting glares at Gordon.
“What?” The aquanaut looked non-plussed. “What did I do?”
“Gordon, go look after your brother.” Scott’s voice was firm. He still hadn’t relaxed.
Em sighed, grabbed his arm and, activating her hoverjets, pulled him up. “C’mon, Commander, time for bed.”
“Em.” And suddenly she was in his arms.
“Flyboy, your blood alcohol content can be detected from space.”
“Space!” John’s voice echoed down the hallway.
“Not today, spaceman, you’d miss TB5 and end up on Mars.” Ridley was obviously being very patient.
“Not Mars. Wrong trejacktory.” A closing door shut off the rest of the mumbled maths that followed.
“I love you, Em.”
“And I love you.” He was kissing her eyebrow. She suspected that he had been aiming for her lips. “C’mon, let’s get you to bed.” She grabbed his lips with her own. Alcohol teased her senses.
She was able to lead him to their rooms quite easily. He followed as if a little lost.
He undressed and threw on his pyjama pants. He even brushed his teeth. She took the opportunity to shed her own clothes and put on the oversized t-shirt she had stolen from him and appropriated for sleepwear. She knew he loved it that she had.
But she didn’t pull herself out of the hoverscoot. She kept herself mobile and waited for him to come to bed.
When he finally walked back in, he had toothpaste on his nose. Em couldn’t help but smile.
Grabbing a tissue, she hovered up and wiped off the offending substance and replaced it with a kiss. “Now, into bed.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He saluted and did as she asked.
“Roll onto your stomach.”
He did, and ended up in the middle of the bed. Em rolled her eyes and nudged him closer to his side. Grabbing the cream she had packed for this exact reason, careful of the ‘scoot’s palm controls, she slicked up her hands and proceed to massage every single one of those knots out of her boyfriend’s shoulders and torso.
His groans meant everything to her. She knuckled, rubbed, rolled, pressed, ironed and kneaded the tension from Scott’s shoulders, his spine and lower back. And bloody hell, the man had so much. She rolled up his pants and ran her fingers over his legs, grabbing the taut muscles there.
Scott was in peak shape. He had to be. She ignored the scars, her fingers skipping over and around them. They had spoken about the incidents. She had seen his medical history. She knew what they were, why they were. Now was about release.
He didn’t say anything, just groaned into his pillow.
By the time she was finished, he was asleep.
She kissed the nape of his neck. Now hopefully he could relax enough to enjoy himself.
If not, there were other methods.
Slipping out of her hoverscoot and onto the bed, she killed the light and darkness took over the room. Pushing onto her side, she let herself relax into the bed.
An arm snaked out and gently pulled her close.
“Love you.” He said it into her hair.
“Love you, too, Scott Tracy, now go to sleep.” She wrapped her arm over his.
