TWO TRACYS SAT IN A BAR by CLAUDETTE RATED FRC

The dark-haired beauty glanced across the room to where the two young men were sitting at the bar. Catching the eye of one of them, she started nervously and quickly looked back to the two drinks sitting on the table in front of her. At the bar, the blond, who had noticed her attentions, reached over and touched his companion’s arm.

“Virgil, I’m telling you she’s really got the hots for you. That’s the sixth time in a minute she’s looked at you.”

Virgil half-turned in his seat and looked over at the young woman sitting alone at the nearby table. She was certainly attractive, her figure set off by the modest summer dress and her dark tresses falling halfway down her back in glossy waves. She was gently running her finger around the side of her glass when, as Virgil watched, her eyes came up once more to survey the bar. As his eyes met the deep wells of darkness looking back at him he was taken by a sudden urge to dance. Without thinking he moved to get down from the bar stool, nearly overbalancing as his foot caught on the footrest. As he pitched forward towards the floor two hands grabbed his shoulders and pulled him upright.

“Hey, hey, hold on there!” exclaimed John as Virgil regained his feet. “Where d'ya think you're going in such a hurry?”

“I, er . . well .. uh, I forgot.” Virgil glanced over John's shoulder, then turned and, somewhat awkwardly, re-settled himself in his seat, turning his back on the room.

“Forgot?” Momentary confusion filled John's face then he glanced back to where the beautiful young woman sat. She was watching them curiously, a smile curling the edge of her lips. Throwing back his head he gave a bark of laughter and, giving Virgil a slap on the back, he slid back onto the bar stool he had abandoned as he jumped to steady his falling brother. “Well, you sure must be feeling better if you're thinking like that, bro, but I guess you need to give it a bit more time yet.”

Virgil opened his mouth to reply but stopped as John quickly turned to the bar, dropped his head and spoke out of the corner of his mouth. “Though I think you may just have escaped a fate worse than death. Grab your drink and look busy.” Matching his actions to his words, John lifted his glass to his lips, drained it and made a show of attracting the barman. Startled, Virgil glanced under his arm in time to see another woman, standing by the table where the young beauty still sat, looking across at him with the unmistakable expression of a predator that had just sighted its prey. The woman took a step towards the bar but stopped as a hand shot out from her companion and caught her by the arm. As Virgil turned back to his glass his straining ears caught the sound of two female voices in dispute.

“Forget the drink, Johnny,” he breathed urgently, “We need to get out of here.”

Risking a glance over his shoulder, John took in the situation before turning to help his brother clamber down from his seat. Bending to collect the walking stick from the side of the stool, he missed the movement behind them until, as he straightened and turned, he found the woman who had started their flight standing toe to toe with Virgil, eyeing him like a predatory hawk. Behind her, the dark beauty, now standing, watched the scene with a scarlet face.

“My, you are a fine one. You dance, yes?” she asked with a sly grin. Although her short, dark hair was also glossy, her resemblance to the beauty who stood a few feet away was passing. She had clearly just returned from the ladies restroom where a little too much 'powder' had been applied to her 'nose'. The make-up was so thick it would need to be scraped off, while the lipstick, scarlet and lurid, clashed wildly with the bright pink dress that was rounded in the wrong places. Virgil blushed as sudden colour rose up his neck and he shot a glare of anger at his fair-haired brother, who was trying, unsuccessfully, to smother a grin.

“Madam, I am afraid....” He flinched as the woman facing him rested a hand full of long, false, painted nails on his chest, and steeled himself not to react as she traced a line up his neck and rested a finger on his lips.

“Shush, do not talk. I need you only to dance. You will not refuse a request from a lady?” By his side John turned away to the bar and Virgil could see his shoulders shaking with silent laughter. Finding a way out of his dilemma, Virgil pasted an amiable smile on his face and gently removed the woman's hand.

“Madam, much as I'd like to ask you to dance,” Virgil felt a small lie could be excused in the circumstances, “I'm afraid I wouldn't be able to do you the justice you deserve.” Using his other hand, he grasped John's shoulder and turned him back from the bar. Relieving his brother of the walking stick, Virgil dropped the unwanted hand into his brother's palm and made a slightly exaggerated hobbled step away from the pair. “However, I'm sure my brother would be delighted to dance with you.”

John's face went from amusement to shock, and Virgil felt a sweet rush of revenge as the shock was replaced by baleful resentment.

“Gee, thanks, bro.” The words dripped with sarcasm and dark innuendo. “Catch you later.” Then John's innate good manners kicked in and the promise of unpleasant things to come for Virgil was replaced by a forced smile. However, as he moved to lead his catch to the dance area, she pulled her hand from his grip.

“No, you do not understand. I do not wish to dance. The dance is for my daughter.” Turning, she beckoned to where the dark beauty still stood, her face fiery red, a few feet away. “Monique, see, the dark one cannot, but this one also is handsome and will dance with you.” Their mouths open, the brothers watched as the tall, shapely young woman made her way forward and took John's extended hand from where it lay in her mother's grip. “We are strangers here and my daughter does not speak well. She loves to dance but has not the words, so I ask for her.”

As John took in the full loveliness of the young beauty's form, a grin of appreciation filled his face. Raising her hand to his lips, he dropped a soft kiss on it. With a murmured “Enchanté,” he led the beauty away, casting a look over his shoulder to where Virgil stood, his mouth still open. “Thanks for the recommendation, Virgil. I'll be sure not to let you down.”

Virgil watched for a couple of minutes as the pair made their way around the dance floor. Monique was a good dancer, her steps light and effortless as she relaxed into his brother's arms, and John was clearly enjoying himself. French, being one of the many languages he spoke fluently, posed no problems for him and soon the couple were chatting and laughing as if they had known each other for years rather than minutes. Disgruntled and in increasing discomfort from standing on his weakened leg, Virgil excused himself from Monique's mother and made his way back to his room and to bed.

He lay awake, tossing and turning, for a couple of hours until he heard the door in the connecting suite open and close. Light appeared underneath the connecting door and was blotted out as a gentle tap came on the wooden panel.

“You asleep, Virgil?” The whispered enquiry floated through the room as the door opened and light streamed through.

Vigil reached out to tap the lamp-stand and raised himself on one elbow. “Back so early?” he asked. “What of the lovely Monique? Didn't she fall for your charms and invite you back for 'un petit soupçon'?”

“Jealousy is an ugly thing, Virgil,” said John in a superior tone as he moved to the side of his brother's bed. “Particularly when it's misplaced,” he added with a wry grin. “How's the leg?”

Virgil sat up straighter. “Misplaced? Why?”

“Patience, brother mine. Patience. All in good time.” John sat on the corner of Virgil's bed and studied his face “First you answer me – how's the leg? I saw you limping out of the bar – that wasn't all show for Monique and her mother, was it?”

Embarrassed at his continued weakness but unable to lie to his perceptive brother, Virgil dropped his gaze to the bed covers before answering. “No, not all.” He looked up at John “It's better than it was but you were right – I pushed it too far today. It's OK now, but I guess it'll be sore in the morning.” He shrugged his shoulders and looked away to a dark corner. “I guess International Rescue will have to cope without me for a while longer yet.”

“Yep, I guess we will, at that. It's just a matter of whether Thunderbird Two will survive Gordon's handling of her.” As Virgil's head snapped back toward him with a look of horror, John laughed. “Gotcha! That'll teach you to toss me your cast-offs.”

With a grin Virgil relaxed back onto his pillows, but then sat up again when John added, “Good job we can't stay any longer – if Monique and her mother had their way, they'd be on their way back to France with you in tow.”

“Oh?”

“Oh, yeah. Monique sure has it hot for you. Everything we covered came back to you. What do you do? What do you like? What do you think? Where have you been? Can you dance? Man, I'm telling you, I did you a favor tonight.”

“A favor? Oh yeah – and I guess you kissed her for me as well?” demanded Virgil in irritation

“Nearly,” said John with a grin, “but I spotted the danger signs in time.”

Virgil's eyebrows went up.

“Husband. She's looking for a husband – or rather her mother is looking for a husband for her. Here for the purpose – tour the world and get a husband. Boy, I'm telling you, that damaged leg of yours got you out of a whole bundle of trouble tonight. Monique wasn't interested in me, not to her taste, so her mother let me go, but you – boy, you wouldn't have got out of the bar without being shanghaied, hog tied and driven to the nearest wedding parlour.”

“Yeah, right.”

“So anyway, I reckoned one good turn deserved another and made sure she knew you're unavailable.”

“How?” asked Virgil suspiciously.

“I told her you're gay.” John jumped up from the bed with a laugh as his brother lunged forward at him and returned to the connecting door. “Sleep well, bro. Don't forget we've got an early start in a few hours to get back in time for the relief run.”

With a growl of mixed annoyance and amusement, Virgil knocked off the light and lay down again. For a few minutes he watched the line of light under the connecting door as his brother moved around in the next room, then, with the sounds of a shower drifting through the darkness, his eyes closed and he fell asleep.

It was the explosion that woke Virgil, but had he not been awake, the shaking of the room and all within it would easily have roused him. Sitting up in confusion, he reached out to the lamp but try as he might he could not get it to work. In the gloom of the emergency lighting the connecting door was flung open, and John, hastily pulling on a bath robe, stormed in just as the shrill ringing of the fire-alarm filled the room.

“Virgil, get up!” John bellowed as he strode over to the bed and threw back the cover.

“John? What's happening?”

“Don't know, but that was some explosion,” John reached down and swept Virgil's legs through ninety degrees, “and I'm not wasting time finding out, with that alarm going off. I'm getting you out of here.”

Virgil objected while pulling his bathrobe off a nearby chair and settling it around his shoulders. “John, I'm OK – I can cope.”

“No chance. You know how stiff you are every morning.” As John spoke he knelt down and grabbed the shoes that sat by the side of the bed. Quickly he thrust his brother's feet into them and then rose, grasping Virgil by his elbows. “Time to go.” Firmly he pulled his brother upright, pausing once Virgil was vertical and watching anxiously as clear expressions of discomfort and pain crossed his face. “Ready?” he asked, and, obtaining a grimaced nod, started towards the door, one arm wrapped around his brother's waist. Before they reached the door it slid open and the anxious face of a man looked in.

“You the only ones here?” he shouted, raising his voice above the alarm.

“Yeah! What's happening?” yelled John. “What was that explosion?”

“Not sure, possibly a bomb. You need to get out. Do you need any help?” he added as the brothers reached the doorway. John snagged the walking stick from where it stood against the door frame and passed it to Virgil.

“No, thanks, we're good.” As the man vanished down the corridor, the two Tracys stepped outside the room. Several people were hurrying along the corridor. Most were dressed in nightclothes with robes or coats slung over their shoulders, many had bare feet, all looked frightened and uncertain.

Although Virgil moved as quickly as he was able, their progress was slow and as they went John had time to check briefly in each room in case anyone needed help. On this floor at least, everyone seemed to have already left or to be in the process of leaving. Reaching the elevators, they turned to the side and followed the rapidly thinning crowd down the emergency stairwell. Here their progress slowed to a tortuously slow pace and they were passed regularly by men and women heading down to safety. It was only a couple of landings before Virgil's face was streaming with sweat and his teeth gritted with pain at each step. After five floors he leaned, trembling, against the wall, striving to get the pain under control.

“John, you need to leave me here and go on,” he panted. “I'll come at my own pace.”

“No Virgil, no way.” John stepped in front of him, looking up into his face from the lower step. “There is no way I am leaving you here.” Seeing a couple of men coming down behind them, John stepped into their path, saying, “Hey, can you help us out here, my brother is hurt…” but he was knocked to one side as both men pushed past him and continued down the stairwell.

“Gee, thanks, fellas,” John muttered. “May God bless you, too.”

As he turned back, the fire door leading from the next floor down burst open and a screaming, hysterical woman came running through. Although her face was white and aged without her make-up and the dress had been replaced by an equally ill-fitting nightgown, she was still recognisable as Monique's mother. Crying hysterically, she hung over the guard-rail, screaming for help, not noticing the brothers until John stepped down behind her and touched her on the shoulder. Jumping, she turned on him, then, recognising him, she grabbed his arm. Talking at full speed, she began pulling him towards the door she had just come through.

“What is it?” asked Virgil, “What's wrong?” He hobbled down the last two steps of the flight and followed John as he was dragged along the corridor. Here, at last, the brothers saw the first sign of trouble. Some doors were twisted and buckled in their frames, others part opened where the room occupants had levered them apart. Pictures from the walls lay shattered on the floor and thin wisps of smoke were starting to emerge from some of the rooms. The now wailing sound of the fire alarm was matched by the approaching wails of emergency vehicles in the streets outside.

“It's Monique,” John called over his shoulder “She's hurt and her mother doesn't know what to do.”

Virgil hobbled as fast as he could but quickly fell behind as the pair hurried down the corridor, vanishing into one of the rooms some distance ahead. When Virgil reached the door John was kneeling over the still form of Monique. The windows of the room had been blown in and glass, splinters of wood and lumps of plaster, fallen from holes in the walls and ceiling, covered everything. Virgil hobbled to the bed and lowered himself onto it, leaning on the stick and stretching out his damaged leg.

“How is she?” he asked as John completed a quick check of the beautiful woman's vital signs.

“Head injury.” John looked up at his brother and then around at the destruction. Smoke was starting to billow in through the broken windows from some lower floor. “We can't stay here, we need to get out and get her some medical attention.” John looked over to where the mother sat in a nearby chair, tears running down her cheeks. She was wringing her hands in desperation. “I'll carry Monique. Can you manage with her mother?”

With a nod and a grunt of effort, Virgil stood and made his way over to the chair. John carefully pushed his arms under the still form of Monique as Virgil caught the older woman under her elbow and encouraged her to stand. As John rose, bearing Monique in his arms, the older woman suddenly threw off Virgil's helping hand and launched herself at John, her arms flailing like windmills as she rained blows on his head and shoulders. Screeching at the top of her voice, she began pulling at John's hands and arms, kicking out at his shins with her bare feet.

“What the...? Get off! Stop it!” John turned and twisted, trying to evade the hysterical woman. “Virgil, for pity's sake get her off me!”

Wishing he had time to fully appreciate the sight of his brother, ducking and diving, swearing heavily in French and trying to avoid the depredations of an hysterical mother, Virgil limped forward and grabbed one of her arms just as it came down for an open-handed slap.

Fastening his grip around her wrist like a vice, he exerted all of his strength and, pulling her behind him, headed for the doorway. The woman's attention, so forcefully gained, was now turned with renewed vigour on the straining back of the injured man and he squirmed and winced as thump after thump landed on him. Pushing past the struggling couple and ignoring a random slap that caught him on a bicep, John strode ahead and was soon back at the fire door leading to the stairwell. Using his hip and shoulder he forced the fire-door ajar, holding it open with his back as Virgil all but manhandled his charge along the corridor.

“Hurry it up pal, we haven't got all day!” John called as he looked out into the deserted fire escape. His attention was distracted as his chronometer vibrated on his wrist and he didn't notice the eyelashes of the beautiful young woman he was carrying begin to flutter. “Bad timing, guys,” he muttered as Virgil, shaking his arm to try to distract his unwelcome burden from her attempts to claw at his hand with her fingernails, finally joined him in the doorway.

“Dad's trying to reach us,” John said as his brother staggered past.

“I know,” Virgil sounded harried and out of breath, “but...”

“Maman.”

Three pairs of eyes turned to the pale face of Monique where she lay in John's arms. Her mother, her eyes filling with tears, stepped forward and raised a hand to brush back the dark tresses from her daughter's brow. Bursting into tears, Monique flung her arms around her mother's neck and almost fell from John's arms.

“Hey, hey, careful there.” John took a couple of steps back, separating the women, “Time for this later. We're in danger here.”

“Maman, Maman,” cried Monique, leaning out, oblivious to the difficulties she was causing her rescuer. John stepped back further and turned towards the stairwell, only to find his way blocked by Monique's mother. Discarding his stick, Virgil stepped forward and captured both of her wrists, dragging the older woman backwards and away from the top of the flight of steps.

“Go ahead,” he panted. John opened his mouth to object but Virgil was having none of it. “John, Monique needs help. With you behind me I'm dragging her all the way but if you're ahead she'll be heading down anyway. Now do it!”

“OK Virgil, just make sure you follow me.” Bearing his lovely burden he stepped past his brother, turning his back to catch the blow aimed at him by the distressed woman and started down the stairs. Crying piteously for her mother, Monique looked back over his shoulders, her arms reaching toward where the older woman, almost pulling Virgil off his feet in the process, followed them down to safety.

With John and Monique ahead, Virgil and the mother following closely behind, the foursome hurried downwards. The journey down seemed to go on forever for Virgil who didn't know what was hurting him more, the unrelieved pain and discomfort of his injured leg, the constant slaps, pokes and scratches he was receiving from his charge since he could now only hold one of her wrists, needing the other to steady himself against the wall of the stairwell, or the ear-piercing shrieking of the alarm as it echoed around them. Finally, after what seemed like hours but was probably only minutes, he became aware of the reverberations of heavy boots coming closer and the gloom around them lifted as light reflected upwards from below. Seconds afterwards they were met by a group of suited fire fighters, their powerful lamps turning the gloom into a circle of radiant light. The lead figure stopped and spoke briefly with John but the words escaped Virgil, who was concentrating on maintaining his hold on Monique's mother. The older woman was silent now, her eyes fixed on her daughter, but she was still flapping her arm around, trying to free herself from Virgil's grip, and slapping him at him with her other hand.

John raised his arms slightly, indicating his burden and then inclined his head backwards to the two behind him. Nodding his understanding, the lead fire fighter briefly turned back to his colleagues before standing sideways to allow John to go by. As Virgil stepped down to pass the line of men one suited figure stepped forward, blocking his path. Not understanding, Virgil stood where he was, bemused. Monique's mother tried to force her way past to continue down after her daughter but the man took her firmly by the arm and tapped Virgil's hand to release his grip. With a nod and a grin he then turned and led the older woman downwards, matching her pace but not allowing her to get any closer to John and Monique.

Relief flooded through Virgil as one source of his woes was taken away and he sagged slightly against a wall, then jumped as he felt a hand under his elbow. There was another fire fighter by his side, speaking to him and indicating they should go, but whether because of fatigue or ear-damage or the inadequacy of the design of the fire-suit, Virgil could not make out any of his words. Straightening, Virgil took a deep breath and started downwards again. The fire fighter stayed with him, matching his pace as Virgil stumbled down from step to step and it was not long before he stepped out of a fire-door into a street filled with emergency vehicles, sirens and flashing lights. Nearby was an ambulance with its back doors open and, silhouetted against the bright light, he recognised the tall, lithe figure of his brother as John turned away from the entwined figures of mother and daughter.

“Virgil!” Seeing his brother emerging from the building on the arm of the fire fighter, John hurried across the street. “Come and sit down, let's get you sorted out.” Nodding his thanks to the fire fighter, John took his brother's arm and led him across to the ambulance, where Monique was being examined by a medic under the watchful eye of her mother. Too tired to argue, Virgil limped along beside his brother and allowed John to lower him onto the back lip of the vehicle, glad to take the weight off his leg and enjoy the relative quiet of the busy street. A prolonged vibration at his wrist drew his attention and he automatically looked down. Covering his watch with his hand he used the button combination to confirm he was safe but unable to respond and then looked up as a movement caught his eye. Monique's mother, seeing the brothers arrive, flew at John who took a rapid step backwards but instead of assaulting him again she threw her arms around his chest and drew him into a bear hug.

“Ah, you brave man, you saved my Monique. Mon Dieu, what I would have done without you? A hundred thanks, a thousand thanks for your help.”

“Madam, please. It's not necessary . . . .. “ John stood awkwardly in her embrace, his face flooded with colour and his arms flailing around as he tried to find somewhere for them to rest other than around the figure of the excitable woman in front of him. “Madam, please let me go . . “ As the woman went off into a stream of French, blessing him and singing his praises for his strength of mind and of arm and for rescuing them all and saving their lives, John, determined to break free, caught her by the shoulders but was taken by surprise as the woman suddenly let go her hold, grasped him by the side of the head, raised herself onto her toes and planted a kiss on either cheek and then captured his mouth in an unbreakable lock.

Stunned, and unable to respond short of pushing the woman away by force, John stood stock still, his eyes falling on Virgil with a silent plea for release. With a huge grin on his face and a shrug of his shoulders Virgil just enjoyed the sight until his view was blocked by a figure materialising in front of him.

Her face was still very pale against her dark hair and a bandage was wrapped across her brow but Monique was steady on her feet and her dark eyes were clear and fully awake as she looked down at him. Gently placing her hands on either side of his face she lifted his head and planted a soft kiss on each cheek. Pulling back slightly, she looked into his eyes, hesitantly searching for any sign of rejection or revulsion. Looking into the beautiful dark eyes before him Virgil waited, his aching body too tired to either respond or resist, but his own eyes must have given a clear answer, because slowly, gently, Monique bent again and embraced his lips with her own. The kiss did not last long but it was full and passionate and Virgil, closing his eyes to block out other distractions, fell off the cliff into its depths.

Too soon it was over and with a whispered “Merci beaucoup pour ma mère”Monique released him and stepped away. When Virgil opened his eyes the two French women, arms around each other, were moving off to where a bus waited to take the ambulatory to the hospital for a check over. John was standing where Virgil had last seen him. Released from his admirer's embrace, he had his mouth open, gaping at his brother.

“How. . . ? Why . . ?” he stuttered.

Temporarily re-energised and highly amused, Virgil stood up and clapped his brother on the shoulder.

“Well, John, I guess some us have it and some of us don't.”