#tidal force

Maybe it would be the night that the legends were proven true. Maybe you would finally see the sky, feel fresh air, be kissed by the moonlight. A rush of warmth would bubble through your bloodstream. Maybe it would be the night that you left the sunken, sealed depths of the Sundari Sea, shed your tail and stepped out on dry land.

Maybe tonight.

You tried, each time, not to let your hopes soar too high. But the lure of the moon was no match for your will, and each time you rose only to be disappointed by the press of your palm against the crystalized barrier between worlds. You would sigh, curling your fingertips against the semi-transparent ceiling. The swell in your chest would begin to recede as you gazed up through the glass and wondered if any of it was true. If there ever even was a topside. And if there wasn’t, you wondered if you would ever be free of the pull.

Not tonight.

You would return to your home, swimming back into the deep and down through the channels that connected the sea to the underground system of beskar caves and saltwater lakes, where the rest of your kind lived. It was safe there. Secluded, yes, but safe from attack or invasion. You would curl back up in your bed and remind yourself of that, and as the current settled around you again, you recalled the stories from your childhood, falling asleep with your favorites playing through your mind.

The kiss of Concordia. The one who lived in both worlds. The sea maiden who rescued the topside king.

According to the myths you were raised on, Mandalore had once been a very different planet than it was now - one with lush forests that were rich with natural resources, one that was home to the most skilled warriors in the galaxy. These topsiders encased themselves in armor made from the beskar that lined the underwater caves, the very same mineral that the shimmery, chain-link clothing your people wore on their top halves was made from, and an agreement was made between the two worlds of Mandalore - that those above, in their impenetrable suits of steel, would offer protection from outside enemies to those below in exchange for access to the beskar.

For centuries the agreement held, and relations between the Mandalorians of the Sundari Sea and those who lived on land continued to remain peaceful. The legends even told of a sea maiden named Cyare and the leader of the land dwellers who had fallen in love despite not being able to share the same world. The man had been shot down in some skirmish over the sea, and the weight of his armor had dragged him down, fast. Unconscious and injured, he surely would have died had the sea maiden not found him and pulled him back up to the surface.

She stayed with him for days until he woke, tended to his wounds for weeks and cared for him until he was healed. The bond that was formed between them was so pure and powerful, so full of love, that on the night before he was to return home to his people, as the light of the full moon touched her skin, she was transformed. Her scaled tailfin became two legs, and she rose from the water to stand beside her beloved, the final barrier between their worlds broken.

The stories almost always ended with the prophecy that one day, another sea maiden of Mandalore would be called to rescue another Mandalorian warrior, and that their moonlit union would signify another long and prosperous era of peace and protection between the two worlds.

But it was just a story.

You had been trying to tell yourself that for years. Others of your kind let go of those legends as they got older, moved on and accepted that they were nothing but tall tales spun to entertain imaginative children. None of them were pulled from their chambers in the middle of the night by some force of the tide each time the moon was full. None of them longed to have the chance to walk on land, none of them needed to know what the moonlight felt like.

Because it isn’t even possible.

There were other stories that you’d grown up with, but those weren’t ones you liked to remember. They told of war and destruction so brutal and violent that it had ravished the planet, left it stripped and scarred, decimated the oceans. Layers of crust and crystalized vapor overtook the entire surface, sealing the sea beneath them. Any topsiders who survived those wars had long since forgotten that the Sundari Sea had ever existed, and then they, too, had ceased to exist.

The legends told of an event known as the Great Purge - an attack on Mandalore that was meant to erase its people once and for all. That one, though the heaviest and most upsetting of them all, was unfortunately also the one that was most likely true. Afterall, no one had seen a topsider in close to a hundred years.

And that includes the moon. No one has seen the moon since before the Great Purge.

It was that thought that broke your heart the most. Because it meant that the stories and the prophecy were only just that - legends and fables. But even realizing this, you knew that the next time you felt the pull of the moon you would still follow it. Even knowing that it was impossible, you would still seek the open air and the silver light and the possibility that the land dwelling Mandalorians might return one day.

– – – –

“But the mines were destroyed in the Purge.”

How am I supposed to bathe in the Living Waters if I can’t even get to them?

He stood opposite the Armorer, the weight of her visor of her golden helm trained directly on him.

“This is the Way.”

Her reply was one he’d heard countless times before. But that had been the first time that it hadn’t felt like reassurance. Still, he returned the words and accepted the challenge. Because even if it was impossible, it was the only path he could take.

This is the Way.

When Bo-Katan had declined his invitation to join him on his journey to Mandalore, he had been further disheartened. She had once been the spearhead of the initiative to retake the ancestral homeworld of their people. To hear her say that Mandalore was lost, that she had no desire to return to it anymore didn’t make him feel any better about the chances of his mission being a success.

But I have to try. I have to.

“Then I will go alone.”

She glared at him from the throne in the great hall of her stronghold on Kalevala. “Then you’re a bigger fool than I thought you were, Din Djarin.” A mirthless laugh left her lips as she raised one hand towards the door. “Go on. Leave me in peace.”

He did as she asked then, but when he landed safely on the surface of Mandalore several days later and found that it wasn’t toxic or poisoned or blown to pieces like she and others had said it was, he felt far from foolish. For the first time since being told that he was no longer a Mandalorian, he felt something start to swell inside him. Hope. With help from R5 he was able to scan the surface and locate the ruins of the civic center in the city of Sundari, beneath which lay the mines and the Living Waters.

When he was attacked by a pack of Alamites along the way, he hadn’t noticed that one of them had managed to sink its tusk between his chest plate and shoulder pauldron. He’d dispatched them before the pain could register, and that had been further delayed as the last one fell with a thud, clearing his view and giving him his first glimpse at what he’d thought was impossible.

Redemption.

Instead of destroying them, the seismic activity of the Purge had actually deepened the waters, opening up underground aquifers that hadn’t been accessed in centuries. Stumbling forwards, he made his way into the shallows, reciting the words of the Creed aloud in the empty chamber. But halfway through, he lost his step and suddenly the weight of his armor and the pull of the water was too much for his battle-weakened body, and he was plummeting. Down, down, down to the depths.

– – – –

You woke with a jolt, gasping and clutching at your chest.

It had never been so strong. Where it normally began as a gentle pull, that night it was as though a hook had lodged itself in your heart and was dragging you into motion.

Tonight. You thought, and it was the first time that you felt so sure, the first time that there wasn’t a maybe attached. Tonight. Tonight.

You raced through the channels and rose towards the surface, but this time, instead of following the same path you always took, you felt the pull take you a different way.

But this doesn’t lead to the surface. This just leads to the old mines and the…

It was then that you remembered the last detail of the story about Cyare and the Mandalorian king. The pool of water where she was able to stay close to him after rescuing him had since been built around and used ceremoniously as a place of new life and fresh starts.

They called it the Living Waters. That’s… that’s where I’m going now.

You weren’t sure why, because you knew for a fact that the moon wouldn’t be visible from there. But the urgency you felt only grew with each beat of your heart, and you swam faster than ever to find out why. And you didn’t have to wait long.

As soon as you arrived, your eyes doubled in size as you saw him - the figure of a man from the world above, clad head to toe in shiny beskar armor just like in the myths, plunging through the dark, cold water to what would certainly be his demise.

I have to help him!

You couldn’t be sure if the thought came first, or if it was your grip beneath his arms, but once you had him securely in your hold, you darted straight up until you breached the water and were surrounded by the cathedral like cavern of the partially collapsed mines. With a powerful push of your tail, you lifted the man up onto the steps that led out of the water. For a few terrible seconds you waited, watching his chest for the rise and fall of breaths, wondering if you’d been too late. But just as you were about to reach out and touch him again, a cough came from under his helmet and relief flooded your whole being.

“You’re alive!” The rush of joy you felt over that simple statement was almost too much. Another round of coughing and sputtering came as his reply, and then you noticed the blood. Oh, no. Frowning, you looked down at him. “But you’re hurt. Don’t move, let me take a look.”

“Who…” He coughed again as you pressed both hands to the gap between the metal covering his body. “Who are you?”

You licked a few stray drops of water from your lips and told him your name. “I am a sea maiden of Mandalore.” Narrowing your eyes, you peered at his wound and sighed as you realized it wasn’t as bad as it could have been, and that you’d be able to patch it up with paste made from the grasses that grew in the lakebed of these waters. “Who are you?”

He panted out a few uneven breaths and groaned as he sat up slightly. “My name is Din Djarin. I-” He sucked in a breath and you pulled your hands away, sinking further down into the water. When he spoke again, he did so with a small but noticeable shake of his head. “I didn’t know that there were sea folk on Mandalore.”

That actually made you smile. “And I didn’t know that there were any topsiders left on Mandalore.” He tilted his chin, the curve of his helmet catching a reflection from the water, but before he could speak again he flinched and grabbed for his injured shoulder. “Hold on,” you told him, lifting one finger. “I’ll be right back.”

With that you disappeared beneath the water in search of the grass you knew to have medicinal properties, snatching up a handful and rising back up. Crushing it between your fingers and mixing it with water in your palm, you turned it to a paste and held it up. “This will help with your shoulder.”

He didn’t protest, nodding instead, and you moved quickly to apply the treatment. As you drew your hand back again, he said your name. “Thank you. For saving me.”

You smiled at him again, still buzzing with adrenaline from what had happened. “You’re welcome, Din Djarin of Mandalore.”

“Actually…” He sighed and circled the shoulder you had just finished tending to, clearly surprised at how quickly the salve had gone to work. “This is my first time here on Mandalore. I was raised on the moon of Concordia.”

You felt the shock that you were sure he saw on your face, your thoughts beginning to race wildly.

Concordia. The moon. That’s why- He’s why… Why I felt the pull tonight. It wasn’t the moon it was… it was him. He was what I’ve been drawn to. And now he’s here and-

“Are you alright? Did I say something to-” He reached for your arm then, and you realized that one of his gloves must have been lost when he was dragged down, because you felt his skin brush yours, as light as a kiss.

Tonight. Tonight. Tonight.

As soon as he touched you it started - a tingling sensation throughout your body. Looking down at your lower half, you watched in awe as the scales of your tail transformed into the same chain link material of your shirt, lengthening into a dress that covered a pair of legs instead of a tail.

“What… what happened, are you…” He rose somewhat shakily to stand beside you.

You grasped onto him, unsure if it was for his stability or yours at that point, but it didn’t matter. It was all true. The myth. The prophecy. Concordia’s kiss. It was too soon to tell if the rest of the story would ring true - the part concerning the romance and the lifelong bond that Cyare and the Mandalorian in the myth would share - but there would be plenty of time to see how that would unfold now that your two worlds had been joined. Lifting your eyes to the darkened visor you imagined his must be behind, you took a deep breath.

“I have been waiting a very long time for this night.” You nodded and swallowed a thick knot of complicated emotions. “We have to talk. About the future of Mandalore.”

Returning your nod, and gently gripping your forearm, he responded. “This is the Way.”

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The crunch of tires on the rocky driveway made him swivel his head towards the window. Well, shit. What he saw made his eyes go wide, and he tried to blink the shock from them. I’ll be goddamned. 

Standing from his desk and crossing his arms loosely over his chest, Frankie shifted his weight to one leg and called over his shoulder. “Hey, Benny?” 

“Yeah?” The other man’s footsteps grew closer until he was standing in the doorway, one hand leaning on the frame. “You need somethin’? What’s- oh.” Frankie moved aside so Benny could see what - and who - he was looking at. “Well I’ll be goddamned.” The grin he wore was audible, causing Frankie to roll his eyes. Cocky little shit. “Guess I was right. She came back.”  “Yeah,” he said, letting out a small huff that was just as much astonishment as it was amusement. She sure did. He watched as you finished parking in the same spot you’d pulled into two days earlier, directly next to his truck, and then pulled a box out of the back seat.

--

He sees John's hologram give him a funny look as he finally makes do with one of the four leather armchairs in the sunken pit that forms Command and Control, but Gordon just shakes his head and positions himself further forward than he'd normally do, his elbows propped on his knees in order to surreptitiously stretch out his spine before settling back with a hidden wince.

Part of it, he knows -- as he listens to Scott vent about the Hood's obvious involvement in the manufactured earthquakes issue -- is to do with the fact that he's taken his uniform off and changed back into his civvies. The material - specially-designed and created by Brains, with the knowledge of Gordon's repaired body in mind - was intended to be both (obviously) waterproof and protect him against the pressure of the depths, but also to support the weaker parts of Gordon's skeleton, where his legs are prone to seizing around the knees and ankles, and his lumbar region has the unfortunate tendency of letting off blasts of nerve pain at the most inopportune of times.

That isn't to say that Gordon was impaired or disabled by his accident, in any sense of the word, just that his body has some issues in times of high stress, and that some extra tweaking of International Rescue's standard uniform was needed to compensate for that. And now he's taken that additional support off, his body is obviously complaining a lot louder than it would be were he still wearing it.

"So what do you suggest, Colonel Casey?" Virgil asks roughly, as their father's former Air Force colleague stares impassively around at them all. "We sit around and do nothing?"  Gordon can see the slow-burning anger that Virgil has been harbouring since their father's disappearance rise to the forefront, and he bites his lip, remembering all too well that terrible day... Even now, all this time later, it still hurts.

"You'll do what International Rescue does best, Virgil - help people in trouble." She says sternly, like that's not stating the obvious. "We'll bring him to justice."

Without another word, Colonel Casey vanishes with nary a chirp of disconnection or even a ‘goodbye’, and Gordon looks wearily at Scott, raising an eyebrow as he pushes himself upright in the seat, bracing his hands on his knees. "They don't stand a chance, do they?"

Scott gets up in response; his face determined. "If these devices are causing earthquakes, we'll find a way to shut them down!" He clenches his fists, and Gordon shares a glance with his grandmother, who has her brows furrowed, she too is watching Scott in concern.

"We still don't even know what we're dealing with here!" Virgil points out in frustration. Apparently Scott's speech has as much effect in calming his psy-twin brother as the rest of them, i.e, none at all. Next to Virgil on the other side of the pit, Brains looks worried, Gordon notes. The thought alone makes him nervous.

"I can give you a pretty good idea." John suggests, looking between the six of them. Grandma sits silently, watching them interact, as Scott settles back into his seat, and Gordon shoots a look at him that his eldest sibling mirrors. This is concerning.  "Seismic activity has been steadily growing since the first 'quake, and it's spreading north along the Pacific plate." John points to all the areas along the bottom of the Ring of Fire where the trouble is occurring, and Gordon feels his gut sink. "This is a global catastrophe in the making."

"D'you feel that?" Scott looks around at them as the lounge shakes slightly beneath them. Gordon clutches the sides of his seat as his left knee lets out a hot spasm with the unexpected movement. "It's another 'quake."

Gordon nods, feeling his lips compress. Too right he felt that; it sent pain firing right up into his spine, that did, and the damn chair is cushioned for heavens' sakes!

"I'm receiving hundreds of distress calls from along the Southern Pacific Rim." John reports suddenly, and as his brother turns his head to look at his holographic display, Gordon's attention is caught by Scott's head nodding sharply, tensing for movement.

 John turns his globe, replicated on the glass table in the centre of the circle of couches, zooming in on what Gordon knows is the brightest-glowing coordinates, indicating the greatest danger imposed on the cities in those locations; images and symbols popping up that dazzle Gordon's aching head just a bit more than he is comfortable with. Ibuprofen, he decides briskly, as soon as he can get his hands on it...

"Just tell us where you need us, Thunderbird Five." Scott orders.

"Oh, my!" Brains exclaims suddenly, having been silent almost since Gordon had brought the transponder back. He assumes that the scientist has at least been visually analysing the beacon until he can get his hands on it properly. "The solar collector in Taiwan has f-fallen out of alignment!" The engineer waves his hand over a red-flashing icon, and Kayo and the six Tracys lean forward for a closer look as the image suddenly blows up to ten times its initial size.

"Is that an actual emergency, Brains?" Scott asks, sceptical; blue eyes narrowed, fingers clenching on his knees. Just like Dad's used to do... Gordon thinks sadly.

"Here's how it was before." The engineer begins, standing up and moving forward, and what looks to Gordon like a massive satellite dish, looking as though it’s from the 1990s suddenly pops up out of nowhere. "Thousands of individually controlled mirrors concentrate the sun's rays into a frighteningly p-powerful beam."

"We're talking heat so intense, you get the same kind of hydrogen fusion that fuels a star." John adds, his face grim.

"This is the collector now." Brains gestures at the holo-display, and a terrain map with a minimised dish suddenly replaces the larger schematic.  "When the sun comes up, those rays will be aiming d-directly at the city of Taipei." As the engineer moves to the side so they can all see, a ray - clearly meant to serve as an imitation of the hydrogen fusion event John mentioned before - shoots across the frame, towards the city that Gordon can see in the right hand corner of the hologram. Immediately, warning icons that are indicative of any number of potential emergency situations pop up, and Gordon finds himself breaking out into a cold sweat. Shit.

"Sounds like we need to move that reflector!" Virgil concludes, leaning forward, dark eyes concerned.

"Gordon, I'm picking up a distress call from a fishing trawler taking on water." John turns suddenly to him, and even through his throbbing head, and his concern over the possible disaster unfolding in Taiwan, Gordon nods, knowing that he's needed elsewhere, regardless of his own thoughts and feelings on the situation, not to mention his aching body. "Tell them I'm on my way!" He pushes himself carefully to his feet, before gritting his teeth as a flare of pain arcs up his left leg, making him flinch. Dammit!

"All right, then. Time to gear up." Scott commands from behind him, and Gordon bites back his discomfort as he forces himself to walk normally. No letting the team down, there'll be time to have a rest afterwards. He'll have earned it by then, he's sure.

"Yes, let's do this!" Alan says enthusiastically, and Gordon hides a grin as his youngest sibling literally makes the floor vibrate in his excitement, seeing the teenager punching the air out of the corner of his eye.

"Sorry, Alan." Their eldest sibling says in apology, passing Gordon quickly. "We need to keep you and Thunderbird Three in reserve." Reaching the rotating platform that will take him across to Thunderbird One, Scott pulls down his twin lamps as Gordon moves carefully up the stairs and heads around the pit in the opposite direction, towards the hidden elevator that will lead him to the main silo where he'll collect Thunderbird Four.

"In case the TV goes out..." Alan mumbles. "I get it."

Gordon feels a passing pang of sympathy for Alan as he places his handprint on the recognition strip that will give him access to the elevator to the silos, but it's gone just as quickly as it came, as the concealed doors open and he steps inside, raising his watch to connect himself to John in Thunderbird Five. His brother's hologram pops up, though he's not actually looking at Gordon, and John spares him a glance from where he's feeding coordinates and uploading what Gordon presumes is the specs for the collector to Scott and Virgil, as the elevator begins its long descent.

"The trawler is a light thirty-footer, Gordon." John addresses him swiftly, his blue eyes - green at most times in the overhead lights of Thunderbird Five due to the contacts he wears for short-sightedness - flickering to meet his with a look of concentration as his fingers skitter across his holoscreens. "There's a crew of four, and the trawler's net has caught on some submerged rocks that weren't picked up by their onboard scanners. They've got a slow leak, and there is only one reported injury - the skipper has cut his hand - but the laceration isn't too deep, and they’ve applied basic First Aid, so it appears that it's just going to be a pick up of the four of them and drop off at the nearest main docking rig; Auckland, New Zealand. I've sent the coordinates to 'Four's navigation system. They're not in danger yet, according to their captain, but they'll be sunk by the time the authorities can get someone from conventional sea rescue out to them. You should be there within the next forty minutes at top speed. I'll let you know if anything with their situation changes."

"FAB, John." Gordon returns, meeting his brother's gaze levelly. "I'll keep you apprised of what's going on. Thunderbird Four out."

As the doors open and his brother’s hologram blinks out, Gordon heads determinedly towards the silo, relieved that this mission looks like it’s going to be a relatively cut-and-dry one. Or so he hopes...

Many thanks to both @libertybright for her invaluable plotting skills, and to @kellyfhaycock for her encouragement, you both have such unwavering faith in me. <3

I’m not really sure when I’m going to get to the next chapter of this, or any of my other WIPs, but rest assured it will be as soon as I possibly can. Life is hard and extremely stressful at the moment, and I know that I’m leaving you guys with yet another beginning to a story, but as always; thank you for reading. Your support means the world.