Author's note: This story was written for (& won) the 2013 Halloween Challenge.

Grateful thanks to my beta, quiller for taking the time out of her busy schedule to help with this; and to my son, for his assistance.

Disclaimer: Don't own any of the recognizable Thunderbirds characters.

Bed And Breakfast

It is amazing how totally black the ocean can be out here, so far from the mainland. It seems to merge with the sky, so much so that without gravity and instruments to assist you, it would be ridiculously easy to get lost. I find it strangely relaxing, but then, I've flown this way countless times, although mostly in '2.

Getting away for even a day was a welcome respite after that last rescue. Even International Rescue can't fight the forces of a typhoon. Far too many lives lost for my peace of mind.

Doing a supply run was just enough mundanity for me to de-stress and unwind a bit. I was tired, but relaxed, and glad to be heading home.

Finding the small spot of land that is Tracy Island wouldn't be easy without a GPS. I was glad that everything was functional, and that I would soon be hitting the sack.

Scott gave me clearance to land, and met me in the hangar. All the perishables were put away; the rest would wait until morning. We headed upstairs together, said goodnight and parted ways.

It seems as though I had just fallen asleep, when I was rudely jarred awake by an anguished scream. I have never, ever heard Gordon scream like that. I bolted out of bed, raced into the hall and nearly collided with Scott in front of Gordon's door. With a look, Scott stopped me from going in immediately.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"Not exactly sure," he replied. "This happened last night as well."

"And…"

"He looked horribly shaken by something. He wouldn't talk. Just clammed up, growled that it was 'just a nightmare', and to let him be."

"That doesn't sound like Gordon."

"Nope, not a bit. He's been acting a bit odd since he returned from that conference in Connecticut."

"He looked a little drawn when I passed him in the hangar on my way out. Just figured he was tired from the flight."

"Obviously, something else is going on," Scott replied, his face etched with worry.

I raised an eyebrow in inquiry.

Scott replied, "Don't look at me like that. He's gotten very good at avoiding me, and Dad kept me hopping most of the day with meetings."

"You're losing your touch."

Scott just rolled his eyes.

"Look, you go back to bed, don't even think about protesting." I smirked as he started at that. "You and Alan are heading up to '5 in the morning. Let me handle this." Scott didn't look happy, but he acquiesced. I waited until the door closed behind him, counted slowly to ten, then knocked on Gordon's door.

No answer.

Knocked again, repeat.

With a sigh, I keyed the entry code and slipped in.

A quiet voice said,"Go away."

"Not happening," I responded, reaching for the desk chair and pulling it up close to the bed. "Talk to me."

"About what?"

I glared my best 'big brother' glare as I sat down, (not that it did much good as he wasn't looking at me), "What happened at the conference that has you so worked up?"

"Nothing happened at the conference, Virg."

"Then why are you having nightmares?"

"I'm not having..." I stopped him mid sentence, putting my feet up on the bed and getting comfortable.

"Spill it."

"You won't believe me."

"Try me."

"It's a long story."

"Does it look like I'm going anywhere?"

With sigh of resignation, he began:

I'd been uncertain about going to the conference in Mystic for a while. I wanted to go, but I waffled about it until John made me see reason. I needed to go if we were going to make this aquaculture venture work.

"Never mind IR," he told me, "the rest of you could handle things."

So, I registered. Unfortunately, there were other conferences and conventions going on at the same time, so all the hotels were booked up. I finally found an old bed and breakfast within a reasonable distance, so I booked that.

The place was old, emphasis on the word old here. One section of the house dated from the 1600's. It was just my luck that the only room available was in that part of the house. It was a small room, but clean and seemed comfortable enough, so I dropped my things and headed off to the conference.

It was a long day, plenty of food, tons of information, business cards exchanged, the usual. After dinner, I joined a group of people taking in the sights, checking out the old ships, wandering the docks and just enjoying the nightlife. I got back to my room rather later than I had planned, but I really enjoyed myself that evening.

I started getting ready for bed, and for the life of me, I couldn't find my toothbrush. I knew I had packed it, I checked twice before I left home – you know how anal I can be about that sort of thing; not to mention that I had used it just before I headed off to the conference.

I eventually found it, in the corner bookcase, on top of some old history books.

I had absolutely no idea how it had gotten there, as I was sure I had left it in my kit.

When I got back to the room, the bed covers were turned down. I thought that was odd as I didn't hear or see anyone come up the stairs (they do creak a bit), but I just shrugged my shoulders and got into bed.

As I was drifting off to sleep, I felt as if someone else was in the room. I sat up and looked around using that little LED keychain that you gave me -love that thing, by the way.

Didn't see anyone else in the room, so I settled back down. Just as I was getting comfortable again, my suitcase flew across the room!

"Don't look at me like that, Virg! It really flew! Not terribly fast or anything, but fly it did, and settled down right in front of the bookcase."

I shrugged and nodded for him to continue.

I guessed someone was playing a prank on me, so I got up and checked around the room. Didn't find anything, and I was so tired that I figured that I must be seeing things or something. I gave up, and got back into bed.

Just as I started to doze, someone pulled the covers right off of me. I sat up in shock, starting to get annoyed at this point. I grabbed the covers, wrapped myself in them like a cocoon and went to sleep.

The rest of the night passed uneventfully.

The next morning, everything went smoothly. I went off to the conference, and then had lunch with the penguins at the aquarium. It pays to be one of their benefactors – I even got to help feed them. Went back to the conference for the rest of the day; dinner was a big banquet with more networking going on, then back to the docks for the evening. It's a pretty nice town, with just enough night life. A bit touristy perhaps, because of all the museums and old ships, though being on the water and having a nice aquarium makes up for that, but I digress.

I got back to the bed and breakfast late again. I went up to my room after saying goodnight to the proprietor, Mrs. Dunn. After closing the door, I looked around and found everything the way that I had left it, except tidier and the bed was made. I prowled around looking for wires or gizmos to explain what happened the night before, but found nothing.

Giving up, I searched for my toothbrush.

Again.

I finally found it in the bookcase. I could have sworn I had seen it on the nightstand when I entered the room…

As I was getting ready for bed, I felt this wave of claustrophobia come over me. Now, you know I'm not claustrophobic in the slightest. I felt that I couldn't breathe, and all I wanted to do was get the heck out of that house as fast as possible.

I managed to clamp down the impulse, and the feeling eventually passed, but I was a bit rattled to say the least.

I got into bed after giving my suitcase a stern talking to, telling it that it was NOT allowed to fly around the room. If anyone overheard me, they would be calling the men in white coats or something.

Well, the suitcase listened to me. It stayed put, but the bed had a mind of its own. Just as I started drifting off, it started shaking.

I sat up and found that the bed (with me in it) was floating about two feet off the floor! It started rocking back and forth, faster and faster, until I just yelled, "would you please just stop!"

The bed fell back to the floor with a loud thump, bringing Mrs. Dunn to my door in a hurry.

I tried to assure her that everything was fine, but she gave me a shrewd look and asked me if any of my possessions had been moved about.

It seems that they had an occasional otherworldly visitor that only bothered young men who stayed in that particular room.

Just my luck.

She didn't have another room for me to move to, but I told her that since it was only for one more night, I would stick it out.

I've heard plenty of ghost stories and all, so after she left, I got back into bed, and decided to have a conversation with the resident ghost.

I said, "Look fella, I don't know what your problem is, but it is obvious that you are trying to get my attention. Well, you've got it now. What do you want?"

Nothing.

Not a peep, nor did anything move.

I settled down into the bed after vainly waiting to see if there would be any response. Just as I started to doze, I had this feeling that someone else was there with me.

Then I began to dream...

This was no ordinary dream. It was as if I was living someone else's life, but I was still me, but also him. Yeah, I know, it doesn't make a whole lot of sense – it was like I was hitching a ride inside his head. Hearing his thoughts, feeling what he was feeling.

He, we, I, was riding a horse, returning from a major town (no, don't laugh, and yes I remember my last experience on horse back, thank you very much).

I was him, because apparently, this horse and I were very good friends, (unlike my last experience). He, I was happy, having gotten my business going. My investments had paid off, and now I not only had some money, but a business and could support a wife and family. I was certain that now Rebecca's father would permit us to marry.

As I was approaching my home, I noticed that there seemed to be some sort of commotion in the center of town. A large crowd had gathered in the square, but it was hard to make out what was going on.

As I drew nearer, I heard "Witch!" rising above the general rumbling of the crowd.

"Not more of this nonsense," I thought, shaking my head in disgust. About six months ago, this ridiculous hysteria had gripped Hartford with tragic results.

I turned off the road towards my home, when my brother came running to me. He looked very grim as he grabbed the reins of my horse.

"I have very bad news, Jason," he said.

"More of this witch nonsense?" I asked.

"Worse than that, brother." He put his hand on my arm, "Rebecca is the one who has been accused."

"What! Rebecca is an angel! Who could possibly accuse her of any wrong doing?" My head was spinning, my heart racing.

"Sally Tomlinson and her cousin Jenny have accused her of attacking them with demons"

"Sally?" I was incredulous.

Sally is my best friend's younger sister. I love her as a sister. "I can't believe that she would do such a thing!"

My brother just shook his head, "Believe it, Jason. The trial is happening as we speak."

"I must put a stop to this!" I cried as I pulled the reins from his hands, and tossed my satchel to him.

He tried to stop me as I turned the horse around and headed towards the square, but he knew it was a futile endeavor.

I had to save my dear Rebecca from the mob.

When I reached the square, it was obvious that the trial was already over. I went straight to the magistrate to state my case on her behalf, but was stopped by blacksmith Jenkins.

Mr. Jenkins was very kind, but misled. I was not going give up!

The crowd gathered again as I stated my case. The magistrate told me to go home, and that I would soon recover from her spells once she was dead.

I replied that I was NOT be-spelled, that I loved her and that she was NOT a witch! I could not believe, that in this age of reason, people still believed in such nonsense, and in my desperation, said so.

This was a serious miscalculation on my part, as it enraged the crowd and turned them against me.

Goody Arens proclaimed, "If he isn't be-spelled by her, then he must be in league with her!"

It all spiraled downhill from there. I heard;

"Witch!"

"Warlock!"

"Devil worshiper!"

"Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live!" all out of the mouths of my friends and neighbors.

Sally was crying by this time, sobbing that she was so sorry and didn't mean for this to happen. I could not bring myself to even look at her, the girl I had loved as a sister.

I tried vainly to find an escape, but I was held too firmly by Mr. Jenkins and his apprentice.

I was convicted of witchcraft, aiding and abetting a witch, and various other crimes.

Rebecca and I were sentenced to die that day. She was to be burned at the stake, my lot was to watch her die, and then be hanged.

I was forced to watch as the love of my life was tied to the stake in the middle of the square. Oil soaked rags and bundles of sticks were piled around her as our eyes met for the last time. Her terror galvanized me to one last attempt to free myself, but it was to no avail. I hung there exhausted, as she was engulfed by the flames, her screams of torment ringing in my ears…

"Gordon! Snap out of it!"

I had a hard time bringing him back to reality. "That wasn't you, Gordon. It was someone else's life, not yours."

"It was so vivid. So real," he shuddered. "It really felt as though I was living this."

Carefully thinking about how to deal with this, I replied "This is way out of my comfort zone, Gords. We are going to need some help."

He nodded in agreement, "But who would be able to help with something like this?"

Then the realization hit me. Duh! "Let's go ask Kyrano."

"Virg, it's 3AM!"

"Your point?"

Gordon looked at me as though I was crazy. "The man's sleeping!"

Then I laughed. "Gordon, haven't you ever noticed that he's always there when he's needed? Whether it is with a cup of coffee for Dad or when Grandma needs a little assistance?"

"But that's during the day, Virgil. Disturbing him in the middle of the night just seems wrong to me."

"I understand, Gordon. But Kyrano just seems to have this sixth sense about when he is needed." Gordon nodded, and then started to get out of bed when the door chime rang.

The look on Gordon's face was absolutely priceless when Kyrano entered the room at his invitation. I carefully kept a neutral face, as it wouldn't do to burst out laughing, now would it?

After Gordon had told the entire story to him, Kyrano questioned him thoroughly. He came to the conclusion that the spirit, in this case, Jason, wanted Gordon to do something. He advised us that often, restless spirits have some sort of unfinished business in this world, and they can not cross over until it all has been settled.

We did a quick search on the internet and found that unlike Massachusetts, the state of Connecticut had never issued posthumous pardons and apologies for those wrongly convicted of witchcraft.

That was Gordon's 'aha!' moment.

Now we knew what we needed to do. A short talk with Dad the next morning was all that it took for him to agree to put his considerable influence behind our request to the Connecticut State Legislature.

They moved quickly on the request, which surprised us, but I think that was largely due to the offer to locate the main offices of Tracy Enterprises' new aquaculture division in the state if they did.

Two weeks later, armed with a copy of the official proclamation, Gordon and I went to the bed and breakfast where his part of this story began. Mrs. Dunn seemed rather pleased with our efforts, especially since she was the many times great granddaughter of Jason's younger brother. She planned to hang the copy of the proclamation in the hallway, but first we had some unfinished business of our own.

Late that evening, we went up to the room (which it turns out to have been Jason's). It was really quite small, with only enough room for a twin bed and a small desk, but then, rooms tended to be rather small in those days. I sat in the desk chair; Gordon sat on the bed with the copy of the proclamation propped up against the headboard.

We talked for a while, but then grew silent as both of us felt that we were being watched.

I felt the oddest sensation; it felt as if all the hairs on my arms were standing on end. I felt very cold, and could barely breathe. It lasted only a short time, and from Gordon's reaction, I surmised that he had felt something similar.

As we watched, the copy of the proclamation was lifted off the bed, and hung in the air for what seemed like an eternity, and then it was gently laid back where it had originally been placed.

Movement on the other side of the room drew our attention, and as we looked, we saw two ghostly figures, a man and a woman. Both looked sad, yet relieved. As they faded away, I could swear they said, "Thank you, justice at long last."