Author's note: Thanks as usual go to Quiller and Lynn for their help with this story.

The Virgil Card

Prologue

The world had gone mad. China didn't like its position in the world economy as the second super-power. What stood between it and being the most influential country on Earth was the United States of America. Relations between the two countries had deteriorated. Diplomats had been expelled and other countries had started to take sides. Ordinary people began to feel nervous and there was talk in the media of a new World War in the offing.

Part 1

On Tracy Island, at 8.15 on a Wednesday morning, all was peace and beauty. The peace would not last long. Air traffic above the island had increased as military jets from various countries hurtled across the skies carrying out manoeuvres and training runs. Alan and John had been kept busy over the last few months keeping track of them and making sure that none were a threat to the inhabitants and priceless equipment residing on the island

Scott Tracy was confident in his brothers' ability to keep him informed of any approaching danger and carried on life as usual. As the morning sunshine glinted and flashed through the tropical tree-life, Scott was off for a hard run, letting the perfection of his surroundings soothe him. He had already run for thirty minutes and the endorphins were kicking into his system. He should have felt alive, on-top-of-the world, and ready to tackle anything. Instead he felt a vague nagging worry that he could not pinpoint.

Perhaps he was just concerned about Virgil who had two fractured ribs courtesy of a recent rescue. Not that he was worried about Virgil's health. He was more worried about how to persuade him that he wasn't yet fit to go on a rescue if one cropped up. Mentioning to Virgil that Gordon would take his place in Thunderbird 2's pilot's seat was guaranteed not to help. Scott would just have to think up some calming words, just in case.

Absorbed in this task, Scott turned and headed back to the house.

Part 2

"Oww!" howled Gordon and leapt back, examining his hand where the wood sliver had gone in. "This is stupid," he continued, kicking out at the pile of planks in front of him. "Since when has Tracy Island been the right place for a 2 foot high stupid white, stupid picket, stupid fence?"

Scott stood up, stretching his back. "Let me take a look," he said in soothing tones, reaching for Gordon's hand. Gordon let out a yelp and pulled his hand away.

"Get off! Why couldn't you have waited until Virgil was up to this? Why does Dad need this dumb fence right now, anyway?"

Scott was all calm and reason. "You remember Dad was looking at the old photos a couple of weeks ago? He wanted the fence to remind him of the old days in Kansas with Mom. You know it would be good to get this done by the anniversary of Mom's death."

Gordon sighed. Scott was right, of course, but cutting up wood and making stuff out of it was definitely more of a Virgil thing. Or an Alan thing. Or John. The pain eased and he looked at Scott hoping that the apology would show in his face as he damn well wasn't about to articulate it.

Scott started to speak again but stopped as his words were drowned out by two passing jet fighters. He looked up and watched them, absorbed as they flew by. Gordon gave them a glance and returned to trying to ease the splinter out. But then he looked at his big brother again. Scott was transfixed. Gordon tried to make sense of the expression on his face. The conclusion he came to made a jolt go through him. Either panic or sadness, Gordon didn't know what he was feeling the most but he just knew that he wanted Scott to stop looking upwards.

"Go on, see if you can get it out then. Scott!" Gordon had to raise his voice to get Scott's attention. Scott started and turned his attention back to Gordon who was holding out his hand trying to appear pitiful.

"What did you say?"

"I can't get the splinter out. Can you take a look?"

Scott's expression changed to one of a long-suffering big brother and Gordon let him attend to his hand without so much as a wise-crack.

Part 3

By the end of that day, the fence was finished. The next day brought a rescue which was short and successful, despite Virgil's constant fretting and frequent calls to Thunderbird 2 from the Island to check up on Gordon.

By midnight the house was quiet. Gordon padded along the dimly lit corridors, not expecting to meet anyone. That didn't mean that everyone was asleep. Tin Tin, Grandma and Kyrano might have gone to bed and Virgil may have been slumped in front of the lounge TV snoring but Gordon had seen a light on in the lab and suspected that Brains was deep in a scientific moment. Alan would no doubt be playing computer games in his room. A gentle clatter from the kitchen as he passed indicated to Gordon that Scott was ferreting around for his usual midnight snack. That pleased Gordon as he wanted Scott to be otherwise occupied. He went outside and continued his way to the pool, the little lights set into the steps showing his way.

As Gordon came up to the pool he was disarmed by its tranquillity. As usual, the water was calling to him and for a moment he yearned to slip into it and let the stillness enclose him, placate him and transform his ugly, clumsy land mammal body into a smooth, sleek sea creature. Then a deep, gravely voice spoke.

"Come for a late night dip, son?"

Gordon swung around to face his father. Jeff was smiling at him, a look of affection on his face. Gordon couldn't help but return the smile.

"Not tonight. I was looking for you. I wanted to ask you something."

"Fire away!"

Gordon sat on the sun lounger next to his father's. Jeff put down his book and directed his full attention to his copper-haired son.

"It's about Scott," Gordon began and was surprised to see his father give an immediate reaction to his words. Jeff's jaw tightened and he drew a deep breath. "What is it, Dad?"

"Nothing. Go on."

Gordon frowned for a moment and then continued. "I don't think that anyone has ever doubted that Scott has been 100 committed to International Rescue. He had the most to lose of any of us and yet he dropped everything to be here."

"Do you think he's ever regretted it?" interjected Jeff. Gordon faltered, his prepared speech interrupted.

"No, I don't, well at least not until…."

"Until what, Gordon?" Gordon was surprised. He had planned on being the one asking the questions, not answering them. He gathered his thoughts.

"Have you noticed he's been looking skywards a lot in the last couple of weeks? When all this increased military air traffic started he would see the USAF jets fly by and tell me what their capabilities were. Mind you, that was about as interesting as me telling him the capabilities of a reef squid but that's beside the point. Now he just watches them with this look in his eyes like…like he…Father, do you think that Scott wants to rejoin the Air Force?

Gordon had expected an immediate denial from his father. Instead Jeff gave another sigh and pressed his finger-tips to his forehead as if trying to soothe away a headache.

"Gordon, you're a perceptive young man and I don't think any of your brothers realise just how perceptive. You never seem to miss a beat and you've certainly read Scott right. I'll be honest with you, son. Your eldest brother came to me today and asked me for permission to leave his responsibilities with International Rescue and to re-enlist in the USAF."

As Gordon absorbed this information he stared at his Jeff. He'd imagined that his father would chuckle at his worries and reassure him that Scott had no such ideas. And yet here he was, confirming everything.

"What did you say?" he asked Jeff quietly. Jeff sat up and leaned towards him and Gordon began to anticipate a long answer.

"You know, Gordon, that I have never forced any of you boys to be part of International Rescue. It is your choice to be here and I hope I've made it clear that you can leave anytime you want. When Scott asked me if he could resign I was honour bound to say 'yes' however I might have felt personally." Jeff saw Gordon's frown deepen. "At the same time, I felt, as I suspect you do, that I didn't want him to go."

Gordon's reply came out with more passion than he intended. "It's not the right time, not yet, not now."

"I know, son, but Scott is a very determined person. However, I have to confess that I also felt honour bound to put the other side of the argument across to him. And I did."

Jeff paused, rubbing his forehead.

"What did you say?" encouraged Gordon.

"It was difficult. I understand Scott's feelings. There are certain skills that he honed in the USAF that are rather underutilised in International Rescue. He feels proud to be American and I quite understand his desire to fight for his country. But I also wanted him to see his duty to us, here. Okay, so one of you could take over piloting Thunderbird 1, hell, I could do it myself. But the state of the world at the moment makes me nervous and I don't like that. We don't get involved in military actions and wars or no wars there are still going to be natural disasters and accidents that require our services. We will continue to rescue people whatever the rest of the world is doing. It is my hope that all nations will let us go about that work without interference."

Jeff paused, again rubbing his brow. At times of worry Gordon always saw how old Jeff really was. The strain took its toll on his whole demeanour.

"International Rescue will continue, Dad, whatever."

"Are you saying that to placate me or because it's true?"

Gordon grinned. "Both."

Jeff's face softened and then he continued. "I told Scott that, while I hoped we will continue to be left alone to do our job, I fear that it will not be that simple in the months to come. Our aircraft, Thunderbird 2 to be precise, are rescue craft. Two is built for its purpose and not for trying to dodge unilaterally fired missiles. We have already seen the results of her being under attack and it wasn't pretty. You know that we have been updating the defence systems on all the Thunderbirds but I felt it necessary to point out to Scott that Two is a work-horse, not a fighter, and I felt that Scott's…um…expertise could be just as useful in International Rescue as in the Air Force. You'll be glad to know that he came around to my point of view."

Gordon's eyes widened as he took his father's word's in. "My God, you played the Virgil Card! You told Scott that you needed him here to protect Virgil to and from rescues. You sly old dog."

"Less of the old, Gordon. And I merely suggested that Thunderbird 2 is a very expensive piece of aircraft and may need protection, as would the rescue craft in the pod and any and all crew it might be carrying."

Despite his father's emphasis, Gordon could see by the twinkle in Jeff's eye that Gordon had indeed hit the nail on the head, even if it wasn't going to be admitted.

"So he's not leaving?"

"He is not. And I have decided that One's defensive capabilities should be upgraded to be a bit more offensive. I know that our responsibility is to get people to a rescue as soon as possible but if we don't get there at all then there is no point. I will be reviewing on a rescue-by-rescue basis as to whether Thunderbird 1 should go on ahead to the danger zone or stay alongside Thunderbird 2 as a support aircraft."

Gordon nodded his head at this, mulling over the situation. His father was still looking solemn at his news about Scott and Gordon realised why he couldn't be 100 pleased. "You did the right thing, Dad. Scott has just as an important role here as he could ever have in the military."

"But was it fair of me to make him stay?"

"You were just pointing out his options. I'd love to think that any of us could have real influence on what Scott does but he's a stubborn bastard."

"Language, Gordon! It's a good thing your grandmother is in bed. Of course, my next problem is trying to persuade Virgil that he should have Scott riding shotgun."

Gordon let out a guffaw at this. "Virgil will just love having a baby-sitter. I can't wait for that one."

Jeff couldn't help but chuckle too. "I can't think that Scott will be too pleased at having to rein his 'bird in either but needs must."

There was a pause in the conversation, both men lost in their thoughts.

"If Scott's made the decision to stay with us then he'll be with us without regret," said Gordon, as much to himself as to his father.

"I know, Gordon." Jeff eased himself to his feet. "Thanks for the chat. I'll think I'll turn in. Give you a chance to get in a few lengths. Night, son."

"Night, Dad."

As Jeff walked away Gordon reflected that he had been the one looking for a comforting chat and yet it was his dad who had ended up with one. He hoped the "sly old dog" remark wasn't going to earn him a dull chore in the days to come.

Gordon looked at the pool again. He must have got his perceptiveness from his father. Gordon hadn't been looking for a swim but now…his dad had known he would not be able to resist it. Glancing around to confirm that everyone else was in the house, he stripped off all his clothes and made a neat dive into the water.

Epilogue

The next morning Gordon walked out onto the patio and found Virgil behind a large canvas, brush in hand.

"What are you painting?" he asked, trying to work out how Virgil could be inspired by the large bush behind the canvas but knowing better than to take a peek before Virgil was done.

There was a small sigh from Virgil. "I don't know for sure. It's kinda abstract. Let's just say that it has a lot of pain and frustration in it."

Gordon chuckled. None of the Tracy brothers liked being out of action. Scott joined them on the patio, munching a piece of French toast, crumbs cascading everywhere.

"What's he painting?" he asked Gordon, through his mouthful.

"I don't know, but it's a therapeutic abstract rather than a landscape so I don't think it will make it to the lounge wall."

At that moment a formation of fighter jets flew overhead. Gordon glanced at Scott but Scott was looking at Virgil.

"Hey, Virg," Scott said, his voiced raised over the noise. "Take out all your irritation on that canvas rather than us, okay? You're no fun at the moment."

"Yeh, yeh," came the reply from behind the easel. Scott chuckled and so did Gordon. But Gordon wasn't amused by the conversation between his brothers; he was just happy that Scott seemed content with his decision to stay with International Rescue and now had his focus totally on the Island.

"You two are just…" he began. Scott's head whipped around to Gordon, waiting for the insult.

"We're what, exactly?"

Gordon's smile was rather enigmatic as he went back into the house. As soon as he was out of their earshot he finished his thought.

"Inseparable," said Gordon.

The End