Well, folks, another brilliant episode - and another little tag to go with it! Yes, my bunnies are loving these new episodes as much as I am!
So then, as the dust settles, Scott is left to reflect and remember, and... well, just do what he's always done best. Oh, and for those of you who have read my earlier piece, When Fates Collide... yes, any thoughts of 'awwwww!' from the events in that story are purely intentional :o)
Enjoy!
Sub Rosa
It had been Virgil's suggestion, for them both to wind down after their latest rescue, and stay the night at Creighton-Ward Manor. Standing on the balcony to his room, Scott had to thank his brother, as always, for his impeccable common sense. As that tide of adrenaline had receded, its effects on him wearing off... yes, this chance to rest up and recover in such luxury was one they'd both gladly accepted.
Of course, it would be even better if he could actually get some rest, but... no. Despite the battering it had taken, a now sore and aching body was still too tightly wound to allow it. And a mind trained to analyse every action, and reaction, and consequence, was still mulling over their latest mission. That latest close call he'd had, milliseconds between life and death, was enough to keep him up for the rest of the night.
No such problems for Virgil, though. Yeah, good thing his windows were open already, or that double decibel snoring would have done the job instead. And was it tiredness, an over-caffeinated imagination, or just this gentlest breeze that was making those curtains swing back and forth to such perfect time? Kinda like the metronome that his brother used when he was trying to compose his latest sonata.
*snnnnnnnrrrrrrr*
*in*
*blrrrrnnnnnggggg*
*out*
*mmmmmmnnngggg-gnnnnnnrrrrrr*
*in*
*wommmmsmshhnnngggmmmm*
*out*
Hmmm. Not much of that sensitive genius around right now, though. Not much peaceful quiet either.
'Jeez, Virg! They can hear you in the next county!'
Yes, to a softer chorus of rueful laughter, the family lumberjack was sawing logs like the true pro that he was. Damn if his own curtains weren't straying now, towards those massive intakes and outtakes of air. And the next time he had the gall to grump over One's launch waking him up? Well, the recording of this priceless moment would ensure any such grousing didn't last for long.
More seriously, though, the restful sleep that he craved so much himself was further away than ever. Still, if he was doomed to this sleepless night, then at least he'd get through it in the lap of true luxury.
And the fragrance of those flowers too, at least the ones that hadn't been crushed by the GDF's response team... aaah, yes. The English countryside, at its uniquely glorious best.
Roses. Honeysuckle. Lavender. Jasmine. Sweet peas. All combining to wrap him in soothing comfort. Memories of another, brightly sunny day that took him from modest pride for what he'd done, wistful reflection for what he'd felt, and then... well, yes, selfless acceptance for what he knew now.
So many hopes and dreams he'd had that day. So many of them lost to greater powers of Fate, and tragedy, and consequence. Now, tonight, he'd let this one remaining dream drift out of his reach, onto the sea that would take it into the reach of another's.
Through another wry smile, Scott stared out at the gardens below him. Softly lit against the night, he could still make out the immaculate beds and borders he'd seen when he'd first come here. It was the trellis above him, though, that now caught and held his wistful eyes.
Roses of softest yellow and brightest orange now lent their fragrance into the heady mix around him. Made the smile on his face widen, as thoughts of the same vibrant colours took him back to Tracy Island. To the brother whose unlikeliest chance of happiness had come at the eternally secret cost of his own.
Because - yes. If just so briefly, his heart had been lost to an English lady who'd seemed so totally out of his league. Through a perfect day of tea, and biscuits, and fresh apple pie, he'd been sure he'd claimed her heart in return.
And then? Well, the Fates that destined their lives of duty had intervened. For him, it had been the horrors of Delta Fifteen, and the redeeming salvation of yet another person's dream. His father's this time. International Rescue, now revered as the best emergency response team in the world.
And Penny? She'd gone her own way too, into a life of apparent luxury that hid her own, selfless courage beneath it. She was still one of their closest, most trusted allies. And, to another member of the Tracy family, far more now than just a mere friend.
Gordon. Yes, Gordon. A bundle of life, and laughter, and mischief, and energy -all wrapped up into a smile that could light up the darkest room. Who could take the odds of the unlikely, the unreachable, the just all out impossible, and shake the whole damn lot into humbled defeat.
Because - yes. He'd seen it. Damn it, they'd all seen it. To the disbelief of some, and teasing glee of others, Gordon and his English Lady were officially 'a thing'.
Against every odd in existence, his fourth youngest brother had succeeded where he hadn't quite managed to. To hell with the difference in age between them, or to anyone who'd see them together, and wonder how the hell it had happened. No, none of that mattered to them, or anyone else who loved them enough to be genuinely happy for them.
And - yes. For one for whom acts of sacrifice came as naturally as breathing... yes. Scott was happy for them too. To eyes that saw everything, and missed nothing, this wasn't a late-teen crush. Not the lovesick yearning of a boy at the mercy of his hormones. This was serious.
The real deal.
Love, in its simplest and purest form.
Cupid's Arrow, aimed sweet, and true, to hit his brother right square in the butt.
A thought, a mental image, to make him grin, then laugh outright. To then roll his eyes at the priceless approval that floated out from Virgil's room.
*GNNNNNNNNRSSWWASSAAMATTA-SNRRRRRRRRRR*
"Yeah, Sasquatch... you said it."
Still laughing, Scott then sat down on the lounger beside him. Gratefully settling into its comfort, he lay back onto its cushions - his thoughts shifting in turn from one younger brother to another.
Above him, the night was flawless. Stars turned its skies into a depthless expanse of distant suns, with worlds that were still far beyond mankind's reach. Beyond his sight, he knew John was up there, in his beloved Five. Keeping watch over his and their own, precious world, like its own, all seeing angel.
Bypassing the hibernating bear next door -
*ssskloooooorrrrr*
"For crying out loud, Virg... eat a sheet!"
- he wondered if Alan had defied his own odds, and actually finished his studies.
Yeah, right. More likely, their little rugrat would either be zapping zombies, or catching his own zzzzzzz's. Not in his big comfy bed, though, but that little spot of floor beside it, and... yeah, what the hell was that about?
Aaah, yes. These mysteries of life that bugged you to hell and back when you could... not... sleep.
So then - three brothers down, one to go. Suddenly drowsy thoughts wrapped themselves around Gordon. Their very own little ray of sunshine. Family squid, turned inspiring survivor. The kid brother who'd faced Death long before these days of international rescues, and told the Grim Reaper to take a hike.
Suddenly leaden eyes blinked back open, touched by the dawn of realization and reason. Yes, that's why he'd grinned like the happiest match-maker on the planet when he'd first seen it. The light of pure joy in his brother's eyes. The same, simple happiness that had touched his own, living rose.
Before you could learn how to love, you had to learn how to live. To fight like hell for something that every person on the planet took for granted. And if anyone could write a damn library of books on that simple but complex art, then... yes, his truly inspirational brother would top the list for a thousand lifetimes.
No-one embraced the pure joy of living quite the way he did. More than any of them, no-one understood how quickly, how cruelly, and unexpectedly, all its happiness could be snatched away.
More so, even, than his eldest brother? The only one of them who'd served in the military, and seen for himself how terrifyingly fragile life was? Life that could be as delicate, as brief and transient as the rose that Scott now picked from the trellis beside him.
Still in bloom, but only just, it was also nearing its end. Petals of once glorious white were now yellowed with age. Against still tight young buds of cream and gold, its life was over. Time now for it to be moved gently aside, and give the new buds beside it their chance to grow. To thrive, and blossom, and flourish, through the days and weeks to come.
As it had to be, Scott thought, gently tracing his fingers over curled and wilting leaves. Whether you were the leader of International Rescue, or a deadheaded rose, the life's lesson it taught you was still the same. When your dreams reached their end, or just took a different course, the greatest gift you could offer was to pass its promise onto a new life.
An act of love and sacrifice, that turned the pain of what you'd lost into the joy of what you were giving.
A thought that wrapped him up in its warmth like the comfiest quilt, and tugged him down into the deepest sleep. Oblivious to the chill of an English night, he slept soundly through peaceful dreams.
That was where a puzzled brother found him the next morning. Not in his bed, but curled up on his balcony's lounger. And the mystery of the rose that lay cradled so gently in his hand? Well, that was just another secret that would stay forever safe behind a carefree, blissful smile.