Intervention

They say that one should always begin at the beginning, but in my case I'm not sure where the beginning is. I did think of beginning with the death, after it is what set me on my course of action, but perhaps it began over a century before with the death of a young woman in a Paris tunnel. The outpouring of grief and loss then had taken many of my colleagues by surprise, some had viewed it as the natural reaction to a person loved and lost and the grief felt when losing a family member, some of my more cynical colleagues felt that these humans were overreacting in a big way. And the flowers! I would rather have hundreds of flowers delivered when I was alive than to have them thrown at my coffin or deposited outside Buckingham Palace. But, I have been told enough times that we don't interfere, but oh how I wanted to that night in Paris. Perhaps that's where it began, that I began to feel then that sometimes we must step through from our plane to theirs and change things.

I have been told that unlike most of my kind I have a sort of prescience, I cannot quite tell the future but sometimes I will see glimpses of what will happen if an event is not modified in some way. This, as you might understand has caused problems with my superiors whose attitude is still one of non-interference. I personally have a problem because as someone wrote some time ago, humans are a hybrid of spirit and animal and my Master's role is to bring them fully into spirit, should we not encourage this? If we showed ourselves more often, wouldn't more humans believe and in believing be more equipped to go out into the world and bring more people to Him. Of course as you might have guessed, whenever I've posited this argument, I've always been quoted 'Blessed are those who have seen and believe, but more blessed are those who have not seen and yet believe.' You might imagine that I don't wholly subscribe to this view, especially as a full and complete belief in a loving God is hard to sustain for a number of humans. I don't think a few miracles would be too much to ask. But perhaps I'm the only one who feels this way and this is one of the reasons that I do not speak of this to my colleagues.

So, back to the story, I suppose my prescience was at work again. I had been moving around one of the last churches in Wales with a feeling of foreboding that I couldn't shake off, I even went and sat in the chapel during Mass and the feeling was still there. Eventually I gave up and went outside and it was then that I heard the beginnings of a prayer, although most prayers aren't prayers as such, and this one was no exception being Oh God, oh God, we're going to crash, we're going to cr- and then nothing. I was always taught that we should respond to requests for prayer and we can move great distances in the blink of an eye. This time was no exception and I blinked into existence in the cabin of what I knew was Thunderbird 3. Oh yes, I'd heard of the Thunderbirds. I do not know if beings like us are subject to sin but this would probably count as one of mine. I always wanted to ask if they were beings like us in human form. Anyway, I used to wander the island sometimes at night, occasionally I met a couple of foreign angels, both very polite, but also very protective of the humans. At first I was upset and offended but the longer I watched these eight people the more I understood. I will stand by my actions until Judgement Day, and it looks like I may have to. But, again, I digress.

When I arrived in the cabin, both men were unconscious, as I moved closer, the dark-haired one stirred and a frown of pain creased his forehead. He opened his eyes and looked around, instantly his hand was on the other man's shoulder, "Virg? Virg!"

The auburn haired man's eyes flickered and opening them he managed a weak smile at his friend, "Hey, Scott, give a guy a break, huh?"

Scott managed a weak smile, "I was worried about you, that's quite a bruise."

The one called Virgil put his hand up to the side of his face and winced as his fingers touched the wound, "Probably looks worse than it is, you know head wounds, they tend to bleed profusely. You?"

"I'm all right," Scott forced a smile to numb lips and then he saw his brother's eyes flick downwards to the metal pipe embedded in his knee and then he sighed.

"I'll see if the radio still's working. Any more injuries you haven't told me about?" Virgil queried.

"Probably a few cracked ribs," Scott admitted, "and numerous cuts and bruises. You don't look a pretty picture either, Virg."

"It'll heal," Virgil forced a smile to numb lips, he didn't want to say anything but that knee injury looked bad. I waited around for a bit, orders are orders and although I would really have liked to step in at that point, I had been told that we don't step in, it's simply not done.

Virgil began working on the radio, his intention to call Tracy Island, or even to make contact with any passing vessel, so I felt for the moment I could leave them where they were.

Although they couldn't see me I sent them my blessings and then slowly disappeared. The gates of heaven were busier than usual, there had been a a landslide onto a village in Chile and a number of people had been killed, many of them children. Every angel in the vicinity had been roped in to bring the confused and hurt souls straight in, children are blameless and despite what some religions teach, go straight to heaven, I gathered up two or three in my arms and zipped between earth and heaven as fast as I could go. Most were scared and upset and asking about their parents, I told them not to worry and that they'd see their parents soon. Then, just as suddenly, it was over and all was quiet. Then I remembered the two young men I'd left trapped on the ocean floor, what was I going to do about that?

Straightening up I was about to go and speak with my Master, or even the Spirit when a voice at my elbow said softly, "You have seen my sons."

I turned to find myself looking at a young, fair-haired woman, "I am Lucille Tracy," she said, "Please, Scott's dying. I beg you, in His name, help them."

Angels don't really swallow but I saw the plea in her eyes and knew how much it must have cost her to come and ask, most souls when they see angels for the first time are both awed and terrified because we look nothing like the pictures artists have created on earth, we do not resemble men or women with wings, we resemble the creatures that Ezekiel saw in his vision and they can be terrifying.

"All right," I heard myself say, "But it will probably mean that I'll be caring for putti for the next two thousand years."

When we arrived back in the cabin I could see how bad things had become, Scott was grey and clammy and although Virgil was talking to him, trying to keep him awake, I could see it was a losing battle.

"It's all right, you know," Scott rasped, as he looked up at his brother, "I'll see Mum again."

"Don't talk like that," Virgil almost snapped, "I've activated the homing beacon, Dad and the others will get to us. You have to hold on, Scott."

"Not sure I can," Scott's eyes flickered and shut, Virgil hunkered closer so that he could slip an arm beneath his brother's shoulders, Scott's eyes opened again but this time they didn't seem to be looking at Virgil, they were far away and Virgil knew he was losing him.

Scott could see it, the tree standing in his parents' garden. Ever since he'd been a small boy he'd wanted to climb that tree, it seemed to tower above him, the branches weaving together, like the strands of his life. He looked up at the cage of branches, black against the cerulean blue of the sky….today he was going to climb to the top and touch the sky itself. It was so easy, take one step, and then another, smoothly moving from branch to branch he could feel the weight dropping away from him as he set his foot on another branch and looked up at a shimmering sky…

Virgil swallowed, Scott's eyes were half-open but he knew that his brother was no longer seeing him and all he could do was hold him in the hope of offering some comfort. He felt the tears start in his eyes and buried his face against his brother's shoulder fighting to hold them back, there would be time enough for that later.

"All will be well," I said softly, as I materialised behind Virgil and laid a hand on his shoulder. He lifted his head in shock and then a squeak emerged from between his lips as he saw the translucent figure opposite bending over Scott's form, her fingers gently touched his forehead and Virgil had to swallow against the thickness in his throat.

He was almost there! The branches were thinning and the sky itself had changed, there was a golden hue to it as if he was just on the cusp of finding out some great mystery –

"Scott!" a female voice interrupted his concentration.

"Mum!" he gasped, looking down through the branches at the slight figure.

"Time to come down, Scott, honey," she smiled, "You've climbed far enough today." Her voice was warm and gentle but there was a hint of steel in it and Scott didn't dare disobey. Taking a last lingering look at the glorious shimmering firmament above him he turned and began climbing down.

Virgil looked up at the woman behind him and then became aware of all of them being encircled by a huge pair of silver wings and a silver-rose light that seemed to fill the entire cabin. He swallowed again, Scott's breathing seemed easier and as he watched his brother's eyes opened and he stared up into the face of the woman, "I came down when you called, Mum," he mumbled.

"Yes, you did, honey," she smiled, "but now you need to get some sleep."

A weary smile touched Scott's lips and then he'd dropped into slumber. Virgil looked down at the figure he held in his arms, acutely aware of everything from the hand on his shoulder to the spirit opposite him, and then my hand moved so that I was touching the side of his head.

"That should feel better," I said, "You understand I can't remove all of your injuries. I am afraid that it would raise suspicions."

"Yes," Virgil wondered where his voice had come from, "Will my brother, will Scott be all right?"

"Yes," I said, "That I promise."

"I-I don't know how to thank you-" he began, stumbling over the words.

"You'll find a way," I replied "We must be going, be well, both of you. Try not to get into any more trouble."

Virgil managed a smile, "Do our best." He looked across at his mother, and managed a smile, "Love you," he murmured.

"I love you too, sweetheart," she said, "both of you." And then they were alone.

Scott stirred and opened his eyes, Virgil grinned down at him, "Wake up sleepyhead!" He eased his arm out from beneath his brother's shoulders, "I was beginning to think you'd sleep all day!"

Scott laughed and then stopped halfway through, "I was climbing," he said wonderingly, "You know, that whitethorn tree we had in the garden in our old house? I always thought if I reached the top I could get to heaven. Strange."

"How are you feeling now, after your nap?" Virgil teased, "I've got a lump the size of a goose egg."

"Yes, well the metal stanchion went right through my knee," Scott replied, "I remember looking down and seeing it, my leg ran with blood-" he glanced down and blanched.

Instantly Virgil was hovering over him, "What's wrong?"

"I could have sworn-" Scott looked up at his brother, worry in his eyes, "Look, it's torn my uniform and the pipe's caught the top of my calf-"

Virgil looked down at the relatively minor injury and managed a shrug, "Well it's understandable – you hit the controls pretty hard. Maybe you had a concussion."

Scott shrugged, "Maybe, had some weird dreams though. Did you say that you'd managed to activate the homing beacon?"

"Yeah," Virgil replied, "Haven't been able to establish radio contact yet though. Still, if Dad can pick up the homing beacon we stand a good chance of being rescued."

Scott nodded, he was about to say that he hated waiting when they heard the sound of laser drills against the hull, "Well whaddaya know!" he said, "Seems our luck's holding after all."

You could say that, big brother, Virgil thought, raising his eyes heavenward, you could say that.

When Jeff and Gordon Tracy finally cut their way through to the cockpit it was to see Scott and Virgil looking wan and exhausted from their ordeal and with some scrapes and bruises but otherwise unharmed. Jeff hugged them both and then ordered them aboard Gordon's craft, "We'll get you to the nearest hospital first to be checked out," he said, "and then home and then you'll both rest for at least a week. Gordon and Alan can handle most of the salvage work."

"Is she salvageable, Dad?" Scott asked as he limped towards the mini-submarine.

"We won't know until Brains gets out here to take a look," Jeff said, "but you're not to worry about that now. You've both been very lucky."

More than you know, Virgil thought wryly.

Apart from complaining of sore ribs, and other cuts and bruises, including the one on his leg, Scott was his usual ebullient self. Virgil was quieter, he caught his father looking at him once or twice on the journey home. "Are you all right, son?" he asked quietly.

"I think so, Dad," Virgil managed a smile, "My head hurts a bit though."

"Well, I've got the doctors standing by," Jeff smiled.

Virgil nodded, if he was truthful it wasn't just his head that he was worried about, it was his sanity. When they arrived both he and Scott were helped into wheelchairs and whisked down into the bowels of the hospital. A kindly, Asian doctor examined Virgil, gently examining the bruise on his right temple and then shining a light into each of his eyes, "I am Dr Fung," he said, "You have been very lucky, young man," he said eventually.

"Yes, both of us," Virgil replied somewhat absently.

"If you do not mind me saying, Mr Tracy," the doctor said quietly, "you have the look of someone who has had dealings with the divine."

"What!" Virgil jumped and looked around but the doctor's hand on his arm soothed him, "Easy, Mr Tracy, I will not speak of this to anyone but I would recommend that you take some time to gather your own thoughts to come to terms with this." He smiled, "However I think you may have a mild concussion as well as a couple of cracked ribs."

"How's my brother?" Virgil asked.

"The knee wound was the most serious," the doctor replied, "but again he was lucky, but he too seems to retain some evidence of contact with the divine," he smiled, "but again, I will not ask. I will recommend that you both rest here for a few hours before returning home."

"Thank you," Virgil said as Dr Fung gathered his implements together.

"There is no need," Dr Fung replied, he turned as he was about to leave the room, "Remember what I said, Mr Tracy. You will need time to come to terms with this."

A gentle, Asian nurse with eyes like deep dark pools of still water applied a dressing to his head and bandaged his ribs. Afterwards he was helped back into a wheelchair.

Jeff and Gordon were waiting for him in reception, "Hey, son, how're you doing?" Jeff asked solicitously.

"I'll be okay, Dad," Virgil smiled, "How's Scott?"

"They've admitted him overnight," Jeff's taut face relaxed.

"As I will recommend for you, young man," Dr Fung was suddenly beside his wheelchair, "You need a night of complete rest. But don't worry, we'll put you in with your brother."

Scott was already sleeping when Virgil was wheeled into the room, he was glad of that, Scott might have asked him questions that he didn't think he could answer. The nurse settled him into bed and then left him alone. He dimmed the lights and tried to sleep. He must have dozed because the next thing he knew someone was touching his shoulder, dazedly he opened his eyes and stared up into my face, "How are you feeling now?" I asked.

Virgil blinked the sleep from his eyes and looked up at me, "I'm better," he said, "Thank you again."

"You are most welcome," I replied, "be well, both of you. I don't know if I'll be able to do this again."

"I don't even know your name," he mumbled, his eyes closing again.

"My name is Kay-ri-el," I smiled, "But you can call me Kay."

"Kay," he yawned.

"Go to sleep, Virgil," I said quietly.

"Will I ever seen you again?" he asked softly.

"Maybe, maybe not. Will you need to?"

Virgil yawned again, "No, I don't think so. But we'll always need our guardian angel."

"Go back to sleep, Virgil," I murmured softly, "Remember,all will be well." And I watched as a half-smile touched his lips and he dropped back into slumber.

"Virgil, Virgil, wake up! Are you going to sleep all day?"

Virgil opened his eyes and stared up into the face of his brother, "Scott," he said, relief colouring his voice.

"Who did you think it was?" Scott smiled, "I've been waiting for you to wake up all morning."

"Maybe I needed sleep more than I thought," Virgil said sitting up.

"Dad's ready to get us home, c'mon get yourself dressed." Scott turned in his wheelchair, and wheeled himself across the room. "I'll let him know you're awake."

Virgil nodded and sat up, someone had brought civilian clothes for him while he was sleeping, Probably Dad, he surmised. Looking at his bedside table, his breath caught in his throat as he saw the shining white feather leaning against the jug. Slowly he picked it up and twirled the shaft wonderingly.

Carefully he climbed out of bed and began to dress, finally as he picked up his bag, he gently laid the feather in the top of it, making sure not to crush it. Then he smiled at the nurse and settling himself in the wheelchair allowed her to put the bag on his lap.

"Ready, Mr Tracy," she asked.

"Ready," he replied, smiling up at her.

Jeff and the others were waiting for him in reception. "Scott said that he thought you'd sleep all day!" Jeff remarked.

"Probably," Virgil agreed, "If Scott hadn't woken me. Home, Dad?"

"Home," Jeff replied.

Virgil looked out of the window of the helicopter at the sea below him. I think I might take a holiday, he thought.