Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing!
Happy Christmas, Bee! I wanted to get you a christmas present, so figured I would write you one instead. This is going to be pretty random for basically everyone else, but you alone should get where the ideas of this are coming from. Yep, basically all of our crazily random conversations! You have no idea how hard it was to put it into words, especially considering how out of control the conversations got!
Hope that everyone enjoys this and please let me know! Have a wonderful Christmas, everyone!
Swigging the last of his drink down in one gulp, Virgil signaled that he was finally ready to head up. No sooner had he put the glass down on the mat in front of him, John had swung him out of his seat, dragging his brother up towards the stairs, Scott holding a slightly unsteady Gordon up. There was a look of disapproval on his face, but a sparkle in his eye and the slightly glazed look that showed he had downed just as many as his younger brother. It was a rare occasion indeed. Gordon's recovery had left them nothing short of a miracle, that rescue should have cost him his life. Once again, the aquanaut had proved it took a lot more than disastrous accidents to stop him, and as the red-head's birthday had come around, their father had given all of them a rare leave of absence, claiming that he wanted them all back and ready for duty the next morning, if not sooner should the situation arrive.
Glancing over his shoulder at the way both his younger and older brother were weaving slightly on the stairs, not to mention that whilst John was trying to drag Virgil up them, he too was finding the situation far too amusing, Virgil was not so sure they would have been able to respond to a call out, Alan being the only exception. The youngest brother had skulked off to bed earlier, being annoyed at his age not letting him join in the drinking, and it didn't matter how many drinks Scott had had, Alan couldn't sneak one past him. Thinking of his oldest brother, Virgil was frankly nothing short of surprised at how laid back, and almost irresponsible, the field commander of International Rescue was being. It was normally hard enough to get him to have one quiet drink on the island, his sense of duty overwhelming everything else, but once he had finished the first, there was no going back. There was something about the beer in this place, causing the three elder brothers to actually agree with Gordon for once about it being the best they had ever tasted.
Blinking in surprise, Virgil was amazed to find himself being leant against the wall outside the apartment they were all sharing. It was more the memories of the place that had lead them here rather than the separate rooms they could have so easily rented out. All five boys, even Alan, had fond memories of being in this apartment, the older ones more specifically. More than one birthday had been celebrated at this retreat back when their mother was still alive. It only seemed right to celebrate the fact she was undoubtedly still watching over them back in the one place where only happy memories remained. Startled out his fond musings, Virgil felt the corners of his mouth turn up as John dissolved into a fit of giggles, attempting to get the key in the lock. The blond would never admit to giggling, but there could be no denying that John was a happy drunk, despite it not being shown often enough for a man his age.
"Here," Scott strode forward, misjudging the distance and managing to miss the door, crashing straight into Virgil. Suddenly finding himself on the floor, Virgil was nothing short of bemused when Gordon tried to pull him up, only to end up on the floor next to him. A small part of Virgil's rational brain, albeit the part that wasn't functioning properly, wondered how they had come to this, one of them was normally responsible enough to reign the others in. But that beer had just been so darn addictive.
Wondering how he was going to manage to get himself up again, Virgil grinned as the door opened from the inside, John staring at the key clutched in his hand in wonder before looking up to find Alan framed in the doorway, not looking pleased. Frowning as he ran his eyes over the state of his brothers, Alan couldn't help but let the disapproval show on his face as Scott and John tried to make their way into the room at the same time, bumping into each other in the process.
"Al!" Gordon yelled happily, struggling up to his feet and draping his arm around Alan's shoulders. "Have I told you that you are my favourite little brother?"
"I'm your only little brother, you dork," Alan muttered, steering Gordon into the room and dumping him unceremoniously on the bed. His eyebrows raising as he caught sight of Scott and John engaged in a pillow fight on the other side of the room, Alan left Gordon sprawled out over the bed and went to steer Virgil in, he seemed to be incapable of making his own way through the door. Whilst it was nice to see his brothers so relaxed and clearly enjoying themselves, the young man couldn't stop the cold feeling in the pit of his stomach. He had become used to acting on instincts, it was something being in the rescue business had forced him to develop. He knew his brothers. They never drank like this, Gordon perhaps being the exception, but only then it was on rare occasions. Knowing they wouldn't notice that he was gone, Alan slipped from the room, making sure he took the key and locked the door behind him, he didn't want them wandering off.
Making his way almost silently down the stairs and into the bar room, Alan was too preoccupied in his thoughts to notice the man lurking in the shadowy corner, sighing in disappointment on catching sight of how sober the youngest Tracy was. Slipping silently from the room before he was noticed, the stranger disappeared, almost into thin air, as Alan approached the bar.
"Didn't your brother tell you no?" The bartender asked, somewhat exasperated when he caught sight of Alan once again leaning across, trying to get his attention. "Just because he isn't here doesn't mean that I am going to serve you."
"I'm not here for me," Alan responded stubbornly, knowing his tone was bordering on rude, it was something his brothers' had always managed to wind him up about. Without meaning too, the youngest brother had a very blunt way of expressing himself.
"I want to know how much they had to drink. I thought you had a policy of not serving anyone once they had reached a certain stage."
"Don't get superior on me, young man." The bartender growled, annoyed at the accusing note in the youngster's voice. It wasn't his fault that those Tracy men were such light weights.
"They had one each. The red-head perhaps two."
"One?" Alan yelped, staring back towards the door in astonishment. There was no way they could have only had one, he knew for a fact Scott was renowned for being able to hold his alcohol. How Gordon had managed to get the stories on their oldest brother's college escapades, Alan still didn't know, but he had enough ammunition on Scott to know one drink would not result in a pillow fight. "How the hell could they have only had one?"
"Ask them that. I'm busy." Making to turn away, the bartender visibly rolled his eyes as a hand attached itself to his arm, preventing him from moving away. "What now?"
"Random request," Alan responded, flashing him a cheeky grin in the attempt to look far younger and more innocent than he actually was. "Do you have any of their glasses left?"
"Here," the man responded shortly, reaching under the counter and slamming a glass down, the dregs of the drink still remaining. "Now get out of here before I call security, Mr. Tracy."
"Thanks!" Alan called over his shoulder, grabbing the glass and practically sprinting from the room.
Halfway up the stairs, Alan skidded to a halt, digging into his pocket and grabbing his cell. Flipping it open, he quickly hit the speed dial button, walking slowly up the stairs and sliding himself down the wall in front of the door. He could still hear the sounds of the pillow fight going on within, and had no desire to be bombarded.
"Jeff Tracy speaking."
"Dad."
"Alan? What's wrong, son? Where are your brothers?"
"They are in the apartment." Alan said slowly, his mind racing about how he was supposed to break this to his father. "Dad, they are all pis-drunk. All four of them." Holding the phone away from his ear, Alan could still quite clearly hear the tirade coming from the other end. Trying to get a word in edgeways, Alan gave up, instead just waiting until his father ran out of steam.
"How could Scott let this happen?" Jeff eventually asked, knowing that taking it out on Alan was not the best move, his youngest son had a tendency to blow up suddenly.
"I don't think he did. Dad, I checked, they've only had one each." Silence met Alan's statement, Jeff clearly thinking hard about what his son had just told him.
"Have you got a sample?" Smiling at the way Jeff's voice had suddenly turned professional, Alan was glad he had already obtained a glass, hopefully it would save them time.
"Yeah, I've got one of the glasses. What do you think it is, Dad, a drug of some sort?"
"Alan, keep hold of that glass, I want a sample when you get home. Brains? Can you give me a clear run-down on what you were trying to explain earlier?" Frowning as his father had obviously turned away from the phone, Alan couldn't help but flinch as something crashed into the door behind him. He only hoped that it wasn't a brother. Why, on occasions like this, did he have to have so many of them?
"Dad? What's going on?"
"Alan, Brains had discovered a new substance. It gives the appearance of someone having many drinks, yet only having a small amount. It basically makes them act drunk without the drinking part."
"So why would someone spike their drinks?" Without having to see his father, Alan knew that he would be rubbing his hand wearily across his eyes.
"Alan, think about it. All five Tracy boys in one place, having a drink. What better way than to make sure they are acting like drunks. Brains thinks it should wear off by the morning, keep them in the room."
"F.A.B," Alan responded, somewhat tonelessly, staring in desperation at the key in his hand. Why did he get the feeling this was going to be a long night?
"And Al?"
"Father?"
"Good luck." And with that, Jeff disconnected. Squaring his shoulders, Alan pocketed the phone, and after a moment of deliberation, hid the glass behind the plant pot outside the room. He didn't want a fight over the last mouthful of beer. Bracing himself, Alan slowly unlocked the door, slipping through it and locking it behind him again. Eventually turning around, he couldn't help but groan at the state. Scott and John's pillow fight had obviously got slightly out of control, but thankfully, both brothers seemed to have crashed. Wandering over to that part of the room, Alan couldn't help but smile at the sight in front of him. If he didn't worry about what the reaction would be if they ever found out, he would have said they were cute. Both on John's bed, the two eldest brothers had fallen asleep, John's head resting on Scott's chest, the latter having his arm draped awkwardly around John's shoulders. He knew that they were both going to be stiff in the morning, but not wanting to deal with them, Alan knew he was just going to leave them be. Digging his cell back out his pocket, he quickly activated the camera, knowing he had been running low on possible ammunition against the pair of them.
"That wasn't very nice," an amused voice called over, sending Alan spinning back around again. Virgil was sitting on Gordon's bed, his back against the wall as his younger brother's head was cradled in his lap, the artist running his fingers through Gordon's copper locks as the aquanaut slept on.
"Come on, Virg, bed, you're not well." Alan responded wearily, knowing he should be thankful that three out of the four of them had fallen asleep.
"M'fine. Allie, where you been, baby bro?"
"Getting some air," Alan invented, not wanting Virgil to really know what he had really been up too when he was still obviously under the influence of whatever it was. When Alan caught who was responsible for this, he would have to face the annoyance of the youngest Tracy. And something the rest of the family could vouch for, that was not an emotion anyone could escape from unscathed.
"Air? No you weren't. Allie, you aren't a very good liar." His words slurring slightly, Virgil somehow managed to make his way off the bed without waking Gordon and instead stumbled forward, enclosing Alan in a rare hug.
"But you don't need to lie to us, we'll always protect you. That's what awesome big brothers are for." Suddenly pulling away, Virgil took a long look at Alan before bursting out laughing again. Rolling his eyes, Alan steered him towards his bed, pushing Virgil down on it and fixing him with a look that normally only Scott was capable of. Luckily, his intoxicated brother got the message and climbed unsteadily up towards the pillow. No sooner had his head touched it, Virgil was asleep.
Letting out an explosive breath, Alan ran his hand through his hair, unable to believe what had happened. They were supposed to be celebrating the fact that Gordon had managed to reach his birthday, not have some form of press drugging them to make them act up and thus provide the mornings headlines. Only hoping that they had gotten away with it, Alan climbed into his own bed, only pausing to kick his shoes off. Snuggling under the covers, the young blond sighed, listening to the steady breathing of his four older brothers to reassure himself that everything was alright. As it had done for years, Alan soon found himself drifting off. Even drugged, just having the presence of his brothers near was enough to make the youngest Tracy feel safe.
TBTBTBTBTB
"Good morning, sunshine! Rise and shine, sleepy head!" Groaning at both the loud voice and the pillow that had managed to drop on his face, Virgil blearily peeled his eyes open, wincing immediately at the sunlight streaming through the open drapes. Gordon stood over him, a glass of juice in one hand, a plate of toast in the other and an annoyingly smug grin on his face.
"And how is Virgil's head this morning?" He asked, his tone condescending. Glaring at him, Virgil merely snatched the juice, his stomach not liking the idea of having food.
"Nice try, Virg, you need to eat." Groaning even louder as Scott's voice came floating across the room, Virgil sat himself up, leaning back against the wall as the simple movement drained what energy he had left.
"How are you guys so awake?" He mumbled, finally taking the toast of Gordon and forcing himself to take a bite. To his relief, it seemed to settle his somewhat turning stomach, he had been afraid of the opposite effect.
"John's time on Five has been put to good use," Scott announced, striding over with a mug of something clutched in his hand. "Perfect hangover cure. And wow, Virg, it really works. Dad never need know."
"Actually," a somewhat sheepish voice cut in, Alan rubbing the back of his head with his hand and looking innocently the other way. Eventually, his eyes flickered back to his brothers, only to be met with identical stares of annoyance and disbelief.
"Alan, you didn't?" Gordon moaned pathetically, sparing his oldest brother a helpless glance as if Scott was somehow going to magically make the problem go away.
"I was worried, you were all completely out of it and the bartender said you only had one each."
"You're too gullible, kiddo," John announced, making his way through the door and ruffling Alan's hair, grinning at the way Virgil was picking unenthusiastically at the toast. "Give him the drink, Scott."
Sharing a smirk, Scott handed Virgil the cup before stepping backwards, dragging Gordon with him. Eyeing them somewhat apprehensively, Virgil went to look into the cup, only to be stopped by John.
"Don't look at it, don't smell it, just down it in one."
"Are you sure?"
"Trust him, Virg," Gordon said softly, his voice uncharacteristically serious. Deciding that he did indeed trust John, Virgil shut his eyes, throwing back the cup and emptying the entire contents down his throat in one swallow. The burning sensation made him want to gag, but within only a couple of minutes, he felt his stomach settle, the pounding in his head reside.
"You, Johhny, are in the wrong profession, dude." Swinging his legs out of bed, Virgil couldn't help but marvel at how steady he was, it was as if he really had only had the one drink that Alan believed. Poor kid. Virgil couldn't believe he had believed the bartender, it was obvious the guy hadn't liked the youngest Tracy constantly trying to sneak a drink and had clearly decided to get his own back. What Virgil wasn't so impressed about, however, was the fact that Alan had already gone to their father. It was lucky that John's cure was so effective, or Virgil had a feeling they would be in even deeper trouble.
"We leave in an hour, we promised we'd be back at the island by lunchtime." Scott suddenly announced, turning away and striding back across the room. Hearing him begin to empty the cupboard next to his bed, Virgil forced himself across the apartment, aiming straight for the shower. Whilst John's miraculous cure had worked wonders, in Virgil's mind, there was only one thing that could wake him up as successfully as a rescue, and that was the blessing of cold water cascading over him.
As expected, the shower did indeed provide the blessing that Virgil was looking for, the powerful jets easing out the knots in his muscles. To his amusement, by the time he had left the sanctuary of the bathroom, the one place he knew he would be able to escape from his brothers, all four of them were ready to go. They had even gone as far as packing up Virgil's small bag, leaving it on his bed in order to put the last of his things in.
"I wasn't that long," he couldn't help but protest with a small laugh, following Scott's pointed look and finished off his packing. If he was honest, he had hoped they had packed for him, it was something he hated doing. For as long as he could remember, Virgil had always hated packing, relying on one of his brothers to take pity on him and help him out. And the more amazing thing was that even now, they hadn't figured it out, hadn't realised why a certain job needed to be done at that particular time. If anything, it had got easier rather than harder as they grew up. Now all he needed to do was mention something about the maintenance on Thunderbird Two and Scott let him go. The Field Commander was always paranoid that something was going to be overlooked on the 'birds, something which could potentially endanger his brothers' lives. Whilst he didn't like pulling the wool over his brother's eyes like that, Virgil couldn't help it. He really hated packing.
TBTBTBTB
Scott's predictions that they were going to be home by lunchtime proved, as per usual, to be spot on. All five boys simply rolled out of the plane and onto the table, digging in heartily to one of their grandmother's famous pies.
"Where's Dad, Grandma?" John eventually asked, only just being able to form the words around his foot. Shooting him a reproving look, John dropped his gaze, but by the time he looked back up again, Grandma was smiling gently at him.
"He's just coming, dear. He had to make sure everything was in place in case we got a call out and you boys weren't fit for duty."
"We are always fit for duty," Gordon responded indignantly, gesturing with his fully laden fork and causing half the food to fly off and land on Alan's plate, something his little brother was more than happy about.
"That's not what Alan said," Grandma responded firmly, somehow managing to fix all four of the older boys with her penetrating stare. John and Virgil shifted uncomfortably as Gordon dropped his gaze. Scott, however, met it head on.
"Alan was wrong. The bartender tricked him, we are all completely fine. We just had some fun. The kid is too gullible."
"You should have seen you," Alan argued back, his face furious. At Scott's pointed look, however, he dropped the matter, knowing he was lucky not to have all four of them mad at him for dropping them in it. All he could do now was try and cover for them, but he knew what he had seen, something was wrong.
"Hey, Dad," John suddenly commented, smiling up at his father as Jeff meandered slowly into the room, disapproval clear on his face. Judging by the way John's smile quickly faltered, Virgil knew immediately that his attempt to win their father over had been lost. Glancing up at his dad, Virgil felt his jaw drop.
"W..what-?" he spluttered, astonishment laced throughout his tone.
"Problem, Virg?" Scott asked, concern shining through his voice as he turned to look at his little brother. Virgil had gone ghostly white, fixing their father with a look that could resemble horror. "Virgil?"
Following his brother's gaze, Scott glanced at Jeff, who looked just as puzzled as his eldest son. There was certainly nothing that should have been causing this reaction. Catching Gordon's eye as he turned his attention back to Virgil, Scott sent the red head a puzzled glance, but he too could see nothing wrong.
"Virgil, what's wrong?" Virgil, however, just stared at his brother, glancing around them all in turn, his frown deepening when the rest of his brothers' didn't seem to realise what was wrong. How they could not have noticed, the artist had no idea, but it was beginning to worry him.
"Wrong?" He yelped, his voice coming out far higher than he would ever admit too and causing Gordon to snort in amusement. Silenced by John's concerned look, the prankster quickly turned it into a coughing fit, but was unable to hide the amusement dancing in his eyes.
"How could you not notice something is wrong? Have you seen what Dad is wearing?"
"And very nice you look too, Jefferson." Grandma commented, running her eyes over her son approvingly.
"Not you as well, Grandma." Virgil moaned. Suddenly, he sat up straighter, turning to Gordon with an accusing stare. "OK, well done, you got me, very funny."
"Virg, much as I would love to be the mastermind behind this, what the hell are you talking about?"
"Guys, seriously?" Staring around the rest of the family with a disbelieving expression, Virgil took note of their serious expressions with a sinking heart. This was no prank. They really had no idea what was going on.
"Please tell me I'm not the only one seeing that Dad is wearing a dress?" Blinking, Scott flickered his gaze over to his father, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly. Jeff shared a concerned glance with his mother before moving around the table, aiming towards Virgil. As soon as he stepped, however, Virgil glanced towards the floor, groaning at the clicking sound of high heels.
"That was you, Grandma, wasn't it?" He all but begged, shutting his eyes in order to hide his confusion. What the hell was going on? Why was Jeff wearing not only a dress, but shoes to match? And more importantly, why was he the only one reacting? Things had been fine when they had left the island the day before, so why was this happening now?
"Baby, what is wrong with you?" Granma asked quietly, also standing up and crossing the room. Coming to a stop next to her middle grandson, she tenderly brushed her hand against his forehead, clearly trying to feel for signs of fever. Pushing it away irritably, Virgil stood up.
"What is wrong? Are you guys blind? Dad is standing over there, wearing a dress and you guys aren't even blinking."
"Virgil, Dad's always done that. You know he has, look at the pictures of you as a baby. Why the reaction now?"
"Dad has not always done this!" Virgil yelled, unable to keep his temper any longer. "When we left the island yesterday, what happened?" His voice demanding, Virgil strode right up to his father, trying not to think about what he was dressed in. It wasn't as if he strictly had anything against it, it just was not like his father at all.
"Son, nothing happened. Everything is carrying on as usual. Now, if you don't mind, I have things to deal with other than your attitude." And with that, Jeff strode from the room. Certain that his eyes were playing tricks on him, Virgil refused to consider how well his father was walking in the heels, or the natural way he hitched the bottom of the skirt up to step over the small lip out of the kitchen. The movements were so smooth, so easy, that Virgil knew there and then that this wasn't something that happened over night. No one gets that good without practice. Not that Virgil would actually know himself what it was to walk in heels, but he had seen Tintin fall over enough times when she was still young to know that it was harder than it looked.
"Virgil, what is with you, dude?" John eventually muttered, trading confused yet concerned glances with his only older brother. Gordon and Alan were merely staring at him, shock written over both of their faces.
"This isn't happening," Virgil mumbled under his breath, sitting back down and resting his head in his hands. "I'm not seeing this. Something went wrong, I'm still asleep…OW!" Feeling something sharp pinch him on the arm, Virgil glanced up to meet Gordon's bemused expression.
"Feel like you are dreaming?"
"Please just tell me this is all a prank?" Virgil begged, shutting his eyes. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt this confused.
"Virgil, snap out of it." Scott commanded, somewhat ferociously. He had no idea why his brother was acting so strangely about this, but it had gone far enough. If he carried on, there was going to be a full blown argument emerging.
"No," Virgil responded, shaking his head as he stood back up. "You can't pretend that something hasn't happened. Something happened back at the apartment, it must have done. Or something happened to Dad. He has not always done this. Jeff Tracy does not go wondering around in a dress!"
Turning on his heel, Virgil felt himself sprinting away from the family. Racing up the stairs, he tore into his father's room, wrenching open the cupboard doors as he did so. In front of him lay the usual shirts that Jeff wore. Just as he was about to turn away, however, something longer caught his eye. Pushing away the clothes with a slightly shaky hand, Virgil stared in disbelief at the collection of dresses resting in the back of his father's wardrobe.
Backing away, the artist once more fled, tearing past Scott and John and down through to the silos. Sitting on the balcony, his legs stuck through the railings and swinging wildly, Virgil couldn't help wracking his brain for some explanation of what on earth was going on. He couldn't explain it, not sure if he wanted to explain it. He just couldn't understand why none of the others were reacting, they should have at least been as worried as him, if not more so in Scott's case.
"Virg, you ok?" John's voice called softly, and turning, Virgil saw his two elder brothers making their way slowly towards him, concern etched into their faces.
"You're not going to believe me, so just go away," Virgil snapped, far harsher than he intended. Pulling his legs out of the gap, he made to stand up. He was not in the mood to argue against them, and knew by the expressions on their faces that his brothers weren't going to simply let him walk away whilst knowing that something was wrong. Little did they know just how wrong things were. Unfortunately, he had already put his weight on his left foot whilst trying to pull his right one free. Feeling his foot catch, Virgil turned, only to lose his balance.
"Virg!" Hearing Scott's frantic yell, the artist could do nothing as he slipped, his head colliding hard with the railings.
TBTBTB TB TB
"Virgil? Virgil, come on, wake up. Come back to us, son." Hearing his father's voice, Virgil slowly cracked his eyes open, noting immediately by the white wash of the ceiling that he was in the infirmary. For a moment, he couldn't remember how he had got there, why on earth would he have been in the infirmary? Sitting up suddenly, he found himself looking into his father's concerned expression. Unable to stop himself, Virgil ran his eyes over his father's attire, not being sure how to feel to see him in his normal shirt and jeans.
"Dad?"
"Thank God. Brains, Virgil is awake. Only Gordon to go now."
"Gordon? Why would Gordon be in here? I was the one who hit my head."
"You hit your head?" Jeff asked, suddenly alarmed. "When? Brains, did you hear that? Virgil, what did you do to your head?"
"I was in the silos," Virgil said with a frown, sitting up a little straighter. Letting his eyes roam around him, Virgil felt himself stiffen with alarm at seeing Scott sitting on another bed, talking in a quiet tone to John. Both brothers' were in pajamas that matched Virgil's own, a clear indication that they too had been residents to the infirmary. As Scott brushed his hand over John's back, Virgil knew instantly that his star-gazing brother was upset. Before he could question it, his father regained his attention.
"Why were you in the silos, Virg?"
"We all had an argument. I went into your room, I had to check, Dad. And they were there. Loads of them. And the others were telling me that you had always done it. So I ran down to the silos. Scott and John came down, I slipped…"
"Whoa, Virgil, slow down. Loads of what? What did everyone nearly have the argument about? Virgil, what did you see?"
"See? Dad, you were wearing a bloody dress not ten minutes ago. And no one cared."
"Virgil, wait…"
"And they were all telling me I've gone mad because it didn't seem right. Don't pretend that it didn't all happen."
"Virgil, listen to me," Jeff said firmly, placing his hands on Virgil's shoulders and forcing his son to look at him. At his tone, Scott glanced over, but Jeff motioned with his eyes that he had this one. It had taken him long enough to calm Scott down, John was still in need of attention from his brother. Virgil, on the other hand, had managed to get himself really worked up, Jeff knew it was going to take all of his focus to be able to get through to his son.
"You were at the apartment with your brothers, you remember that?"
"Dad,I remember everything apart from the journey into here from the silos. What is wrong with Scott, John and Gordon? What's happened to my brothers?"
"Virgil, listen to me," Jeff responded forcefully, his heart clenching at how upset the artist was. When he got his hands on whoever was behind this…
"You and the others all had one drink each," seeing Virgil about to protest, Jeff held up a hand, stopping him before he could open his mouth. "Don't interrupt me, just listen. You've all had one drink, but they were spiked. Alan phoned me last night when you all got back to the apartment and Brains and I came out this morning. None of you would wake up, so we got you back to the island and Brains ran some tests. The drug is supposed to make someone appear drunk, but it had not been properly tested. You are not the only one to go through something that doesn't make sense to you."
His eyes flickering to where Scott was desperately trying to calm an increasingly agitated John, Jeff ran his hand through Virgil's hair. "Whatever you saw, son, it didn't happen. It was a dream, nothing more. And honestly, Virg, do you really think I would wear a dress?"
Adding the last part on with the raising of his eyebrows and a ghost of a smile, Jeff couldn't stop a rush of relief when he was that Virgil was calming down. It was such a relief to have three out of the four of them awake now, and with Alan sitting with Gordon, he knew that he would be informed immediately when the red head was waking up.
"I guess not," Virgil muttered, his mind racing about everything that had just happened. "Dad, it felt so real."
"I know, Virg. I know. Your brothers' have said the same thing. It wasn't. I promise you I will get to the bottom of this. Oh, and son, feel free to check my wardrobe, no dresses there."
"Thanks, Dad," Virgil whispered, sinking back onto the pillows. He had no idea what was going on any more, but before he could say anything else, John suddenly leapt to his feet in anger.
"I'm telling you, Scott, it was full!"
"Full?" Virgil asked his father questioningly, wondering what it was that his brother had seen.
"Five. John seems to think that..."
"I'm not just thinking it!" The blond yelled, rounding on his father. "Someone has filled Five with fish and chickens!"
Blinking at his brother in astonishment, Virgil couldn't help it. The corners of his mouth twitched, and as he watched Scott try and calm John back down again, he gave in and burst out laughing.
"Dad, Gords is waking up," Alan suddenly called, bringing his father's attention back to the other side of the room. Before Jeff could cross the room, however, Kyrano appeared in the doorway, a large box in his arms.
"Parcel for you, Mr Tracy."
"Ah, thank you, Kyrano." Taking the box, Jeff set it down on the chair, his eyes flickering momentarily over to where Gordon was stirring. Knowing that he still had a few moments before the young man woke up properly, Jeff lifted the lid.
"Ah, perfect."
"You've got to be kidding me," Virgil whispered, horrified. For out of the box came a dress. And not just any dress. A dress that Virgil knew for a fact his father already liked. In fact, it was more than that. It was a dress Virgil knew would, in a strange way, suit his father.