So it took me a…long time...to get a story on here, considering I've been swamped with AP and all that jazz. The flood isn't over yet, but hopefully you guys like this one!

And all of the reviews on my last Thunderbirds story really made my day, thanks so much!

Disclaimer: I do not own anything, and since I forgot to put it on my last story, I don't own anything from "Broken Pieces" either.

Virgil was aware of three things at this present moment. Number one: flipping backward over bags of sand did not feel very good. Number two: when your head met a steel pipe, your head got the worse end of the deal. Number three: how wide John's eyes had gotten when they both felt the floor give way beneath them.

Sitting up dazedly from where he lay beside the said steel pipe, Virgil blinked in an attempt to stop the room from spinning. He suspected he had only a minor concussion, as his head cleared fairly quickly. Standing slowly, Virgil saw where he had been shoved backwards over a pile of sandbags, and beyond that, a gaping hole where he had stood seconds previous.

What the scene lacked was Virgil's older brother. John was nowhere in sight. Feeling suddenly sick to his stomach, and not because of his head injury, Virgil jumped the sandbags and crept to the edge of the hole. Peering down, Virgil saw that not only had the fifth floor caved in, but so had the fourth, the third, and so on, pieces of flooring adding to the weight crashing down to the ground floor.

"John?" Virgil called out.

Silence.

"John, are you there?"

Nothing.

"Answer me, John!"

Not a word.

A beeping from his watch made Virgil start violently and almost fall through the floor. "Scott?"

"Virgil! You're all right! I tried calling John, but I didn't get a reply." Scott's voice was a mixture of relief and fear. "Where is he?"

"I'm not sure. We were standing together near the window when the floor gave, and he shoved me away before it broke completely. Scott—if he's al—ah, when we find him, there's going to be some serious work."

"What do you mean?"

"If my guess is correct, he fell through several stories."

Scott broke the link.

Virgil knew his oldest brother was not about to willingly display anything but total control while they were on a rescue, even to his brother. Glancing around, Virgil spotted a stairwell. He got to his feet and stepped carefully but quickly over to the stairs, and looking down, was pleased to see that they would lead him to the ground floor. It was only a fleeting feeling of joy—his concern for John overrode it rapidly.

His watch beeped again. Virgil barely had time to register what Scott said: "Be there in five."

Going down the stairs, the circular motion caused the dizzy feeling to arise again. It couldn't be ignored. Hating himself for stopping, Virgil collapsed to his knees and threw up.

He coughed and shivered involuntarily. Tears pricked behind his eyelids, which he swiftly blinked away, attributing them to the concussion. Trying to rise to his feet again, he dropped and retched again. Spitting in an effort to get rid of the horrible taste, he heard a knock and a bang as Scott kicked in the flimsy door that led from outside into the abandoned, flame-gutted building.

Virgil glimpsed his brother's creased forehead and tightening lips before he was once again forced to vomit. Scott strode over to him and knelt beside him, rubbing his shoulders. "You didn't say you were hurt."

"You didn't ask." Virgil grimaced at his tone and amended it. "I think it's worse than a minor concussion."

"I think so, too." Scott gazed around and saw the pile of rubble. "He's under that?"

"Pretty sure. Go help him. I'll be fine in a few minutes."

Scott nodded and trotted over to the pile. He wasted not a moment and began picking through the pieces, his brow furrowed and a determined look on his face.

Virgil got up and walked over to Scott, albeit slowly. If he passed out, he wouldn't be any help whatsoever. They worked together for a short while, both entirely focused on the task at hand. A bit like a machine, Virgil thought at one point.

Scott suddenly let out a strangled noise, and Virgil darted to his side. John lay still, an arm stretched out and bloodied. His face was scratched and bruised, and his chest didn't look to be moving at all.

Virgil bit his lip hard enough to draw blood as he cradled his brother's head in his arms. "John…Johnny…please don't be dead…"

Now be nice when you review.