~#~ (Chapter 2)
"Scott," Jeff tried again to get through to his son. "I have no idea if you can hear me but if you can, please, please activate your watch." Scott was so wrapped up in his grief that he barely registered Jeff's words let alone switched his watch onto transmit. "Scotty, I need to talk to Gordon and Alan. They've been holding position, just under the ground, since the building went down. They knew Virgil was hurt and are not happy that John wouldn't let them surface because they wanted to try and help. I need to tell them what's happened. Will you be alright in there if I leave John with you while I go and talk to them?"
Scott sucked in a deep breath and tried, not entirely successfully, to calm himself down enough to speak to his father. He carefully repositioned Virgil so his brother's forehead was resting against his neck and then reached down and switched Virgil's watch off. He breathed deeply for a couple of seconds and then pressed the same set of buttons on his own watch that he had done on Virgil's just a couple of minutes before. "Dad?" he croaked. "Don't let them in here. They don't need to see him like this. He…he…shit." Scott had made the mistake of looking down at himself. The leg of his flight-suit, where he'd been resting on the seat beside Virgil was soaked in blood and he had smudges and smears of Virgil's blood at random intervals over the rest of his clothes. "They don't need to see me like this either," he said quietly. "Tell them to take the Mole back and I'll deal with everything here."
Jeff had guessed that Scott would respond in the end and had held off going to speak to Gordon and Alan in a hope that his eldest son would prove him right. "You can't do it alone, Scott," he argued gently. "At the very least, you're going to need one of them to help you move Virgil. I can stall them a little, buy you some time maybe, but I won't be able to keep them away for long. He's their brother too, Scotty…and don't forget that they never had the chance to say goodbye."
Scott shook his head, winced and then gently pressed the base of his hand against his right eye. "Don't," he croaked again. "Virg did that to protect them and you know it. He wouldn't want them to see him like this."
Jeff shrugged. "I know he wouldn't have, but unless you can see something I've missed then there's no way around it. I'll give you as long as I can but I'm not going to keep them out for good. You need their help, whether you want to admit it or not and they're going to need to help."
~#~
Scott slammed his arm viciously against the side of Virgil's seat. This had the desired effect of cutting off both Jeff and Thunderbird 5, even though John had been completely missing from view during the conversation with Jeff. "Sorry Johnny," he whispered. "Not aimed at you."
The movement of Scott's arm dislodged Virgil's head from its resting place against his neck and he flopped limply forwards until Scott caught him and held him close again. "I think we need to clean up a bit before the kids get here," he murmured. "Tell me everything's…Ah, good, I thought it'd still be there."
Scott had been one-handedly rummaging around under Virgil's seat while he was talking. His fingertips found one of the loose handles of the first aid kit and he pulled it up, out and onto his lap. He unzipped the kit, pulled out all the sterile wipes he could lay his hands on and then pushed the rest of the kit away from him and onto the floor.
He tore open the top of one of the wipe sachets with his teeth and gently started to clean the blood from Virgil's chin. He smiled sadly as he worked, totally unaware that tears were rolling, unbidden, down his face.
~#~
Scott finished cleaning up Virgil's chin. He started wiping down his brother's cheek and when he got level with Virgil's mouth, he was suddenly hit by a barrage of memories. Virgil as a baby, smiling widely while wearing almost as much applesauce as he'd eaten. The hasty clean-up operation after a four-year old Virgil had proudly put together his first peanut butter and jelly sandwich in their mother's spotless kitchen. A slightly older Virgil covered from head to toe in mud after a three-year-old Gordon had 'accidentally' upended him into the ditch that ran alongside their grandparents' Kansas farm.
The memories came faster and faster and Scott dropped the wipes with a shriek as a sharp pain emanated from behind his right eye and shot with lightning-fast speed across his temple and up into his hair line. The pain repeated its journey several more times until Scott slipped from the chair and crashed to the floor on his knees. "John?" he gasped. "Dad? I…Aaargh…" Scott's words were cut short when another wave of pain rippled through his head. He tried to push himself up from the floor with his left hand and barely managed to support himself as his stomach rebelled and he vomited, loudly and messily over the floor.
Scott grimaced and crawled backwards slightly in order to avoid the mess he'd just created. "Jjj…Jjj…onny. Hel..." He broke off again and let out a shrill cry as he leant his head against the somewhat cleaner patch of floor which was now in front of him. "Jjjohnnnn. Vvvirg. Plllease…ppplease hhe'lp. Ssome…one…hhhelp mme." Scott wrapped his arms around his head and let out another hoarse cry before slumping silently to the ground.
~#~
Due to Scott cutting him off, John was present, via Gordon's watch, when Jeff broke the news about Virgil's death to the youngest members of the family. The pair clung to one another for several minutes while John and Jeff spoke quietly to them and explained that Scott needed some time alone with Virgil before they could join him in the unenviable task of removing their fallen brother from his stricken machine and return home.
It was unanimously agreed that no-one should try to part Scott from Virgil. Despite his usual bluster that no-one flew Thunderbird 1 apart from himself, everyone knew that the eldest Tracy boy would be travelling home with Virgil's body in Thunderbird 2's sickbay. The large, green Thunderbird had a purpose-built cool room for the unfortunate times when rescues turned out to be little more than body-retrieval. The small room had thankfully not seen much use but the thought of putting Virgil in there was too abhorrent for everyone and the idea had been discounted just as soon as it had been raised.
Alan and Gordon agreed to give Scott the time he needed to be with Virgil and set about closing down the rescue site in order to facilitate leaving once everyone, alive or dead, had been loaded into the two Thunderbird machines.
Gordon composed himself as best he could before climbing out of the Mole. He took a few deep breaths and then strode over to the local fire-fighters and ordered them to concentrate their hoses on the remains of Unit 4 as it was the only one still burning, albeit slowly now that the walls and roof had been folded onto one another.
~#~
Gordon's watch sprang to life just as he finished organising the fire crews. He could hear the upper tones of John's voice calling frantically through the small device and stepped quickly away from the fire-trucks so that he could properly hear what was being said.
"…and yelling and then it all went quiet. You need to get in there, like NOW, Gordon. You hear me?"
"Going," Gordon yelled as he took off running. He stormed around the outside of Unit 4 and skidded to a halt in front of the still, yellow form of the Firefly. He could see Alan approaching with a stretcher from the direction he knew Thunderbird 2 to be parked and correctly guessed that his younger brother had just returned the Mole to the pod, ready for leaving.
He waved at Alan to acknowledge him and then scrambled up the side of the Firefly and in through the hatch that Scott had left hanging open. He hurried towards the front of the vehicle, calling for his brother as he went. "Scott," he cried. "Can you hear me, Scott? Are you hurt?"
Gordon gingerly pushed open the door to the Firefly's cabin and stopped dead. Even though he'd been pre-warned about the devastation that he'd see inside, nothing could have prepared him for the sight itself. His eyes were immediately drawn to the huge metal pole sticking through the windscreen and his gaze followed the beam down its length to where it disappeared into Virgil's body. He looked grimly at the awful damage that had taken his brother's life and valiantly swallowed down the bile which threatened to erupt from his stomach.
He wrenched his eyes away from Virgil and let out a soft cry when he immediately spotted Scott. The eldest Tracy brother was slumped on his side with his back against the base of Virgil's chair. He was covered in blood, had his hands wrapped around his head and was totally silent and still.
Gordon hitched in a breath and stepped carefully around the puddle of vomit on the floor. He squatted down beside Scott and rested one hand gently on his brother's back. He sucked in another breath and slipped two fingers of his other hand inside Scott's flight-suit and rested them against his neck.
After several failed attempts at finding a pulse in Scott's neck, Gordon tried his wrist. When this also failed he rolled Scott slightly and checked his eyes.
Scott's blank, partway-open eyes were Gordon's undoing and he let out a loud sob, scrambled to his feet and flew out of the door. He ran through the Firefly and managed to haul himself out of the hatch and down onto the hard concrete floor before losing the contents of his stomach.