Scott finds his little brother on the landing overlooking Thunderbirds Two. The hangar had been the first place he had gone to check, and despite the situation, he feels an inappropriate surge of happiness that he still knows how his brother thinks.

This has been Virgil's place of solace ever since International Rescue had started, ahead of even his studio. Looking around, though, it doesn't seem to have worked so well this time around. Tools are strewn everywhere, a couple of shelves have been toppled over..theres even a can of touch up paint, the green of Thunderbird Two, that's been splashed across the wall and floor. The can lies on the opposite side, like it had been flung there. Seeing Virgil sitting on the landing among the carnage, the color of his beloved ship so violently thrown around in the background, makes Scott uneasily grit his teeth. The whole scene looks so wrong.

He quietly and carefully makes his way around the mess, making sure his bare feet miss the green paint. The floor is cold and he's cursing himself for not taking the time to change out of his pajamas as he shivers. Of course, he knows better to pretend that he would have given it a second thought. The minute he'd been called down to the infirmary by his dad, nothing else had mattered. After he'd talked to his dad…then really nothing had mattered.

Scott makes sure his feet make some sort of sound so he doesn't sneak up and startle Virgil. His brother has his legs hanging through the railing, and Scott has to push back images of a much smaller Virgil doing the same thing off the roof of their house. Reminders of a much more innocent time choke Scott with guilt whenever any of his brothers are hurting, because all it does is remind him that he just can't protect them from everything anymore.

As he sits down next to his brother, sticking his long legs through the railing as well, he really, really wishes he still could. It looks so much worse than he had expected, worse than even the mess behind them could have clued him into. Virgil looks…destroyed. Scott can't even come up with another word to describe the desolation and pain in the eyes of the man he's looking at. His younger brother his arms folded on the railing, and his forehead rests on the higher bar. He doesn't acknowledge Scotts presence, but keeps staring blankly at his Thunderbird. There are tear tracks all over his exhausted face, his eyes are bloodshot and lined with red, his face is splotchy…it makes Scotts breath hitch in his throat. How had he missed this?

Virgil must have felt him staring.

"Is Dad okay?" It's a hoarse, scratchy whisper, the voice of someone who just stopped crying. Scott has to swallow down the despair.

"Yeah, but you knew that." Virgil would never even think of leaving a patient if he wasn't completely sure they were okay. Said patient had been adamant that Scott give Virgil ten minutes before he went looking for him. Scott had been ready to go tearing down the house looking for his little brother, but something about Dad's voice had stopped him. He'd looked more distressed than Scott had seen him in a while, and it had left him with a weight in his stomach that has only gotten worse. Asking for more details had not gotten him much, as his Dad seemed reluctant to divulge what Virgil had told him. He'd simply looked at Scott, guilt stricken, and told him that his brother needed a little bit of time to work through what he was going to, and then Scott had to be there to talk to him, to reassure him that nobody blamed him.

At first, Scott had thought this was Virgil feeling guilty about whatever triage he had done at the scene for Dad. He had a habit of picking apart every little thing he did at the scene, especially when it concerned family, and torturing himself over what he could have done better. His Dad's whole demeanor and the face of the little brother sitting before him dashes that; this is something much worse.

A few seconds pass and when it doesn't look like Virgil is going to say anything, Scott speaks up.

"Virgil…what..?"

"Scott." It's almost a sob, and pleading brown eyes turn to look at him. It's an unspeakable plea, the "not yet" hanging unspoken. Scott takes a breath against the hurt now looking him square in the face, and nods, rubbing his brothers back.

"Okay. I'm sorry. I'm right here, whenever you want to talk." The brown eyes close, forehead going back to resting on the railing. They sit in silence, Scott continuing to rub circles on his brothers back, feeling his breathing hitch slightly. Despite everything, he still feels a sense of peace just sitting with Virgil again. It's been a while since they've been able to be around each other in a non-rescue setting without arguing.

Scott hopes this doesn't end in an argument again and that he's able to help with whatever has his little brother feeling so guilty. They might have had their differences the past few months, but Scott knows (hopes) he's still going to be able to suss out whatever this is.

The minutes tick by before Virgil finally speaks, not moving or opening his eyes. "I'm sorry. For what I said on Thanksgiving."

"For..Oh." The wheels are already turning in Scotts head. He'd figured this had something to do with Dad, but this really didn't seem to be a case of post-scene medic guilt. He's trying to pinpoint exactly what the problem is even as he says, genuinely meaning it, "That's okay. There's nothing more to forgive."

Virgil flinches slightly, but stays silent, eyes still closed. Scott gives him a few seconds. He's already replaying the events of Thanksgiving in his mind. It had been arguably one of the worst holidays in Tracy Family history, easily beating some of the ones they'd had after their mothers death. It was the first holiday after Dad had gone missing, and everyone had spent the whole day trying to keep up the cheerful façade out of a sense of obligation. It was clear to everyone, though, that the whole thing was barely hanging on by a thread, but no one seemed to be willing to be the one that shattered it. The whole day was full of frayed tempers, painful smiles and miserable conversation until they had sat down for dinner.

Alan had spoken up at the start of dinner about how grateful he was to have all of them at the table. Then he'd stopped, not meeting anyone's eyes, and very meekly stated that he hoped Dad was having a good Thanksgiving wherever he was. Scott had zeroed in on how Virgils hand had twitched before clenching into a tight fist, knuckles white, his eyes boring into the table in front of him. Gordon, John and Grandma had echoed Alans sentiment with patient smiles, and Alan had promptly burst into tears.

It was the first time he'd talked about Dad, the first time any of them had really talked about him other than their feverish attempts to find him. But this was the day Scott had figured out that Virgil didn't believe that they were going to find him. The middle child had been right there comforting Alan with the rest of them, but right after a tense dinner, he'd dragged Scott into Dad's office and ripped into him in a way he had never done.

Scott, nerves frayed by the whole day and the whole week and all the months of tension and misery, had yelled right back. Virgil, angry tears streaming down his face, practically screamed his throat raw at him about how Scott and John were basically torturing the family by continuing to search for Dad. The evidence was clear, as bad as it felt, that Dad was gone. There was no point, he had said, to continue to drag out this misery for all of them.

Scott had gone and called him a coward for backing down so easily, and Virgil had called him a coward right back for not being strong enough to grieve properly, holding out on a stupid fantasy that everything would turn out okay. Scott doesn't remember everything about the fight, but does remember the hurt mingled with fury at the things Virgil had shot at him, although in retrospect, most of it was fueled by his furious denial that Dad was dead.

They had yelled and yelled, and no one had been brave enough to come break them apart. It had abruptly ended, both of them glaring at each other through angry tears. All Scott had felt at the time was fury at his brothers selfishness and cowardice, but now he's hit with a surge of sympathy and pride at how hard Virgil had fought, and how most of the time he had fought for Alan, Gordon and Grandma. He'd been adamant that holding on was just hurting everybody, and that Dad was dead and there was no point….oh.

The realization hits Scott like a whip, everything falling into place. They'd both made up the next day, with Virgil apologizing for the things he'd said. Scott had too, but had stayed firm on the fact that he was going to keep looking for dad. Virgil had just nodded sadly, like that was what he'd expected, but had pleaded for Scott to keep Alan and Gordon out of it. Scott had felt another bolt of fury at that, but had grudgingly agreed, and had kept his word. But now that dad was back…

"He thinks we'll all hate him, Scott. You need to talk to him"

"Oh Virg…"

Even with the months of tension and distance, they still have that connection that they've always had. Virgil knows he's figured it out by just those two words, and his eyes scrunch shut, tears leaking out.

"Before…before you say anything." Pleading brown eyes meet his for just a second before they turn to his own hands. Helpless against how sad his brother sounds, Scott stops. "I…I know this….please just know how sorry I am. I…"

Shaking hands furiously wipe at trickling eyes, before they fall into his lap again.

"Please don't hate me, Scott. I can take everyone else being mad at me, but I…I can't take knowing we can never get past this." He hiccups out a sob, pleading brown eyes meeting his own. "I know this is unforgivable. If you're mad at me, that's fine…just please don't hate me forever. I hate myself enough."

Before Scott can say anything, he hears footsteps behind him. He looks back to find John walking towards them, the sympathy in his eyes and the nod he gives Scott telling him he's heard enough and figured it out. He settles down on Virgils other side, putting an arm around him as Scott speaks.

"Virgil, Christ, I don't hate you. We…why would you think that? You didn't do anything wrong."

Virgil just gapes at him and turns to look at the newly arrived John, who nods. "That might be the dumbest thing I've ever heard you say."

Virgil gapes at them, breath still hitching. He looks as if he was genuinely expecting to be told that he would never be forgiven.

"But I…How can you..? Do you not remember what I said?"

Scott can't stand it, and reaches out to wipe away the fresh tears, heart breaking even more as Virgil backs his face away, looking utterly confused.

"I.." He gasps out a little sob. "I wanted to stop looking for dad. I could have…"

"Virg.." John speaks up first, surprisingly. "You know better than to do this to yourself. You can't linger on what could have happened."

"But…"

"No buts." Scott interrupts this time. "John's right, Virg. This was…this was such a shitty situation." Even now, Scott can starkly feel the sheer frustration they've all been struggling with the past few months. "You had every reason to believe Dad was gone. Honestly, John and I did a lot of times too."

Virgil snaps his head up to look at him. The disbelief on his face is genuine.

"Oh yeah. There were times I literally told John to fuck off because he couldn't get his head around how Dad could have survived with all the evidence."

Turning around to look at John also gets him a sympathetic nod from the blonde. "Yeah. And Scott broke down on Christmas Eve because he was sure we were never going to have Christmas with dad again."

"What…when was all this happening?" The unspoken "where was I?" hung in the air.

Scott sighs miserably, guilt heavy in his chest.

"We hid it from the three of you." He looks up at John, and sees his own guilt mirrored in the blue eyes. They've really messed this up.

"Why?" It's a whisper, and Virgil looks so nakedly hurt as he looks at him, Scott has to force himself to not look away.

"Honestly, we thought we were protecting you guys. I don't…I don't know why we thought it was a good idea, but…we knew we were distancing ourselves from you, but we thought it was the right thing to do."

"We didn't want you to see us in our moments of doubt." John says. "We wanted you to keep holding out hope that Dad was alive, but.."

"We were scared, too. Even before Thanksgiving, when we got the evidence…it was so much more of a possibility that Dad was gone, but..I just couldn't accept it. Anytime I thought of it, thought about how Dad could just be gone, and I would have to lead IR, I just…"

He shudders involuntarily, looking back at Virgil. "I'm so sorry, Virg. We never…we never considered how shutting you guys out would make you feel."

The shock of the turn in this conversation at least seems to have stopped the tears. His brother looks shell shocked, like he's having trouble digesting everything he's hearing. Scott honestly can't blame him.

"The point is, Virg, you…you were the only one brave enough to do what we should have been doing the whole time."

Virgil angrily shakes himself, glaring at his hands.

"That's…that's bullshit." He spits out, surprising both of them with the sudden vehemence. "Whatever you thought, you both…you both kept looking. You didn't give up on our dad when the going got tough. Not like…"

He chokes off, anger falling away as quickly as it came.

"Virg. We were in denial. We had no reason to believe Dad was still alive, but we kept hanging on. You were the one who was looking out for our family."

"I let them believe dad was dead"

"You had no reason to think otherwise! None of us did! It was complete idiocy for us to cling on to the hope that Dad was alive."

"I think the point that Scott is making is that in a situation as shitty as this, there's no real answers. It's…completely out of our hands, and like I said, you can't go back and dwell on every what-if." John has his logic voice on, and Scott hopes it drives the point home. "Virg, I know how your mind works. There's no point going through all these scenarios in your head and fixating on the worst possible thing you think you could have caused. We have no way of knowing what could have been."

"But…"

Scott can feel the conversation going around in circles. Why were little brothers always so stubborn?

"Virg. The second we had a lead…literally the second the GDF said they had found something, were you not on your feet blasting full speed towards your ship?"

Virgil doesn't answer, just looks away.

"So the second we had a shred of evidence that Dad could be alive, you were right there with the rest of us?"

"I…yeah.."

"Then how could you think you were in the wrong? All you did was come to a logical conclusion with what we had. You were the only one who had the balls to accept what we had, no matter how horrible it was."

Scott has to take a deep breath to keep his emotion in. Talking about the past few months, and all that they went through, isn't easy. He doesn't even know if half of what he's saying is even making sense. But he knows deep down, he feels no animosity or anger towards the devastated brother in front of him. If anything, he feels the strongest sense of pride at the little brother who's grown up putting others before himself, who even now has likely been torturing himself for days, for a situation beyond his control. Scott lets the pride seep into his voice.

"God, Virg. I can tell you're not ready to believe this right now, but I can't even tell you how proud I am of you. No, listen!" He pushes on at the disbelieving scoff, wiping away the earrant tears with his thumb before cupping Virgils cheek. "You were the one looking out for Gordon and Alan, and comforting Grandma. John and I were chasing dead end leads and hiding away because we weren't strong enough to even face the possibility that Dad was dead."

"You're only looking at this through how it affected everyone else, you're not even considering how hard I know this was for you. You spent the past few months grieving for Dad by yourself, with literally no support from us. If anything, we just made the whole thing worse for you. You had to go toe to toe with our stubborn asses and try to get us to see reason."

"You tried so hard to protect Gordon and Allie and Grandma. We let them hold on to this fantasy because we weren't strong enough to even consider anything else, and you had to take care of them by yourself."

Saying it out loud has tears leaking out of Scotts eyes, and looking over Virgils shoulder, he sees Johns eyes brimming with unshed ones.

"I'm so proud of you. You were stronger than anyone else, and I'm so glad you were there to look after the family."

"I don't…I don't feel brave." Virgils voice is quiet and hoarse, and trembling hands wipe away tears. Scott can practically feel the exhaustion seeping from his brother.

"Virg…I really hope you know how sincere we are right now, and how sorry we are. You shouldn't have had to handle this all by yourself, and I don't think I'll ever forgive myself for that, but…you've spent your whole life protecting everyone, and that's all you've been doing these past few months."

He shakes his head, making sure Virgil can hear the pride and emotion in his voice. "God, Virg, how did you ever think we could hate you for any of that? Any of us?"

Virgils chin is trembling again. He looks from Scott to John, who just nods at him and gently puts a hand on his neck. He looks back at Scott, hesitant, as if searching for any trace of a lie.

"You really mean all that?" He licks dry lips. "You…you don't blame me?"

Scott shakes his head, knowing he's said what needed to be said. Virgil looks back at his Thunderbird, teeth catching his bottom lip. He's blinking back tears again, and Scott pulls him onto his shoulder, inwardly sighing in relief when his brother doesn't flinch away this time. He just takes a shaky breath, hand coming up to cover his eyes.

"I don't…" He shudders out. His voice sounds completely destroyed still, so Scott shushes him before he can continue. John shifts a little closer and takes the hand closest to him, while Scott brings his other hand around to cradle his head.

"This isn't gonna pass by today." John says, and Scott lets him, feeling a stab of anger because he can't remember the last time he hugged the brother in his arms, who's still shuddering slightly, completely wrung out. "Virg, you're exhausted, and you've spent the last few days convinced everyone hates you and beating yourself up about it. Just, please, believe us when we say we don't hate you, dad doesn't hate you, and tomorrow, you can hear Allie and Gordon tell you the same thing"

The hand on his face drops, and Virgil gives a shaky nod, swallowing. Another little sob, but it sounds like he doesn't have the energy to do anymore. He just looks at his Thunderbird, exhaustion written on every feature. John reaches out and wipes away the rest of the tears, rubbing Virgil's arm again.

He meets Scott's eyes, and Scott reads every emotion he feels clear on the blondes face. They're both older brothers who're being faced with the very real consequence of their failure, of their denial, in the form of the guilt-stricken and exhausted brother in front of them. So they sit with him, both doing their best to physically show that there is no hatred, no blame, and no chance of the scenario that Virgil had constructed for himself playing out.

Their little brother just sits there, blinking at his beloved bird, and they can both see the sluggish cogs working in his head, trying to digest what he's just heard. They know he hasn't completely believed it, and he won't truly believe it until he hears it from everyone, and even when he does, getting over the self-blame will be the hardest obstacle.

In a few minutes, Virgils eyes droop. The dark bags stand out starkly against the splotchy face, and Scott can't remember Virgil ever not being in the infirmary or working on his bird these past few days. Another thing to feel guilty about, so he just keeps smoothing down his brothers hair until the soothing gesture is enough for his eyes to droop closed, and keeps it up for another minute until the sadness finally slips off his face and his breathing evens. He looks so young and vulnerable against Scotts shoulder. John silently brushes his hair back, and without speaking, they rise, Scott picking up Virgil, cradling him to his chest. Together, they walk back to their little brothers room, fully aware they won't be going anywhere else for the rest of the night.