And part 3. Still one more part to come, I decided to go for four parts as opposed to just three. Thank you so much for the reviews, they're really encouraging. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: Oh, wow, guys, look what I bought! Jokes, I still don't own them.
Virgil grabbed the wall as the door opened, the swishing noise reminding him of his swirling head and neither making him feel at all well. The dizziness had struck again while he'd been making his way down the stairs and he stumbled into the room, heading for the cabinets on the far side.
I swear I've got something in here for burns, he thought to himself, and the cabinet was pulled open with a crash as he overestimated the strength needed. All of the bottles and tubes and bandages and medical supplies loomed in front of him, and yet none of the labels were clear. All of them had a sort of blurry tint to them, not enough to make him worry but bad enough to prevent him from finding the burn gel. He gave up, and poured himself a cup of water instead from the sink, deciding that he'd wait until his clear sight came back before he started undoing random tubes.
His fingers had stopped shaking as much, calming down after his mad rush to the cupboard, and he slid down the wall, cup of water held between both hands as if it were a warm Thermos on a cold day. He cautiously took a sip, curling into a miserable ball, and closed his eyes for a second…
The doors swished open behind him.
"Virge? You down here?" Footsteps sounded on the linoleum and Virgil twisted to see John striding purposefully towards him.
"Are you okay?"
Virgil smiled. His lips felt like they had been stretched and then frozen, a sort of numb stiff feeling.
"Yeah, just … can't find the burn stuff." He looked up at the cupboard still open above him tiredly. A hand reached over his head and grabbed a small tube of burn gel from the top shelf. John pulled Virgil to his feet and then pushed him to sit on one of the infirmary beds.
"Where are the others?"
John smirked slightly, unscrewing the tube. "Alan's having trouble eating his cake one-handed and Gordon's trying to make it as 'easy as possible'. He's got that look on his face that says he's out for revenge so I can only guess more happened yesterday than you told me. Anyway, you'd think after all the times Alan's managed to injure that arm he'd be able to feed himself adequately." He gently dabbed some of the gel onto Virgil's burnt fingers. Virgil stared at it.
"It's blue."
"I'm aware," replied John dryly, continuing to gently wipe some of the lotion over the worst of the burns.
"I don't like blue," said Virgil.
"I'm aware of that too," said John. Once he'd finished, he tidied up the equipment, putting it neatly away while Virgil hopped off the bed and tested his fingers. It would be a while before he'd be able to play the piano properly. He'd tried before with burnt fingers and the sounds he'd created had made him cringe…
"Virgil."
"Huh?"
"You're exhausted." The tone was somewhat surprised, as if the owner was only realising for the first time just how bad Virgil actually looked.
"What? No. No, I'm fine!" Virgil's voice didn't sound as strong or confident as he had meant it to be and there was skeptical silence from John in reply. "Okay, so I'm a little tired, but I'm not going t-to go to bed or sit and relax when you've all just gotten home! And it's your birthday to boot!"
"Virgil?"
"What?" Virgil froze where he had his hands waving in the air and slowly lowered them.
"Sit down." Virgil sat. "Now listen. I would rather spend a quiet day with all of my healthy and well-rested brothers than have one of them burn out and end up missing the fun because he's in the infirmary." Virgil looked at his fingers.
"Got it," he said quietly.
"What I can't understand is why you're being so … so agreeable!" said John frustrated. "Normally you'd be up in arms if someone told you to rest, and snapping at the rest of us to leave you alone!"
"That's because it's usually Scott. I guess I'm just tired," suggested Virgil. "And it's your birthday, I can't really make any sort of fuss."
"No, kiddo, this goes beyond tiredness or it being my birthday." John sat next to Virgil on the bed and put his arm around him. "You've been alone for far too long." Virgil sat up straight, fierce in his defense, but John just pulled him closer. "Don't try to deny it, I know Gordon and dad haven't been here the whole time, and Scott, Ohana, Brains, Alan and I haven't either."
"I'm fine, Johnny," said Virgil. "I'm not some kid you have to baby. I'm just tired and that's it." John grinned and took back his arm as Virgil got to his feet. His face was flushed with annoyance.
"Now that's the Virgil I know," he chuckled and even Virgil had to smile a little in the midst of his irritation. "And in case I didn't make myself clear: fine or not, if I find you passed out in some corner or collapsing from doing too much work, not only will I make your life a living hell for the next week but I will also give Scott free reigns."
"You're evil, Johnny."
"Oh, I know it. I also know who put up all the streamers and balloons much too early this morning then stayed to wait up for Scott." He raised an eyebrow and Virgil blushed a little. Honestly, the streamers had been Gordon's idea, but what with Alan falling off of the ladder setting them up, he'd shied away from finishing the job. Virgil had taken up the challenge, made even harder by the fact that John had been asleep, but he'd managed to get it done. And the only other person until know who'd known just who'd set up the decorations had been Gordon by process of deduction.
"Virgil? John? You okay?" Both Tracy's felt slightly ashamed at hiding away in the infirmary, the memory of Alan attempting and failing to eat his slice of cake having to contributed significantly to John not dragging Virgil back up the stairs.
"We're here, dad," called Virgil, resigned.
"Well, good. Do you think yourself and the birthday boy could come back to the dining room now? Alan's managed to crush a piece of chocolate into Gordon's jacket and Ohana said something about bringing out more food for dessert."
"Has she brought out the meringue slice yet?" There was a pause and then the horror struck voice of the Tracy patriarch echoed lowly through the infirmary.
"There's more?" Both Tracy sons laughed and followed their father back up the stairs to face the mountains of food.
"Virgil?"
"Yeah?" Virgil hung back from going into the dining room and faced his father. Jeff Tracy put his hands on both of Virgil's shoulders.
"I'm sorry I haven't been around much lately, and what with Scott, John, Ohana and Alan being gone, I know a lot of the work has fallen to you, especially since Gordon's been with me most days." He squeezed Virgil's shoulders slightly. "I just wanted to let you know that I'm very proud of the way you've handled yourself the past few weeks."
If anything, Virgil was a little confused. Yes, he'd been alone most of the time and there were certain times it had bothered him a lot, but work-wise he really hadn't done anything special. He'd cooked a little, cleaned the 'Birds, done a bit of mundane housework and repair-work, and made sure that nothing had gone wrong. He'd coordinated a dozen or so rescues in various countries from the island computers, simply because they hadn't been bad enough for the Thunderbirds to fly out. He was very grateful that they hadn't been that big, though they had taken hours to coordinate, because although both Scott and John were ready to come home and fly out at a moment's notice, Virgil was doubtful as to the success of that endeavour. And there had been Alan's arm yesterday and setting up for John's birthday, oh, and Gordon had managed to bash his head open the first week the elder Tracy sons had been away, but other than that there hadn't been anything really out of the ordinary. And he wasn't sick.
"Thank you?"
Jeff chuckled and swung an arm over Virgil's shoulder and pulled him into a side-hug. He leaned close to whisper in his ear, "And your chocolate cake was delicious!"
They began walking back into the dining room together.
"Now, let's get some food in you before you pass out. You look far too thin and, frankly, your face is pale enough to worry me."
By the time Virgil and his father had made their way back into the kitchen, Gordon had managed to clean up the majority of the chocolate embedded in his jacket and Alan was apologising profusely, already in Gordon's black book for the incident yesterday.
"It seems we've got two out of sorts Tracy's today," said Jeff grinning.
"What are you talking about?" laughed Scott. "Alan's always clumsy!"
"Actually I was talking about Gordon. By now he'd have chased Alan off the island for getting chocolate cake on his jacket." Gordon looked up from where he was wiping off the last smudges.
"It's the arm," he said nonchalantly. "You just wait."
"You just don't think I can take you with a bruised arm," taunted Alan, somewhat unwisely, forgetting for a minute that Gordon could very well pin him without ever touching his arm.
Virgil grinned when Alan leapt away from Gordon and scooted behind his older brother.
"Virgil, save me," he cried, slipping and skidding on the wooden floor in his socks. Virgil just laughed, dodging when it looked like Alan was going to catapult into him, and moved to stand by Scott. Scott eyed his younger brunette brother speculatively and with more than a hint of suspicion.
Virgil felt his cheek grow hot and turned to see Scott staring at him.
"What?"
"Nothing," dismissed Scott casually, but his clenching jaw spoke otherwise. However, before Virgil could question him, Gordon suddenly stopped from where he was climbing on the dining room chairs.
"Virge's here, so now we can sing! And open presents!" He stood tall upon the chair and raised his hands like a conductor. "And a one, and a two, and a happy birthday to you!"
They sang and, shortly after, Scott went to get the presents from the lounge.
"Hey, Virge, John, come sit down next to me and we can watch these layabouts do some real work for once!" Virgil, unable to protest, was dragged into a chair beside Gordon, and John was manhandled into the chair on the prankster's other side. Both men watched the chaos as Scott delivered the presents to the table and Alan piled them into a teetering mound in front of the star-gazer. Gordon, meanwhile, started in on Scott's portion of the birthday cake, having already finished his own and sitting too far away to cut himself another piece.
"Can I start now?" asked John amused. Alan made a hasty grab for the wobbling tower.
"Yeah, you might want to," he answered, a little breathlessly.
Very soon the only noise was the crinkle of wrapping paper, exclamations of surprise, Scott and Alan's side comments interspersed with Jeff's, and the sound of crumbs hitting the floor from Gordon's fiendish munching.
"This is incredible, Virge!" John pulled out a painting about half as tall as he was but at least four times as wide. It was of the view from John's window on Tracy Island at sunrise, and brilliantly painted in water colours. Virgil smiled.
"Had to spend a few hours in your room to get it right. I had to move some stuff too so if you can't find anything just ask and I'll try to remember where I put it." He rubbed the back of his neck, a little embarrassed at the attention given to him not only from John but all the Tracy's.
"Wow, Virge," whispered Alan, stunned. "I didn't know you could paint like that."
"Yeah," added Gordon, eyebrows raised. "I mean, I knew you'd been getting up early and sitting in Johnny's room lately, but this is … wow."
"That's because he just about tries to kill us every time we go near his sketchbook and paintings," grinned Scott, who'd been on the receiving end of a snappish Virgil more than once. John just sat gobsmacked.
"You've been saying you miss Tracy Island when you're up in Five, so I thought you could stick this somewhere in there when you next go up."
"Thanks Virge," said John softly, and Virgil could see he was delighted with the gift.
"You're welcome," replied Virgil. "Happy birthday."
Dinner that evening was a far more subdued affair as no one was too hungry after the magnificent spread that was lunch. Gordon in particular couldn't possibly eat any more, having systematically made his way through the various Tracy's slices of cake while they fussed over the presents. It had taken Scott over an hour to make the connection between the borderline hyperactive Gordon and the mysteriously missing pieces of cake.
Virgil sat at the table yawning.
"Virgil, go to bed," said Jeff. Ten minutes and two dozen yawns later, John said the same thing, and after that Gordon and eventually Alan. Scott remained silent throughout, mysteriously wincing whenever he opened his mouth, but his glances across the table spoke volumes.
"Look," said John finally as Virgil appeared to nod off for a second, hastily pulling his head back up before it landed on his plate. "I meant what I said before. You've organised an amazing birthday and we have the next few weeks together as a family. I don't mind if you go to bed."
"But the dishes–"
"Ohana can do them or, if you're so attached to them, you can do them in the morning."
"She just got home, she can't be made to pick up my slack."
Ohana, hearing her name, came through to the dining room.
"Hon, don't worry about the dishes. You go and get a good night's sleep."
"Alright," relented Virgil, "but I'm doing them first thing in the morning. And John, I'm going to get those streamers down too."
"Sure, Virge, tomorrow. Now go get some sleep."
Virgil meandered his way up the stairs to the voices of half a dozen goodnight calls, and headed straight into John's room, grabbing the ladder on the way in. Two-hundred and thirteen multi-coloured streamers hung from the ceiling, various drawers, and the curtains. It looked as if someone had popped a massive party-popper right in the centre and it had vomited its innards all over his brother's bedroom. Virgil had to admit, it had looked a lot better in the dark. There were even some ripped pieces above John's bed, flakes having fallen into the folds of his blanket, from where he had apparently woken up and gotten the fright of his life. Virgil grinned and wished he'd hidden a camera somewhere.
He started to pull them down one by one, the rainbows ungluing from the wall easily and cleanly and the ladder moving without a sound. They'd been stuck up with some of Gordon's prank glue, having been left outside of Gordon's door for Virgil's use after the red-head had gone to bed. Very soon a pile started to form in the centre of the room and Virgil cursed after he tripped over it for the third time. He was far too tired to actually do anything about it beyond push it outside of John's door, and the multi-coloured mess sat placidly beside the entrance to the older blonde's room.
Virgil sat down heavily on the bed and started picking the bits of streamer out of the crevices. It would be so much easier if he'd been able to just shake the blanket out, but then who knew where all of the little pieces would end up?
He picked at them one by one, tossing them into a pile on the floor and getting into a rhythm. Pink one, orange one, blue one, green one, another green one, purple one, orange one...
A curse floated down the stairs and Scott looked up. John saw the movement and followed his eyes to the stairs. Another curse came and a bang as well. John raised his eyebrows.
"That doesn't sound like he's asleep."
"That's because he's not," Scott growled, standing up roughly. "He's in your room pulling down those streamers." John grabbed his arm and pulled him back down.
"Calm down, he's fine. Just give him a couple of minutes and then we can go and check on him, he'll be asleep by then." Scott slowly sunk back into his seat, giving everyone in the lounge a cursory glance and then refusing to remove his eyes from the stairs.
"I told you he was in your room." The voice drifted passed Virgil's ears. He could feel something rough under his hand and he clenched his fingers. The rough thing made a crinkling sound like wrapping paper and Virgil absently wondered if it was someone's birthday.
"He's just lucky he didn't break his neck pulling down those streamers. What was he thinking? He could've fallen off the ladder being that tired!" A weight settled somewhere to Virgil's left and the surface he was lying on tilted slightly. "Do you reckon we should take him back to his room?" Something rustled softly.
"Nah, leave him here. He's finally asleep and he'd freak out if he woke to you carrying him. Again."
"I guess you're right. God, he looks so young when he's asleep. Hard to think he's an adult."
"You'll never see him as an adult, Scott. He's always going to be that little boy you left on that bus."
An incoherent splutter.
"Why does everyone keep bringing that up? I was twelve for crying out loud!" There was a tug on one of his legs and suddenly both were lifted up until they were level with his head. They were set gently down on the same surface he was lying on.
Virgil shifted slightly, turning his head to the side from where it was pushed into a soft, squishy thing, and sighed. A hand touched his head gently, brushing his hair back from his face, and he must have made some noise because it disappeared shortly after. A snapping noise. Something heavy and warm laid over him. Tucked in on each side.
"He's going to burn himself out, John." Soft voice, hard tone. Weary.
"He's simply been alone for too long. We'll get him back to his normal Virge-the-surge attitude soon enough." And Virgil drifted off again.