Disclaimer: Still don't own either the Tracys or the Thunderbirds.
A/N: Sorry for the delay in updating but my Grandfather had open-heart surgery and then my Mom was admitted to the same hospital a day later with blood clots in her leg and lung. Needless to say, writing has not been at the top of my list of priorities. sam1
Chapter 4
A sense of unease swept through Scott as he approached his brother's bedroom door. Dinner had come and gone along with the debriefing. Well, most of the debriefing, Alan and Gordon were currently in a closed door meeting with their father in his office. Shaking his head, Scott wondered for the millionth time what made his youngest brothers so very different from the older brothers. Sure, he, Virgil, and John loved to goof off and sometimes an ingenious prank just had to be played. But it was different with Alan and Gordon. They just seemed to feed off one another's antics thus the nickname The Terrible Two.
Rapping on the door, Scott shifted his weight from foot to foot, waiting. After a period of a couple of minutes, he overrode the code to enter his brother's private rooms. Being the oldest had its perks and though he didn't make it a habit to intrude on his brothers' private rooms or quiet spots around the island, he didn't hesitate to encroach on Virgil's privacy this evening.
"Virgil?" Listening hard, Scott waited a moment to let his eyes adjust to the darkness. The only light was the dim light showing from the bathroom. He made his way across the sitting room and large bedroom to the bed. "Virg, I just came in to check on you." Unaccustomed to his next youngest brother ignoring him, he reached down to shake him.
Before his hand touched the sheet, he heard a small whimper or whisper. He wasn't sure which. Not that it mattered and he reacted instantly. His long strides quickly closed the distance from Virgil's bed to the bathroom. Shocked, he cried out, "Virgil!"
Teeth chattering and eyes scrunched closed; Virgil blindly reached out for Scott. "S-S-Sc-Scotty…c-c-cold…" His hand finally grabbed onto Scott's. "H-hu-hurts." Scott's mind went into overdrive as he tried to figure out what was wrong with Virgil. This was no migraine as he was well versed with the symptoms that both Virgil and John suffered.
He activated the comm on his watch, "Brains, I need you in Virgil's room right now." Not taking the time to acknowledge Brains' stuttered affirmative, Scott awkwardly picked his brother up and carried him back to his bed. "Damn, Virg, you're too damn big for me to be carrying around like this. Do me a favor and lay off of the chocolate cake when it's served, okay?"
The only response he got was a small snore followed by a mumbled, "Don't w-w-wanna wake up. C-cold, Scotty."
Laying him on the bed, Scott quickly covered him with the sheet and then felt around the floor for the comforter. "We'll get you warmed up, little brother."
The bedroom door opened and after a few fumbles, the sitting room lights came on. "S-Scott, wh-what's the pr-pr-wrong?"
Still seeing to his brother, Scott glanced up. "He's complaining he's cold but when I picked him up off the floor from the bathroom floor, he was burning up." Brushing back the sweaty hair from Virgil's face, he shook his head. "Brains, I've seen both John and Virgil with migraines and this is nothing like what I've seen before."
"W-what are h-his symptoms?" Brains pulled out a thermometer from his medical bag along with a pen light.
"He was shaking, teeth chattering, feverish, and the headache from earlier. And I think the lights are bothering him," Scott answered. "Oh, and…shit, I can't remember which brother but one of them said something about Virgil holding his head stiffly. Kind of like it hurt to move."
"S-Scott, g-g-get Tracy O-One pr-pr-ready. NOW!" Brains dropped the thermometer and pen light back in his bag. "And h-have J-John look o-over the re-reports of the la-last few r-r-rescues. I w-want to kn-know l-loc-area, s-soil sa-samples, e-ev-everything."
Stunned at his friend's outburst but too used to being in charge, Scott snapped, "What's wrong with Virgil, Brains?"
"I h-hope I am in-in-wrong but I be-believe he has a f-form of m-me-meningitis." Unaware, neither of the men were aware of Jeff's presence until…
"WHAT?!"
