Merry Christmas to one and all!

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They never said recovery would be easy.

It should have been expected and yet no one was really prepared. There was something different about Virgil, no matter how much they all wanted to say otherwise. To begin with he tired so easily that it was hard to tell, but as the days slowly stretched out little things began to become apparent.

He flinched. It was only tiny, would have been unnoticeable to someone who didn't know him, but he flinched. When the door opened, when there was an unexpected sound, when Brains took a blood sample, if someone spoke too loudly or too suddenly. It wasn't huge, but it was distinctly un-Virgil-like enough to be noticed.

There was the language problem too. Often whilst he was dreaming, when woken suddenly or sometimes when he was simply too tired, Virgil would slide into speaking Hindi. Everything about the little slip screamed survival mechanism – it was the only language he'd had that wouldn't get him killed and still jumped to the front of his mind when he wasn't quite aware of his surroundings. He would catch himself and stop a few words in but there were still those few words.

Scars. He had new scars too. Gordon had been the one to crack open that can of worms in his usual well-meaning-but-unthinking way. Virgil had so far avoided all attempts to talk about how most of them had been caused, even with his father. The word 'torture' was loose in the air and no-one knew how to approach it.

It took another week before Brains started removing various IV lines and the like, although to Virgil's complete displeasure he insisted that the nasogastric tube had to stay in a little longer. He could eat – although only certain things, and only in small amounts – and had argued that that should have been enough to give him what nutrition he needed. Brains had said otherwise and Brains was the complete authority so for the meantime the tube remained.

Virgil had won the fight to be allowed to raise the head of the bed so that he was sat up, at least. It hurt a lot to go from lying to sitting and vice versa, but he seemed to take it as a challenge; it was one small thing he had control over, so he was damn well going to do it, pain or not. Brains had agreed that his ribs had healed enough not to shift with the movement and his body had taken to the few titanium replacements well, but just because the pain wasn't doing damage didn't mean that it wasn't still a huge obstacle to overcome.

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The in-coming Skype call button on the TV was flashing.

It was two o'clock in the morning and Virgil was sat up in bed staring out of the window at the night sky. The soft blinking light caught his attention and he waved the remote at the screen – there was only one person who was likely to call at this time of night so he didn't wonder about who it could have been.

"Hey John."

"Hey little bro', how's things?" John was out of uniform and bundled up in a woolly jumper, there was a mug of something steaming next to his elbow, which knowing him was probably chocolate.

"Mmm." Virgil's reply was entirely non-committal. "How'd you know I was awake?"

"Big brother sees all." John rubbed his eyes with a yawn. "And it isn't like you to be star-gazing; that's mine and Alan's domain."

"I didn't get to see the sky for over three months – if I can't sleep I'm going to make up for lost time."

"Is the insomnia usual?"

"I guess." Virgil sounded exhausted, which was in complete contradiction to their conversation topic. "I get the joyous choice between no sleep or nightmares. I hate it!" The pure anger in his voice wasn't unusual to hear anymore – no matter how tired or in pain he was. He had a lot to be angry about they all supposed, and he did his best not to vent it at any of his family but that was difficult given what he was dealing with.

"Are the pain meds still working?"

"That assumes that they worked to begin with." Virgil slumped back against the pillows, and the corresponding wince didn't go unnoticed. "I'm so tired of this, Johnny. Everything hurts, I can't close my eyes without seeing myself back there and I am so so tired of it!"

John nodded, as if he could possibly understand.

"And everyone hovers! I get that they're all worried, I get that they want to help but I just…I need space. I can barely get my head around what happened and I'm not being given any time to process it!" And Virgil just seemed to explode. It all came out at once, words tumbling over themselves as he leant forwards, drawing his knees into his chest. The position must have hurt like hell, but he didn't seem to care. "They all just see the medical charts and go 'oh, he's off this IV or that IV he must be getting better!' whilst I don't feel like I'm going anywhere at all! Every time I close my eyes I can see those faces again and I feel just as helpless and vulnerable and…and…broken as I was when it was happening!"

"Virgil…"

"I just want it all to go away! I can deal with the pain, I can deal with the injuries, I can deal with being stuck here doing Brains' damn breathing exercises, I can even deal with the mothering from everyone, but I can't deal with what's going on in my head!" He buried his face in his hands, only to then lift his head back up again almost instantly, his fingers dancing across the tape holding the nasogastric tube in place. "And this! I just…I can't…No. No!"

"Why not?" John's voice was as calm as it ever was, but by this point very little was going to get through to Virgil.

"At the beginning, the first week or so, I refused to eat anything. It just…you can't even imagine the filth they were giving us as food and I refused to eat it." Virgil laughed; a soulless little sound. "But they needed me alive, I was valuable as a hostage and they needed me. So one day they tied me to a chair and forced a goddamn feeding tube down my throat! It was like a garden hose! And it hurt like a bitch and I couldn't breathe and I thought I was going to die. I threw it all back up again of course, but they did it at least another three or four times over the next days until I finally gave in and started eating the crap they were giving us." He tugged at the thin tube stuck to his cheek again. "And Brains won't listen to me! I need this thing out! I can't…it's…I just…No! "

There were tears, but they were anger and humiliation more than anything. John would have been shocked into silence had he not realised what his younger brother was intending.

"Virgil! Don't you dare pull that thing out! I swear to God I'll set the main alarm going!"

At the best of times John had little authority over his younger brothers. He wasn't Scott and didn't have the commanding presence of the Thunderbird One pilot so he was less than surprised when Virgil completely ignored him.

The tube was very thin, but there was a lot of it – there needed to be to reach his stomach – and Virgil was less than careful. The action left him gasping and coughing – not a good move with broken ribs and a torso bullet wound – and he threw the tubing as far away from the bed as he could (not particularly far, all things considered).

"You idiot." John sounded exasperated.

"…sounds about right…" Virgil collapsed back against the pillows again, one hand pressed against his chest as if that could possibly hold his ribs in place against the coughing fit. His face was scrunched up in pain, but he cracked one eye open to look at the on-screen image of his brother. "You haven't turned the alarm on yet."

"Biding my time. I'm waiting to see if you're going to asphyxiate before I call in the cavalry."

"I think I'll be alright." The middle Tracy let his breath out slowly, closing his eyes again. "I'm a mess, aren't I?"

"Kinda. But with good reason. That was the mother of all temper tantrums though – I haven't seen you go like that since you were about six."

"It's been a long time in coming, I think." He cuffed a hand across his eyes, wiping away the tears. "Sorry."

"Oh God, don't apologise Virge! You've been through hell; you're allowed to have a meltdown or two!"

"No, sorry it was you I ranted at. Scott can take it, but you're the nice one. We never yell at you."

"Do you feel it helped?"

"A little? I don't know. For now, I guess."

"Then I don't care if you need to yell at me." John rested his chin on his folded arms, smiling sleepily. "Whatever helps. I'm probably the best for it really. Alan would cry, Gordo would yell back, Scott would lecture you, Dad would go way too mushy for your tastes. That leaves me. And if I ever do want to smack you one I'm all the way up here so you're safe."

"I guess. Thanks."

"Goes with the whole being an older brother thing, I suppose." The astronaut raised his head as a small alarm started going off behind him. "Ah damn, give me a mo'." He must have been sat on his office chair with wheels, since he shoved at the console and that sent him spinning off-screen. Virgil could hear him talking calmly to someone in Arabic, and since the pilot couldn't speak the language fluently all he caught was the end statement of 'and the rescue services are on their way'. So it couldn't be that bad if International Rescue themselves weren't required.

"Cat up a tree?" It was an old joke, but Virgil trotted it out anyway, which was worth it to see John roll his eyes with a tired smile when he reappeared.

"Child up a tree, actually. I've sent in the local fire and rescue."

"I heard."

"Yeah, how is your Arabic these days?"

Virgil smirked, but bitterly. "Not brilliant, but I can now say 'Stop speaking English, you American bastard' in Dari, Urdu and Punjabi, which I consider quite an achievement."

"Not the most useful thing for a rescue though."

"I bet I can work it in there somehow. Maybe make it my ringtone for Gordon."

John laughed, which was exactly why he was the one Virgil was talking to. He spent every day of his life listening to people going through the worst moments of their lives and talking them through it. In far far too many cases John was the very last voice a person ever heard and he had had to work out how to deal with that. He had heard some terrible things; he knew what it was like to hear a person burn to death, or slowly suffocate, or bleed out. And he had to be the calm voice that took away the terror and at the end was simply there with them as they breathed their last.

No-one knew how he did it without breaking into pieces each and every time, but he did, and now Virgil was realising that that composure was exactly what he needed.

John could listen. It was his job to listen. Scott couldn't do it – he would try to tell someone how they were meant to be feeling and things usually fell apart at that point. Gordon was little better because he interrupted the whole time and whilst he meant well he generally ended up taking over conversations. Alan…Alan was getting better at it – John had been training him for TB5 after all – but Virgil certainly didn't want to have his baby brother hear all of the crap he had been put through.

Jeff was a tricky one; he would try to be too understanding, and in effect lost what the person was actually trying to say to him. And Virgil wouldn't dare tell Grandma about the things he had witnessed – he couldn't put her through that.

And John knew all of this. Which was why he rested his chin back on his arms again, smiled gently and asked the question that Virgil knew would be the cue for him to really start talking about what had happened.

"So…forced feeding, huh? That's no fun."

"No fun at all. Kind of reminded me of Christmas, when Grandma doesn't think we've eaten enough." Another weak attempt at a joke, but John dutifully smiled all the same. "I was never sure what they were and weren't filming so I don't know what you guys know about."

"Mostly just the waterboarding. Also not fun?"

"Absolute nightmare. Although I have Gordon to thank for getting through that; do you remember he used to give us random water-based pep-talks during dinner? What to do when drowning, how to survive a shipwreck, how to get through waterboarding…"

"Kid can be useful sometimes, then." The space monitor said softly.

"You were all useful." Virgil coughed again, and grimaced. "Scott's bloodymindedness, Alan's optimism, Gordon's random facts, your calmness. It was a team effort."

"Do you want to tell me more about what they did?"

"Think you can handle that?"

"I've talked kids through a high-school shooting; I can handle it." He could as well. And Virgil knew that. The fragile-looking blonde brother that they hardly ever saw in the flesh was as hard as nails on the inside. "Talk to me, kiddo."

The hated nickname softened what he was asking.

"It was…I keep thinking of the word Hell, but that doesn't seem to do it justice." Virgil said softly. "There were times…Oh God Johnny, there really were times when dying actually seemed like the better option." He ran a tired hand across his face. "I can't say up until then I've ever really considered death as a way out – it's kinda the thing we try to avoid in our line of work."

"Yeah, being dead would make it very difficult to fly Two. I mean, knowing you you'd find a way, but it would be tricky." John simply took the comment in his stride, which none of the other boys would ever have managed.

"True. Didn't stop the thought though." Virgil rubbed a hand over the sore spot in the crook of his elbow where an IV line had been. "So, you know about the waterboarding. What else?"

"Not much really – they mostly just yelled at the camera with you unconscious in the background. We couldn't always tell how or why you were unconscious."

"Huh."

John watched the emotions chase themselves across his brother's face. "You know, I can absolutely guarantee that whatever actually happened, it can't be as bad as the scenarios I've been imagining. I mean, you've still got all limbs attached, so that's already a step up from what I thought might end up happening."

"You really know how to daydream, don't you?"

"Put my mind at ease then."

Virgil sighed. "Waterboarding. Uh, Taser? They used a Taser a few times – those things hurt like a son of a bitch" He knew John knew that – the second eldest had memorably tazed himself in high school as a dare from Scott. Their Father had gone berserk, but in the here and now it was nice to have someone who genuinely knew what that evil little black box could feel like. "Ice water? They'd push my head into a bucket of water and hold me down until I passed out. You'd have thought they'd have been more concerned with conserving water in a country like that."

"I really don't think they give a damn about stuff like that, Virge."

"No, probably not." Virgil carefully pushed the sleeve of the hospital gown up to his shoulder, although moving his arm that much obviously hurt his ribs. "Little things, like cigarette burns." He indicated to the small circular scars dotting his upper arm. "Proper medieval stuff like ripping fingernails, fake execution attempts, and at the end of the day people can do a lot of damage with just their fists and a pair of heavy boots."

John heard the rising tone in his brother's voice, that edge of panic that meant he was pushing just a little too hard against that emotional wall and tried to turn the conversation slightly. "Did they do anything to Robbie whilst you were there?"

"No. No, he wasn't deemed useful. They wanted me for the media coverage." Virgil raised a hand up to his mouth, biting down hard on his knuckles as a sudden sob burst out. "Oh God…"

He had thought he could talk about it, thought he was rational enough to talk it through without the memories overwhelming him, but that just wasn't the case. Just trying to think of the things that had been done meant remembering all of the little moments. That instance of terrible fear as a lit cigarette neared his bare skin, the drip of water which meant they were going to drown him again, the crunch of gravel as he fell to the floor.

The lights in the med-bay were dim, but they hummed. It was only a gentle little electrical buzz, but as the memories suddenly came as a tidal wave it was the exact hum of the strip lighting in the caves. It was too dark, and the lights were humming and there was a dripping sound coming from somewhere and..and…and…

"Talk me through seeing Thunderbird Two."

"I…what..?"

John's voice seemed to be coming from a very long way, not from a screen at the foot of the bed. "Thunderbird Two. That moment you saw her appear. Tell me about it." He sounded gentle, as if it were a mere point of interest.

"Thunderbird…"

"Two. What was it like to see her? To hear her?" Unseen, the space monitor pulled up some footage of Thunderbird Two taking off – just some stock film that Brains had taken to assess the angles.

The sound of the engines did the trick. Virgil's quick breath – near hyperventilation – slowed.

The hum of the lights wasn't the right hum, it was softer and to his musicians ear about three tones lower than the one that haunted his nightmares. The drip was just the leaky tap in the corner, a gentle plink of water on ceramic and nothing like the hollow sound water made when hitting a steel bucket. There was no gravel, the pillows were soft.

"Tell me about seeing her again." John's voice – and with his mind still partially back in the cave Virgil was brought back to that moment of calling his older brother on the stolen radio. John was asking him a question.

"She was…she…" He stopped, swallowed and tried to clear his voice a little. "There were these two mountain peaks and she appeared between them. I heard her before I saw her. Gordon was revving her too hard."

"Trust you to complain about how your rescue was handled."

"She overheats if you rev too long like that, and that sucks dust back into the vents that need to be cleaned out manually…" Virgil blinked at John, his eyes refocussing. "Those need cleaning…I need to clean the vents out before the dust cakes them up too much…"

John coughed to cover up his smile. "Uh, that was three weeks ago, and Gordon has been scrubbing them out after every flight – even when they probably didn't need it."

"Three weeks…?" And then his expression cleared and he sighed. "Of course it's been three weeks. Damn."

"Back with me now?"

"Yeah. Sorry."

"I think I'm going to put a veto on you apologising for anything to do with what happened; flashbacks, spontaneous swearing, ranting, venting and anything else of that ilk are on the 'completely allowable' list from now on."

"…See, this is why you're awesome." The middle brother managed a tired smile. "When are you coming home?"

John's own smile dropped at that question. "I don't know. Whenever Dad agrees to it I guess." He brightened a little. "You're doing that music thing again."

Virgil followed his brother's gaze down to his hands. Completely of their own accord his fingers were tapping silently against the bedcovers. It took a moment or two for him to recognise the pattern.

It was a habit he had started almost as soon as he had begun learning to play the piano – tapping out the songs he was practicing on any available surface. Over the years it had become common-place to see him absentmindedly playing silent pieces when stressed, in deep though or as a cool down after a rescue and he couldn't get to the real thing for whatever reason. The music didn't even need to be in his head, his fingers just picked a tune and played, both hands completely independent from each other.

"No one's dared touch the piano since we lost you. Well, figuratively. Grandma dusted it obviously."

"It's just an instrument."

"It's your instrument."

Virgil shrugged tiredly. "I haven't played in months, I can't imagine how bad I'll be."

"Still streets ahead of any of the rest of us." John smiled. "Hey, first thing when I get back, I'll try to persuade Brains to let you out for a little and we can see how awful we both now are. We can try some of those old duets we played as kids."

John did have a keyboard up on Five with him, but he had been pretty lax in bothering to play anything. However, when he saw his younger brother brighten up a little at the suggestion he promised to himself that he'd dig the instrument out and try to remember how to play it. At this point he wasn't certain he could still read music.

"In the meantime I can bully someone into letting you have a sketchpad at least, yeah?"

"I guess." Virgil didn't sound enthusiastic, but all things taken into consideration that was only to be expected. He started to yawn, then had to stifle it as it pulled against the numerous wounds and broken ribs.

"Well that looks painful."

"Everything's painful." But he then laughed, short and pained. "And I have a sore throat."

"Well that's what happens when you rip an NG tube out. I'm not giving you any sympathy about that."

"You are so mean…"

John nodded enthusiastic agreement. "Big brother's prerogative. Now, you look like you could sleep for a week. Are you going to at least try?"

The answer to that was a definite no. Virgil didn't want to attempt to sleep because he knew exactly what sleep meant, and that was the very reason he was still awake at stupid-o'clock-in-the-morning. Nightmares, flashbacks, and even his brain being inventive about what could have happened instead of what did happen. In the past few days his dreams had been slowly removing Robbie from the memories and superimposing a brother in instead.

He'd seen Alan shot in the head, falling like a sack of cement. Gordon had taken the bullet in his back – probably a remnant of the hydrofoil accident coming through – and it had torn him open like someone opening a zipper. Scott…that one changed each time. So far the ones Virgil could remember included leg, arm, shoulder and gut. Never fatal, always horrific to see. John always ended up with a bullet to the chest. A single straight shot that threw him backwards. Dead in an instant.

However, Virgil's older brother's tended to be able to read his mind. Whether or not the emotions were all that clear on his face didn't really matter.

"I can stay on the line if that helps? I've just finished up a new paper on the evidence of dark matter surrounding the event horizon of black holes formed under certain circumstances. I can always read it to you. That'll send you right off to sleep."

"Certainly sounds like it." Virgil's smile made it clear he didn't really mean the insult – usually he was more than happy to attempt to wade through John's astrophysics babble. "I'm happy to give it a go." He fumbled around until he found the remote that controlled the bed and lowered it a little so that he was more propped up than sitting – he had long since decided that it was less painful than lying flat on his back.

"Do you want me to pre-warn Brains about the tube so he doesn't try to lynch you tomorrow?"

"Mmm, yeah that's probably a good idea…Can you …can you talk to Dad as well. You know, about what we've talked about? I don't want to think about it more than I need to, but it would be better if he knew."

"Of course. What about the others?"

Virgil rubbed his eyes again. "Yeah, sure. Just…Dad first, yeah? Let him mull it over first…"

"Got it. Right, ready to be bored to sleep?"

"I await your research paper with baited breath."

Under any other circumstances the mechanic would have been genuinely interested, but he was in pain, he was exhausted, and his brother could sound quite hypnotic when he needed to. He slowly drifted off to sleep with John's soft voice quietly extrapolating on dark matter and black holes.

There weren't any nightmares that night.

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Brains was livid.

Incandescent even. No-one had ever really seen him in quite a state – probably because he didn't usually have a life quite so literally in his hands, and he had been stressed enough as it was trying to keep Virgil's recovery on track.

"Th-there was a very g-good reason I in-insisted on keeping the na-na-NG tube!"

"I can keep food down now." Virgil, thoroughly chastised, wasn't even trying to fight back, just softly explaining his reasoning.

"That's not the p-point! You're still d-dangerously un-underweight!" That was an exaggeration but Virgil wasn't about to correct him. "Malnutrition can have s-serious long t-t-term consequences!"

"I know, but I'm willing to follow any diets you put in place, I'll even have an IV back in if that will help, but I can't have that tube." The young man wasn't even attempting to keep eye contact. "I did try to tell you, and I know John explained."

Brains pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yes, yes, I know. I a-am aware of th-that, but actually y-you didn't ex-explain to me. You complained a l-lot about it, b-but never s-said why." He waited, and when there wasn't a reply forthcoming sighed in exasperation. "Look, th-there's no shame in having tr-triggers. Most of us h-have triggers for wh-whatever reason, and that's wi-without going th-through what you d-did. But you've g-got to t-tell me so I c-c-can try something dif-different."

Virgil nodded, although didn't look happy about it. "What did Dad say?"

"H-he quite cheerfully o-o-offered to kick your ass f-for me, but I assured h-him I could m-manage." Brains finally shook his head with a wry grin. "D-did you have t-to throw the t-tube on the f-f-floor?"

"I was having a moment and the floor seemed appropriate."

"W-would that be the m-m-moment that John described a-as a mon-monumental temper t-tantrum?"

That drew a smile from the injured pilot. "That would be the one."

Brains looked down at his tablet again, scanning through the various readouts. "W-well, I'm st-still not happy w-with you, b-but if you can c-continue to gain w-weight and k-keep your f-f-food down then we'll s-see how it goes. But!" He held up a warning finger as Virgil brightened considerably. "But, if y-you start t-to deteriorate th-then I'm p-putting an IV i-in. Deal?"

"Deal." Virgil finally made eye contact again. "I don't think I've ever seen you lose it like that before."

"You w-w-weren't there when I f-first tried to g-get Five up and r-r-running and l-life support wasn't p-playing ball. Gave John a n-nasty shock, I c-c-can say that m-much." Brains was still tapping away on the tablet, but grinned over the top of it momentarily.

"When can I start trying to get up and about?"

"C-can you s-s-sit up without getting out of br-breath? And hold a f-full conversation without f-falling asleep at the e-end."

"Of course!" No. He couldn't. He was already feeling the strain of this exchange as it was, but he was a Tracy and was hardly going to admit to that. However, Brains knew him far too well for that and saw straight through the lie.

"G-give it another d-day or so. Th-then maybe you can try st-standing." He saw the mutinous look come over his patient's face and knew that that wasn't going to go down well. Virgil had been stuck in a cave for three months and had now been stuck in the med-bay for a further few weeks. For someone naturally so active and energetic Virgil wanted to be up and about again and there was no way he could be. He'd had a few hours on the infirmary balcony the past few days – with his father for company – but he hadn't been able to stand on his own two feet yet.

Trying to find something to soften the bad news, the scientist held out his tablet. "H-here. I've p-put Robbie's Sk-Skype address on th-there."

"Robbie?!" Virgil reached out, then sucked a short breath in, falling back against the raised pillows with his arm wrapped snuggly around his chest. "…Damnit…"

"C-careful!" Brains placed the tablet on his friend's knees. "Y-you've got another f-few hours before you're scheduled f-for ph-physio, so see if h-he's around. It's af-afternoon in the UK."

"Thanks…" Virgil managed a tight smile as he attempted to breathe through the pain of overstretching his ribs.

"I'll c-come by later."

Left to his own devices the young pilot didn't immediately go for the tablet. Instead he sat, hunched a little, waiting for the fire in his chest to die down. It was infuriating that every single tiny movement brought a wave of pain along with it that more often than not left him struggling to breathe until it passed. The position was pulling on the bullet wound in his back, but that was negligible compared to everything else.

By the time he felt able to move again the tablet had gone to sleep and it took his tired brain far too long to remember the household password. Brains had left Skype open with a new number on it and Virgil decided to type a message first, in case Robbie wasn't there.

His touch-typing skills were rusty too.

Hey, it's Virgil here, you online?

He sent the message and slumped down a little into his pillows as he waited to see if there would be a reply.

He'd missed Robbie. For three very long months the Brit had been the only friendly voice he'd heard. And actually, they'd had rather a lot in common; to keep their minds off of everything else they had conversed enough to know nearly everything there was to know about each other after all.

Virgil was startled awake by the bubbling ring-tone and was shocked to find that he'd fallen asleep, again. At least fifteen minutes had passed, but he would have sworn he'd only closed his eyes for a moment. Trying to shake the drowsiness away for at least a little longer he pressed the answer button.

"Virgil! Hey mate, long time no see!" Robbie's big grin filled the whole screen. It occurred to Virgil that he had never really seen what colour the man's hair truly was, and was surprised to see a copper mop bright enough to rival Gordon's. "I've been wondering how the hell to get in contact." The infectious enthusiasm wasn't what Virgil remembered most from their imprisonment together, but it was welcome all the same.

"Yeah, tricky to make a personal call to International Rescue. How have you been?"

"Fine! Well, bored to death because I'm still stuck in hospital, but otherwise I'm still surfing the 'oh my God I'm free' wave. You?"

"Also stuck in hospital." Virgil laughed at his friend's look of worried confusion. "No one told you? I was shot in the back not a few moments after you went down."

"Damn, that sucks! Are you okay?"

"Couple of titanium rib replacements, a re-inflated lung and some serious blood loss. I'm lucky to be alive by all accounts, but I am, so all is good." He smiled ruefully. "I think you rather got the raw end of the deal didn't you?"

"Are you kidding? I'm a master of yoga now; look, I can put my leg behind my head!" Robbie grinned brightly and brought his arm into view of the webcam, waving a prosthetic limb around.

That startled a burst of laughter from Virgil, who then immediately regretted it.

"What? Are you alright?!"

"Laughter and busted ribs really don't go together." He was still chuckling weakly though. "I can't believe you just made that joke!"

"Got to look on the bright side of life, and as I said, the whole 'freeeedddoooom' thing is still keeping me rather giddy."

Two years. Virgil was struggling to readjust to three months of captivity – no wonder Robbie seemed to be losing it somewhat. Two years of hell, a considerable amount of which was in complete isolation. That would be enough to send anyone somewhat bonkers.

"Was that a Braveheart quote?"

"Hell yeah! Terrible film, but memorable line." Robbie was practically humming with energy – although it was hard to tell if he was high on pain meds, just that happy to see Virgil or this was genuinely his normal personality when not stuck in a cave. "So, when are you going to be able to escape hospital?"

"Hopefully I'll be allowed to start moving around a bit more independently in the next few days. I'd have tried earlier, but I've still got a catheter in and I am not messing with that!"

"Know the feeling; Team Catheter! I've still got three IV lines in too."

"I ripped my nasogastric tube out last night, but I'm now on the threat of having another IV put in if I can't keep my weight up."

Robbie burst out laughing, which was a hell of a tonic to hear. "You must have been seriously pissed off to rip out an NG!"

"Wasn't my finest moment." Virgil glanced up sharply as the main alarm in the house suddenly started blaring.

"What's that? Fire alarm?"

"Rescue alarm. Thunderbird Five is calling down." He really shouldn't be explaining the inner workings of International Rescue, but he'd already told the Brit pretty much everything else. "They'll be off in a few minutes."

Maybe it was the way he said it, but it made Robbie smile sympathetically. "Hey, give it another few weeks and you'll be out there too."

"Thanks." That was true. Virgil was waiting to recover and that sucked, but at least he would recover – at least he had that option. "What about you? What are you going to do now?"

"What? One legged bomb technician not good enough for you?!" The soldier shrugged and his smile slipped a little. "I dunno, an army pension isn't much, but it's tricky trying to get my head around my lack of leg."

"I bet. Look, I know I'm not in the best position to offer help, but if there's anything I can do..?"

"Well if I get too strapped for cash I can always sell my story to the tabloids; worth a fortune!" His grin came back, showing that he didn't really mean it. "But on a serious note, I have had MI5 and the CIA sniffing around."

"What? Why?"

"They're after you, you dunce. They all know we were held captive in the same place so they're trying to get information out of me."

Yeah, they should have seen that one coming. "What have you said?"

"Besides your name, age, birthday, social security number and star sign? I told them we were kept in separate cells and that I didn't even know you were being held too. MI5 pressed pretty hard about the rescue, but since I'm not even lying when I say I don't remember that, I think they bought it."

"And you think this line is clear?"

"Well some blonde chick in a seriously pink outfit turned up with this iPad, said she was from the Tracy's and that this was a clear line. Don't worry, I quizzed her extensively before I trusted her, but she obviously knew you personally."

Virgil had had to supress his laugh at the description of 'blonde chick in pink'. "Yeah, that would be Lady Penelope. She's technically an agent – which means she helps out on-scene before we get there – but she's practically family. I didn't know she'd been to see you."

"About two weeks ago."

"Well I was in a medically induced coma two weeks ago so that would be why I didn't know."

"That would do it. So what did actually happen then? I remember getting shot, then there was more gun fire and that's it. I woke up back in England nearly a week later with no leg and no memory of how I got there. How did you manage to get shot?"

In the distance Thunderbirds One and Two took off, but Virgil barely noticed as he quietly explained what he recalled of the rescue to Robbie. It unintentionally helped take his mind off the fact that his brothers were not only heading off into danger, but that he wasn't at their side where he should be. Being left behind was an awful feeling and he knew he was never going to tease Alan for griping about it ever again.

"When are you going to be able to go back on duty? Are you going to go back on duty at all?"

"Don't know and don't know. I won't be back on active duty any time soon, but as long as my injuries heal properly I'm intending to take up my position again." It hadn't even occurred to him that he might not. What the hell would he do with himself otherwise? Paint pretty pictures whilst his brothers saved the world? No thank you. "I'm going back on duty. I don't care how – but it's going to happen." He rubbed his hand across his eyes with a tired sigh.

"You look beat."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence. I still get tired easily. Usually a long conversation will wipe me out for a few hours."

"Yeah, I get that too. God knows how I'm meant to start physio with my new leg when a Skype call leaves me exhausted."

"To be fair, you are having to work hard at understanding my accent."

Robbie grinned. Virgil's American accent was clean-cut and easy on the ear, whereas his own was hard Yorkshire and at times included colloquialisms that no-one outside the North York Moors understood. If anyone had a hard-to-understand accent it was him.

"Yeah, that'll be it."

Virgil snorted with laughter again, which turned to a pained but amused groan as he hugged his arm around his chest again.

Outside of the med-bay Jeff paused by the door. He had intended to quickly update his middle child about the current rescue but stopped when he realised Virgil was still talking to his friend. And actually, he sounded quite happy.

The Tracy patriarch had had an interesting call with John that morning concerning Virgil's late-night revelations. He had initially wanted to go straight to the pilot and try to discuss it all there and then, but John had cautioned him against it, and then when he next had a moment Brains had told him Virgil was busy talking to his friend.

As a parent, it was horrific to think of what his child had gone through. Virgil was strong – they all knew that – but torture was a whole step up from keeping it together through a mission. And Jeff just wanted to wrap his boy up safe and sound and never let him out of his sight again.

But inside that sterile, awful med-bay, with terrifying machines and tubes and wires and the echoes of so much pain, Virgil was laughing at something his friend had just said.

It was a pained laugh – it had been well documented that anything requiring lung capacity wasn't fun – but it was genuine. For a brief moment, a snapshot in time, Virgil was above everything that had happened and was simply a young man enjoying a joke with a friend. They simply had no way of knowing if Virgil would ever be truly himself again, or if he had been put through just too much for that to be possible. But in that moment, hearing that snippet of laughter, Jeff knew his boy was there somewhere, they just had to help him find his way home.