Scott wouldn't believe it until he saw it. The doctor beside him continued talking as they paced slowly down the hospital corridor, but he was barely tuning in.

"...we've discovered a severe infection in his lungs," said Dr Ralton softly, "The intitial MRI also showed scarring in his left lung-"

"At birth, Alan's lungs collapsed," said Scott, "He had asthma as a child but he's had no trouble with it as an adult. Could that cause scarring?"

"Most definitely," she said, "We couldn't access any medical records, so..."

"I know. I'm sorry. In our line of work, secrecy is paramount."

"I understand..." she paused for a moment. Scott recognised her behaviour as slightly star struck, something he could never get used to.

"We had him on a ventilator initially but he retained conciousness on his own. He's breathing well without help, for now," she said reassuringly, "A miracle considering the circumstances. He's resting."

"I want to see him. Confirm the ID."

The doctor was taken aback by the authority in his voice, "O-of course, yes. This way."

Scott followed her on a short walk round to a different ward. She stopped outside of an isolation room, the interior dark.

"This is his room. This ward is for intensive treatment, which he doesn't require," explained the doctor, "We'll move him to a different area soon."

Scott opened the door and stepped softly into the room. It was peacefully dark and quiet inside, punctuated by the steady bleeping of a heart monitor. He let his gaze wander cautiously over the sleeping figure on the bed, suddenly aware of his pounding heart. The young male who occupied it was not familiar to him. He was painfully thin, almost emaciated. As Scott took a careful step closer, he began to make out some details of his face. He had a shaved head, the scalp covered in multiple nicks, scrapes and oddly shaped burns. His gaunt face was purple with bruises, an oxygen tube draping over his sallow cheeks and under his nose.

"It's him," said Scott, almost mechanically, "That's my brother."

"Ok," said the doctor, "I'll let the police know you confirmed his ID. They'll want to speak to you."

"Sure."

"Ask at reception if you need me."

She left him there.

Then the figure on the bed stirred and his eyes suddenly opened, as if startled. Even in the darkened room, Scott recognised them. He felt a cold wave of dizziness wash over him as reality struck.

"Alan?" he gasped.

His brother tried to whisper back "Hello" but all that came out was a dry squeak. His eyes rolled shut, as if he couldn't physically keep them open.

Scott sat on his bed beside him, so Alan could feel him there.

"I'm here," he told him.

Scott sat there his bed for hours, talking when he needed to talk and crying when he need to cry.

Alan was too weak to communicate at first and slept on, oblivious to the fact that he had essentially returned from the dead.

Scott couldn't wait to tell him.

Eventually Alan woke, his hands and arms twitching as if he emerged from a nightmare.

"Shh, shh," said Scott softly, "You're alright, you're alright."

"I know," Alan croaked groggily, "Hospital. I can't believe it, though."

He closed his eyes again, exhausted.

Scott risked a question.

"What happened to you?"

Alan swallowed, his eyes still closed. "A window. I jumped."

Scott waited for more but nothing happened. "Anything I can get you?"

"Can I talk to Father?"

"Of course."

"Oh, and am I allowed to eat yet? I'm starving."

Scott smiled and took his hand carefully, trying not to laugh. He was pretty sure food was a long way off but didn't want to say it.

"I'll see what I can do."

Author's Note - Short and sweet to break me in gently :)

I've abandoned this fic for a baby - sorry! Now he's bigger I have the luxury of time to write.