Virgil smiled slowly. "Idiot."

"I'll take some of that water now." Scott said wearily.

Virgil moved to where he had left the supplies, and grabbed the EMS kit along with a couple of water bottles. Squatting next to Scott, he handed over one of the water bottles then dug into the kit, pulling out a blood pressure monitor and stethoscope.

Scott eyed the equipment. "Virgil, I hope you're intending to use that on yourself."

"I didn't pass out." Virgil responded sweetly.

As his brother reached to wrap the blood pressure cuff around his arm, Scott grabbed his wrist in an iron grip. "Neither did I, so cut out the Florence Nightingale crap."

Virgil's face fell. Unable to meet Scott's eye, he said in a low, tremulous voice. "Scott… I-I thought you were dead. I thought…" Shaking his head, he looked up. "I just need to know you're really all right."

Scott saw the look in his brother's eyes, and rolling his own eyes, he released his hold on Virgil's wrist. "Tsk."

Virgil immediately perked up and finished wrapping the blood pressure cuff around Scott's upper arm. "Excellent."

Scott pulled a face and muttered under his breath. "Crybaby."

"Butt head."

"Hey! Who you calling butt head? And, for that matter, who you calling idiot?"

"You called me crybaby. And grunt." Virgil commented as he checked Scott's pulse.

Scott wrinkled his nose. "You know, Virg, I think I like it better when Dad sends one of the rug rats with us. Gives us both an easier target."

Virgil nodded at the results of his check on his brother. "Well, you're not likely to keel over dead on me. About that. I need to tell you something."

Scott frowned, puzzling out what Virgil was talking about. His brother had turned very serious all of the sudden. "What?"

Virgil remained quiet for a few minutes as he worked to clean and bandage the cut on Scott's leg. Scott waited, understanding that Virgil was trying to formulate what it was he wanted to say. Finally, satisfied with his work, Virgil turned to Scott, saying, "You know this morning when I told you I got up early to do something?"

"Give me one of those swabs, I want to clean up that cut on your head." Scott took the pre-moistened swab, and dabbed at his brother's forehead. "Yeah, what about it?"

Virgil's cheeks reddened. "I was trying to get up before you. I wanted to sneak into your bathroom and fix the shower temperature, but you were up too early."

"Wait… you knew about that?"

"Yeah, I did."

"Okay, so, which one of them was it?"

"What? What do you mean?" Virgil blinked.

Scott blinked right back. "Gordon or John? Which one of them screwed with my shower?"

"No Scott. It wasn't either of them." Virgil hung his head. "It was me."

Scott laughed, not quite sure of the joke. "No, really, which one of them did it, Virg? I'm want to get them good for it."

A bit exasperated, Virgil grabbed Scott by the upper arms. "Scott. I did it. Not John. Not Gordon. Me. I dropped the temperature on your shower to forty degrees."

Scott stared at his brother, his mouth open. It was starting to sink in. "But… why? What did I do?"

Virgil put his head in his hands. "Nothing! You didn't do anything, Scott. I shouldn't have done it, and I am truly sorry that I did."

Scott frowned, more upset at seeing his brother distressed than angry at the childish prank. "Hey, it's okay, Virg. I understand."

Virgil shook his head. "No, you don't, Scott. I was in the lounge with Gordon and John, and John started in with that Scotty dog crap, and next thing I know I'm telling him I'll pull a prank on you."

The light began to dawn for Scott. Years earlier, in the summer before Scott first left home for college, he and Virgil had spent a lot of time together. Johnny, who was just hitting the hormonal highs of puberty, had started calling Virgil Scotty's little dog, or Scotty dog for short. Virgil had particularly hated that nickname.

"So John called you Scotty dog, and instead of decking him, you screwed with my shower?"

"Gee, thanks for making it sound all that much worse, Scott."

"Just putting it into perspective for you."

"You had to be there."

"I don't doubt it. I'll tell you what, how about we deck him together?"

Virgil stared at Scott, and an unspoken apology, more powerful than any words could convey, was given and accepted. After a moment, Virgil shook his head, "Naw, can we just forget it, please?"

"Absolutely. Help me up. Let's get the dog and pony show on the road."

Virgil held out his hand, and pulled his brother up. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good to go." With a gesture, Scott took up one of the air sled's tether line, and Virgil took up the other, and together, they headed back to Thunderbird Two, the sled following behind like an obedient dog.

No sooner had they had boarded the pod when the air sled gave up the ghost with an almost human-sounding gasp. As it clunked to the floor of the pod, the two brothers looked at it, then with twin shrugs, dropped the tethers and headed for the infirmary to check on Mrs. Orizova.

Scott wasn't surprised to see that Virgil had secured the woman with straps, but he was surprised to see her watching him with calm lucid eyes. As he moved to sit next to her, he absentmindedly picked up a battered old cell phone that had apparently fallen from a pocket in her voluminous skirt. With Virgil at his shoulder, Scott took her hand.

The woman looked at him and asked simply, "Is it over?"

"Yes, Nazira. It's over. We've brought them up so you can give them a proper burial."

The woman's eyes clouded with tears, as she nodded. "Thank you."

Scott nodded, finally understanding her completely. "You're welcome."

After a few minutes, she fell asleep, and Scott and Virgil made their weary way to Thunderbird Two's crew quarters where they both showered off the dirt of the mine. When they were clean, and dressed in spare uniforms, they headed up to the flight deck.

As it was Virgil's ship, Scott made no objection when his brother put in the call to Thunderbird Five. "Alan, we've finished up here. We've got the woman, and four bodies that need to be taken care of."

"Yeah, Virg, sending the coordinates now. Bishkek is about 300 kilometers from the danger zone. They're set up for you at Manas Federal Hospital."

"All right. We'll be leaving here within ten minutes. Tell them we're on our way."

"FAB."

Virgil turned in his seat. "You're safe to fly?"

"Does the Pope speak Latin?"

"Get out of here. Some of us have work to do."

"No, actually, I thought I'd come along to Bishkek, help you offload."

Virgil's eyebrows climbed. "You're going to leave Thunderbird One out here unprotected?"

Scott cocked his head. "She's all buttoned up, and you can do 300 klicks in what? Twenty minutes? There's nobody around, she'll be fine."

"Five minutes, thank you very much," Virgil responded, insulted. "Buckle up."

Sitting down in a flip seat, Scott grinned as he tightened the safety harness. Virgil had already gotten the pod sealed up, and before Scott had the last strap buckled, he had Thunderbird Two lowering to pick it up.

With barely a glance to be sure his brother was secure, Virgil lifted off, and headed for Bishkek.