A/N: Hello my lovelies! How are we all? I'm pretty okay; I got sick of staring at boring lesson plans so I figured that I'd be nice and post this for you all! Haha!
Thanks for all the great reviews, I really appreciate it. There were some interesting points raised by a few of you, so hopefully they are addressed with this chapter. Special thanks to JoTracy123 for her help with this chapter, and for answering my questions at any time of the night or morning. Much appreciated Sweets! Xx
And off we go!
Disclaimer: If not for Sylvia and Gerry Anderson, I would not be able to play in this wonderful playground, so no; I do not own the Thunderbirds.
Also, I am a university student of Primary Education, so you must take everything I say on medical topics with a grain of salt, as it is only what I have gathered from online sources!
My father was forceful in his refusal to let me stay at the hospital longer than it took for Scott to arrive. He had called my older brother with the request he bring some clothes and other essentials up for Virgil. I must say that I protested, quite adamantly over the idea of having to leave my little brother, but Dad was nothing if not experienced with getting his sons to do what he thought was best for them.
He had allowed me to sit with him while the doctor attending to my younger brother informed us of how exactly Virgil was doing.
He was in a bit of a strange situation for a newly diagnosed diabetic. Despite his episode of hypoglycaemia a few hours before, there was a terribly large number of ketones (clusters of enzymes indicative of high acidic levels) in his urine, which had sent him into a state of dehydration, as well as the blood glucose reading that had sent him into the high 400's. It was way above the ideal level for a person's metabolism, even after having dinner before we left home, but thankfully, it wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been.
I found that I was ignoring the fuzz of clouded fatigue in my brain; and was completely disregarding the pounding headache that was a result of that fatigue, but I couldn't pretend there wasn't nausea roiling heavily in my stomach, and the tugging from my PICC line. Tomorrow (today?) was to be the last day I was on the first cycle of my chemo meds, but it seemed that my body still hadn't learned that the fluids were trying to help rather than hurt.
I wondered absently, how I was going to have the last part of my dose, considering that I was so far from both my doctor and the clinic in Kansas, but I wasn't as collected as I needed to be to puzzle it out much further than fuzzy comprehension. Thinking back to when I had hurriedly informed him that we were headed here, I knew that Dr. Kingston was probably miffed that I was leaving; taking myself out of his direct line of sight when I was so diminished. He had detached my IV bags, and had given me the sheet that contained the list of medications that I would need for however long it was, but considering that I didn't know what was wrong at my brother at the time, I considered that a minor detail and had quite frankly, disregarded it.
Sadly, my father hadn't thought the same.
His thoughts had clearly not been as ordered as usual, due to the obvious stress Virgil's situation had placed on us, but I myself was surprised at the fact that none of us had properly realised that I was supposed to be heading to Kansas for my node removal the day after next (or the next afternoon, considering how late it was at that moment.) As soon as Virgil had been settled into a room and hooked up to fluids and electrolytes for the dehydration his high sugar levels had caused, I grudgingly let myself be shunted out to the car by my elder brother, my father's orders to get a good night's sleep ringing in my ears.
The thing that was haunting me the most was exactly how tiny my younger brother had appeared, swamped in the mass of white sheets and blankets that my father had pulled tenderly over him as soon as the orderly had stepped out of the room. It was a show of how much the past few hours had taken out of the kid, as Virgil slipped into sleep as soon as his head had touched the pillow. It was quite in spite of the IV lines snaking from the back of his left hand, and the fever that still stained his otherwise pale face. The abundance of freckles flecked over the bridge of his nose —a unique feature that only Gordon and he shared from Mom— that were usually hidden beneath his tan, were starkly visible beneath his pallor. It was that alone that had made me so reluctant to leave him.
It could be indirectly linked to stress; the development of diabetes, and just the fact that Virgil had the chest infection on top of everything else was going to make it even harder for my immediate younger brother to learn to control this new issue.
However, as soon as I was seated in the car, which was, you know; much more comfortable than hard plastic seats, I instantly forgot about any of that (though I knew that whatever-it-was would come back later), as I found myself drowsing against the headrest, even as my brain noted that there wasn't all that much time left to pass until I'd have to wake up again. My body didn't appear to care less about it. I just embraced it, and closed my gritty eyes against the glare of the lights of the parking garage.
##
It was the rumbling of the van's engine spluttering to a halt that roused me; the sudden silence, and Scott's warm hand on my shoulder letting me know that I needed to move if I wanted to make it into bed with any sort of haste. I was a little disgruntled to realise that once again my father was right, but I pushed that thought away with the least amount of concern. All I wanted was to wake up and discover that all of this was just a very bad dream.
I think that Scott must have had an interesting time as he prodded and nudged and guided me into the lift. I must have been more tired than I'd thought, because I seemed to have lost a fair chunk of time between leaning against the wall in the moving metal hunk, and crawling into the bed that my brother aimed me at.
I assumed that my youngest brothers were already in bed, if I was to go by the lack of noise from the rest of the rooms in the suite that my father had rented, but other than registering that small fact, I thought of nothing else before consciousness slipped away from my unresisting grip.
##
I was surprised that I woke as early as I did the next morning, especially considering how wiped I had been the night before, but it was really a no-brainer when you noted the ghost who had inhabited my room until a few days ago had made his way back to my bed.
The just-after-dawn light shone cheerily from the window beyond the double bed, the curtains no match in the slightest for the determined sun as it streamed its way through the insufficient fabric. I hadn't noticed anything besides the placement of the loo before I had crashed, not even waiting to change out of my sweats and into pyjamas. Now that I was somewhat awake though, there was nothing stopping me from appreciating the deep mahogany that ringed the doors and the skirting boards, along with the burgundy carpet covering the floor, accentuating the white walls with a benevolent glow. It had a soothing effect on me. Especially considering what had happened last night.
Speaking of younger brothers…
Tracy Six was sprawled out next to me, much in a mirror of three days ago, before I had spent my nights in the infirmary. His mouth was open, his blonde curls mussed, and it struck me suddenly, just how much younger than fourteen Alan looked when his face was relaxed and not twisted into a pout. I couldn't see his eyes, for obvious reasons, but I knew that they would be even just a little dimmed because of the things that were happening to our family. I knew that what was going on behind those blue eyes —even as my brother seemed to be dreaming peacefully— was a conflicted tangle of emotions that none of us had the capacity to deal with, especially with the stress of the present events.
Stress. That was a big factor, in everything that had occurred lately. A huge part of how we had all been coping, both as a family and as a business after everything that had transpired was based on stress. The snappishness, the smothering, the jokes, the nightmares… It was like rust on a huge chain of which the links were breaking slowly apart, taking our entire family down with it; though the patterns of comfort and love remained just as deeply etched beneath, burrowed into the basic make-up of the whole.
The added worries of my illness certainly weren't helping, and the fact that Virgil had now been diagnosed with a disease whose ability to manage entirely rode on how much stress the individual was under, was going to make everything just that little bit harder.
I knew that Dad was most likely going to be blaming himself for Virgil's diagnosis; wondering if it was something that he had done to cause his son to develop it, but I knew that Virgil wouldn't be blaming him. He was a practical man, my younger brother, and I knew that only the rational, sensible conclusions would have been allowed to equate with how he was going to cope with learning about his new illness.
I'd clearly been watching Alan sleep for a while, because not only had the light inched its way across the room, but my little brother's eyes were shifting rapidly beneath the lids; his breaths hitching as he rose out of the comforting blankets of sleep. Clearly he felt my eyes on him.
Azure blue, sleep dulled and tired gazed into mine with fuzzy curiosity. He seemed to be considering the fact that I was staring right at him, before his eyes widened a little and he sprang into a sitting position so fast that the mattress creaked.
"Alan?" I frowned, wondering what was going to happen now. Surely he still hadn't realised that I knew he'd been seeking my comfort?
"Uh." Incoherence seemed to be our family's early morning specialty at the moment….
I took advantage of my brother's temporary speechlessness and said to him seriously, "I don't mind you know. You being here with me."
He lost a little of his befuddlement, only to gape at my rather clear statement.
"I rather like it." I continued conversationally, leaning up on my good arm to tuck my hand beneath my left ear, ignoring the pull the detached PICC presented. "The fact that you feel safe with me, I mean. I don't get to spend time with you all that much, but I know that you're more of a hugger than a talker."
God, I knew that I was rambling, but I was still rather far from awake, and if it kept the kid from withdrawing as fast as a snake from a hole then who was I to care how I sounded? I knew for a fact that no one else would have.
Alan seemed to have regained his tongue. He frowned a little, before nodding to my statement, before a look of disconsolation crept over his face and into his eyes. Like Gordon, everything my brother felt shone in his eyes. The words that came whispered from his lips proved me right.
"Will Virgil be alright?" Four little words, but my heart shattered.
I always forgot how young Alan still was. Really, fourteen was still so innocent, naïve, and the kid was still both of those things; even despite the atrocious experiences that he had gone through since the beginning of spring break. The four short words that Alan spoke told me just how much all this was affecting him, and with me going into surgery later in the afternoon (once I actually got to Kansas, that was…) there was no way that he was coping, even recalling the chat that my youngest and eldest brothers had had the other day.
I grabbed him suddenly and held him tight to my chest, just long enough to whisper in his ear, that yes, Virgil was really ill at the moment, but no; medicine was advancing everyday, and there was no reason why our brother wouldn't be just fine.
I released him just as fast, but I could already see the evidence of the reassurance that had sparked in his eyes, and I thanked God that he still believed in his big brother enough to not doubt a word I said, even when things probably pretty well rejected it. There was every possibility that my first little brother would die the same way Grandpa had, with any other number of terrifying handicaps to pull him down, but we would probably have nothing if we didn't have hope.
A/N: I really hope that that wasn't just a load of polly-waffle. It makes sense to me, but whether it does to you is a different story. I might come back and tweak it, but I hope that it was interesting to read anyway. Please tell me what you think, and I'll try my best for a weekend update. Cheers.
-Pyre Xx