51. Scott, John and Virgil – Crystal

Scott was dead. It had finally happened. And when it did, Virgil wasn't even sad. In fact, he was relieved. Because his brother had been suffering, suffering, suffering for weeks now. It was a mercy.

His relief didn't last for long, though. An hour after Scott had passed on, Virgil heard a gunshot somewhere in the hangar, or the warehouse, or wherever it was they had been held captive for so long. Then, a minute later, the door to their cell was flung open – and Virgil saw a face he never thought he would again.

"John?"

His brother didn't speak right away. For a moment, he just stands there. Virgil is crouched protectively over his brother's dead body and, after another moment, his eyes start to overflow.

"Did you get him?" he asks, his voice thick. "Did you kill that bastard?"

Without words, John nods. And only after that does Virgil notice the blood splatter on the front of his uniform.

Then Virgil screeches, all sense and strength deserting him.

"Scott's dead."

John comes over and crouches beside them. He reaches out but Virgil won't let go. He hugs Scott's body to him. No, he thinks. We were in this together. Just us. I want to be with him for a while longer.

But then John's gloved hands are prying his grip loose. John rolls Scott's body over, cradling his head in his lap. Virgil wants to slap him, punch him, kill him, because he's interfering. Even though he knows he shouldn't feel that way. But nothing makes sense anymore.

What happens next doesn't make sense, either.

Scott's eyes open.

"John?" he croaks.

Virgil recoils, skidding backwards, his bare skin cut to ribbons on the hard floor.

Scott raises his hand a few inches and John grabs hold of it. There isn't much strength in his fingers. John does the gripping for them both.

"How…did you…find us?"

Virgil's breaths are coming in deep, whooping gasps now. Because corpses don't talk. And Scott was definitely dead.

John brings his other hand up to cup the side of Scott's head and almost smiles. Almost.

"I used my crystal ball," he says.

Then he shifts and pulls Scott into his arms. He lifts him like he's made of nothing but air.

Then Gordon and Alan burst in. Neither know where to look or what to do or what to say and Virgil knows exactly how that feels.

A blanket is thrown over him and then he finds himself propped up by his littlest brothers. And his brain and his legs give out because none of this makes sense.

And he doesn't remember what happens next. Whether he blacked out or something else, he doesn't know. But the next thing he remembers is being in his bedroom on the island, hooked up to drips and bandaged within an inch of his life.

He looks to the side and John is there. He's still in his uniform. The blood is still there. And even in the dark, Virgil can see the tear tracks on his pale face.

Virgil wants to ask about John. He wants to know if he's okay. Because he killed someone. And none of them have ever done that before. But the words that come out of his mouth are about someone else.

"How's Scott?"

John nods, so slowly, clenching his hands on his knees.

"He'll be fine," he says. "You'll both be fine."

Saying two words has sapped all of Virgil's strength and he can't say anything more. He falls asleep again and when he wakes again, John is still there, sitting in the dark with his head in his hands.