aeipathy (n.) - an enduring and consuming passion

Music for Virgil was magic.

No other interest, not even his painting or his love affair with Thunderbird Two could give voice to his feelings as much as his connection with his piano. He could lose himself in its notes. Time stopped and he could exist outside of reality, suspended by sound and emotion.

Often, he reached for it when things were bad. Everyone in the house knew when Virgil was hurting. The music would tell them. The only times it could be worse, was when the music stopped.

If it was physical injury, it was likely frustration and their brother would become a bear. He was a gentle soul, but artistic frustration was his kryptonite and the whole house suffered.

If it was emotional injury, the whole house would hurt beside him. There would be attempts to draw him out, quiet words.

Sometimes tears.

But if the Tracys were anything, they were tight knit, supportive and a very strong family. It would be worked through. It would be tackled and whatever was necessary would be done. And eventually, each and every member of that family would breath a sigh of relief as the first notes of their musical brother at the piano wafted through the house.

But music wasn't only for mourning and sadness. Music covered the entire spectrum.

Virgil played when he was happy, too. Bright, uplifting music for Christmases and birthdays. Special pieces for special people. He played one of his best compositions ever at his brother's wedding.

Penelope actually cried on the dance floor and Gordon nearly killed him. He thought his brother had broken his brand new wife.

But Penelope had discovered that there was one thing in the universe that could crack her shell of defence, and that was her brand new husband. Virgil just supplied the last emotional straw.

Gordon paid him back later with a massive hug that strained even the heavy lifter's bone structure.

Plus, the aquanaut stole a recording of the piece and released it world-wide to standing ovations. Virgil became famous, well, more famous, overnight. Gordon hid on his honeymoon and the bear lost its target. When Virgil realised Gordon had released it for charity – the supreme barrier reef, no less – the engineer was a little more mollified. But it was safe to say that Gordon and Penelope's honeymoon was an extended distance and time away from the second eldest for a reason.

Penelope just laughed her musical laugh and petted her new brother-in-law on the arm.

With the return of their father, the music changed. It faltered for a while, unable to find its place, unsure if it was welcome due to memory and time. But the ill man caught Virgil playing late one night when the engineer didn't know his father was on the Island. Between three rescues and exhaustion, he had missed the sleeping man and had thought himself free to play.

And play he did.

Jeff was drawn to the piano like a moth to a flame. He hid in the shadows, watching his son, watching his expression, the exhaustion on his face…

The elation at emotional release.

And he had seen it before.

On softer but similar features.

Ever so loved.

At the same piano.

He watched until the music finished and his son folded over the keys, head in his hands. Only then did the older man emerge from his hiding place and move towards his son.

His faltering footsteps were heard and that dark head shot up. The worry on Virgil's face, pushed away the exhaustion.

Jeff waved his hand away as the young man immediately rose to help him. Jeff made it to his desk and sat down, his eyes on the musician. "That was a beautiful piece, Virgil."

Virgil looked down at the piano a moment before brushing his fingers gently across the keys. "It's nothing, just playing."

"You do your mother proud."

Those brown eyes shot up and Virgil's mouth opened as if to say something, but closed again.

So Jeff added more. "She would love the man you have become." A pause. "As do I."

His son just stared, shock his most prominent emotion.

Jeff knew he was to blame. He had never been one to express himself emotionally when the boys were growing up. But eight years in nowhere changes everything.

Virgil stared for a moment longer before managing to find his broken voice. "Thank you, Dad."

Jeff didn't miss the extra blinks as if his son had dust in his eyes.

Quietly. "Play me something, son."

Those blinks increased for just a moment longer before Virgil nodded and turned back to the piano.

Lucy's favourite song wafted up softly from the keys.

And it was Jeff's turn to blink rapidly.

So yes, Virgil found magic in his music, and sometimes his family did too.

It was his goto, his reassurance, his passion. He played for himself, he played for those he loved and he played because he had to. It was part of him.

And while his brothers teased and cajoled, they would not have it any other way. The sound of those fingers on piano keys meant more to them than Virgil would ever know.

Because the music was magic.

And their brother was home.

-o-o-o-

FIN.