Hey everyone.
First off, thank you so much for your feedback on the last chapter. I'm gonna be honest - publishing a new chapter after such a lengthy break was a little intimidating, but you were all so lovely about it and I really appreciate that.
I hope you enjoy the next chapter :)
-TEN-
Here's the funny thing about trust – once it's broken, or put into question, it's incredibly hard to regain it. But when that same trust that's being scrutinised on the tipping-plate is combined with genuine love – well, it's a little bit harder to break it down. Brains was family – and had been for a very long time now – and with family came all the tags of support and forgiveness and a silent promise to question every last detail before giving up the warmth of trust that had been present for so many years.
If it came down to merely the evidence at hand versus Brains's word, then Gordon knew instantly which he'd choose. There were too many years, too many instances, too much evidence to the contrary, for him not to trust his friend.
There's this problem with thoughts – no matter how insane they seem – how impossibly out of the question and ludicrous they are – they will take root in your brain and wriggle in deep, cropping up in your consciousness in a wave of what ifs and unanswered questions. So yes, Gordon trusted Brains, but no, this didn't mean he didn't have a whole series of queries and hurt that needed answers. This wasn't as plain and simple as a spat between family members – this put International Rescue at stake, and therefore so many thousands of others – and while Brains had a hell of a lot of secrets that he kept them in the dark over, this was one that demanded an explanation. There wasn't really any other choice and Gordon hated not having options.
"It's bullshit," he muttered, and kicked the sideboard with his good leg, just to reinforce the sincerity of his statement. Scott, who had previously been preoccupied with staring at the door that Virgil had just stormed out of, glanced at him. Gordon crossed his arms and glared back. "What?"
There was slightly more venom in his voice than he'd meant, but Scott got it. "Nothing. I agree with you, just so we're clear."
There was suspicious crash from the hallway, as though a foot was colliding with something heavy and metal. Scott winced and Gordon instinctively sat up, ever drawn to chaos. John sidled closer to the door.
"I'll go check on him."
It wasn't often that Virgil let go into a full-on breakdown, but when he did it was usually Scott or John who went after him. Given Scott was currently stuck in a hospital bed, there wasn't really any reason to argue with this, so John slipped out the door after their missing sibling and left them all in the dark as angry shouts descended into muffled voices and broken laughter.
"I mean," Gordon continued, desperate to fill the silence with something. "It's Brains. He's put everything on the line more than once for us." He hesitated but carried on. "It was a high-pressure situation back on the island, and we were both hurt and exhausted, so you could've…I don't know…missed something? Mistaken the designs? Not seen them clearly?"
Alan raised his head and stared incredulously at him. "I'm not a liar."
"I'm not saying that you are, I'm just raising a couple of questions."
"You're insinuating."
"I can ask questions Alan, this is a democracy. Jeez."
"Why the hell would I make this up?"
Gordon dragged himself off his chair and limped closer. He was missing his crutches already – leaving them in his room as a display of defiance towards the hospital authority had seemed cool and edgy earlier but now it was pure regret. "I didn't say you made it up," he pointed out, raising his hands in a gesture of peace, "I'm suggesting you made a mistake."
"Oh yes," Alan hissed, "I'm always making mistakes that paint our family as criminals and possible murderers. That's an average Saturday for me."
"There was that one time that you accused John of a bank heist."
"Alright!" Scott's voice cut through the air like a knife, unusually close to his Field Commander tones given his recent brush with death. Even exhausted and in need of a good shower, he still managed to command the attention of the room without too much effort; something which Gordon envied at times. "That's enough."
Alan, eyes still blazing with righteous fury, stepped back, sliding his hands into his pockets and clenching his jaw so tight that Gordon could have sworn he could hear the teeth grinding together. For the first time in possibly ever, he recognised that Alan was almost an adult, and could probably take him in a fight now. He rolled his shoulders until something clicked and sighed, pressing his palms to his eyes and yawning.
"Sorry Al," he murmured. "This is just kinda crazy, y'know?"
"Crazy doesn't cover it," Scott admitted, "but we'll figure it out. We always do."
"Not always." Gordon was speaking before he'd even realised the words were in his head. "We didn't figure out Dad."
It was too late to take the words back and he recognised this as soon as he'd spoken. He made a hesitant smile as if to suggest that the whole thing had been a joke, but there was no hope left. It was a cruel comparison and while as a general rule he was not a malicious person, there was a deep, dark part of him that was angry at Alan for bringing the whole thing to their attention in the first place, so when his brother turned as pale as the white lights above them and made a dash for the bathroom on shaking legs, it took him a moment to dig past the slippery, twisted satisfaction and delve into the painful guilt instead.
"This entire thing is a nightmare," Scott muttered, one hand pressed to his head as though fighting off a headache. His eyes were closed, but Gordon knew him well enough to understand that his brother was flying through a whole checklist of things right around now. "Why don't you add to it?"
Gordon opened his mouth to reply but was cut off by the painful sounds of retching from behind the bathroom door. "Crap."
Scott lifted his hand to shoot him a scorching stare of disapproval all wrapped in a neat bow of expectation. It was mildly terrifying and – not for the first time – Gordon was reminded of how eerily similar his eldest brother was to their father. "Fix this."
He resorted back to bad humour and sarcasm. "The entire mess or…?"
"Gordon, please." The sharp edge of desperation was unnatural, and Gordon snapped into serious mode. "I can't do anything right now. I can't even get out of this damn bed, so do me a favour and go and make sure Alan's okay."
Gordon gave him a sharp nod. "FAB."
It was pitch black in the en-suite, so much so that Gordon almost tripped over Alan's feet when he first stepped into the room. He flicked a hand at the light sensor and drew the LEDs along the walls into a pale glow, just light enough to glimpse his way around, but dim enough to maintain the sense of safety that came with the anonymity of darkness. Alan's legs were outstretched across the floor, the teenager himself sprawled against the edge of the toilet. Gordon nudged the door shut with one foot and sat down next to him – Alan was growing again, like some sort of mutant weed, and there was a depressing fear in his mind that the kid might end being taller than him, which would land him with the label of being the shortest Tracy brother. Still, this was a problem to be agonised over on another day.
"Hey."
Alan barely acknowledged him, instead opting to lunge further over the bowl and bring up whatever he had eaten in the past twenty-four hours. He was trembling like a leaf in a hurricane, and Gordon hesitantly pressed a hand to the skinny shoulders in front of him. Alan usually welcomed physically comfort but they had technically just argued, and he wasn't exactly happy about the idea of pushing boundaries at the moment. His brother seemed to melt into the touch however, and Gordon continued to rub circles across his upper back.
"Just try to breathe through it," he advised. "It'll be over soon."
Ordinarily this would have earnt him a sarcastic stare from Alan, as if to say well duh, but the younger Tracy was a bit preoccupied, so Gordon shuffled a little closer and remained quiet. It took a couple more moments, but then Alan dropped his head onto the cold rim of the seat and groaned.
"You good?"
"God no."
Gordon hummed. "Figured as much." He made a grab for the nearest hand-towel and drenched it under the tap, wringing it out as best he could. "Take this." He passed it to Alan and guided his brother back to sit against the far wall. He wasn't exactly used to the whole caregiver thing – this was Scott and Virgil's forte - plus there was the fact that he was usually the one in need of the help – but he managed to fumble through it all – flushing the toilet, grabbing a second towel, managing to find a couple of painkillers for the headache Alan was sporting all the symptoms of and struggling out of his t-shirt and forcing Alan to change into it. This last decision was probably a poor choice because now he was sat topless in an overly-air-conditioned bathroom, but hey, if it helped Alan feel a bit better, then he was all for it. He hoped John wasn't too attached to his Harvard hoodie though, because that thing was going straight in the wash.
"I didn't want it to be true," Alan whispered. He fiddled with the towel in his lap. "And it didn't seem true until I said it out loud. But now it does, and I feel even worse than I did before."
"Yeah." Gordon sighed. "It sucks."
Alan gave a weak smile at that. "It does."
Light danced across the polished surface of the shower door. Gordon reached out a hand and let it dance across his fingertips – so similar to the marbled sunlight of a swimming-pool, but so different all at once. "You gonna throw up again?"
Alan grimaced. "Nope."
"Good." Gordon shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his sweatpants. "I have Polos somewhere in here."
"What, like the mints?"
"No, the sport. Obviously the mints."
If Scott had been listening in – which he probably was – then he would have chastised Gordon for the sarcasm, but Gordon was betting on how well he knew his brother, and from the tearful chuckle he was treated to, his gamble had paid off. He retrieved the packet and fumbled with the wrapper. Alan stared at the lint attached to the edges and pulled a face.
"How long have you had those?"
Gordon sniffed them. "Three years?"
"Gross." Alan held out a hand. "Gimme one."
"Hey, hey, hey!"
A hand gripped Virgil's wrist before he could slam his fist into the side of the vending machine again. John may be the tall and lanky Tracy, but he was by no means weak, and this was proven by the way he didn't have to struggle too hard to tug his brother back from the metal-and-glass cabinet. He met Virgil's fuming look with a flicker of amusement.
"What did the vending machine ever do to you?"
"Stole my change for starters," Virgil spat, and lined up another kick at the tender glass where a celery crunch bar hung, caught by a single edge on the metal ring.
John observed this and raised a brow. "You don't even like those."
"No," Virgil muttered, smashing his foot into the machine with a grunt, "but Gordon does." The bar still refused to fall, and he slammed his hands into the front with a final strangled scream of frustration. "Move you…"
"Hey." John moved in front of him and caught his fists for a second time, holding their hands captive against his chest. "Virgil?" His voice was soft, not pressuring him to talk but assuring him that he was still there. Given everything else was falling apart, it was a promise that Virgil desperately needed.
"Fuck," he whispered in a shattered murmur, collapsing forwards, trusting John to catch him.
"I know," John agreed simply, and lowered them both to the floor, shoes scattering across the slippery tiles and hands fumbling to catch their combined weight. "I know." He tapped his brother's chest. "Take a breath." He offered a pleased smile when Virgil obliged. "Good. Now another one."
"Why?"
Gordon would have made some smartass comment like why do you need to take a breath? Well Virg, my man, let me tell you a thing about the body's need for oxygen… But John was not Gordon and he'd always had that blunt, factual way of dealing with things when the entire world was a mess and a maze all in one. It wasn't always reassuring, but it was something that Virgil needed to hear right now.
"EOS got into our systems in the past, and so did the Mechanic. It's not outside the realm of possibilities to assume that the Chaos Crew did too." John, not for the first time, looked exhausted beyond the usual physical tiredness. At any other time, Virgil would be worried about him, but they had more pressing concerns. "Havoc's tech abilities are outstanding. She hacked an entire GDF base with minimal effort – it really wouldn't surprise me if she'd managed to do the same with the IR network."
"It's your coding, John. Your coding is insane. It's better than the GDF. It's arguably the most secure server in the world."
John rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Thanks."
"The only reason EOS got in was because she was originally your code."
"Brains's lab is on a different system. It's his code, to help integrate MAX into everything. I offered to help him, but I think I came across as a bit insulting instead."
Virgil gave a weak chuckle. "Yeah, I can't imagine how that could have happened. You, John Tracy, coming across as condescending?"
"If you bring up the Caltech conference, I will ditch you in this hallway…"
"Caltech for example…"
"Virgil." John indulged in a pause of brief laughter. It had been a hell of a day – he figured he could allow himself to be unprofessional for a little while. "My point is that it's still possible. Havoc is capable of it. And…God, Virg, I know Brains. He wouldn't betray us."
Virgil sighed. That same ridiculous celery bar was still dangling just above his eyeline. "I don't know whether to be angry that Alan was prepared to keep that a secret or…"
John shifted to sit against the vending machine, his legs drawn up so that he could rest his arms and his watch on his knees. "Do you believe Brains did it?"
"Worked for the Hood?" Virgil didn't even need to think about it. "No. Alan's right – he's family. I just…Alan didn't know that for sure. Hell, we don't even know it for sure, we're going off belief and trust alone. But that tiny chance that we're all wrong…Alan could have put us all in danger."
"Virgil, he was being stubborn and loyal to his friends to the point of putting himself in danger. Believing in someone so utterly that it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks…sound familiar?"
"No." Virgil gaped at him. "You are not turning this into some psychoanalysis session."
"You said it, not me. I'm just saying…those are your qualities too. The pair of you are more alike than you realise. You two and Gordon always see the best in people, and I'm not saying it's a bad thing, but it does mean that you trust very easily." John tilted his head back in the glare of the spotlights. Virgil watched him, realising that this was the first time in a long while that he'd seen his brother every day for longer than forty-eight hours down planet-side. It was a long-standing joke that something usually went wrong when John came down to Earth – normally some sort of gravity-related accident – but this was really taking the biscuit. "I mean, Scott and I are probably too suspicious."
"You digitally stalked Gordon's last girlfriend because she, and I quote, 'walked strangely – clearly she's hiding something."
"And I was right," John replied with a smug look on his face. "She was hiding a distinct interest in journalism that she tried to turn into an exclusive article on," he made finger quotes, "The Real Tracy Brothers."
Virgil chuckled at that. The cursed celery-crunch bar finally dropped from its perch to deposit itself carefully in the collection box below and he tugged it free with a heavy sigh. He wasn't even sure why he'd bought it in the first place – perhaps looking out for his family was easier than confronting his own emotional turmoil.
EOS's icon lit up in a series of green and white rings. "John, I have an incoming notification. Would you like me to display it?"
"Go ahead."
Virgil tracked the long list of ingredients scrawled across the back of the crunch bar and grimaced, discovering that it was more chemicals than it was celery. The taste could have told him that alone, but the distraction was worth it. John's little growl of dissatisfaction was enough to signal that there had been a new development, and he tucked the bar into his pocket to give to Gordon later.
John didn't need to hear the question. "Penelope and Parker are almost here."
"Brains is with them."
John was fiddling with the ragged edge of his nail on his left thumb, a nervous tick that he had never quite grown out of since Middle School. His lack of response was an answer in itself. It seemed that every bombshell that was thrown at them came with a deadline – no time to grow used to the idea before they were forced to face the consequences. Whether Alan had been right or wrong, they had no other option than to question Brains, and it was a task that Virgil was not looking forward to, even with John at his side for the entire process. Not for the first time, Virgil wished desperately that Scott was back on his feet already – he'd never been one for confrontations.
"Ten minutes," John reported. EOS was spinning a steady loop of information that he was dismissing as soon as it appeared, much to her disapproval. "We should go down and meet them."
"What about the others?"
John didn't glance over at the closed door. "Leave them. Scott's still on bedrest and I doubt Alan is going to want to be there. Best to leave Gordon with them, just for now."
He climbed to his feet, all smooth movements and easy confidence that spoke of his IR persona, a business professional ready to deal with their problems one after the other, because truly there was no other choice. Virgil, for his part, wanted nothing to do with any of it. In fact, what he really wanted right now was a drink and a sketchpad in a nice spot somewhere near the lookout on Tracy Island.
"I don't want to do this."
John looked sympathetic but there was an icy steel to his blue eyes that hadn't been present previously. "I can do this without you, if you need."
It was a genuine offer, and an easy one to accept. John would never judge him for this – there was an unquestioned understanding between them that was infallible – but there was no choice, not really. Virgil accepted the hand up and met his brother's gaze squarely.
"I think this is something we need to do together."
There was a flash of a smile across John's face, quickly masked. "I'd agree with that."
They were the two most like their mother; this was something that they had heard multiple times throughout their lives – from friends and family alike – but in this instant, heading for the doors despite everything craving a sprint in the opposite direction – Virgil would have bet his life a hundred times over that they had never been more like their father.
Well. He glanced across at John, who was staring straight ahead, no doubt listening to EOS through his earpiece. There were some things you just couldn't run from, no matter who you were. Besides, finding the truth no matter what – that was a Jeff Tracy thing, and if their Dad was out there somewhere, then Virgil was damn sure that he wasn't going to let him down.
Gordon was technically not supposed to be here. But technicalities were the bane of his existence, and he refused to live in a world with so many restrictions so, as ever, he made his own rules and threw the consequences to his later self with a grin.
He'd dug through a bag that he'd found leant against a chair in Scott's room – the scattering of pencils at the base suggested it belonged to Virgil – until he'd found a spare shirt that roughly fitted him, swinging loosely about his shoulders like a cheap imitation of wings. Alan was sitting quietly in a chair by Scott's bed, unspeaking still, but Gordon had a sneaking suspicion that with a little peace and quiet their eldest brother would work wonders, so he left under the pretence of finding wherever John and Virgil had headed off to.
This hadn't been a lie, but once he'd found the corridor empty, he'd made the decision to head down to the café and grab a granola bar or something equally kind to the stomach for Alan to munch on – he knew from experience how weak and woeful being sick could make you.
He liked to believe that this meant he'd had the best of intentions when he'd set out. Of course, after spotting Virgil and John headed down to the visitors' entrance as though they were soldiers being summoned to the battlefield, he'd had no choice but to follow them. For their own good, because he'd been worried, obviously. Curiosity may have killed the cat but, as Grandma always told him, satisfaction brought it back.
Penelope looked as fantastic as ever when she stepped through the doors, not in the least bit perturbed by the heat outside. In a sleek black dress and simple heels, she looked the very picture of British grace and sophistication, Parker hovering by her side with a small suitcase. Brains stepped ahead of them, his glasses clutched between his hands, his thumb and forefinger rubbing across the brim worriedly, concern creasing his brow.
"How are they?"
Gordon pressed himself to the wall behind a large potted plant and watched. Virgil appeared to be choking on his words, but John stepped up, ever the diplomat. It was no wonder that he got along with Penelope so well.
"They've been better. How did your project go?"
Brains' eyes gleamed. "Everything's ready. I've tested it and then double tested it, and everything should work perfectly." The light dimmed in his gaze as he added, "but if Scott's body rejects the serum then…"
"Then we'll figure it out," John reassured him, and knocked his shoulder against Virgil's to try and jolt his brother back to reality. Virgil raised his chin and stared coolly at the scientist, the standoff lasting far beyond the point of what was socially acceptable.
Brains nervously fumbled to knock his glasses back into place. "Is something wrong?"
John and Virgil knew each other well, but Gordon knew Virgil better. He recognised the exact instant that John no longer had control over the situation – the moment when Virgil was about to snap.
"This is gonna be fun," he muttered sarcastically to the plant, and then ducked out of his hiding spot, slipping between his brothers and knocking Virgil out of his somewhat threatening stance. Brains looked relieved to see him, a genuine smile greeting his features.
Gordon had many skills that he'd picked up over his life – some legal, others not so much – but one of his best abilities was his talent for reading people. He took a moment to truly see his friend and noted the honest concern and relief that couldn't have been a falsehood in any universe. Brains stood with them, and he cared.
Gordon was no fool. He knew too well that his next move would probably have irreversible consequences and from the gazes boring into his back, his brothers knew it too. Brains wouldn't make the first move and the distance between them was much more than mere floor tiles – it was a lifetime of friendship, innovation and everything else on the line.
Where John was logical, Scott referred to his instincts. Gordon could sometimes be a blend of the two, but right now he was working purely on his gut feeling. Oh well – Grandma would be proud.
"Hey Brains," he greeted cheerfully, "long time no see?" And with that, he opened his arms and crossed the space between them.
Brains, like John, wasn't much of a hugger, but this was one embrace that he needed. Besides, Gordon was clinging to him like a limpet, and he didn't have much of a choice. Not that he minded, as he wrapped his arms around the aquanaut and hugged back.
"Are you alright?"
Gordon studied him for a moment. "Yes," he agreed finally, "I am. Well, almost. Still got a couple of things to sort out, but that's life I guess." He shook himself and flung a hand back, catching Virgil's wrist and dragging his brother forwards. "Virg? Don't you agree?"
It was a question with double meaning – a two-headed serpent of words – and Virgil knew what he was really asking – do you agree with me? Do you trust him too?
Virgil patted Brains's shoulder. "Absolutely."
"We appear to have missed some valuable developments." Penelope swept forwards in a glorious wave of perfection and perfume. Gordon tried to keep his mind on the important matters at hand. "Perhaps you would be so kind as to bring us all up to speed?"
John shot her a relieved smile. "FAB."
After signing Gordon out of the hospital with assurances that they had two official medics in their company, John tracked down the nearest twenty-four-hour café and they all trundled in, piling into the largest table in the far corner. John positioned himself with his back to the wall so that he had a clear view of his surroundings, including a direct eyeline to the street below. Rarely, Penelope had agreed to leave Sherbet in the car, and if John zoomed in with his contacts then he could glimpse a tuft of caramel fur where the little dog was curled up on the front seat, flanks rising and falling gently in sync with his breathing.
He settled his hands on the table alongside the EOS drive, and blinked the tiredness from his vision. Penelope took one look at the Tracy brothers and wisely made the move to give them a moment, Parker accompanying her to the counter. Virgil finished sneakily running a medical scan of Brains from his watch, and promptly demanded that the scientist went and got himself a meal too. It took a bit of coercing, but finally the other man gave in, tilting his glasses with a soft sigh.
John took a moment to examine his brothers. Virgil appeared almost resigned whereas Gordon…well, John couldn't remember when he'd last looked so exhausted. It was disconcerting – Gordon was always the optimist, and there was something almost defeated about the way he was slumped over the table, not even bothering to trace the whorls in the woodwork. Everything was so, so wrong that to even contemplate fixing it seemed monumental – a task for the insane. It was a good job that John liked a challenge.
It had reached that time of night between too late and too early when nothing seemed real and everything felt both possible and a mere pipe dream all at once. The café was a clone of every other in the twenty-four chain that sprawled across much of Asia and had migrated to Australia and New Zealand about a decade previously. Bright lights glared down, only serving to highlight the slumped position Gordon was currently holding, flopped over the table like a dead fish, arms sprawled hazardously.
John reached across and poked the mop of hair. Gordon made a grunt of protest, and, after more prodding, finally lifted his head to prop his chin up on one hand.
"What?"
John observed the glaze of tiredness and drawn expression of pain and, not for the first time, wanted to burn the whole damn galaxy for hurting his family in such a way, repeatedly. It seemed that for every time they saved the world, it turned on them and stabbed them in the back – the scorpion to their frog every single time.
There was no point in asking how Gordon was feeling. John had no patience for small talk when there was a job to be done, and Gordon had always been grateful for his no-nonsense attitude. If he needed someone to call him out on his bullshit, then it was John he came to, and right now, they all needed a little bit of that tough love.
"What are you thinking?"
Virgil slouched further into his chair, rocking onto the back two legs and balancing precariously. His eyes were closed but John had no doubts that he was listening.
Gordon dropped his hand and slid back down onto the table, staring mournfully at John. "I'm thinking a lot of things, Johnny-boy, take your pick. One, Three or whatever the hell we're calling Brains and Penelope these days." He flipped his hand palm-up and let the lights play across the faded grazes. "This dinner date is fun so far, let's do it again some time."
"Drop the mask."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Gordon."
Virgil's front chair legs slammed back into the tiles with a crash. At the counter, Penelope looked up with a pinched frown of displeasure. Virgil waved a hand at her in apology. "Are we doing this now?"
John ran a finger along the edge of the EOS drive. "We're not doing anything unless Gordon's with us." He dropped his hands to the table and wound his fingers together to stop himself from tapping. "If you need a break, we'll give it twenty-four hours before we start questioning Brains."
Gordon buried his face in his folded arms. "I want to go home," he whispered, voice treacherously shaky. "I just…the island was a nightmare, and it's like…"
"It's like you woke up in another one," Virgil finished for him, his voice soft and quiet in the dull air of the café.
"Yeah." There was a heavy exhale. "I just want to go home now."
John and Virgil exchanged a knowing look.
"If I could," John began, "then I'd take you back to Tracy Island right this minute, but I can't do that, and I think you know why. We need you here if we're going to figure out the truth."
"I get it. I can't hide from this." Gordon finally stopped burying his face in the spare fabric of the shirt about his arms. "And I can't hide from the GDF either, no matter what you guys say." He offered a hesitant smile. "So yeah John, I'm down."
John hadn't doubted him for a second, but he had to put on a show anyway. He switched his gaze to Virgil and raised a brow.
Virgil grimaced. "I don't know, are you going to buy me coffee?"
"I'll take that as a yes."
Penelope, as ever, had perfect timing. She swooped down, gliding into a chair between Gordon and John, Parker struggling to maintain two trays smothered in goods as he sat down opposite. Brains ducked out of the bathroom a moment later and joined them.
"So," Penelope announced, reaching for her cup of tea. She suspected it would the first of many of the night. "Let's begin."
There was no beating about the bush. John considered Brains one of his closest friends, but he couldn't afford to gauge the other man's reactions throughout the story. Gordon was steadily curling into his chair like a wounded animal and Virgil was staring into his coffee gloomily. At the end of the tale, silence had fallen across their group in a cold swathe, soul-consuming and greedy in its hunger.
Gordon hated silence, but for the first time in his life, he was not the one to break it.
"I swear on my life," Brains announced, his voice steady and firm, "I had nothing to do with this. I would never work with the Hood. I couldn't do that to Jeff's memory and…" His resolve wavered somewhat with his next few words, "I couldn't do that to my family."
Gordon kicked Virgil's ankle. It was the most normal action he'd taken all evening. Except it seemed Virgil didn't need the prompt.
"We know."
At the counter, the waiter had fallen into a slumber across the cash machine, and every so often it bleeped in anger at the treatment. EOS flipped across the systems to turn it off and then returned to her portable drive in time to draw John's hastily made plans into holograms.
Penelope took another sip of tea. There was a tinge of darkness beneath her eyes where her concealer had become smudged that spoke of sleep deprivation. Beneath the table, she'd pressed her knee against Gordon's and the singular point of contact brought more comfort than she'd expected. "Well," she murmured, tapping her thumb against the rim of her cup, "this is rather distressing. I suppose you have a plan, John?"
"You could say that."
Gordon made a soft squeak of amusement that soon scattered into full-blown laughter. "You knew from the beginning, didn't you?"
"No." John motioned to EOS to switch slides. "But there were so many things that didn't add up."
"It's literally two in the morning – I can't think properly. Can someone fill me in?" Virgil stole a scrap of pastry from Parker's plate and munched on the mauled treat with the hunger of a starved shark. "Seriously."
"I couldn't remember seeing Kayo once at the hospital," Gordon elaborated. "I thought it was suspicious, but I figured she was after the Chaos Crew still."
"Technically that's true." John finally took in Brains' pale face and the tiny tremors plaguing his usually steady hands. The entire ordeal was taking more out of their friend than any of them realised. "But once Alan told us everything, I updated her, and she has quite a different goal now."
It took another good hour or two before John had finished outlining his plan, deciding on the final details on the spot, and answering all the questions that were promptly thrown at him. Virgil, ever the family peacekeeper and a secret huge softie at heart, had taken it upon himself to try and provide some comfort to the shaken scientist at his side.
"I believe it's time for some rest." Penelope rose to her feet and held out an arm. "Parker, if you would accompany me?"
Gordon had stumbled from the realm of exhaustion to pure numbness, so the sudden hand on his shoulder only resulted in him relaxing into the grip. Brains stumbled at the shock of extra weight landing against his side and Virgil joined them following the pleading look he was treated to.
"Having fun there?" He slunk an arm around Gordon's shoulders and tugged his brother away from the baffled scientist. Gordon slumped further against him, mumbling something sleepy into his shirt. Virgil tapped him on the forehead. "Hey, look alive."
"I'm not," was Gordon's only response.
Brains couldn't hold onto his words any longer. "Tomorrow," he burst out, frantic thoughts tumbling into being in a rush, "are you sure? This is my mistake, I don't want Gordon to get hurt because…"
Gordon roused himself enough from his dazed state to flap a hand in his friend's face. "Nah," he slurred, yawning widely half-way through his sentence. "You're family. S'cool. You'd do the same for me etc etc."
Brains blinked suspiciously bright eyes and lifted his glasses from his face. "Yes," he agreed softly, "I would."
With Scott officially out of the woods, this was the first night that Virgil was going to spending in a hotel room since the entire nightmare had begun. He both dreaded and welcomed sleep – he was exhausted both physically and mentally, but his subconscious had always had a knack for twisting and turning his thoughts into something cruel and wicked in intention. Still, he had something else to focus on rather than his thoughts for a while – Penelope had persuaded the hospital staff to let Gordon stay with them, and given he'd been set to be checked out the following day anyway, it had been approved. Now Virgil was sharing a room with his brother whilst John claimed the one next door, pointing out that he was likely to be up most of the night planning with EOS anyway.
Gordon had collapsed face-first onto the bed nearest the door and hadn't moved since. The only sign that he was still awake was the twitching of his feet and the uneven breathing that suggested he was upset. Virgil knew his brother well enough to give him space to collect his thoughts for a few minutes, and by the time he'd emerged from the bathroom, freshly showered and curled up in sweatpants, Gordon was ready to talk.
Only talk, however. He wasn't moving any time soon.
"Gordon," Virgil called across, tucking his backpack into the space between the wardrobe and the desk, and resting a glass of water on the windowsill above his bed. Moonlight streamed through the open blinds and he wasn't in any hurry to replace the natural light source with the bedside lamps. "You've got to take your shoes off at least."
There was a suspicious groan into the pillow.
Virgil peered across at him. "I'm serious."
A faltering sigh. Then: "Please."
"You're a disaster."
Gordon let out a small huff of laughter at that. "Comes with being a Tracy."
"Yeah," Virgil agreed, settling down on the end of the bed next to his brother. "What do you think about tomorrow?"
Gordon was silent as Virgil tugged off one shoe and then the other. "What do I think about giving myself up to the GDF because we can't prove Brains is innocent without revealing EOS's existence because of course a goddam AI is the only thing that could have picked up on that bug the Mechanic left in our system from the last time he hacked in and is Scott right? Because I'll take it, but jeez Virg, I don't want him to be right…"
Virgil gave a soft noise of agreement. "Kayo's going with you. John will be right outside the door. Scott's wary of anything military since his Air Force days, you know that."
"Is he right, though?" Gordon rolled onto his back and stared up at Virgil. His pupils were blown wide with a mixture of light-weight painkillers, exhaustion and general emotional overload. "I'm not saying that I don't want to do it, Virg, you get that right? I'm not…I promise, I'll do it, I just want to know."
Virgil wasn't entirely sure that Gordon even knew what he was saying anymore but humoured him all the same. "Hey." He caught one flailing hand and tugged Gordon's wrist back to the bed. "You're overthinking this. I get it, okay?"
Gordon took a breath. "Okay."
Virgil smiled. "Good." He stood up to avoid the foot his brother tried to stick in his face and threw a spare t-shirt and obnoxiously bright PJ-bottoms plastered in sharks onto the bed. "Put those on."
Gordon perked up. "Are these mine from home?"
"Maybe. I might have asked John to pick them up. Possibly."
"Virgil, you're the best."
Virgil laughed. "And don't you forget it."
By the time he'd returned from checking on John, Gordon was curled up into a tight ball underneath his duvet, gripping onto the edge of his pillow with a tightly knit fist. It was yet another sign of how on edge they all were – Gordon usually took up the entire expanse of bed offered to him, sprawling across the mattress and getting hopelessly snared in his sheets. Virgil quietly headed across to his own bed and tried to keep as silent as possible when a voice piped up and a pair of gleaming hazel eyes shone out of the darkness.
"It all starts tomorrow, huh?"
"Hmm."
"John all good?"
"Yeah, he's fine." Virgil picked out the patterns on the carpet that the moonlight threw across in a hazy field of shadows. It was strangely relaxing – the Tracy style of counting sheep. "You?"
"No." Gordon flung an arm across the mattress and stuck one foot over the edge. Virgil fought to hide his grin. "I will be."
"Good."
There was another snigger.
Virgil rolled his eyes. "God, what is it now? I thought you were so tired you'd fall asleep immediately."
Gordon gave a sleepy, somewhat hysterical giggle. "It's the beginning of the end, like some movie or something. Hey, if we were in a TV show do you think it would be popular?"
"What the hell?"
"No, hear me out. Like The Adventures of International Rescue."
"No."
"Or maybe Thunderbirds Are Go."
"Stop."
"Maybe even just Thunderbirds."
"There is a full glass of water next to my bed. In a minute, it'll be upended on your face."
"Okay, okay, I'm sorry."
Blissful silence. Virgil closed his eyes and relaxed into the mattress. Sleep…
"Virgil?"
"What?"
Gordon seemed taken aback. "Nothing." He continued in a smaller voice, "just…goodnight."
Crap. Now Virgil felt bad. He felt around the side of his bed until he found the Celery Crunch Bar he'd hidden in his pocket earlier. The crinkle of the wrapper caught his fingertips and he tossed it easily onto his brother's pillow.
Gordon's sharp intake of breath was evidence that the snack had been identified. "Did you buy me this?"
"No, I stole it."
"Thanks."
"You're welcome." Virgil closed his eyes to properly try and sleep this time, but there was one final thought that kept nagging him, like a particularly stubborn idea for the piano or painting. "It'll be okay tomorrow."
For a moment, he wondered if his brother had fallen asleep. Then:
"I know."
"Okay. Good. I promise."
A wrapper rustled in the night. "Thanks."
That's all for today, folks! See you next Friday.
Review?
Kat x.
