Scott glared at his brothers.
Virgil, John and Gordon stood in a line on the comms room hardwood floor all looking straight ahead as if they were in a military inspection. Which was particularly odd since only one of them had ever been in said military.
Hell, even his grandmother was ramrod straight next to them.
Scott was absolutely beside himself. Still dressed in his uniform, complete with its coating of mud, he had no doubt that his appearance was anything but reassuring to the brothers standing in front of him.
Not that he cared. This was beyond it all.
This was so ludicrous that it was hard to even suspect Gordon as the culprit.
Though he was still the most likely despite his arm being in a sling.
Scott eyed his fish brother. He had a scratch above one eyebrow that hadn't been there when Scott left this morning.
But then a lot was different on Tracy Island since he left this morning.
The most obvious difference was the Thunderbird stuck at an angle where the pool was supposed to be.
His 'bird was shining in the late afternoon light, her silver hull gleaming as she sat at a sixty-degree angle just beyond the balcony, her wings gouged into the concrete of the patio.
Virgil shifted where he stood on his crutches and Scott felt the briefest flash of guilt at making him stand there. His engineer brother had been grounded for the last week with a broken ankle, along with Gordon and his broken arm. Which is why Scott had been in Two today with the currently guilt free Alan.
His youngest brother stood off to one side, apparently caught between shock and relief that he wasn't to blame.
"I'm waiting for an explanation." For several things.
The room still reeked of burnt furnishings. Whatever had happened in the kitchen had left it black and under a haze of smoke that had infiltrated the villa.
As if to comment, John sneezed suddenly. His space brother sniffed and screwed up his face before he realised Scott was eyeing him. He, too, was standing on crutches, something he wasn't doing this morning.
And still no-one said anything.
Not even Grandma, and honestly that was a kicker.
"Gordon-"
"What are you looking at me for?"
Scott shot him a flat stare. "History."
"Hey, the last time I borrowed One, I brought her back in one piece."
"Complete with Eau de Polecat!"
"That does not automatically put me at fault. Besides this was an emergency."
Scott blinked. A little progress. "And?"
But Gordon clammed up and went back to staring at the portraits on the far side of the room, every bit the WASP Lieutenant Tracy he actually was.
Scott turned to John, his ever-faithful source of relevant information.
"J-"
"I'm sitting down." His space brother turned and crutched his way past Scott and into the sunken lounge without another word.
Scott stared after him.
"Honey, are you feeling okay?" His grandmother followed John and began fussing over him and his leg, both completely ignoring Scott.
What the-?
"How. Did. This. Happen?!" Okay, so he might be yelling just a little, but the cause was sufficient. He turned to his trusted first. His best friend. His brother. His Virgil.
Said brother was looking rather pale. "Virgil?"
Sad, dark eyes looked up at him. "I wanted to make you popcorn."
-o-o-o-
Virgil was frustrated. Virgil was always frustrated when he was grounded and today sported no reason to change that attitude.
Worse, he had had to watch Scott take his 'bird out to a mudslide. His big brother was not a fan of flying Two, but since Virgil had a busted ankle and Gordon an equally busted arm, that was the deal today.
To top it all off, mudslides sucked big time and Scott and Alan would likely come home exhausted, especially since two of their brothers were currently unavailable to assist.
So, to help just that little bit, he had spent the last couple of hours hobbling around the kitchen slapping together something that could be considered a relaxing meal for that evening, vetoing any chance of Grandma getting into the kitchen and destroying stomach linings.
It helped that Grandma was in Wellington with Kayo.
To top it off, Virgil had put together an apple pie, Scott's favourite. He had also made sure there was a bucket of triple chocolate ice cream in the freezer for Alan – one that he had stashed away for emergencies just like this.
The last thing on his list was to make some candy popcorn for the squirt and put some kernels aside ready for popping later so they would be nice and warm for the movie.
He was in the process of heating the oil when Gordon burst into the room as if out of nowhere.
Virgil dropped a spoon.
Damn sandshoes were silent.
"Hubert's dying!"
"What?" His back creaked as he picked up the piece of cutlery.
"Hubert, the albatross that collided with the window and broke his wing."
"What albatross?" The oil began to smoke a little so he turned the heat off. His Gordon radar was at full alert – this would likely take a while.
"Yesterday? Upstairs? How did you not hear that?" A blink. "Okay, it was five am. You don't exist before ten, I'm sorry." The sarcasm was dripping and a little caustic. "Regardless, Hubert has gone limp and I think he's dying, Virg. Help me please." The accompanying clasped hands, reminiscent of either prayers or vigorous begging, complete with a sling that wasn't doing what it was supposed to, were a little over the top.
"Okay. Fine. Show me the patient." He reached over and nudged the broken arm back into its sling while Gordon glared him.
"Hurry up."
Virgil grabbed his crutches and followed Gordon to the stairs before darting sideways and thumbing the elevator doors open.
"Okay, fine, hop-a-long." Gordon jumped down the last few steps and hurried into the elevator with Virgil.
He bounced on his heels the entire way to the infirmary level.
Virgil watched his agitation and realised that whatever was wrong with this bird, Gordon had invested himself in it, much like every other injured animal he had dragged home since he had learnt to walk.
Gordon ushered Virgil into the infirmary and to his horror, he found the limp sea bird lying on top of one of the beds. "Gordon, have you heard of hygiene?"
"It's fine. The sheets are clean. He's safe."
Virgil stared at his brother for a split second before rolling his eyes.
But Gordon's whine drew him into examining the bird, which, considering it was avian, did not comply with the human knowledge Virgil possessed.
"I don't really know, Gords." Virgil stabbed at the infirmary's computer interface, interrogating the net for baseline vitals for an albatross. Hell, he didn't even know which species.
"It's a Gibson's Albatross." Gordon was stroking the unconscious bird gently with his fingers.
This was not the first time, nor was it likely to be the last time Virgil found himself in this situation, though the species did vary. As always, his answer was. "I'm sorry, Gordon. You need a qualified vet."
"But I set his wing. He should be getting better." Gordon's age regressed around animals and tended to break Virgil's heart in the process.
"I'm sorry, Gordon."
"For goodness sake, we're International Rescue!" The plea in his brother's eyes stabbed right where it hurt.
But then those eyes widened and a light bulb went off above Gordon's head.
Or it could have been a precursor for the migraine Virgil suddenly knew he was going to end up with.
"No, Gordon."
"But he's dying!" Gordon grabbed Virgil by the arm. "It's our job to save lives."
"How exactly are we going to get him to the mainland? Neither of us can fly." Virgil wasn't going to admit it, but the bird didn't look like it was going to last long enough for another family member to make it home. "I'm sorry, Gordon." He was already calculating how to cheer up his little brother.
"No!"
He sighed. It wasn't as if he wanted the bird to die. Hell, if he was hail and healthy, he would have already put it on Tracy Two and be halfway to Auckland by now. But there was no way he was risking himself or his brother in a plane with a broken limb. Maybe Kayo might get back in time?
But then the inevitable happened. He should have seen it coming.
"We can take Thunderbird One!"
Virgil blinked. "What? No!" God, no, Scott would kill him.
"This is a life, Virgil! What makes a bird's any less important than a human's? It's his life! we have endangered it, and now we aren't doing anything to help save it? How is that fair?" Gordon's fists were now clenched at his sides, the sling yet again ignored. Fiery carnelian glared at Virgil. "I can't do it with my arm, but Thunderbird One doesn't require feet to operate." A flicker of his eyelids. "This is on you."
Virgil stared at his little brother.
A glance at the limp bird on the bed.
Back to Gordon, ever so fiery and passionate.
Virgil reached down, uncurled Gordon's fist and pulled the sling back into place.
Ten minutes later he found himself doing what he did every time this kind of situation happened.
Thunderbird One launched with Virgil at the helm and Gordon clutching a desperately ill albatross in the back seat.
-o-o-o-
Scott stared at his second eldest brother, the man with whom he trusted so much. Virgil had literally held Scott's life in his hands on several occasions.
"You borrowed One to take an injured bird to the vet."
Virgil shifted where he stood. "It was to save a life."
Scott turned to the lounge and glared at John. "And you let him fly with a broken ankle?"
John returned the glare with equal strength. "Are you kidding me? This is Virgil we're talking about. I thought One was safer in his hands than yours."
"What?!"
"It's not like he's going to do anything stupid with your 'bird, is he?"
There were no words, so Scott just gestured in the direction of the pool.
With both hands.
"Yeah, well, probabilities can't predict everything."
The flippant, non-answer went straight to Scott's head and rattled around in there for a moment or two before he chose to file it for later or risk implosion. John was rubbing at his foot and Scott latched onto it to save his sanity. "How did you hurt yourself?"
"In case you haven't noticed, the kitchen caught fire. Kayo had already been called out again and I was worried about Grandma."
"And?"
"I tripped."
"Over what?"
"My own feet! It's not every day you see Thunderbird One get stuck in the pool!" John glared at Scott. "Cahelium on concrete is very loud."
Scott stared at him, not willing to face the image those words inflicted on him.
"Why was the kitchen on fire?"
But then something Virgil had said popped into his mind. He couldn't help it, he rubbed his face with his hand. "Grandma, why didn't you wait for Virgil to get home?"
"He left the popcorn on the counter, dear, I was trying to help." Grandma wasn't looking at him. John's leg appeared to need a good rub right at this very moment.
John was wincing.
But with that explained, Scott had no choice but to turn back to Virgil, who was still standing clinging to his crutches.
Why hadn't he sat down? He was ever so very sorry looking and Scott's heart melted at the edges.
"Virgil, what happened?"
Brown eyes slowly peered up at him.
God, did he really have to deploy that little brother expression. Thunderbird One was down for the count, stuck in the damned pool and the brother responsible wasn't even letting him stay angry. Goddamnit! How does a thirty-year-old man regress to six-year-old like that? Those eyes were the same eyes Virgil deployed that time he crashed Scott's bicycle.
As if in answer, something whacked Scott's thigh.
Ow! "What the hell?"
Looking down he found an extremely large seagull with a bandaged wing glaring up at him. Their eyes met and it squawked.
Very loudly.
"Hubert! What are you doing down here?" And suddenly, there was a race on around the comms room, Gordon chasing the waddling bird as it methodically thumped everyone with its wings, took out a pot plant and to Scott's horror, one of Dad's souvenirs. Both toppled with a crash as Gordon continued to chase Hubert around the room.
Alan joined him a moment later.
Part of Scott wanted to yell the building down, but most of him just wanted to know how the hell his 'bird had ended up stuck halfway into her launch bay.
So, he turned back to Virgil and asked again, perhaps a little louder over the ruckus as the stupid bird scrambled over John in its eagerness to torture everyone.
He approached his brother carefully and placed a hand on each arm. "Virg, what happened?"
"It was an accident. I'm sorry, Scott."
"That much is obvious. What malfunctioned?"
Brown eyes were suddenly not looking at him.
"Virgil?"
His brother straightened a little. "You have too many damned levers."
"What?"
He seemed to be saying that a lot today.
"I pushed the wrong lever, okay? It's on the left on Two and One has it on the right and I yanked on it to slow and the wings deployed. Wrong lever, sorry, okay?"
Scott stared at Virgil, his jaw slowly dropping as his hands lost their grip on his brother and just hovered mid-air beside him. "You used the wrong lever?"
"Yeah, sorry, my bad." Virgil was looking at his feet. "Can I sit down now?"
Scott's mouth was still open and he had to force himself to close it. "Sure." So his voice was a little bit higher than normal…
Virgil didn't hesitate, clutching his crutches and hurriedly tapping his way over to the lounge.
Behind Scott there was a sudden crash and the sound of breaking glass as both Alan and a bird squawked at the same time.
Scott didn't turn to look. He just stood staring at his 'bird, still gleaming in the late afternoon sun, still sticking out of the pool.
His jaw may have dropped just a little again.
But nothing more was said.
-o-o-o-