Virgil hugs came in many flavours.
So, okay, Scott was the eldest and technically speaking, he was the least likely to need any hugs from his younger brother. In fact, Scott took pride in branding his own big brother hugs because, let's face it, he was the eldest and nobody wanted to knock him off that throne. Virgil had been quite adamant about it on several occasions.
So only Scott could give the eldest brother hugs and they were very useful for distressed younger brothers, sad younger brothers and even on those occasions where the hug turned into something that could more be considered strangling younger brothers.
Scott wielded his hugs just like any other tool in his arsenal. Expertly and precisely. But it had long been declared that Virgil gave the best brother hugs and if he was honest, Scott was quite happy not to compete.
What exactly made Virgil hugs better than any other Tracy hugs had yet to be determined. The fact that Virgil was the biggest brother probably helped. Not the tallest. Scott and John were still discussing that title. No, his sheer mass enabled the biggest, warmest, softest, cosiest hugs of them all. Virgil was just buff and meaty.
Scott groaned. Meaty. That was a Gordonism, a subject that required a whole other essay to discuss. His fish brother had a way with words that sometimes curdled the stomach.
But hugs, yes, Virgil with his well worn ever so soft flannel and big meaty…Scott groaned again…arms gave the best hugs.
But, as stated previously, they came in many flavours.
The most common was the fond hug. An arm would snake around the victim brother and literally drag him into Virgil's embrace. You could be standing alongside him, politely minding your own business and for some reason the engineer would just reach out and grab. Occasionally the arm wouldn't make it all the way around and Virgil would clamp onto a body part and yank. Arms, chunks of uniform or clothing, a random ribcage. There was the time Virgil had actually pulled Gordon out of the pool by one leg. Possibly in revenge. But after Scott had suffered a cardiac arrest, Gordon had somehow ended up sprawled on top of Virgil on the grass. It had cumulated in laughter and a pile of noogie to Gordon's hair, grins all round.
Yes, his brother had a hug zone around him and if you stepped into it at the wrong time, you were toast.
One of Scott's favourites was the ones that defied gravity. Those big arms were strong and, on occasion, a little over enthusiastic. Ribcages creaked, hoarse voices begged to breathe, and feet left the ground.
Yes, even Scott had been tackle hugged and picked up off the ground and spun around. It had been after a particularly long deployment in the Airforce. He had been out of contact with his family for a long time. The day he finally got home, Virgil had barrelled into him in the farmhouse hallway, grabbing and lifting both him and his bags off the floor in an excited embrace that spun them around almost twice.
Scott had dropped his bags in surprise and squawked. His uniform bunched up against the ribbons on his chest and the world went around.
"Virg, my god!"
Dropped to his feet once more, he found himself wrapped in a brother who seemed much bigger than he had been when he left.
And he was clinging.
"Virgil?"
His brother cleared his throat, face buried in Scott's jacket. "Missed you."
Scott had returned the embrace wholeheartedly.
No words were possible after that as the two youngest realised their biggest brother was home and all hell broke loose as they and the rest of the family congregated.
But the genuine love in Virgil's eyes as he stepped back to let the ratbags in on the party had stayed with Scott for a very long time.
Of course, there were other hugs that were much less joyous. Ones where everything was dark and hurting and Virgil would pick it up like he had radar or something. Could be linked to his legendary medic-sense. After all, mental health was exactly that. Just another form of health.
There was the time Alan vanished. Up and completely disappeared. This is a somewhat challenging thing to do on a rather singular rock in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. Scott had been on the verge of calling John for a location, but a hand had landed on Scott's tense shoulder and squeezed gently. They had been standing out on the balcony. Virgil gestured quietly and, looking up, Scott saw the tiny figure of his littlest brother curled up on the cliff just below the roundhouse.
There had followed a mad rush up the peak to make sure Alan was safe, find out what was wrong…because something was definitely wrong…and fix it.
Turned out some asshole online had been bullying Scott's little brother, ruining the game contest he had been so excited about three days earlier.
Scott saw red and deployed John. The culprit had been found and eliminated.
Very eliminated.
John particularly hated online predators.
But after that conversation, Scott had turned around to find Alan curled up in Virgil's arms sobbing.
Jammed up against the wall of the roundhouse, Virgil himself had wet eyes and was combing his fingers through Alan's hair. As Scott sat down beside them on the floor, Virgil pulled Alan in a little tighter. The engineer buried his face in his little brother's hair and closed his eyes.
In those moments it was like his brother was bleeding something of himself into the person he was hugging. His expression almost willing comfort into Alan.
Of course, Alan eventually dove in for a Scott hug as well, the thirteen-year-old dragging both of his brothers into a comforting pile that was able to push away the nasty experience and eventually bring back their confident little brother. But it was Virgil who performed the hugging first aid while Scott hunted down the person responsible – whether it be via John or other means.
It seemed to be their roles in the family.
And it wasn't limited to family.
Out in the field it was more caring hands and reassuring touches and words, but it was Virgil's way of comforting the injured. If he had time, he would talk with the rescuees. Warm and kind words asking gentle questions about their lives, distracting them from the bleeding, the screaming and the horror.
And ultimately holding those they couldn't save, giving parts of himself to make those last minutes a little less terrifying.
It was after those rescues, those moments, when Scott would have to hunt Virgil down. Sometimes he would find him at the piano pounding emotion into the keys. Other times locked in his studio.
They had a running tally of how many times Virgil had had to replace the lock on that door. Scott rarely took 'no' for an answer when he knew a brother was in distress.
But the worst times often led Scott on a hunt across the Island to a remote beach, cliff or other lonely landform. Thunderbird Five's scanners had been used several times. Times where Virgil was determined to be alone to suffer by himself.
Sure, Scott could respect that…if that was what Virgil needed.
It wasn't.
Because the hug machine that was his brother needed hugs in return.
Sure, he had methods to refuel other ways, but honestly, these were the times Scott felt a direct transfer of energy was warranted.
Those were the days he would hunt his brother down, grab him and hold him until the trembling stopped. He would sit with Virgil staring out across the ocean either just being quietly beside him, or answering the raging questions of injustice.
Those were days he would drag him back to the couch and they would fall asleep together in front of a movie neither of them was watching. A hand or an arm continually in contact.
Those were the days where touch was needed to give back what was so freely offered at all other times.
Scott's hugs may be tactical but they were no less full of love.
And love his brother, he did.
Ever so much.
-o-o-o-