I've been meaning to write this sequel for sometime. Unfortunately, it was mangled by writing at least two other fics at the same time, one of which was my big Kermadec fic, so it got left behind. It has been sitting on my Tumblr for over a year, hidden away, almost lost, so I decided to archive it here, even if it may never be finished.
It is what it is, apologies for the lack of an ending.
-o-o-o-
Virgil sat staring at the wall.
The IR locker room was empty, Alan having taken advantage and run off when he could, probably to hide from Virgil.
The engineer grimaced at the work load he had ahead of him. Two was black from bow to stern down one side. It really wasn't Alan's fault. Could have happened to either of them, but still...
He let out a sigh and, bending over, unclipped the seals on his boots. Their black and red was almost alien. He illogically missed the blue and green. But the fire suit was a necessity.
A clip and his belt slid from his waist and clattered when it fell off the bench and hit the floor.
He couldn't be bothered picking it up.
A groan and he pushed himself to his feet and undid the tabs that protected the suit seals and methodically began stripping the uniform from his body.
God, everything hurt.
Being hit by a falling elevator did that to you, apparently.
He had been all grins and determination onsite, but a drop in adrenalin on the flight back had slowly but surely reminded him that he had put his body through today.
The coolant suit landed on the bench, its weight a dull thump on the wood.
Virgil stretched, attempting to loosen himself up and his back screamed at him. Ah, maybe not a good idea. He lowered his arms and grabbed the hem of his black undershirt, pulling it over his head.
He stumbled as something nasty made its presence known, pain arcing up his spine and straight into his head.
Oh god.
A hand shot out to steady himself, grabbing the bench, and his back froze up. Ow, ow, ow, ow, shit.
He managed to untangle himself from his undershirt, discarding it on the ground, and with a groan, slowly straightened up.
Okay, he'd done it properly this time.
Maybe some warm water? The thought was divine as his head swam. He staggered over to his shower and hit the preprogrammed controls.
Steam started billowing into the room.
Yes, that should do it.
With a wince and a groan he shed his underwear and slipped into the water stream. Warmth crept into his skin. Muscles began to loosen. There was still pain, but the water made it all feel so much better.
So, so much better.
Better.
Spots at the edge of his vision as he floated away.
He didn't feel the impact when his body folded to the floor.
-o-o-o-
Scott had had a shitty day. He stormed through the comms room still in his dusty uniform after a prank callout into the Australian outback. A jab at his baldric. "John, can we work out a way to filter out the trolls, please."
"I do my best, Scott, you know that." His brother's hologram had an expression that pretty much mirrored Scott's - one of extreme frustration.
"Yeah, well, send them the bill."
John's eyes widened.
"You sure? The fallout will be massive."
"Yeah, well, if they realised exactly how much doing something so stupid costs...in fact, bill them double for time lost to what could have been a loss of life because I couldn't attend elsewhere. Hell, I wasn't there to back up Virgil and Alan, as it was." A frown. "How did that go?"
"Mission successful for the most part."
Scott stopped mid-stride. "The most part?"
"London no longer has the tallest building in the world."
"What? Why?"
"Virgil chopped the top off it."
Scott blinked. Okay, that was a new one. "I'm looking forward to debrief...I think." A glance at the empty lounge and he suddenly realised there was a huge half-finished painting sitting in the middle of the room. "Speaking of which, where are Alan and Virg?" The painting of Alan wasn't half bad, except for the moustache. There was a story behind that, no doubt.
"Ah, Virgil reported some damage to Thunderbird Two, apparently while under the control of Alan."
Oh, shit.
"So Alan's hiding?"
"Yep."
Great.
"How bad?"
John sighed. "Nothing a new paint job won't fix." A frown. "Could you do me a favour and check on Virgil?"
Scott's shoulders tensed. "Why? Where is he?"
"Last location was the locker room, but he hasn't moved for the last twenty minutes. I know he loves his long showers but..."
"I'm on it." Scott ran for the stairs, skipping the elevator for speed. "Any injury during the mission?"
"None reported, but I do know he had to shed an exo-suit. Left it at the bottom of an elevator shaft."
"What?" Scott jumped the last four steps and landed with a solid thud at the bottom of the stairwell. Down a corridor and he was through the locker room door.
It was full of steam. "Virgil? You in here?"
No answer.
Something felt ever so wrong.
Virgil's fire suit lay discarded on the bench, his boots beside it. "Virgil?!"
He hurried over to his brother's shower, the source of all the steam.
Water was streaming all over the floor, the drainage obviously blocked. But even through all the steam, the red swirling with it threw his heart into his throat and his body into action.
He flung open the shower door.
To find Virgil crumpled on the floor in a pool of blood.
-o-o-o-
"John! Virgil's down! Call Alan, find Gordon. Medical emergency!" The words fell out of his mouth as the need to do, overrode the need to think.
John's alarmed FAB was swallowed by the first aid procedures chanting through his mind as he checked for a cause, killed the water spray, visually assessed, checked vitals...and he began breathing again once he found that pulse, his brother's breath. his feet splashed in red and pink water.
His brother's back was a mass of red-purple bruises. Scott could see the outline of the exo-suit as purple shadows, dents and swelling in flesh.
God and hell.
"Virgil? Do you hear me?" The touch of warm, but clammy skin. His brother's eyes shadowed and deep in their sockets. Blood dribbled from his mouth. Combined with the bruising, it meant nothing good. "Virgil? C'mon, bro, talk to me." A gentle shake of a shoulder, a tap at his cheek.
Please Virgil.
A groan and his brother strangled on a cough.
"Hey, hey, Virg, keep it calm. You're injured."
A flickering of eyelids and Virgil was moving, pushing himself off the floor. Another groan and his brother was spitting blood onto the tiles. "Scott?"
"Stay put. Don't move."
"What happened?" Of course being Virgil, he proceeded to sit up. "I'm naked."
"You were in the shower and passed out."
"I'm bleeding?" He was looking at his hand, covered in spat out red. "What?"
He was interrupted by running feet as both Alan and Gordon tore into the room. A hoverstretcher buzzed in behind them. "Virg, what the hell?" Gordon's eyes were wide.
"What happened?" Alan's eyes were staring at the bruising.
"Alan, report."
Scott's commander tone cut through his little brother's building panic. "Virgil was fine when we got home, I swear."
"'Was fine." Virgil coughed and spat. "Ugh, don't feel so good."
"Lie down. We need to get you on the stretcher."
"Dizzy." Virgil wilted in his arms, Scott barely able to prevent him from hitting his head on the tiles. "Scott?"
"I've got you, Virgil." He swallowed. "Gordon, bring the stretcher over."
It took the three of them to get their brother spinally secure, off the floor and out of the small cubicle. Virgil faded in and out, groaning and at one point crying out in pain.
"Sco', what the hell?"
"You're good, Virgil." But it was a bald-faced lie.
A dash to the infirmary was met by Brains. Grandma let out a gasp and Alan grabbed her, desperately trying to reassure as if she were an accident victim herself, but every kind word fell flat as they had no idea what the hell was going on.
The moment the stretcher was connected to the bed sensors they started screaming.
Scott stared at them as he secured oxygen for his prone brother. "Crush injuries? How the hell? What happened, Alan?!"
"He was fine! He flew us home!"
"H-he has m-massive bruising throughout his t-torso. Was V-virgil hit by something?"
Scott's eyes widened. "He shed the exo-suit in an elevator shaft." He hit his comms. "John, you better have more information about Virgil's suit."
"Virgil didn't report anything."
"My god, John, you have enough sensors plugged into us and our equipment, damn well, tell me what happened!"
Virgil groaned again and tried to get up. Gordon muttered reassurances and gently held him down.
John's reply was clipped and sharp. "The exo-suit reported multiple malfunctions and abruptly went offline while he was in the elevator shaft. Virgil's uniform sensors reported stress, but no immediate injury. A spike in heartbeat. There is a limit here, Scott, I'm not a magician."
"V-virgil needs a h-hospital." It was obvious, but it had to be said.
Scott's lips thinned. "Gordon, prep Two."
His brother's FAB was little more than a whisper.
-o-o-o-
Uproar over the demise of London's Crystal Spire kept Cass McCready in town very late that night. She didn't have to speak to the media, thank goodness, but her boss demanded a full verbal report and it took her an hour to finally reach the locker room to shed her sooty and stained clothes.
She wasn't a fan of her helmet, but it was a necessity of her job, as was liaising with idiots like Yost. So much could have been avoided by just a touch of humility in the man.
Her helmet hit the shelf a touch harder than it had to.
Shedding her gloves, she took a moment to run her fingers through her sweat damp hair, its tight curls wrapping around and catching her fingers.
She needed a shower.
Shedding her kit, followed by her jacket and uniform, was ever so freeing. Left in a tank top and underwear, she stretched and revelled in the ability to move with a little more grace.
So today she met Virgil Tracy of International Rescue.
She smiled to herself. When he said he was built for heavy lifting, he wasn't kidding. That suit of his would be useful in so many situations.
Turning on the shower, she stripped and stepped into the warm spray. Oh, it was heavenly. She let the water run into her hair, over her face and simply wash away the grime of a hard days work.
It was his eyebrows.
She frowned. Why the hell was she thinking of his eyebrows?
They were nice eyebrows.
Who gets attracted to eyebrows?!
His voice was quite nice too.
She shook herself and concentrated on cleaning her body.
He was International Rescue. A worldwide celebrity.
Who chopped off the top of buildings, bloody saved her life and apparently barbecued his eyebrows.
Those eyebrows.
She rubbed the soap off her face and mentally sighed. Now is not the time to go all fangirlly over an International Rescue operative.
Only one of five, the chances of meeting one, of seeing a Thunderbird. Oh god, she'd seen a Thunderbird.
Cass, you're a professional.
A Thunderbird!
She resisted the urge to facepalm and instead turned off the shower, stepped out and dried herself without any further thoughts of Virgil Tracy.
Or his eyebrows.
They were very nice eyebrows.
Throwing on some comfortable civvies, she grabbed her backpack from her locker and headed out. The paperwork could wait until tomorrow. No doubt the commissioner would be breathing down her back within a few hours, so in the meantime, she would jump the train and head home for some precious shuteye.
And not think about those eyebrows.
The tube was quiet and she pretty much had a carriage to herself. She lived on the edges of London, in Surrey. A simple eco apartment overlooking farmland. It wouldn't take too long to get out of the city, but she took the opportunity to catch up on her online social links.
Of course, they were all full of Crystal Spire news.
Damn.
What were her chances of hiding over the next few days?
Nil.
She put out a vain hope that the media wouldn't get a hold of her name. Hopefully they wouldn't be on her doorstep.
Maybe she could report from home tomorrow? Link into the network, file her report, holoproject to her supervisor and hide. Another glance at the media situation. Hell, she may not have a choice.
"Chief McCready?"
She jumped. What? And she realised it came from her phone. Wasn't it supposed to ring before connecting?
"Hello?"
"Chief McCready, apologies for the intrusion. I'm John Tracy from International Rescue. I was wondering if I could speak to you about today's situation?"
A blink. Her phone had a blank screen, not even a sign of a call connection.
A glance around the carriage and she found only one other passenger at the far end. "Certainly, Mr Tracy. Though you should be aware that I'm currently on public transport. How can I help you?"
"I am aware of your location, however this is an emergency."
That had her sitting straighter. "How can I help?"
"Thunderbird Two assisted you today. Can you tell me if Virgil was involved in any impact event? Did he fall or was he hit by something?"
"He did fall, but we caught him. Or are you referring to the elevator?"
"The elevator?"
"The elevator fell on us, but Virgil took the impact with his mechanical suit."
The sudden silence on the other end of the line curled something in her stomach. "Mr Tracy?"
Her phone lit up and a hologram of a uniformed man appeared floating above it. "Please, Chief McCready, did you just say Virgil was hit by a falling elevator?"
"Yes, but his suit protected him." That something in her stomach soured. "Didn't it?"
The expression on the floating man's face was calm and considered, but she could tell something was very, very wrong.
"Chief McCready, I need you to tell me exactly what happened."
-o-o-o-
"A FALLING ELEVATOR?!"
The entirety of the Auckland City Hospital Emergency waiting room jumped at Scott's exclamation. Every eye in the room landed on the tired, uniformed operative and Gordon wanted nothing more than to hide his big brother away from the spotlight.
But that would be after Gordon processed this new bit of information.
They had commandeered the far corner of the room, all three in their uniforms. Scott had been pacing like a man possessed from the moment they delivered their now unconscious brother into the hands of the doctors. The flight out had been hair raising, despite its brevity.
Virgil was obviously bleeding internally. He they had had to keep him on his side the entire way, fearing he might choke on his own blood. He'd been conscious most of the way, but as they landed, his vitals had taken a dive and they'd lost him to his body's needs.
They handed him over as fast and professionally as possible, and apart from a report to hospital administration, they had been left to themselves.
They chose to ignore the holoprojectors showing the news and their wonderful shots of Virgil's 'bird parked on the green across the road. The voices of projected journalists speculating about what was going on was like the whine of mosquitoes in their ears.
John had been assigned to work out what the hell had actually happened to Virgil to injure him this badly.
Alan was in the naughty corner for not noting the injuries during the mission. His little brother could not come up with a reason for Virgil's condition and was consequently fretting. Gordon would have to do some damage control sooner rather than later.
But first...
"Scott, keep it down!" It was hissed through his teeth. "What did John find out?"
"Chief McCready claims he was hit by a falling elevator." The fury in Scott's tone was only echoed by Gordon's shock.
"What?!"
Again all the eyes in the room landed on the three Tracy boys.
"Apparently, they were climbing an empty elevator shaft when one of the cars fell from who knows how high. Virgil took the impact with his suit and saved the climbing party."
The first question that came to mind was if the exo-suit could take it, but the answer was as obvious as the reason why they were standing in this damned room being stared at.
Gordon turned to Alan to find his little brother staring up at them in horror. "A falling elevator?"
Scott straightened. "Did you know about this?"
"NO! God, no!" Alan shot to his feet just as a nurse hurried over.
"I'm sorry, sirs, but could you please keep it down?" It was obvious she knew who they were and hated to ask the question.
Gordon watched Scott bite back a snarly answer and swallow it. He cleared his throat as his commander facade slid into place. "My apologies, ma'am. Is there anywhere we could have a private conversation?"
The nurse hesitated, but her eyes didn't fail to track over Scott's IR logo. A weak smile. "I will see what I can do."
She disappeared for a short while during which Scott glared at Alan. Gordon had the urge to step between the two of them. This wasn't Alan's fault and Scott was just a ball of terrified worry prone to striking out.
The nurse returned and led them down a corridor to what appeared to be a small meeting room. "You are welcome to wait here. The staff have been advised of your location and will know where to find you." A pause and a hesitant expression. "I'm sorry your brother has been injured. I saw what you did in London. Simply amazing." Another worried pause, and when Scott didn't react she added a couple more words. "Thank you for everything. I hope he recovers well." And embarrassed, she hurried out of the room.
Gordon stared after her.
"I didn't know he had been hurt. He seemed fine!" Alan had tears in his eyes. "If I had the smallest of indications...but he was fine! Kept going on about his 'bird and how he was going to paint me with three ears and giant pimples. He was fine!"
Gordon reached out and grabbed at Alan, drawing him into a hug. "It's okay. We know you would have helped him if you knew." He glared at his older brother. "Don't we Scott."
"Shit." Scott dragged his hands across his face and into his hair before throwing himself into a chair. "Sorry, Alan. Virgil just...goddamnit, I'm going to kill him."
The fist that hit the table top rattled every chair in the room.
Gordon didn't bother asking his brother to calm down. It would be a waste of time and likely ignite him further. Instead Gordon dragged his little brother over to a chair and sat him there, taking a seat beside him.
He tapped his comms. "Johnny? You hacked the hospital network yet?"
"Of course."
"Any news?"
"I would have told you if there was. He's still in surgery."
John's tone was terse. Apparently, a brother nearly getting himself killed by elevator riled everyone. "Sorry, John. Can you tell us what exactly happened?"
"Not entirely, but we definitely have a clearer picture. I've been piecing together Virgil's tracking data, Two's sensor report, Five's data and Chief McCready's readings. I have the sequence of events and I have to say that Virgil is lucky to be alive. How he walked away from the collision, much less completed the mission and flew home is beyond my understanding."
"He's one stubborn assed son of a bitch?"
"Language, Gordon, and I don't appreciate you calling our mother a bitch." John's tone was ever so serious.
Gordon rolled his eyes. "Okay, so he is one tough mother-"
"Gordon!" This time it was Scott who cut him off and glared at him enough to remove a layer of skin.
But at least Scott wasn't targeting Alan any more.
A frown. "Johnny, did you hack the London Fire Department?"
"Of course." It was said with the whole 'well, derrr' inflection on his space brother's part. "I'm sending you a situation recreation, courtesy of Eos."
Scott's wrist projector flared into life and the three of them had the privilege of watching four stick figures climb a holographic elevator shaft and then get pummelled by a falling car.
Gordon found himself swallowing bile.
"And you saw no indication of this event, Alan?" Scott's tone was cool but non-critical.
"No! Thunderbird Two was caught in the explosion. I was busy trying to save his 'bird."
Scott sagged where he sat. "I can't believe this." He dropped his face into his hands.
Gordon stepped away from Alan, approached his big brother and crouched down beside him. "Hey, he's going to be okay. He's Virgil, and as I said he is one tough mother-"
"Gordon!" This time his name came out in triplicate, John joining in from oh so far away.
"Hey, I'm not wrong here, you know Virgil knows how to kick ass and he will get through this. He will."
Scott was staring into nothing. His voice parched. "He better." An indrawn breath.
"He has to."
-o-o-o-
She went into work the next day.
It took running a marathon through the press who, yes, had managed to not only find out her name, but also her residential address. It was to be expected. It was how things worked, but it still bugged her.
The train in was packed and nowhere near as restful as it had been the night before. She had a headache and her stomach hated her to the point of denying her breakfast.
And her mind refused to stop ruminating on the fact Virgil Tracy was seriously injured and in hospital.
How could she not have seen it?
Thinking back, perhaps he may have walked a little hunched over? It was hard to tell, she didn't know the man. He had seemed perfectly fine. Hell, he'd hauled her off the building and swung from his Thunderbird by a rope.
She had been clinging to him and ignoring her reaction to that. She was a professional after all.
Cass let her elbows hit her desk and shoved her face into her hands.
The blue glow of open holographic documents slipped through the cracks between her fingers.
"Chief McCready?"
The cool female voice startled her out of her morbid rumination and she looked up to find a young blonde woman followed by an older gentleman approaching her desk. "Yes?"
"Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward." The woman held out her hand and Cass found herself driven to take it in greeting. "I'm here on behalf of International Rescue. I was wondering if I could have a moment of your time?"
-o-o-o-
They removed his spleen and part of his liver, both kidneys were bruised, abdominal bleeding, and damaged lung tissue that required so much patching, the doctors were using words like 'reduced lung capacity' and 'respiratory assistance'.
His little brother lay broken on his hospital bed.
Somehow, Virgil was still breathing on his own, an oxygen mask over his face.
Scott had his brother's limp fingers in his hands.
"How did he function after an injury like that?" Alan's voice was small and scared.
Scott's heart clenched. "I don't know."
"Why did he do it?"
"Lives to be saved." It was always the answer. They had all done it. Hell, Alan, once worked through a rescue with a broken ankle and still managed re-entry and docking his 'bird. Scott had had a meltdown when he found out.
But Virgil was notorious for it. The stupid bastard.
Scott rubbed his face with his hands.
John entered the room, hands full of a tray of coffee and comfort food.
Scott turned away. He didn't feel like anything.
The pile of supplies was dumped on Virgil's bed table and mostly ignored.
"Penelope has made contact."
Scott turned to look up at his red-haired brother. "And?"
"No suspicions so far. In fact, Chief McCready appears to be as worried about Virgil as we are."
An arched eyebrow. "Why?"
John shrugged. "Virgil has that effect?"
A glance at his unconscious brother. "Yeah, he does."
All the brothers had fan bases. Scott quite enjoyed the notoriety despite having no wish to engage with any of it. It added to his mystique and he never hesitated to leverage whatever power he could to get the results he needed. If people wanted to fawn after him, it only worked for his reputation.
It was cold, but it wasn't that he didn't care. More that he needed to save people and lives were worth any manipulation required.
Alan seemed to miss his fandom completely. He complained at a lack of fans yet, Scott knew they were there and they loved his little brother.
Gordon had made the tabloids with his connection to Lady Penelope. The British in particular loved to invent 'news' about that little liaison. Kayo had stomped on a few 'reports' already and Eos was on eternal watch.
John was the mysterious one. The Voice Who Answers, The Eye in the Sky. The mystery of his base of operations and that one social appearance linking him to Penelope sent the media into a craze at the bare mention of John Tracy.
John had no idea how to handle it all. Scott went out of his way to protect his quiet brother for that very reason.
Virgil, on the other hand...if you encountered the man in the street and said hello, his manners would require a polite reply, the start up of a discussion and general courtesy.
And cluelessness.
It wasn't that Virgil was dumb, he just wanted to help and erred on the side of kindness.
Fortunately, even the hardest ass of a reporter fell for the soft heart that was Virgil and the media reflected it.
The few that didn't had to face Kayo. His sister was particularly volatile regarding her protection of Virgil.
So Virgil had a fanbase who adored him and the fact barely registered on the heavy lifter.
"Virgil had fun." The words were out of context, but Alan's tone was firm.
"What?"
"He said he had some leave coming up. Wanted to spend some more time with the Chief."
"He did?"
"Yeah, I think they may have hit it off."
"Really?" Virgil?
"Have we done a background check?"
John answered that one. "Penny's on the case."
Yeah, that was a stupid question. Of course, she was. Scott sighed.
The man on the bed groaned.
Scott startled and his three brothers moved towards the bed.
"Virgil?"
-o-o-o-
Cass stared at the blonde woman in front of her. "Virgil is injured?"
"Unfortunately, yes." The prim woman sat so upright in her seat, Cass felt backpain in sympathy. "Do you have any further information that could help us in determining what happened?"
Cass swallowed. She was used to facing the possibility of injury. It came with her job. Just last year, one of her squad had been killed in a collapse during a building fire. She was still working through it herself.
But this was International Rescue. They were men of myth.
Eyebrows and a warm smile.
She rubbed her hand across her face. "If there is anything I can do to help, I will do it."
"John said Virgil was hit by a falling elevator."
"We needed to get to the top of the building. Tracy suggested the elevator shaft. I saw no other option. He was able to climb up the shaft using his mechanical suit and support the three of us at the same time." A frown. She hadn't considered it, but thinking of it now, the mechanics of that weight and movement... "Should he have done that? Could his suit support our weight?"
"I am not aware of the specifics, but I have seen Virgil lift weights with his exo-suit that far outweigh that of three people. However, I have some serious doubts regarding the suit's capability in stopping a falling elevator car."
Cass sucked in her lips. "I thought that was it. I thought we were done for, but Tracy didn't even blink. He told us to brace ourselves and then took the shock and weight of that car as if it was an everyday occurrence. I had no clue it had injured him." But again, thinking back, the man had yelled out. She thought it had been in stress, but now, perhaps it had been in pain?
"I suspect, Mr Tracy was unaware of his injuries, also."
She frowned. "I've heard of delayed recognition of injury, but Tracy was fine. We were joking. He has holidays coming up and was thinking of joining my crew for a time."
One primly pruned eyebrow arched at her. "Joining your crew?"
A shrug. "Perhaps metro fire service might be considered a holiday for an International Rescue operative."
The blonde Lady didn't answer.
"Was there any other incident that we should be aware of?"
"He did fall through a floor, but we caught him."
"Virgil fell through a floor?"
"He needed to lift a considerable weight off my team member to free him up. We got him out, but the floor beneath Tracy's feet became unstable and collapsed. It was close, but my team and I were able to grab him before he fell any great distance." That suit had been damned heavy. How the man wore the thing and moved with such ease, Cass didn't know.
There was something in the woman's eyes, a worry, possibly a fear, but it was mostly hidden by her deportment. "Anything else?"
"After the elevator, we were required to separate the top of the building in order to save all the people it contained. Tracy had some laser cutters and we placed them in key structural positions. It required us to climb out onto the outside of the building. It required some physical effort." And he had saved her, stretching out to her. If he had been injured how had he done that? Had he hurt himself further?
She looked up to face the woman eye to eye. "He saved my life at one point as I fell off the building." A swallow. "I owe the man some debt."
Lady Penelope straightened even further. How was that possible? "International rescue does not expect recompense for their services."
"Could I at least buy him a beer?"
That eyebrow arched again. "Perhaps, but circumstances..."
She looked away a moment. "Yes, circumstances." An indrawn breath. "Where is he?"
Blue eyes considered her. "Why do you want to know?"
That raised her hackles. "The man saved my life and the life of a member of my team, why do you think I would want to know?"
There was no reaction beyond a continuing gaze.
Cass met that gaze with unflinching determination. "Can I at least send him flowers or a card?"
The woman lifted her elegant pink purse into her lap and drew out a card. "You are welcome to send me anything you might wish to send Virgil Tracy."
Cass took the card. More elegant pink. Who was this woman? She was as far from Tracy in appearance and mood as she could possibly be. "I'll do that."
"If you think of anything else that might be of use, please contact me. The smallest thing could help." She rose from her chair and the man who had accompanied her into the room, moved from his slouch beside the door to stand beside her again.
"Will he be okay?"
"I'm afraid I don't have that information."
"Can you get it for me?"
Again she was considered by those eyes. "We shall see."
Cass frowned at her as the pink lady turned to leave.
"Thank you, Chief McCready. I will be in touch."
"I look forward to it."
She stared after the woman as she left the room, thoughts swirling in her head. She had no doubt, Lady Penelope wouldn't tell her a thing.
But there were other ways,
Cass grabbed her comm and contacted an old friend.
-o-o-o-
TBC