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Something woke him. Virgil opened his eyes, uncertain what had disturbed him. It was late, the room lit by the soft glow from a lamp. John was in a chair, his tablet in his hand, but the tilt of his head gave away that he was listening, not reading.

Virgil copied him, realising he could hear muffled voices. Angry voices. He guessed the only reason Scott wasn't shouting was because he was in a hospital, but he wasn't keeping his voice down, either. Virgil sat up - pleased he could do so easier than before - and John noticed he was awake.

"How long have they been at it?" Virgil asked, and his brother shrugged.

"Since Penny left. Scott couldn't hold it back any longer."

Virgil grimaced. It had surprised him when the aristocrat had turned up and he'd listened in disbelief when she told them about transferring the prisoners and the plan to get answers from them about the wider operation. Virgil had agreed wholeheartedly. They'd destroyed this facility, but who knew how many more were out there, how many others had suffered what he had and not survived? Finding them all would be impossible, but tracking down the buyers – the wealthy, the connected – might be their best lead. No buyers meant no money – and these men were greedy above all else.

Penny had refused to discuss it further, though. She insisted she'd come to cheer Virgil up and spoke only of trivial matters, either ignoring or not noticing the rising tension. He knew Penny would keep them updated, and had dozed off before she left.

He should have known it wouldn't have been enough for Scott.

Virgil shifted, swinging his legs around. He raised his eyebrows at how quickly John reached his side.

"What're you doing?" John asked, and Virgil tilted his head towards the door.

"Someone has to stop them," he said. "Help me, will you?"

John visibly swallowed his protest when he saw the conviction on Virgil's face. He clearly realised his brother was doing this, with or without help. Virgil smiled his gratitude as John took his arm, supporting him as he shifted his weight. The wound was healing, but he still felt weak and hated that any movement exhausted him. But this was worth it.

They moved slowly across the room. John supported him but didn't crowd, content to let Virgil take it at his own pace. The voices became more audible as they reached the door, and Virgil figured his brother and father were standing just outside. He hesitated, curious about how the argument would have progressed and who had the upper hand. His dad had logic and reason, Scott had passion, and they both had equal measures of protectiveness.

"I had a right to be there!" The sheer emotion in Scott's voice made Virgil sigh. There was taking it badly, and there was this. He glanced at John, who grimaced sympathetically. Virgil could only imagine what Scott had been putting John through since he'd gone missing.

"You are a civilian out here, or have you forgotten that? There was no reason for you to be there. Your friend is already suspicious, we need to avoid further complications."

"I don't give a damn about complications! You knew I wanted to be in on this, and you went behind my back."

"I am your father, and your commander. You think I'll let you anywhere near this operation when you're like this?"

Scott wasn't the only one sounding emotional. It had been years since the pair of them had clashed.

"You shouldn't have made that call without telling me."

"You're not thinking straight, Scott. You're not thinking at all! There's nothing you could have offered this mission other than more problems."

"I should have been there," Scott repeated stubbornly, and Virgil could picture the set to his jaw, the glint in his eye.

Virgil couldn't wait any longer. He shuffled forward and John opened the door. Neither his father nor brother noticed.

"Actually, it's Gords and I who had the right to be there," Virgil said.

Both men looked around. Scott's fists were clenched, and a muscle throbbed in his cheek, but there was also a wild, lost look in his eyes. Virgil couldn't imagine what he'd been going through when they hadn't been able to find him.

His father crossed over to him, resting his hands on Virgil's shoulders. "You should be in bed."

"I was. An argument woke me up."

His dad looked guilty, gesturing to John to step back while he supported his son into the room. Virgil let himself be helped onto the bed but refused to get under the covers, instead leaning against the headboard. Scott hadn't come in.

"You knew he would take that badly," Virgil murmured. "He needs to help or it will drive him mad."

"He can't fix everything."

Virgil thought his father sounded sad.

"Dad-,"

"I'm sorry we woke you, son. Come on, into bed, you should get some more rest."

"Out of all of us, I think I'm the one who doesn't need sleep." Virgil looked his father in the eye, trying to make himself heard. "Scott needs a break. You all need a break."

"I know."

"I want to go home," Virgil said. As his father made to speak, Virgil pushed on. "You heard the nurse earlier, I'm healing. It's just about rest. I can get that on the island, and someone who needs the bed can have it."

"Virgil-,"

"We have Brains. We have the equipment and the knowledge. There's less chance of Scott doing something stupid or Gordon trying to find that building again if we're on the island."

"Gordon wants to do what?" His father looked astonished, but Virgil shrugged.

"Probably hasn't thought of it yet," he admitted. "But once he's better, you really think he's going to sit around? And whenhe notices how agitated Scott is? The pair of them will have a plan before any of us can stop them."

John snorted as their father grimaced. It wasn't often Scott and Gordon teamed up, but when they did, they were unstoppable. And for something like this? When both had been forced to face different vulnerabilities? There was no telling how far they'd go – and John wouldn't be able to resist them when they came for help.

"I've been stuck for too long," Virgil grumbled. "I want out of this room, out of this friggin' bed. I just want to sit in the sun with Grandma's cooking and know that I made it home."

His need for freedom went deeper than he could put into words. He wanted to be sitting outside with the sun warming him, with his entire family around him, not restricted by visiting hours (which they tried their best to ignore, but no winning smiles were getting them past the ward's matron) or how many people they could fit in the room (which was impressive, given the size). Alan and Gordon should be messing about in the pool, while he listened to the reassuring voices of his older brothers chatting, not this forced hush of the hospital.

He couldn't keep the longing from his voice and his dad reached over, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Gordon said something similar," he admitted. I'll talk to your doctors."

He stepped towards the door, then turned back, one finger lifted in warning. "But only if they say it's okay. I'm not risking your health because you're bored."

He left while Virgil attempted to splutter his innocence.

"Save it, kid," John said. Virgil looked up at him.

"I'm not just bored," he protested. His brother grinned, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"I know. But you are, aren't you?"

Virgil couldn't deny it. For once, the movement hadn't completely drained him. He could rest here – he had no intention of getting back into bed, regardless of what his doctors or family said. John, however, didn't try to persuade him, just watched with a thoughtful expression.

"There's nothing to go back to," he blurted out without warning.

"What?"

"The building," John explained. "You said Gords would want to go back. There's no closure there - the fire destroyed the whole place."

Virgil had forgotten about the fire. His escape felt like a dream, and he was afraid if he thought about it for too long, he would wake up and find that he was still there.

"It was that bad?" The building wouldn't have passed any fire inspection, but he hadn't realised it had got so out of hand.

John nodded. "I saw the report afterwards. There was a potent mix of chemicals in there. It started in more than one place – too many sparks were flying. It's a miracle you got out, and that none of Shawn's men were killed."

Virgil took the news in silence. He knew what had caused one of those sparks – Max's attempt to kill him once and for all. It was not a thought Virgil wished to dwell on. Shaking it off, he gave his brother a meaningful look.

"You know you've got to go find Scott?"

"Figured as much." John stood and stretched. Virgil watched enviously, having found out the hard way only that morning that stretching was still off the agenda for now.

John moved towards the door, and Virgil's frustration grew. He needed to get out of there!

But John paused before he left, picking up a bag that Virgil hadn't noticed. He lifted something out and dropped a sketchpad and some pencils on the bed.

"They were the best I could find," he said, avoiding Virgil's gaze. But Virgil grinned, and he pulled them closer, the pencil instinctively resting in his hand. He flipped open the cover and looked up at his brother.

"Thanks, John."

John just nodded and left.

As the door shut behind him, John glanced around.

Scott was nowhere to be seen, but John knew he wouldn't have to go far. He headed downstairs and entered the gift shop. It was the last place anyone would look to find Scott, and sure enough, his brother was lurking among plastic flowers.

Scott sighed as John came closer.

"How'd'you know?" he grumbled, but his voice lacked its previous heat.

"You won't leave without time with Virg, "John shrugged, "and no one would look for you here."

"You knew straight away, didn't you?" Scott looked resigned and John nodded. His brother ran a hand over his eyes. "Is Dad really pissed?"

"No." John gripped Scott's shoulder and steered him out of the shop, nodding at the girl behind the counter who was watching them suspiciously. He didn't let go until they were outside. The edge of the parking lot wasn't the best place for a conversation, but it would do.

"You know it's not Dad's fault, and I know you get why he didn't tell you. So, go on, spill. Why are you being such a brat about it?"

"You make me sound like Alan," Scott muttered. He avoided John's gaze and stared into the distance. John gave him a moment before clearing his throat. It was his job to get his brothers to communicate, after all.

"I hate being on the side-lines," Scott admitted. "Between the Air Force and IR, I've always had a part to play. Only this time, the professionals had to come in and take charge because we can't be seen to be involved. What's the point if I can't protect my family?"

"You do," John said. "You were the one who found Virgil; the one to pull Gordon out."

"And I'm the one who has to sit around, watching others hunt down answers, pretending I'm incapable."

"We knew we were signing up for a rough deal with IR," John said. He understood Scott's point, though. They knew they made a difference – the fact the rest of the world considered them playboys hurt, but they handled it. That same reputation was preventing Scott from being involved now, despite his military background. Shawn's involvement made it harder – Scott wanted to prove to his old friend he could still help.

"Go upstairs," he continued. "Dad's gone - go and see Virg."

"Where's Dad?"

"Persuading the doctors to let us take Virgil home."

A grin split over Scott's face, and he disappeared without another word. John ran his fingers through his hair.

Virgil was not the only one who wanted to get out of there.

Scott stretched as the engines powered down, rolling his neck.

It hadn't taken his father long to persuade the hospital to allow Virgil to come home. There was no reason not to. The wound was healing without complications, and the doctors had already admitted rest and nourishment would have more effect than medication now. They'd pushed the paperwork through quickly, although Scott suspected his father's donation might have played a part there.

It would do them all good to be home. Virgil and Gordon could get the rest they needed, and the bright sunshine would help them deal with the memories more than a sterile hospital or crowded hotel room.

Alan had been going stir crazy cooped up, and John hadn't been much better. He'd never admit it, but Scott knew that John wanted to track down where Penny had taken the men. He didn't have the burning need to be involved as Scott did, but John liked to have all the details – it was his way of coping. Scott couldn't decide whether or not to encourage him. He wanted to know, but now understood his dad's reasoning for keeping him out of it. If he knew, there was no way he'd be able to let it go.

His dad had had the plane moved to somewhere more secure. They were taking Tracy One home, leaving the second jet in a private hangar to collect later. Scott had suggested he flew one and his dad the other, but had been shot down. His father mentioned protocol with having rested co-pilots, but Scott knew none of them wanted to be split up yet, even for a flight home. They still had agents in the area to monitor things, after all - including the plane.

Once in the air, Scott finally felt the tension ease. He was in control here, and once the others were home, they were safe.

The flight had been uneventful, but Scott had still been relieved when he could taxi the jet into the hangar.

"Scott?" His father's hand on his shoulder brought Scott out of his musings. He blinked and looked around, realising everything was quiet.

"I'm coming."

"Actually, there's something you could do for me first?"

Scott followed his father from the cockpit, puzzled. But once they reached the passenger section, he smiled.

Gordon, Alan and John were gone, but Virgil was fast asleep. His father clapped him on the back, moving towards the door.

"I'll leave you to it."

Scott waited until he'd left before crouching in front of his brother. He put a hand on Virgil's leg.

"Virg?" He called softly. "We're home."

Virgil's nose wrinkled as he let out a soft sigh in his sleep. Knowing his brother was stirring, Scott gave him a gentle shake – a far cry from his usual approach, but it worked as Virgil's eyes opened.

"What was that for?" he murmured; voice heavy with sleep. Scott smiled and stood up.

"We're home."

Virgil sat up, hands gripping on the arm-rest. "Home?"

"Yeah," Scott said simply. He knew what was going through his brother's head: after days of doubting if he would see home again, he was finally here.

He held out his hand and Virgil took it. Scott aided his brother from the plane, slowly but a great deal improved since Virgil had first tried to move. It would be hard until his wound completely healed, but he wasn't trembling in Scott's hold this time.

Once they made it out, Scott headed towards the house. Virgil, however, pulled in the opposite direction.

"Let's go outside."

"Why?" Scott asked, but he'd already turned, following his brother's lead. Virgil didn't say anything until they'd left the hangar and stood on a small outcrop, overlooking most of the island, the beach and the sea. His eyes closed, and he tilted his head back with a soft smile.

Scott suddenly understood: Virgil wanted to feel the sun.

Between being imprisoned and the hospital, it had been days since Virgil was last outside. Even in just the few minutes they had been standing there, his brother had more colour than Scott had seen for a while.

"Come on," he finally murmured. He didn't want to break Virgil's peace, but the others would wonder where they were. "We should get in before Gordon eats all the cake."

"He'd save me some," Virgil muttered.

"I wouldn't be so sure." Scott tugged gently on Virgil's arm. "C'mon, kid. Grandma wants to see you."

It worked - Virgil turned, albeit it with one last look back over the sea. Scott helped him inside and into the elevator.

"It'll still be there later," Scott promised. Virgil leant against the wall; eyes shut. He had gone pale again, and Scott realised this was the longest his brother had been out of bed for days.

The lounge was empty when they emerged. Noise coming from the kitchen gave away where the others were, but Scott knew Virgil needed a moment to pull himself together. He eased his brother onto the sofa, crouching next to him.

"Are you okay?" he asked, not meaning physically. Virgil nodded, but his hands were clutching at the edge of the seat and he was trembling again.

"I didn't…I didn't think…."

"I know," Scott said. "But you did. You're home, Virg."

Virgil nodded distractedly, but was spared from answering by their grandmother's arrival. She shooed Scott from the room, and he went with a good-natured laugh, leaving Virgil to deal with her fussing. He knew his brother could handle it and, if he was honest, believed it was what Virgil needed right now. Not that he'd ever admit that.

Wandering through the house, Scott trailed his hand along the wall, finally allowing himself to relax. If Virgil hadn't made it - if they hadn't found him in time - Scott wasn't sure he would've been able to face coming home. He shuddered and banished his dark thoughts. It was a beautiful day and all of his brothers were here. They weren't as healthy as he wanted, but they were more or less in one piece, and they were safe. That was good enough for him.

Before he knew it, Scott found himself outside his father's office. He paused, guilty over how he'd reacted at the hospital. His dad letting him fly home was a peace offering, but he still wasn't certain where they stood. He hesitated, but when he heard voices, knocked and entered.

His father was behind his desk, pinching the bridge of his nose. He looked old and stressed, and Scott hated it. John was sitting in front of him. Neither seemed surprised when Scott came in, although his father raised his eyebrows.

"Grandma," Scot said. It was all he needed to say in regards to where he'd left his brother. Their father nodded, but John still looked as if he was waiting for an answer to a previously asked question.

"What's up?" Scott perched on the edge of the desk. For once, his father didn't insist that he took a seat instead, and Scott was glad; it allowed him to watch both his dad and John at the same time.

"What did I miss?"

"Nothing important." His dad lowered his hand, fixing John with a look that clearly said the conversation was over. John, however, was not so easily intimidated.

"What happens when Penny finds the buyers."

Scott straightened. "Well?"

"Don't get your hopes up; there's been no news." John dragged his hand through his hair, also drawing himself up. "I want us to handle it."

Scott nodded, fully agreeing. One look at his father's face, and he knew the man wasn't sold on the idea. John wasn't finished.

"We can go in as IR, full uniform and helmets, no one would know it was us. We can claim we got a tip-off, say it's an unstable area. The world trusts us; we can say what we like. Besides, we are technically saving lives by getting these bastards."

"We're not the police, John."

Scott knew by his father's tone this was not the first time they'd had this conversation. Scott should have guessed. Just because John wasn't as explosive in stating his mind as Scott had been didn't mean he was any happier about being left out of the loop. Virgil and Gordon were John's little brothers as much as they were Scott's.

"John is right, Dad. No one would suspect anything. We can shut the whole organisation down. Think of how many lives we would be saving."

"And what of the men you find? What if they're in a public place?"

Scott paused, but John was quicker on the mark. "I'm not saying we're judge, jury, and executioner. We see where the location is first. Then we'll get Penny involved. She follows us in and does whatever it takes to make it legal. Just let us get there first."

"No."

"Dad-,"

Scott held up a hand, stopping John. He slid off the desk and sat in the seat next to his brother, looking his father in the eye.

"You set up International Rescue because you felt helpless when we lost Mom. All this time, we've been saving families from feeling the same by fighting nature. But what good is it if it's mankind who destroys us? We can't protect everyone: we know that. But maybe it's not just nature we can save people from."

"It's too dangerous."

"We can handle it."

"Damnit!"

Scott flinched as his father stood, slamming a clenched fist on the desk. "I almost lost your brothers. I am not taking the chance of letting you get close to these men!"

It didn't matter that the chances of it being another gang like Max's were slim. It was their dad's way of trying to stay in control of the situation.

"You haven't lost anyone, Dad," Scott said, softly. He also rose, putting a hand on John's shoulder. "But do you honestly mean to tell me you're happy to sit back and let Penny handle the men who targeted your sons? You know we have the equipment to deal with it."

Scott didn't know where his words had come from. But he held his father's gaze as the man stared at him. His dad swallowed, then looked at John, who didn't look away either. Eventually, he exhaled and sat down, running a hand over his face. Scott noted how weary he looked, and knew the sooner this was over, the better.

"I don't want any unnecessary risks," he said slowly. Scott fought to keep the grin off his face.

"There won't be."

"And I don't want any of you acting irrationally." He looked up, staring at Scott. "No matter how angry you are, you will not stoop to their level."

"Yes, Sir." Scott squeezed John's shoulder and caught his brother's grin. They both knew their father had given in.

Scott moved towards the door to give the man some peace with his decision. He looked back to John. "I'm going to rescue Virg from Grandma. Coming?"

John was up before Scott finished speaking. They left together. Once outside, they exchanged meaningful glances. No one hurt their family and got away with it.