Problem 2: amongst the continuing shifting of family members on and off the island Scott had only been home twice and for a total of about four hours.
In the first few hours that Scott had sat by John's bedside one of the friendly staff had told him there was a mess hall just one floor down that he was welcome to use. He was grateful for the offer, but hadn't dared to venture that far. Even leaving the room to stretch his legs down the hall had set his nerves twanging and he had quickly retreated to the sketchy sanctuary where his brother lay. Sometimes some kindly soul bought him a sandwich or a hot cup of tea, and that was enough.
Scott was just dozing off again in the clinical silence when the door softly opened, startling him awake in confusion. Medical staff had been checking on John once every few hours, but surely they had only just been? Was it that time already? But no, this was no doctor and Scott found himself enveloped in Virgil's strong hug.
"Hey." He said, against his brother's shoulder.
"Hey." Virgil said in return, pushing him to arms reach to study him. "You look like shit by the way."
Scott rolled his eyes and snorted. "Thanks, you always say the nicest things."
Virgil eyes him, appraising. "How much sleep have you been getting?"
"As much as possible, but these chairs aren't exactly clouds and marshmallows. Don't worry." Scott waved a hand, dismissing it as a minor concern.
"Sure. I'm not worrying." Virgil said blandly and fished around in the backpack he had bought with him. He passed over a large thermos.
"Coffee? Fantastic!" Scott said eagerly at the thought of a caffeine boost.
"No, not coffee. It's a fruit smoothie. With some added supplements because I guess you've been eating as much as you've been sleeping and it's starting to show."
Scott suppressed a grimace – the comment was probably fair after all – and took a swig of the refreshing concoction. A quick adjustment of the chairs and they were both sat, one on each side of John's bed.
"How is everyone? How is Brains doing?" Scott asked.
"Poorly, as you would expect. He's thrown himself into his work and repairs to Five, but that's just saving up problems for another day I think. But you'd know that if you came home." Virgil crossed his arms, the criticism clear.
"I can't leave Virgil. I can't leave him alone."
"I'm not suggesting it! But it's not like you're his only family: we're all worried and would gladly sit with him long enough for you to get a change of clothes and some sleep." Virgil said reproachfully.
Scott shook his head. "No. I need to be here."
Virgil gave a snort. "Feeling very self important are we? You're the first one he sees when he wakes up."
"No, I need to be here in case he -" Scott cut himself off. "In case the doctors have any news." Virgil frowned as Scott continued. "If something happens and it's Gordon here, or Alan. On their own, with people in their face and - . Well, I can't let them deal with that."
Virgil gave a slow nod, big-brother solidarity kicking in though hopefully Virgil didn't realise Scott's reasoning also applied to him.
"Fine. But I'm here for a bit so at least go get something proper to eat. And have a shave. You really do look like shit, like when we lost Dad. If John wakes up to see you like this he's going to panic."
That was the crux of it really, that was Scott's biggest fear: one that he had kept tamped right down and the one that kept Scott at his near constant vigil.
"What if he doesn't?" Scott asked in a small voice, closing his eyes and dropping his shoulders in defeat.
"What if he doesn't what?" Virgil asked, confused.
"Wake up."
Virgil reached over the bed, clasped Scott's hand tight. "He will."
"You can't know that."
"Look at him." Virgil said, with a nod in John's direction.
Scott did. John lay between them, pale and still. Bruises covered his face, shoulders and chest. Bandages wrapped tightly around his arms to protect his burns: apart from where I.v's had been inserted. A dressing covered his abdomen so his surgery wound could be kept free from infection.
"He looks like he's dying. He should have woken up by now." Scott said softly. John usually had a vibrant intensity about him, even when still in concentration, that was completely absent.
Across the bed Virgil sighed. Virgil had many different types of sigh and a sigh like that was usually reserved for when Gordon said something particularly dumb. "No Scott, look again. Surgery removed the shrapnel and saved his liver. The burns are going to take a while to heal but he won't need skin grafts. Broken shoulder will be ok as long as he doesn't move it too much. His blood pressure is stable, pulse is nice and strong. And the swelling on his brain is going down. That's all that's keeping him asleep right now."
"He's not asleep, Virgil. I wouldn't be worried if he was just asleep. He's in a god-damn coma."
Virgil sat back. "He's a fighter. He's going to be ok."
"Sometimes fighting isn't enough. Strength of will won't beat blood loss, or organ failure, or - "
"No, the medical treatment is doing that."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Because I can't think anything else." Virgil's face crumpled and Scott had a glimpse of someone else trying to stay strong for the rest of the family. Someone who needed his big brother to be strong for him. "Is that why you haven't been home? You think John is going to die and you don't want anyone else to be here on their own when it happens."
Scott nodded mutely.
Virgil sighed again. "Do you know how much of an idiot you are sometimes?" Scott nodded again. "Good. Here's what's going to happen – you are going to go have a wash up and a shave while I do the same for John." Virgil fished out two shaving kits from his bag, and tossed one Scott's way. "He hates having stubble. Then we are going to go over his med data until you can see that he is getting better. Then you are going to go home and get some proper sleep."
Scott allowed himself to be shooed into the ensuite, and went through the motions of a quick wash and a slower shave with the thoughtfully-put-together contents of the wash bag. He pondered the changes in himself as he went through the ritual of water, lather and blade. The face he saw in the mirror was unfamiliar to him – dark circles under the eyes, brow crinkled in a frown above them, lips pinched tight together. He threw a hand full of cold water to wipe that expression away.
Scott thought he was being realistic and preparing for the worst case, protecting the others in a way he failed at protecting John. He knew that Virgil and Kayo could keep an eye on what was going on back at home, which freed him up to be here.
Once he would have not been so quick to jump to the worst possible scenario,. But once he had two parents and didn't make life or death decisions every day. Once he would have looked for his own information before drawing a conclusion – he had barely given a glance to the med displays in all the time he had been here. When had he become so reliant on being spoon-fed things he was meant to know? When John became so damn good at giving answers before the questions were even asked, that's when.
Scott took a few more minutes to gather himself, shake the tension out his arms and set his shoulders to face whatever Virgil had for him. Virgil had been busy: not only was John as fresh faced as ever (and didn't it show just how ill he looked with uncharacteristic stubble, similar to the haunted face Scott had seen in the mirror) but there was also a summary of John's condition and, looking at it from a slightly more optimistic point of view, he was definitely making progress.
"You ready to go home and get some rest? I'll stay." Virgil said as Scott read. "I'll even let you fly Two."
"In a bit." Scott said, turning off the data pad to sit, as he had been before, and took one of John's hands. "I promise. I just want to be here for a little bit longer now I'm feeling..." he trailed off.
"Now you're feeling not like quite like out brother is going to die and you're sitting here waiting for it?" Virgil said with a smile, and sat opposite to mirror Scott. "Sure."
That was exactly it: there was a big difference between waiting for death and waiting for life and it had taken a kick up the butt from Virgil for him to see what side of the line he had been. The silence was different now – not filled with solemn dread. Scott was no longer bearing a burden alone which meant he was also not alone when he felt the first faint twitches of John's fingers under his hand.