If it'd just been Gordon helping, Virgil didn't think they'd get Scott back to the infirmary. Their brother was digging his heels in, resisting in a way that made him impossible to move. When Scott started shouting, insisting about going in the pool, Virgil let go of his brother's arm, motioning for Gordon to do the same. They both stepped back.

Scott spun for the door, almost lost his balance but managed to correct himself before Virgil's raised hand made contact. While Scott pushed and pulled on the locked door in confusion, Virgil caught Gordon's worried gaze. If he didn't know better, he'd even say his little brother looked fearful.

"What'd we do?" Gordon asked, looking from Virgil to Scott and back again.

"We need to calm him down," Virgil said. "We've got to get him back into the infirmary and back on the drip; his headache is going to slam back in any moment. He's not as well as he thinks he is."

He glanced at his father as he spoke and the man nodded his understanding. Before he could move though, Gordon reached out to Scott. He took his arm, trying to pull him away from the door. On a good day, the two were evenly matched. But Scott wasn't thinking rationally and he shoved Gordon, taking his brother by surprise. Gordon tripped, stumbling back, but Virgil caught him before the coffee table hastened his downwards momentum.

Gordon didn't say anything, only nodded as Virgil nudged him upright.

"Scott." Virgil's voice was soft and calm. He took a step towards his brother but kept distance between them. "Come on, big brother. We'll help you."

"I don't need help!" Scott snapped.

Virgil rolled his eyes: as obstinate as ever, even when the sweat was building again. They didn't have time to play nice.

But someone else took control. Striding past Virgil, his dad took Scott's arm, ignoring the attempt to throw him off.

"Enough!" he said. Their father's voice was stern, leaving no room for arguments, and Scott went still. "Time to get you back to bed."

Both Virgil and Gordon watched, wide-eyed, as Scott was marched out of the room. If their brother was fighting the hold, it wasn't obvious.

"How'd he do that?" Gordon muttered. Virgil looked back at his brother, shaking his head.

"Practice?" he guessed, remembering what the man had said earlier about getting Scott to sleep. "C'mon. Let's get back to the infirmary."

He took a step, before realising Gordon wasn't following. When he glanced at his brother, Gordon made a non-committal noise in the back of his throat.

"What?" Virgil asked, having a suspicion he knew exactly what.

"I… got things to do," Gordon said evasively. "You don't need me; you and Dad have got this."

His suspicions were right. Virgil smiled, turning properly to his brother.

"He's not thinking straight," he murmured. "Doesn't know what he's doing. He didn't mean it."

"I know." Gordon tried to shrug it off, but he still wouldn't meet Virgil's eyes. "I just-,"

"Dad'll calm him down."

"I don't like it," Gordon admitted, finally looking up. "He's not Scott when he's like this."

Virgil understood all too well. They were used to their big brother being in control – he had been for as long as any of them remembered. This was disconcerting, but Virgil knew it wouldn't last.

"John's looked into it," he reassured. "Few days and it'll have run its course. He'll be back to our annoying big brother in no time."

Gordon nodded, but he still looked unsure. Virgil put a hand on his shoulder.

"I need your help."

Gordon visibly took a breath, his shoulders relaxing as he nodded again, this time in certainty. Without another word, he headed towards the infirmary. Virgil grinned to himself as he followed: Scott wasn't the only one who knew how to play younger brothers.

By the time they reached the infirmary, Scott was back on his bed. Their father had hold of his hand and as Virgil moved closer, he realised he was applying a small dressing to the back of it. No doubt Scott hadn't been gentle when pulling out the line.

Moving up to the bed, he looked down at his brother.

"I'm going to hook you back up," he said quietly. "Don't fight me."

He'd been genuine about thinking he needed Gordon's help. Even with their father's presence, Scott's behaviour meant he wasn't sure he'd get another line in. But to his astonishment, his brother did nothing more than look the other way as Virgil moved everything around the bed and replacedthe drip. Just to make sure, he slipped another pain reliever into it.

Scott was hot but running around the villa would do that. He was still conscious and looked more lucid than before. Virgil left the thermometer where it was. He'd give Scott time to settle before taking another reading, knowing he'd just make himself worry if he did it now.

"I'll just go, then…" Gordon trailed off, already turning to the door.

"Gords?" Scott's voice was a whisper, but his eyes were open, and he was watching Gordon. He might be out of it, but it took more than that to turn his big brother instincts off. Virgil ducked his head to hide a smile.

"What?" Gordon asked, hesitantly.

"Stay."

It took seconds for Gordon to reverse his path and perch on the end of Scott's bed. As unnerved as he was, hearing Scott sound calmer was helping.

"You don't want another sandwich, do you?"

"Huh?" Scott looked baffled, glancing between his dad and brothers as if hoping someone would enlighten him.

"Nothing," Gordon said with a smile. Virgil knew he wouldn't forget it any time soon, no doubt holding it over Scott when he was feeling better. But for now, Virgil was just glad Gordon wasn't putting any ideas into Scott's head.

"Get some sleep," their dad murmured. He shifted a chair until he was at the head of the bed, his hand stroking through his son's hair. "You'll feel better."

He looked at Virgil as he spoke though, who nodded in understanding. Scott needed rest; not running around the villa to carry out mad ideas.

He moved to his supply cabinet, reaching in to pull out the phial he often threatened his brothers with. Threatened, but rarely had to deliver.

"I'm not tired," Scott protested. Virgil smiled softly even as he pushed the sedative into the line. It was hard to take him seriously when he was pouting like a five-year-old.

"Will be in a minute," Virgil muttered under his breath. It was only a mild dose – Scott was already exhausted, he only needed something to tip him over. Left to his own devices, Scott would hold off sleep as long as he could just to prove an abstract point no one else cared about. His brother was stubborn that way.

Scott – thankfully – didn't hear his words. Virgil watched in silence, along with his father and younger brother, as Scott's eyes flickered.

"Give into it, Scotty," their dad breathed. Virgil jerked his head, and Gordon slipped off the bed. They both turned their backs, pretending to give whatever privacy they could.

"Go to sleep," his dad murmured. Virgil pretended to be looking for something while Gordon stared out the window with a vacant expression. Virgil wondered what his brother was thinking about.

"He's under."

Virgil immediately moved closer to the bed, checking his brother's vitals, pleased when Scott didn't stir.

"He should be under a couple of hours," he reported. He pulled the blood pressure cuff towards him and loosened it. "Can someone let Brains know? He wanted to do some more bloods – and it's easier this way."

Gordon murmured something that sounded like he volunteered before leaving the room.

"Why didn't he call him?"

Virgil glanced over at the confused note in his dad's voice.

"Scott's freaking him out," he said. He didn't need to explain further: understanding dawned and his father nodded.

"I'll have a word," he promised, but Virgil shook his head.

"It won't help," he said, an apologetic tone in his voice. He glanced down at his sleeping brother as he adjusted the cuff. "Scott's the one he needs."

His dad didn't answer but Virgil knew it was because he agreed. Gordon needed Scott; it didn't matter what the rest of them said in the meantime. He carried on his own checks, making the most of having his patient compliant for once. He knew it was a virus, understood there was nothing he could do other than let it run its course. But he couldn't stop himself. If there was anything he'd missed and Scott suffered because of it, he'd never forgive himself. Despite John's reassurances, he couldn't resist checking his brother's neck, making sure there was no swelling.

"Virgil."

"What?" He only spared his father half a glance, then jumped as the man's large hand curled around his wrist, stilling him.

"Stop," Jeff said, his voice just as soft as when he'd been soothing Scott.

"I have to do something," Virgil muttered.

"And this is helping, is it?"

Virgil flushed at the pointed note in his father's words. His dad knew him too well, and knew Virgil was only running the checks because he needed to be doing something, regardless of whether it was necessary or not. Only Brains' blood tests would reveal how the virus was progressing.

It seemed his dad knew that too.

"Wait for Brains," he ordered gently. "There's nothing more you can do."

Virgil couldn't suppress a shudder at those words. He hated sitting on the side lines, just watching. But his dad's hand moved, curling around his neck in the way Scott's usually did, squeezing gently. When Virgil looked up, it was to find the man watching him with a soft smile.

"You think I haven't noticed Gordon isn't the only one unnerved at seeing his big brother like this?"

Virgil blushed. He'd been trying to think rationally, deal with what the science was telling him. But he couldn't deny it was unnerving seeing his calm and confident big brother acting like a child with a dangerously high temperature.

"Sit down, Virg," his father continued with a smile. "Or if that's asking too much, go and get me a coffee."

Virgil finally grinned, stepping away from the bed and edging towards the door. He was just being a dutiful son fetching his father's drink. The thought it gave him a chance to grab a coffee of his own never occurred to him, of course!


His pounding head was the first thing Scott noticed when he opened his eyes.

The second thing came right on its heels: it was only a single drummer, this time, not the full marching band.

He blinked, trying to focus, dimmed lights making him screw his eyes up before trying again. It took him longer than he wanted to admit to realise he was in the infirmary but it came as no surprise that when he managed to turn his head, Virgil was bending over something off to the side. It was good to know there were some things he could rely on.

"Virg-," Whatever he was about to say was lost in a sudden coughing fit that took him unawares. He was aware of Virgil moving closer, but his thoughts stalled until he could take a breath without spluttering. Eyes watering, he sipped gratefully at the water his brother was holding out to him.

It did, however, come as a surprise to see Virgil grinning. It wasn't his brother's usual reaction to a coughing fit.

"Welcome back," Virgil said with a smile. He put the glass down and perched on the edge of the bed. Scott wasn't quick enough to dodge Virgil's questing hand and squirmed when it rested on his forehead.

"Your fever broke last night," Virgil explained. "You peaked at nearly 102, but it's been dropping ever since. You still feel warm, but I'm guessing you can think clearly now?"

"I guess," Scott muttered. He looked around. "How long have I been here? I don't, I don't remember-,"

Everything seemed hazy and he'd lost all track of time.

"What do you remember?"

Scott thought back. He remembered coming to the infirmary and waking up a few days ago. Then there was a hazy blank, snatches of colour and faces, but nothing coherent. He looked at Virgil, not able to say anything, confusion and a touch of fear in his eyes. Virgil smiled and put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing softly.

"You've been really ill," he murmured. "It's okay if you don't remember everything. Don't fight it."

Something in his tone and the way he glanced away, just fleetingly, before looking back made Scott frown. He put his palms to the mattress, attempting to sit up. Virgil didn't try to stop him, but raised the back of the bed, letting Scott lean back in gratitude. He figured this was as far as his brother was going to let him get.

But once upright, he ran an assessing gaze over his brother, then sighed.

"What'd I do?"

Virgil started, a red tinge flushing his neck, but he kept his tone light.

"Pain in the ass as usual," he said. Scott shook his head.

"You were relieved I didn't remember. So, there's something you want me to forget: what is it?"

Virgil looked like he was going to continue denying it, then sighed.

"Creeped Gordon out for one thing," he said. He sat down on the bed, combing his fingers through his hair. He looked exhausted. Scott wondered if his brother had slept at all over the last few days and tried to hide his pang of guilt.

He could tell by Virgil's face that he wasn't finished yet. Scott waited patiently until-

"You weren't yourself." Virgil was staring at the bed rather than meeting Scott's eye. "And it was weird."

"Help if I said sorry?" Scott still didn't know what he was apologising for, but it felt the right thing to do. Virgil shook his head.

"Not to me," he said. Then he sat up straighter. "You know you're even more stubborn when you're ill? Dad was the only one with a chance of making you listen."

Scott pulled a face. He didn't like the sound of this. Arguing was beyond him though; sitting up was already feeling too much. He didn't plan on saying anything, but Virgil read his expression.

"Tired?"

Scott nodded. He needed to stay awake, sort his brothers out, but he couldn't keep his eyes open. He blinked and was suddenly lying down without remembering moving.

"Go back to sleep," Virgil murmured quietly.

Scott frowned. The lighting in the infirmary was different. Virgil had pulled a sweater on as well. He hadn't blinked: he'd fallen asleep.

He tried to focus on his brother. But Virgil wasn't looking at him. He was frowning softly, his gaze fixed on something the other side of the bed. Scott looked over and saw the IV line.

"Wha-?" he muttered, then understood. "You didn't!" He struggled to sit up, but Virgil's hand on his shoulder was enough to keep him down.

"Lie back," his brother ordered. "It's only mild. Most will have worked through your system by now. Just let it do its job."

"Virgil-,"

"You didn't give me a choice."

Scott knew it wasn't only Gordon he'd freaked out. Still, he fumbled for the end of the line, surprised it was on his right. Virgil normally chose his left. But he hadn't grasped it before a hand closed over his.

"Let go," Scott protested but Virgil didn't loosen his grip.

"No. You need the fluids and the rest, Scott. Don't fight me."

Scott tried to get out of his brother's grip, just to prove he could. But already his eyes were flickering, his body relaxing without his permission. Sagging back against the bed, he tried to glare at Virgil.

"Control freak," he muttered, voice slurring.

He felt better when he woke again. His head was clearer and he felt more himself than previously. Opening his eyes, he figured it had to be hours later. Scott shifted until he propped himself up on his elbows, glad he could.

It was his father he noticed first, sitting next to the bed, newspaper in hand.

"Hey," Scott said quietly. The man looked up, folding the paper and leaning forward with a smile.

But Scott's gaze had already moved on. Virgil was sitting on another chair, but his upper body was sprawled across the bed. He was fast asleep.

"He's going to feel that when he wakes," his dad said softly, also watching Virgil. Scott smiled. It confirmed his thoughts that Virgil hadn't been sleeping – his dad would've woken him and sent him to bed if he thought Virgil would actually go.

"How's he been?" Scott asked. Virgil was notorious for forgetting about himself when something was on his mind. If Scott had been as ill as Virgil had implied, he couldn't imagine what his brother had been doing to himself.

"He's managed," his dad said. "How are you-,"

"And Gordon?" For once, he didn't care he'd cut the man off. He couldn't focus on him until he knew what was going on with his brothers. "Virgil said I did something?"

"Tell you what," his father was grinning, "you tell me how you're feeling, and I'll fill you in on your brothers."

His tone was light, but Scott knew it wasn't a suggestion. He sighed.

"Better than before," he said truthfully. He double-checked Virgil was asleep before adding, "but still pretty weak."

He shifted, not liking the searching look he was being subjected to. "Don't you have things to be doing?"

"Not until you're better. Every time I try, I have to rescue your brothers from you acting like a child."

Scott went red. He had nothing to say in his defence given he couldn't remember anything. He stared at the blanket but his dad laughed, ruffling his hair in a way that made Scott instantly protest.

"Good to have you back to normal," Jeff said, just as the door opened.

"Who's normal?" Gordon sauntered in and Scott watched him closely. He looked okay, but he spoke without his usual levity.

Gordon smirked as he glanced at Virgil and sat down, but he kept his voice quiet. "Not Scott; there's never been anything normal about him."

"Says you," Scott retorted. "At least I don't try and live in a swimming pool."

Gordon's reaction was not what he had been expecting. His little brother grinned mischievously, a look in his eye that made Scott shift.

"What?"

"Nothing." Gordon was clearly trying not to laugh.

"Tell me."

"Nope."

"I'll leave you two to it," their father said. He stood, tucking the paper under his arm and picking up an empty coffee mug. He gave Scott a fond yet measured look and left. Scott sighed.

"I'd love a coffee," he said to no one in particular.

Yet again, Gordon surprised him, backing up with his hands up.

"Oh no. I'm not going. I don't care if you're stuck, desperate for one and it'll be the only thing that makes you feel better. I'm not getting it. I'm not falling for that again."

"For what?" Scott stared at him, confused. But Gordon shook his head and refused to explain further, no matter what Scott tried.

He gave up in the end. But still, he wished he knew what he'd done.