2 Alan takes charge

Virgil was aware of a light shining in his eyes, and voices talking, but he could not make out what they were saying. There was something he had to do – something urgent. His mind groped around. The image of the wall toppling behind Scott came back to him in a rush and he tried to move, only to find he was being held down.

"Stia fermo, signor. Be still. You are safe now, in the hospital" said a reassuring voice.

"No" he said. "My brother! Is he all right? Was he hurt?" He tried to sit up, ignoring the waves of pain and nausea that washed over him. 

Strong hands pressed him back. "Non si muova, signor!"

Virgil struggled frantically against the efforts of three hospital staff who were grouped around his bed, holding him down. He looked round: he could see other injured figures lying on beds, but no sign of another blue uniform. "Scott!" he yelled, "Where are you?"

The doors flew open as Scott came in at a run. "I'm here, little brother" he said, approaching the bed and taking one of Virgil's hands..

"Scott!" Virgil lay back, almost crying with relief, "you're safe!"

 "Yes, thanks to you. You're the one who's hurt. Now you just lie still and let the doctors sort you out." He looked at one of the medical personnel. "How bad is he hurt?"

"His leg is broken, and we think some of his ribs. We are going to take him for an X-ray, then we will know if there is any more damage. If you will wait outside we will come and tell you what we find."

Scott felt Virgil's hand tighten on his. He looked down at his brother "No, I'm staying with him for now."

Jeff rubbed his temples and looked with distaste at the umpteenth cup of coffee that Kyrano had just placed in front of him. He was dog-tired, but he knew he wouldn't sleep until his boys were back home safe. He heard a beeping sound from the wall and looked up. To his surprise it was coming from Alan's portrait. He pressed the switch. "Go ahead, Alan"

Alan's picture was replaced by a live image of his son, his face streaked with soot and grime, but pale beneath the dirt. "Dad, we've got trouble," he said bluntly. "I tried to contact Scott on Mobile Control, but all I got was our police liaison. He says one of our operatives was injured. I think from his description he means Virgil. I've been on to John and he's tracked Scott and Virgil's wristcomms to the hospital, but neither of them are answering."

Jeff felt an icy hand grip his heart. This was the sort of news he always dreaded. He took a deep breath. "Where are you now, son?"

"Well, the Italians don't seem to have any more work for us at the moment, so I'm taking the Firefly back to Thunderbird 2 for the night. Gordon's nearly finished, too."

"OK, once you've got Firefly stowed away, head for the hospital and see if you can find out what's happening. I'll get on to Gordon and tell him to retrieve the Mole and wait for you back at the Thunderbirds."

"F.A.B. Dad. I'll be in touch as soon as I know what's going on."

The A&E department of the hospital had the appearance of  a well-stirred ant-heap, with tired-looking staff rushing about, trying to keep up with the incoming casualties. Alan spotted a figure in blue sitting hunched up a chair in the corner and went over. "Scott!" he exclaimed, "am I glad to see you!"

Scott looked up, a bleak expression on his face, not seeming to recognise his younger brother. "It's all my fault," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "How can I explain it to Dad?"

Alan was taken aback. Scott was always the one who took command, however bad the crisis. He had never seen his big brother like this. "Scott," he said, concern in his voice, "are you injured?". Swiftly he knelt and checked his brother over, as he would have done with any rescue victim. He couldn't find any damage, apart from his Scott's hands, which were cut and bruised, with the nails broken and torn. During this examination, Scott just sat there, in a daze. "Well," said Alan, half to himself, "I can't see any injuries. I think you're just exhausted." A suspicion dawned on him, "Scott, when did you last have anything to eat or drink?"

"Drink?" echoed Scott. "Virgil was getting us a drink. If I'd gone with him he wouldn't have got hurt."

 "You wait right there, big brother," said Alan. "I'm just going to find out what's going on, then I'll be right back." He headed over to the reception area and was soon talking to the young lady behind the desk. A few minutes later he returned, carrying a steaming mug and a handful of biscuits. He sat down beside Scott. "I think you'll feel a bit better when you've got some food inside you." Not trusting his brother to hold a hot drink in his present condition, Alan helped Scott with the coffee. He was relieved to see his brother's colour improve as his body's sugar levels rose. "Wait there, Scott, I'm just going outside to call Dad"

Jeff looked up to see his youngest son looking much more relieved. "I've found Scott. He's a bit shaken, and his hands are all cut up, but basically he's OK. Virgil's got a broken leg and a few other injuries. He's in the operating theatre at the moment, and the hospital want to keep him in overnight, but after that they think he'll be all right to come home."

"That's good to hear. Gordon's waiting for you back at TB2. I'll let him know."

"F.A.B. Dad. I'm going back in to Scott now. I'll be in touch again."

Back inside the hospital, Scott saw Alan approach in animated conversation with one of the nursing staff. Dazedly he wondered why he could not understand what they were saying, 'I must be more shook up than I thought' until it suddenly occurred to him that they were speaking Italian. The nurse disappeared, and returned a moment later with a handful of swabs and bandages.

"Come on, Scott," said Alan, "the nursing staff have got enough to do, so I said I'd clean up your hands." He took Scott over to a sink, and carefully started to rinse away the dirt and grime from the cuts. A couple of times Scott inhaled sharply. "Sorry, big brother, I'm being as careful as I can."

As much to take his mind off the procedure as anything, Scott said "I didn't know you spoke Italian."

Alan grinned "Don't forget, a lot of the racing drivers and mechanics are Italian. I've sort of picked it up over the years." He paused "A lot of the fans are Italian too. It impresses the young ladies if you can talk to them in their own language!"

Scott looked at him. "You'd never do anything that Tin Tin - " he let the sentence trail as Alan glared at him.

"Now I know you're feeling better. You're starting to sound like my big brother again!"

That night, Scott stayed at Virgil's bedside, catnapping in a chair, while Gordon and Alan slept in Thunderbird 2. The following morning they checked with the Italian authorities to see if they were needed further. The police chief was eloquent in his thanks. "We are so grateful for all you have done, signors, and I am so sorry that your colleague was injured in helping us. I hope he will recover soon. Now we must get on with rebuilding our city."

An ambulance delivered Scott and Virgil to Thunderbird 2. Jeff had told Alan to pilot Thunderbird 1 back to base, and it was a measure of Scott's state of mind that he did not try to argue with this decision, but stayed in sickbay with Virgil for the entire trip home.

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