3 Fears in the night

Virgil spent the next week in bed, with Scott spending most of his free time beside him. The family doctor paid a visit to check on his progress. The cover story of Virgil being caught in  a rock-fall in the Italian Alps, and Scott having to dig him out was sufficient to explain both their injuries and the fact that the hospital notes were in Italian.

Luckily, International Rescue seemed to be having one of their quiet spells. It was nearly two weeks later that John called down with news that heavy rains in Bangladesh were threatening to break river banks and flood several small villages. Scott, Gordon and Alan set off with a pod full of earth-moving equipment. They returned six hours later, muddy and exhausted, by which time Virgil had found out just how hard it was to sit at home, waiting for news. Normally when he was out on rescues he was too busy to think of relaying reports home. He resolved in future to keep in touch with base more often.

When Virgil awoke sweating and shaking for the third time that night, he gave up any idea of trying to get back to sleep. Moving cautiously, because any sudden movement still sent a sharp pain down his side, he limped over to the window, opening it fully to let in the cool night air, and leaning against the frame. The breeze from the sea felt good against his still-damp skin, and the sound of the waves had a soothing effect. Gradually he felt his body relax and his breathing slow as the turmoil in his mind settled into calm. Since the accident he had managed to avoid thinking about the events in Florence, but tonight it looked like they were coming back to haunt him with a vengeance. He could understand why his mind was working this way. Watching Scott go off today without him, waiting and wondering to hear that the mission had been successful, must have stirred up all his subconscious fears.

Scott was always the protective one, the one who guarded his younger brothers from danger and watched out for them. Yet, when it came to his own skin he was not so careful, often taking risks that he would never let the others take. Virgil remembered an incident from their childhood. Scott must have been about twelve years old, and Virgil ten, when one afternoon the two boys had decided to climb to the top of the old oak tree at the bottom of the garden. They had nearly reached the top when Scott had decided that it was not safe for Virgil to go any further, ignoring Virgil's argument that as the lighter of the two he would actually be safer than Scott on the smaller branches. As Scott climbed higher, Virgil looked down. He could see John lying reading on the lawn, a seemingly impossible distance below, and further off, the two younger boys playing on their bikes. Suddenly there was a crack and a yell, as the branch Scott was standing on gave way. To his horror, Virgil saw Scott drop past him, only to stop as he managed to grab a branch with one hand. He hung on there grimly, as Virgil climbed down to him. Virgil inched along the branch and reached down to grasp his older brother's free hand. Then, using strength he did not know he possessed,  he hauled Scott up until he was able to grasp the branch with both hands, and the two of them could climb down. Ever since that day, and especially since they had started International Rescue, Virgil could never forget that though Scott watched over the rest of them it was his job to keep an eye on Scott. He sighed, wondering if he could make any of his other brothers understand.

A few days later, Alan arrived at Thunderbird 5 to relieve John. "Boy, have I been looking forward to this!" he exclaimed as the airlock opened onto the control deck.

"Why?" said John, puzzled. Alan wasn't usually that keen on being away from the island.

Alan threw himself down in a chair and looked at his brother. "You wouldn't believe how tense things are at home. Scott's in one of his black moods, Virgil's snapping everybody's head off. I tell you, bro, I'm glad to be out of it. By the time I'm home next month, Virgil's leg will be out of plaster, he'll be flying again and hopefully everything will be back to normal."

"Do you think that's what is causing it?" queried John.

"I don't know – that's more your field than mine. You're the 'agony uncle' – see if you can sort the pair of them out."

When John boarded Thunderbird 3 he looked carefully at Scott. His older brother certainly was not as chatty as he normally was – he usually spent the trip back to Earth regaling John with all the little incidents that had happened over the past month, often reducing John to fits of giggles.

When he arrived home he was shocked at Virgil's appearance. His brother's head was no longer bandaged, but apart from that he seemed to be worse than when John had seen him on the viewscreen when he first arrived back from Florence. His skin was pale, and from the rings round his eyes he didn't seem to have had a decent night's sleep for some time.

The following afternoon, John and Gordon were engrossed in a game of chess in the lounge when Virgil limped in.

 John looked up at him. "If you're looking for Scott, he's down in the workshop with Dad and Brains, going over some new designs."

"No," said Virgil, easing himself down on the sofa, "I was just getting bored with sitting in my room, so I thought I'd come in here for a change."

Gordon turned and looked at him. "Fancy a game of chess later? I can take you on as soon as I've finished thrashing John here"

"In your dreams!" retorted John, who already had his younger brother pinned into a corner, as well they both knew.

"No thanks" answered Virgil, somewhat curtly.

While waiting for Gordon to make his next move, John kept glancing at Virgil. His younger brother looked as if he was on the point of falling asleep, yet every time his head nodded forward he would jerk upright and shake his head, making every effort to stay awake.

Tin Tin wandered into the room from the back of the house. "Hallo, Virgil," she said, smiling. "Do you want me to get you a drink or something?"

"What I want," snapped Virgil, "is to be left in peace!"

Tin Tin's face crumpled. "Oh, Virgil!" she said, with a sob in her voice, then turned and ran out of the room.

Gordon jumped up and followed her. "Tin Tin, come back! I'm sure he didn't mean it!"

John approached the couch, his face contorted with rage. Virgil looked at the expression on his normally quiet brother's face and found himself involuntarily drawing back. "Look, Virgil" John said, in a low, menacing tone, "I know you hurt, and I know you're fed up, and if you want to take it out on me, or Scott, or Gordon, fine – go ahead – we can take it. But if you ever speak to Tin Tin like that again, then injuries or no injuries, we will take you outside and deal with you. F.A.B?"

"F.A.B." said Virgil, contritely, "and – tell her I'm sorry."

"Tell her yourself – if she's still speaking to you" said John, as he turned on his heel and followed in the direction that Tin Tin and Gordon had headed. He caught up with them in the kitchen, where Tin Tin, still in floods of tears, was being comforted by Grandma.

"I'm going to have a word with that grandson of mine" said Ruth Tracy, grimly.

"I've already spoken to him, Grandma," said John. He put his arms round Tin Tin's shaking shoulders "and he's very sorry for what he said to you, Tin Tin."

"Oh, John, I'm not crying because he upset me. I'm crying because he must be feeling so bad to have spoken like that."

"I don't think he's getting enough sleep" said John.

"He's got those pills the doctor gave him" put in Gordon.

"Yes" said their Grandma, "but is he taking them? They don't do him any good if they're still in the bottle."

John looked at his auburn-haired brother. "Gordon, have you heard anything from his room in the night?"

Gordon shook his head. "No, but I could try leaving the connecting doors open tonight."

All the rooms in the accommodation wing of the Tracy house were in pairs, with a connecting bathroom between them. Virgil and Gordon shared a bathroom, much to the despair of the precise-natured Virgil who was always complaining about his younger brother's untidiness.

That night, as soon as he saw the light go out under his brother's door, Gordon crept out and opened both doors. A lifetime's training of playing pranks on his brothers had given him a talent for moving silently.

It was several hours later when he was wakened by a cry. He hurried into Virgil's room and switched on the bedside light. Virgil was tossing about in his sleep, muttering to himself. Gordon put his hand on his brother's arm and shook him gently to wake him. "It's OK, Virgil," he said, "you're just having a bad dream."

The effect was immediate. Virgil sat up, pushing Gordon away, and looking around wildly. "Scott! Where is he? Is he all right?"

"Scott's fine, Virgil. He's in his room, asleep." Gordon grabbed both his brother's shoulders, trying to catch his eye, but Virgil was still staring frantically around the room.

Virgil struggled against his brother's grasp, Gordon could see that his brother was not calming down, in fact  his movements were becoming even more agitated. He did the only thing he could think of, he punched the number of Scott's room on the bedside intercom. "Scott! Get down to Virgil's room, fast!" while all the time trying to hold his brother down. With all his thrashing around, Gordon was concerned that Virgil would fall off the bed and hurt himself.

Hearing the tone of Gordon's voice, coupled with Virgil's frantic calls in the background, Scott did not query his brother, but came running down the stairs from his room on the floor above. Entering the room, he took hold of Virgil's hand. "It's OK, little brother, I'm here."

At the sound of his older brother's voice, Virgil sank back onto the pillows. Scott looked at Gordon. "It's OK, I'll take over now. You go back to bed."

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