Disclaimer: I own nothing, yadda, yadda...you get the drill.
Author's note: Well, I've finally seen the Thunderbird's movie, and I must say that it is a lot better than the film critics are giving it credit for. I loved it! In fact, my only qualm is that I would have preferred less shots of the kids running around on the Island, and more shots of the Tracy boys in their sexy little space suits! (Incidentally, on a related note, the guy who plays John? H-O-T!)
Also, special thanks go to Skywench, for pointing out that Thunderbird 2 could not have been four miles below the surface of the ocean. I admit, it was a stab in the dark...I have no idea about nautical depths. I'm doing more research and I'll edit it asap.
'A friend loveth at all times, and a brother is born for adversity'
"So...how does it look?"
Virgil stared down at his brother's exposed torso with a mixture of trepidation and barely-repressed revulsion. He'd tended to burn victims before, and always thought that he had a cast-iron stomach for such things...but, somehow, seeing similar damage on someone he loved was all the more horrifying. Scott's once-tanned muscles had been stained in shades of black and scarlet, clear pus oozing from the peeling blisters in his skin.
Virgil swallowed and looked away, forcing his trembling hands to still. "Not too bad. A few bandages and some of grandma's chicken soup and you'll be back to normal in no time."
The lie was hollow and unconvincing – even to his own ears – and he was not surprised when he heard Scott give a derisive snort.
"You know, you never could lie to me, Virg."
The two men's eyes met and held. There was a desperate hopelessness that Virgil had never seen in Scott's expression before...and he never wanted too see it again. He couldn't stand to see his brother so helpless – it upset everything that he thought he knew about the world. Scott was strong...invincible, even. Men like Scott Tracy didn't get hurt...didn't feel fear...
...Men like Scott Tracy didn't die.
Feeling sick to his very soul, Virgil cleared his throat and busied himself with using Scott's torn shirt to mop up the blood from his impaled knee.
"There's not much that I can do about those burns," he started quickly, hoping to quell the tide of nausea that he felt rising in his gut, "And without a first aid-kit I can't splint your wrist either. I'm going to have to do something about your shoulder, though."
Scott gave a tired sigh and grimaced, already guessing what was to come.
"Must you?"
"'Fraid so."
The elder Tracy shifted his position slightly, carefully adjusting his body weight to lean forward. Even this simple endeavour left him clammy with perspiration. His head swam suddenly, and – for a brief moment – he was terrified that he was about to faint. Then he felt his brother's hands ghosting lightly over his shoulder, the surprisingly gentle touch enough to anchor him back into consciousness.
A shallow heartbeat. A pause.
"Scott...this is going to hurt."
Scott tried to smile reassuringly, but found that the best that he could manage was a pained snarl.
"I guessed as much."
God, he hated this part...
With one sickening tug, Virgil forced Scott's dislocated arm upwards.
There was an audible crunch of bone-against-bone as the limb was forced back into its socket, Scott's entire body lurching in an instinctive effort to evade further pain. The sudden movement caused his leg to jerk, lodging the spear of metal even deeper into the soft tissue of his knee and causing fire-works of agnoy to explode within his crippled leg.
...Lost beneath the surging waves, Thunderbird 2 trembled with the sound of Scott's screams.
Virgil had never been popular at school. He was too quiet, too introverted, to be of any real interest to his peers, and they largely left him alone in favour of more interesting company. Virgil did not mind particularly...in fact, he welcomed the solitude...but that all changed after the death of his mother.
Although naturally reserved, grief made the young boy ever more reclusive, leaving him an easy target for the taunts of the other children. The taunts turned to threats, and the treats – eventually – progressed to actions. Recess became a daily torture as crowds of tormenting bullies began to wait for him outside the gates...waiting to tease and punch and kick.
But Virgil never fought back.
It simply wasn't in his nature.
The ring-leader of his abusers was a thick-set boy named David Harris. One day, while walking the gauntlet that took him from the classroom to the school-bus, David landed Virgil a punch that left his eye so swollen that he could barely blink.
...Jeff Tracy – typically – was not there when Virgil crept quietly up the stairs to his bedroom that evening. Scott, however, was. Soothed with balms of antiseptic-cream and lemonade, Virgil told him the whole story.
For Scott – with his characteristically black and white sense of justice – the solution seemed simple. If David had hurt Virgil, then Scott would hurt David.
And he did.
The fight was brief and bloody, and David hadn't stood a chance. Though he had the advantage over Scott in both height and weight, Scott was consumed with a savage anger that gave his wiry adolescent body unprecedented strength. After a teacher had pulled the boys apart, David was rushed to hospital.
It took eighteen stitches and a day in the emergency ward to repair the damage to his face.
As punishment for his actions, Scott was suspended from school for almost two weeks. Indeed, if it hadn't been for the wealth and influence of Jeff Tracy, it was doubtful that the headmaster would have permitted Scott back at all. The reprimands did not stop at school, either. Jeff made no secret of his deep displeasure at his eldest son's behaviour, and took it upon himself to make Scott sorry that he had ever laid a finger on David Harris. He placed Scott under house-arrest for a month and made him do double chores for a further two.
...But to Virgil, Scott's actions had elevated him to almost heroic status. He was his constant companion all the way through his punishments – even going as far as to sneak him cookies when he was forbidden dessert. As far as he was concerned, his brother could do no wrong. He was his idol...his protector...his best friend.
As long as he had Scott, nothing could hurt him...
"What time is it?"
From his position on the cold metal floor, Virgil squinted to see the digital display on his wrist-watch. "Almost fifteen-hundred hours," he informed Scott quietly. "Father must have realised that we're missing by now...what do you think he's doing?"
Scott's eyes were dim and unfocused, a frown of thought creasing his blood- smeared brow. "Following the set procedure, I guess. He'll have John maintaining a full satellite sweep on all channels, and Thunderbird 1 will be dispatched on a visual search around our last known coordinates." He paused for a moment, then gave a small sigh. "Aside from that, though, there's not much that he can do."
The two brothers were silent for several minutes. Within the confines of the dimly lit flight-cabin, they could hear Thunderbird 2's metal hull groaning around them. Scott suppressed a shudder, trying desperately not to think about the water pressure that was currently pressing down above their heads. Thunderbird 2 was a cargo carrier...it hadn't been designed to withstand this kind of stress. It was only a matter of time before the water found its way in, drowning the two pilots trapped inside the flight deck...if they hadn't suffocated first, of course.
The sound of Virgil's soft voice pulled Scott from his ravine.
"This is going to kill him, isn't it?"
The elder Tracy's frown deepened. "Who?"
Virgil shrugged, running a hand distractedly through his hair. "Father. If he loses us, it'll be just like it was when mom died." There was a slight pause. "...He's not strong enough to survive that kind of pain. Not again."
The mere mention of his parents was enough to cause Scott to tense unconsciously. Virgil saw his brother's movement, and took it as an opportunity to ask the question that he had never before felt brave enough to broach.
"Scott...why don't you ever talk about mom?"
Scott's expression clouded as he looked away. His leg gave an involuntary twitch, curtsey of the metal spike currently spearing his knee.
"Just drop it."
"Scott-"
"I said just drop it!"
Virgil was startled at the firmness – the ferocity, even – of Scott's rebuke. Something in the elder Tracy's manner had slipped aside, revealing a tension that Virgil had not even realised existed...and then, just as suddenly, it was gone. Now Scott turned to look at his brother, a look of genuine regret creasing his features.
"I...I'm sorry, Virg. I don't know what got into me."
Virgil's stared back with still, solemn eyes...eyes that reminded Scott so disconcertingly of his mother.
"It's okay, Scott...I'm scared too."
Neither said anything for a long time after that.
...There was nothing left to say.
It was now nearing two hours since Thunderbird 2 had blazed from the sky. Within their bleak tomb, Scott estimated that they had approximately five hours of breathable air remaining...six at a push.
It wasn't a comforting thought.
Eager for distraction, and tired of dwelling on the harsh reality of their situation, Scott looked around at the ruined flight-deck. Even though the colossal green Thunderbird was not actually his, Scott could not help but feel a pang of deep pain at the devastation that surrounded him. The Thunderbird machines were not just tools for transportation...they were a part of the Tracy family. They were what had held Jeff to reality after the avalanche had claimed his wife, and they were what bound the Tracy brothers together as adults. As far as Scott could see, without the Thunderbirds, without International Rescue, they were nothing.
Seeing Thunderbird 2 in such as sorry state was like watching an old friend die slowly before his eyes. He wasn't ashamed to admit that it cut him to the core.
His gaze raked the murky semi-dark, seeking out familiar shapes amid the destruction. The display panels were reduced to heaps of twisted metal, exposed wires spilling from the now-useless radio system like bleeding arteries. Then his gaze fell upon the upturned flight chair...and in turn the large plastic container that lay lodged beneath it.
A glimmer of disbelief passed over his features, quickly replaced by a look of recognition. For a long moment, it seemed to Scott as though his heart had made a dare-devil leap into his throat.
"Oh my God..." he breathed softly, dark eyes wide.
Sitting nearby, Virgil stirred back into awareness at the sound of his brother's gasp. "What?"
"Virgil..." Scott trailed into silence, almost afraid to trust what he was seeing, "...Virgil, its Gordon's aqua-gear."
Virgil followed Scott's line of sight, then scowled as he too noticed the container. It was obscured – half buried by fallen debris – but both instantly recognised it for what it was. Virgil was instantly on his feet, scrambling feverishly to free the box from where it lay trapped. Within mere moments, he had taken the container in his hands, unclipping the security locks to reveal a lovingly stored scuba-mask and oxygen tank – obviously Gordon's.
Virgil stared down at the equipment in his hands. He sank slowly to his knees, exhaling softly in a quiet gasp of amazement. "But he always stows it away it Thunderbird 4...what's it doing here?"
"He must have left it here by accident after your last mission - you know what he's like."
There was a heavy silence between them...then, suddenly, Virgil smiled. Strange how only a matter of minutes ago, the younger Tracy boy had suspected that he would never smile again. Now he was grinning like a complete idiot, dark eyes glittering with unshed tears of happiness. With Gordon's scuba-gear, they had a chance of making it towards the surface...everything was going to be alright again.
...He and Scott would be back on Tracy Island within hours, and all this would be nothing but a distant memory to laugh at with his brothers...
"I can't believe it...we can get out of here! Thank God, Scott!" Still overcome with the intensity of his relief, he suddenly noticed - for the first time - his brother's silence. Almost regretfully, he tore his gaze away from the container. "Scott...?"
To his surprise, Scott was also smiling...but it was a small, sad expression - one that spoke more of grim resolve than of joy. He made a helpless gesture with his one good hand, his pale forehead shining with beads of perspiration.
"Look at me, Virg. I'm not going anywhere."
Virgil frowned and shook his head...not understanding – or perhaps not wanting to understand – what Scott was trying to tell him.
"Wait...what are you saying?"
Despite his expression of forced neutrality, an almost tangible look of sorrow danced briefly across the elder Tracy's features. This was, without question, the hardest thing that he had ever had to do...
"I can't come with you, Virgil," he told his brother firmly, praying to God that he spoke with more conviction than he felt. "You're going to have to leave me behind."
Tbc...