Hey Guys!!

Finally!! I have been trying to put this chapter up since Monday! Anyway, here it is, Chapter Seven!! Thank you for the very kind reviews for chapter six. They are appreciated a great deal more than I can explain. I can't tell you how great it feels to know that firstly: people are actually reading this and secondly: they like it. There is nothing better than starting off a bad day (filled with five hours of boring seminars and tedious tutorials) with a good review! So please feel free to continue with them! (Hint!) I love that feeling when I put a new chapter up, or get a review and I'm thinking will they love it? Will they hate it? Is this going to be good or bad? I had no idea how nerve wracking the whole experience is!

Here's chapter seven then, I really hope you like it.

Thanks!

Kim

Watching From Above

Chapter Seven

Four months later some sort of normality had returned to Tracy Island. Virgil had no doubt whether Scott would tell his brothers after promising not to, his only doubt was whether he would see fit to go and tell their father. He knew Scott would only be trying to do the right thing, but he also knew he couldn't cope with it just yet. He had told Scott those very words in response to several of his older brother's failed attempts to convince him to talk to their father. It seemed to be a ritual they'd go through; every now and again Scott would try and talk Virgil into confessing his secret. And every time Virgil would come out with the same excuses. He wasn't ready to talk to his father about Anna and he knew that by and large he had come to terms with his loss now; something his father would never be able to do. They all knew, deep down that their father would never be able to come to terms with the loss of their mother. Scott and Virgil knew best of all; they had witnessed the effects their mother's death had on him. The devastation and the despair, they observed the phenomenal change as their 'Daddy' was taken away and replaced by the man they now know as 'Father', on the night she died. Virgil was insistent his father should not have to relive the pain he had felt, he truly believed it would be easier for him if he never found out. Truth be known, he feared his fathers reaction, he detested the childhood memories he harboured deep inside. Memories of the way he looked at him; the hurt in his eyes when forced to look upon the child that incarnated her very spirit and he was not willing to relive those childhood recollections. He was not prepared to put his father through yet more heartache, not prepared to have him look upon him with those torturing eyes, overflowing with suffering and torment, the eyes he saw so frequently. In any case, he decided; ignorance was bliss.

True to his word Scott had told no one and truth be told it was beginning to eat at him. He understood what Virgil had meant, though he tried not to treat him any different he found himself checking up on his younger brother. Constantly being aware that Virgil had been through this horrific experience made him able to see the cracks in his younger brothers clam demeanour. Actions that to the others where normal, to Scott seemed far from normal. Of course he realised he was over analysing most things, but if it were up to him he'd wrap Virgil up in bubble wrap and put him in a box in the bottom of his wardrobe. Along with all his other most prized possessions. He would do anything to protect his brother from going through a similar experience.

He had tried on more occasions than he cared to remember to convince Virgil to talk to their father. Knowing it would help him, knowing his father of all people would understand. Virgil's constant excuses, he had to admit, were valid. He had seen his father's downfall after their mother's death and like Virgil, did not wish to repeat the exercise. He also knew how Virgil felt about his relationship with his father especially after its rapid deterioration following his mother's death. Virgil wasn't the only one to see that look cross their fathers face with every glance at him. And Scott had watched on, as despite his best efforts, their father distanced himself from his second eldest son. He had curled up with Virgil in his arms most nights in the aftermath of his mother's death trying to convince his closest friend that his father didn't mean it; that he did love him really. Virgil had never fully believed it though; always assuming he caused his father more pain just by being around him. When the topic of International Rescue has first been discussed, their father was quite plain that none of them were forced to take part and Scott had wondered if Virgil would turn down his offer on the grounds of the hurt Jeff unwittingly displayed in his presence. Things had gotten better after Virgil's eighteenth birthday, partly due to Grandma getting a bit tipsy, always one to say it how it is; she ended up telling her son a few more home truths than she normally would. But Scott knew as well as Virgil and his father did that it had always been there, and it always would be. Short of plastic surgery Virgil would never change how he looked and even with plastic surgery he couldn't change how he was; the characteristic, the mannerisms, it was in his nature.

Virgil could often feel him before he saw him, Scott's eye's followed him most places and he was fully aware of why. He had pondered over whether it was the right thing to tell Scott about his past; coming to the conclusion that Scott would have kept digging until he found out anyway. He knew his older brother felt incredibly guilty about the whole affair and that there was little he could do to change that. Despite his reassurances Scott was adamant he'd let Virgil down and would make up for it. Virgil on the other hand knew that there was no 'making up' to be done.

Sometimes Scott's over eagerness to be around him made him frustrated but he'd known this would happen deep down. Scott was his best friend but first and foremost he was his big brother. And Virgil admitted that had the situation be reversed he'd be exactly the same. Every time the frustration built up into anger, an image of Scott would pop into his mind; he knew his older brother was more than a little hurt Virgil hadn't told him sooner. He could see it plain enough in his eyes the night they'd talked. As soon as he was reminded of that, the frustration and anger would be gone in a second. Scott was just doing his job; he was just playing his part. He was being a big brother.

Over the last few month's things quietened down a little. International Rescue was busy and there was little time between call – outs to sleep let alone do anything else. John had returned to Thunderbird Five though Gordon supplied him with regular updates as to what was happening on Tracy Island. Gordon knew of his older, blonde brother's worry for Scott and Virgil after the 'incident' he'd walked in on. But Gordon had done his part reassuring John that all was well. And it was. Scott and Virgil were as thick as thieves again. He and Alan had done their part in keeping up the high spirits of the house (much to Grandma's annoyance) and International Rescue was functioning well. This was exactly how their new lives were supposed to work out. Scott had been right. Sure, it'd been hard at first settling back into family life after being so long and so far apart from one another but they'd done it. Now they were a team far superior to any other, far more formidable than any other. The rest of the world relied them on. And to the rest of the world they were invincible.

"Alan!" Scott exclaimed just above the hum of normal conversation in the noisy kitchen.

"What?" He spoke in reply, spitting crumbs everywhere as he tried to talk and eat at the same time.

"That was my toast." Scott pointed out grumpily.

"Oh. Thorry" Still spewing crumbs, he handed the plate of half eaten toast back to Scott, who looked at it with disgust.

"No thanks."

"Now boys, come on! Don't argue there's plenty for everyone!" Grandma admonished. Alan threw Scott a smug grin. "And Alan don't speak with your mouth full!"

The grin dropped as Scott shoved him, good-naturedly towards the table. "Sit down." He laughed.

"Mother! What are you doing?" Jeff asked walking in on the mayhem, coffee in hand.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" She asked sharply.

"You should be packing. Where's Tin-tin? I thought she was cooking breakfast this morning." He looked around the room as if searching for the young lady.

"Well, I sent her to help Brains out." She looked up as the topic of their conversation entered the room, speaking quietly to themselves. "Ah, here they are." She smiled sweetly, before turning back to her Son. "I'm quite capable of cooking breakfast, Jeff." She added sternly.

"But we have to be at Cousin Michaels before eleven a.m. Really!" He exclaimed. "You'll never be ready and I have a meeting to attend." He sighed.

"Stop worrying. I'm ready." She said, handing a plate full of food to Gordon.

"Very well." Jeff admitted defeat. Arguing with his mother was just a waste of breath. He turned to see several smirking faces at his futile attempt to sway her. He just shook his head as he sat down at the table.

Scott watched from the breakfast bar as one by one the family filed into the room.

"Where's Virgil?" Jeff asked. Noticing the absence of his second eldest son.

"He was up 'till the early hours this morning. Sorting out Thunderbird Two." Gordon informed his father. "Probably having a lie-in."

"Mmm" Tin-tins lips hovered over the steaming cup of coffee in her hands. "Mudslides are messy business." She thought out loud.

"You can say that again." Gordon agreed. "You should've seen the mess! It took me nearly four and a half hours to clean the cockpit and that only had the mess us three had made. The hold must've been disgusting. We must've transported at least three hundred people to that village."

"343" Scott sat down next to his father. He reached for the butter.

"Wow!" Alan exclaimed, "That's a lot. And how many died?"

"23" Scott's voice held an air of disgust now. Everyone knew how he hated to fail.

"At least we saved a lot more than died." Alan tried to look on the up side.

"Yeah and I'm sure that'll be a great comfort to the 23 families who did loose someone." Scott's voice was bitter and sarcastic.

"Scott." Jeff Tracy's voice silenced them all.

It was Gordon who broke the silence they ate in. "Guess we should just be grateful Virgil's ok. When that second rockslide fell, I really thought it was going to hit him. He had a lucky escape."

Scott nodded thoughtfully.

"Not that lucky. He took quite a bang to the head." Alan carried on eating, oblivious to the two sets of eyes staring incredulously at him.

Scott saw his fathers head shoot up, and his brow crease with newfound worry.

"He's fine." Scott intervened. "Paramedics checked him out, couldn't find anything wrong with him."

"Couldn't find anything at all in fact!" Gordon's attempt at humouring the situation fell on deaf ears as his father carried on regardless, though Tin-tin smirked athis effort.

"And why wasn't this mentioned at the debriefing?"

Scott opened his mouth to answer but Gordon beat him to it.

"It was trivial Dad." He backed Scott's view. "The paramedics said he was fine. There's not a scratch on him. He's just tired. That's all." He threw Alan a black look as Scott made a similar gesture.

"Hmmm." Was Jeff's only reply. Scott got the distinct impression he wasn't happy and decided to make his exit.

"Brains. Do you need a hand with the gas testing still?"

"Err. No....err…. thank you... Sc…Scott. Virg...Virgil's going to .err…. help…. m...me."

Scott nodded. "Okay. Well, I guess I should go and make a start on all the paperwork from yesterday." With that he was gone.

Gordon threw Alan a disgruntled glare; he merely cocked his head questioning his brothers irritation in return.

It was nearly lunchtime when Scott had finished his paperwork and headed for the kitchen; the smell of food filled the air.

Jeff had reluctantly left for his meeting on the mainland but not before quizzing Scott about Virgil's condition. He'd dropped their Grandmother off on a visit to their cousins on the way.

Scott had sighed in relief as he'd seen his father's jet sore in the skies above; he had made a mental note to have a word with Alan.

"Still no sign of Virgil yet?" Scott asked as he watched Tin-tin hover expertly over several simmering pans.

"Yes." She paused to taste something adding some kind of condiment to the saucepan. "He surfaced about an hour after you disappeared off to the study. I think he's in the lab at the back of Thunderbird Two's hangar. Doing some testing for Brains on something."

"Yeah." Scott said. "Some gas or something."

Scott had always been the most difficult for her to read; she knew he kept his feelings a close guarded secret. Like everyone else on the island, she was aware of the close relationship he had with Virgil, Alan regularlytold her of the sacrifices the two of them had made to help bring the others up. And she often thought that as a result of this forced maturity at such a young age, his emotional development had suffered greatly. However on this occasion, even she could see he wanted a reason to go down to the lab. She added; "You can do down and tell him lunch will be ready in about twenty minutes. Brains is working with Alan on Thunderbird Three's upgrade. You can tell them too, if you wouldn't mind." She smiled, knowing she had to make it sound like he was doing her a favour.

He nodded. "Sure." He waved a hand as he disappeared off en route to Thunderbird Two's hangar.

"Virgil?" Scott winced as his voice echoed off the walls of the hollow silo.

He entered the workhouse to see Virgil at in an office chair, his head in his hands.

"Hey." Scott greeted. Suddenly taking in Virgil's appearance a worried frown crossed his features. "You ok?" He asked.

"Yeah." Virgil replied. "Just got a bit of a headache. That's all." He admitted.

"Headache?" Scott asked, perching on the workbench.

"Yeah." Virgil rubbed at his eyes.

"Have you been sick? Do you feel sick?" Scott asked concerned.

"Yeah. I think maybe I do have a concussion." Virgil blinked.

Scott headed for the first aid kit attached to the wall, taking out a pencil light he returned to perching on the workbench.

"What?" Virgil smiled. Taking the light out of Scott's hand. "It's fine." He grinned.

"Do you feel tired?" Scott asked, ignoring him.

"A little." Virgil admitted.

"Any trouble seeing straight?" He made a grab for Virgil's hand and the pencil light, but Virgil pulled away. "Give me that." It wasn't a question.

"Scott. Stop it. I'm fine." Virgil protested. Keeping his grip on the light.

"Okay. Well, if you won't let me check you out. You should go and see Brains." Scott frowned again as Virgil resisted the idea.

"Maybe I will later but I'm busy right now." He said sternly.

"Virg..."

"Scott." Virgil cut him off. "I don't think you're in a good position to lecture me here." Scott thought about that comment for a while, eventually agreeing he let the matter slide.

"Okay. But I think you should see someone." Scott pushed.

"I will!" Virgil smiled exasperatedly "Just not right now. I have had a few concussions before y'know?"

Scott studied him knowing that comment was well designed to shut him up. He fell into the trap.

"Tin-tin says lunch will be ready in about twenty minutes." He changed the subject.

"Can you do me a favour?" Scott nodded. "Can you get me a sandwich? If I stop for lunch I'll never get it finished."

"Sure."

With that he headed out of the workshop and up to the kitchen. He laughed to himself, Virgil was constantly lecturing Brains about how he shouldn't skip meals to finish experiments and here he was doing exactly the same thing. He shook his head as he walked into the kitchen.

Surfacing a few moments later he made his way back to the hangar. "Scott!!" Gordon's voice wafted down from the balcony above as he walked briskly across the hangar floor, tray in hand. He looked up. "Lunch is ready."

"Yeah I know." Scott spoke loudly, so as Gordon could hear him. "I'm just taking this to Virgil." He held up the tray in his hands. Gordon mumbled a response that wasn't clear enough for Scott to hear against the echoing. He tutted to himself and continued on his way.

As he entered the small room, Virgil was leaning heavily on the workbench. One clenched fist pressed up against his head. "Virgil? What's wrong?" Scott rushed over to him. Placing the tray absently on a bench.

"Nothing." Virgil said through gritted teeth. "My head." Was all he managed to get out. He turned to face Scott; his eye's rolling into nothingness before he caught sight of his brother.

Scott saw him sway; reaching out to steady him, he was surprised when Virgil collapsed bonelessly into his arms. He gently laid him on the floor. "Virgil? Can you hear me? Virg?" No response was forthcoming and he immediately called for help. Within seconds Brains was there, closely followed by the rest of the family. They hovered outside the small room waiting for news

Nearly ten minutes passed before Scott resurfaced from the room. "Gordon. Come with me. Tin-tin, call Dad, will you? Tell him we're taking Virgil to hospital." She nodded before hurrying off. Afraid to ask questions and knowing Scott was in full command mode, she resided herself to the fact that Brains would inform her of what was going on.

Meanwhile Gordon and Alan stood outside the room.

"What's wrong with him Scott?" Alan asked.

"I don't know. Look, stay here in case Brains needs you. Okay?" Alan nodded urgently, seeing Scott's hurry.

"Come on Gordon." Gordon trotted, struggling to keep up as Scott hurried across the tarmac.

"Where are we going Scott?" The amber eyes bore at him.

"We need to prep the jet. Brains wants to take Virgil to hospital." Scott spoke quickly and Gordon thought for a few moments before replying.

"Well, why?"

"I don't know!" Scott was beginning to get frustrated. "We have to work fast." He calmed himself down.

"Then why don't we use Thunderbird One?" Gordon asked frowning.

"Gordon! Can you just help me out here! I know what I'm doing. If there's some kind of pressure on his brain, the G forces in Thunderbird One would be too much for his brain…." He stopped realising what he'd just let slip. He hadn't meant to snap or to even let on to his younger brother that he knew anything more than they did.

"His brain?" Gordon froze.

"Gordon!!!" Scott tried to hurry him along. "Come on!" Eventually it sunk in, and Gordon moved quickly to ready the jet for flight.

They had whisked Virgil off as soon as they'd landed; now they waited. Sat in a small room they waited for news. Each second ticked by slower than the last. Scott looked around the room; Tin-tin and Alan sat to the left of the door, hands tightly wound together. Gordon sat hunched over deep in thought, he subconsciously played with the set of keys in his hand. Brains periodically cleaned his glasses and replaced them. Scott watched them all, willing his father to get here. No one dared to speak, the silence was nasty, the only sound to be heard where shaky breathes or harrowing sighs.

The door swung open quickly, everyone looked up in anticipation.

"Dad!" Scott was immediately relieved.

"What the hell happened?" Jeff exclaimed.

"He said he had a headache, and then he just collapsed." Scott filled him in sadly.

"Did you check him over Brains?" The questions fired out.

Scott intervened. "He was just finishing the testing then he was going to go and see Brains."

Jeff sighed heavily sitting down on a vacant chair, briefly running a hand over his face. "Does John know?" He asked suddenly.

"I called him, Mr Tracy. After I'd finished talking to you. And Mrs Tracy too. I told them if we needed to we'd pick them both up." Jeff nodded his thanks to Tin-tin. "Mrs Tracy took quite some persuading." The young girl smiled, attempting to lighten the mood. Scott smiled back, at least she was trying. He noticed her hands were no longer glued to Alan's.

"It's just a concussion. Right Dad?" Alan's voice betrayed his positive statement.

Gordon looked to Scott. Aware he knew more than he was letting on.

"I don't know Alan. We'll find out soon." Alan smiled shakily.

"Dad." Scott's eye's met his fathers. "You've had a long flight. You want a coffee?" A message passed between them, Gordon picked up on it though no one else appeared to. Too engrossed in their own thoughts.

"Sure." They stepped outside.

"What is it Scott?" He asked sharply.

"Brains said that one of his pupils was bigger than the other. He thinks there's some kind of pressure on his brain." Scott exhaled shakily, leaning up against a wall. Jeff looked at him frown deepening further.

"Are you telling me this is more than a concussion?" he asked clearly.

"We don't know what it is Dad. Brains just said to get him to a hospital as soon as possible." Scott looked anxiously to his father.

"Okay." Jeff nodded trying to remain calm. "I take it Gordon and Alan don't know this?"

Scott shook his head. "I didn't want to worry them. I think Gordon has an idea. Brains might be wrong." Jeff admired his optimism even if it was falsified.

"This is ridiculous!!" Jeff cursed. "We've been waiting over an hour." He stood up. His intention was to go and find someone to tell him what was going on but before he took another step. The door opened.

"Laura!" Scott was surprised to see the blonde young lady as he stood alongside his father.

"Hi." She moved to one side, closing the door behind her. "I think you should sit down." The silence that followed was eerie as they complied with her wish. She too sat down.

"It's good to see you all. Just a shame it's not under better circumstances."

Laura Martin was a regular houseguest of Lady Penelope's, and having attended many of her infamous parties had become a familiar face to the Tracy family over the years. They had first met her as a lowly med student, now she was a world reclaimed surgeon, skilled in emergency work but also specialised in neurology.

"I'm sorry to keep you waiting. I've been treating Virgil. Is it correct he suffered a head injury yesterday?" Her accent slipped from English to American.

"Yeah. But paramedics checked him out. They said he was fine." Scott was quick to point out that he had been okay.

"He probably was fine then Scott. Head injuries are very unpredictable and sometimes you can't really see them coming. We've run some tests that show Virgil is suffering from an acute subdural haematoma." She glanced up at the confused expressions. "It was probably caused by the knock to the head yesterday, though it could have built up, I see he's suffered from concussion before. A subdural haematoma is a collection of blood on the surface of the brain. The brain has tiny veins running all over its surface and outer covering. When the head is knocked harshly, these veins can stretch and tear; they leak allowing the blood to collect there. The effect is similar to a clot. Depending on the size of the leak it can put immense pressure on the brain. That type of pressure can destroy brain tissue pretty rapidly." She paused to let that sentence take effect. "We've given him some diuretics to reduce the swelling but its not working as fast as I'd like it too. It's imperative we relieve the pressure as soon as possible to reduce the chances of brain damage. So, with your permission, I'd like to operate."

She sat back waiting for the influx of questions but they didn't come. Eerie silence returned.

"Are you saying there's a possibility he'll have brain damage?" Jeff was the first to recover.

"It's a possibility. Any brain surgery is risky, you must understand that, and there is always a chance of brain damage; that's a fact. But the faster we move the smaller the chance."

"Is he in any pain?" Gordon asked softly. Dr Martin shook her head gently.

"No. We've given him something for the pain. He's semi-conscious but he's not really in a fit state to make a decision. That's why I need your permission." She looked to Jeff.

He nodded. "Is surgery our only option?"

"Pretty much. Without it, if the pressure continues to rise it will destroy his brain. At the current rate of increase, he'd be dead within twenty four hours." She paused trying to reads their thoughts. "Any brain surgery is complex but this particular method of drainage has come a long way over the last year. The success rates are high and the procedure much simpler than any other. I would recommend it. I'd do the surgery myself."

"How high?" Scott finally spoke, the initial shock beginning to sink in.

"Sorry?" Laura was obviously confused.

"The success rate how high is it?"

"Well, he's a smoker. That works against us. But he's fit and healthy, the success rates being high,I'd say seventy to eighty percent." She estimated.

Jeff nodded. "If you think it's our best option then do it."

Dr Martin nodded. "There is one other thing. We tried him on a relatively new series of diuretics; he was a candidate for trial and he agreed to it. However, these diuretics are still in the very early stages. I'm not entirely sure I'm happy testing their effect with long-term anaesthetic at this precise moment. I'd rather play it on the cautious side. It's because of this and the position of the haematoma that I'm reluctant to sedate him any longer than necessary. If the surgery where somehow delayed or complicated it could go on longer than the sedative would have effect. It's extremely unlikely that that would happen I'm just covering every eventuality here but he would need to be kept absolutely still. Any movement could be fatal; it's an unfortunate drawback with this new style of surgery. It might be an idea for one of you to sit in on the operation, it won't be pretty but should he start to come round keeping him calm might just save his life. It's not a problem if you can't face it, I can get a nurse to sit by him. I just thought maybe…."

"I'll do it." Scott broke her off.

Jeff still struggled with the concept. "He could wake up?"

"It's a remote possibility and he wouldn't be able to feel a thing. It's scientifically proven that patients, despite being unconscious, can react to familiar people around them." She explained further.

"Dad. I'll go." Scott pushed the issue.

"No, Scott. You've had enough stress already today; this isn't going to be pleasant. I'll do it." Jeff stood, Scott mimicked the action.

"Dad." His voice was hushed. "I let him down before. Let me do this for him, he needs me." Scott could see the resistance emanating from his father. "I can keep him calm. Don't make me fail him again, Dad." Their eyes locked. "I owe him this." A pause. Jeff was taken aback. When had Scott let Virgil down? The two were inseparable. He could see the imploring look in Scott's eyes, a plea that held deep. "Don't make me beg." The words were so soft the others didn't hear, but Jeff heard plain enough, and he knew Scott was right; he could keep him calm. He nodded, unsure whether he was doing the right thing.

"Okay."

"Thanks Dad." He smiled weakly as Laura led him away. Jeff turned to his family.

"Okay Alan, Brains. I want you to go home. Take Thunderbird Three up to get John. Leave Five on automatic. Tin-tin, Gordon go with them, pack some things for Virgil, for all of us. Call Penny; let her know what's going on. Ask her to get a press release out. International Rescue will not be operational for at least the next forty-eight hours due to a technical error. We apologise for any inconvenience. They'll be updated of the situation within the next thirty-six hours. Wait for the boys to bring John home, and then pick your grandmother up. Bring everyone here." He stood back. They nodded, as they understood the meaning of this. One by one they reluctantly filled out of the room. Leaving Jeff Tracy alone with his thoughts, Laura's words played over in his head.

"It was probably caused by the knock to the head yesterday or it could have built up, I see he's suffered from concussion before."

Yes, Virgil had suffered from concussions before. And International Rescue was the cause of them. Lucille's death had spurned him on to make his dream a reality. But whose reality? Was it worth it? Risking his son's lives, risking his everything for other people? Lucille would turn in her grave if she could see how her boys were suffering at his hands, especially this son. Virgil, who looked so much like her, who acted so much like her, who he'd practically abandoned as a child after her death, who still looked up to him now. Who he couldn't bear to even look at until a few years ago, who he had ignored as a child in the vain hope it would prevent the suffering he felt when he did look at him. And yet despite everything, he still did all he could to please his father. Did that include risking his life for Jeff's dream? Did it include forsaking it?

His thoughts became morbid. What if there were complications or something went wrong? What if he was in the thirty to forty percent who didn't recover? What would he do? How would he cope? How would the others cope? How would Scott cope? Jeff Tracy thought endlessly about the possibilities, looked desperately for someone to blame. Greek paramedics had checked Virgil out at the scene. Why hadn't they picked up on it? Why didn't Scott push Virgil to see Brains? But deep down he knew as well as the others did. Head injuries could surface in an instant. The only thing he could surely blame was International Rescue. If the worst did happen, Could he forgive himself?

"Okay. What we'll do is drill a small hole into Virgil's skull. Then we'll drain the blood off through that. I'll explain it in more detail as we go. But if at any time you feel you want to leave, just go. If you feel at all faint or light headed or sick. Just get up and leave. No one will think any less of you Scott, its one thing seeing people like that. It's another seeing your brother like it. Okay?" He nodded, speechless as the procedure was made to sound so easy.

"Okay." They stopped walking outside a room. "Just wait with him in there. I'll process the paperwork." She left him alone.

Scott opened the door. Virgil looked paler than he'd expected, his head had been shaved leaving only stubble where thick chestnut hair once was. Laid on his side, a clear plastic tube supplying oxygen ran from his ears to his nose. Tucked smoothly behind one ear, it sat loosely across his cheek on the other side. Scott sat slowly in the chair by the bed unable to take his eyes of the disturbing sight of his brother. Seeing him like this made him look so small, so vulnerable and childlike. Scott reached out tentatively pushing the tube back to its rightful place behind Virgil's ear. To Scott's surprise his younger brother stirred.

"Hey." He smiled. Mist filled eyes met his.

"Hey." Virgil's voice was soft, weak. Accompanied by a weaker smile. "They said I couldn't see any of you." He fought to keep his eyes open, blinking heavily. "There wasn't time." He paused, swallowing and moistening his dry lips. He allowed his eyes to close. "I thought they were taking me straight to theatre." It was a question more than a statement and he made no attempt to open his eyes again, resigning himself to the fact that he had been robbed of his energy by the vast amount of drugs already in his system.

"They are." Scott kept his voice low, soft. "I'm coming with you."

It took a few moments for the words to register in Virgil's muddled brain.

"What?" His eyes suddenly made a new effort to focus. "Scott, you don't have to do that." He breathed heavily, not strong enough to talk and breathe at the same time. "It's not going to be very nice."

"I know that." Scott paused. "I'll be there, if you need me though."

Concerned blue eyes searched drugged brown ones for any resistance. There was none, Virgil knew there would be no changing Scott's mind and if he was true to himself he felt better that Scott was going to be there. But he wasn't going to admit he was scared of dying alone.

Virgil sighed, closing his eyes again. Scott winced at his brother's laboured breathing.

"Scott?" Virgil weakly called out, raising an unsteady hand.

Scott grasped it. "I'm here." Reaching out he strummed his fingers over Virgil's shaved head.

"I need you to do something for me." Virgil tried to swallow back some of the sickness he felt.

"Name it." Scott frowned when he didn't reply at first.

"Under my bed. There's a box." Virgil stopped to catch his breath. "A shoe box." He added. Scott was intrigued now. "Inside, there's stuff." Another pause he waited patiently for his younger brother to finish. "Letters for people. Funeral stuff." Scott shook his head, sighing loudly.

"You're not going to die, Virgil. You'll come through this, you'll see. We'll come through it." He squeezed the cold hand in his a little tighter to re-affirm the fact.

Virgil's eyes opened again, glassy as they where they focused a little on Scott's face. Virgil smiled in sympathy. "If you really believed that. You wouldn't be here holding my hand. We both know it's a distinct possibility, Scott. I want you to promise me you'll look after yourself."

"Don't think about me. You concentrate on getting better." Scott was reminded of Virgil's constant selfless nature.

"No. Promise me." The words where getting weaker, the speech becoming more and more slurred with each word. "Or there's no operation." His eyes closed again.

"What? That's silly! Without the operation you'll die." Scott was sure his brother was becoming delirious.

"With the operation. Could still die. Promise." He was no longer able to form sentences. "Please."

"Okay. I promise." Scott's attention was caught as Laura returned to the room.

"Okay Virgil. I'm going to give you a drug now and it'll make you very tired. I want you to count backwards from ten for me okay?" He nodded. Scott watched as Virgil's hand was plucked from his. The contents of a syringe were emptied into his brother's body. He watched as that same hand reached around, knowing he was what Virgil was looking for he grasped it again, more tightly this time.

"You're okay Virg."

"10…. 9…. I'm sorry Scott."

"Shh."

"8…7…Just can't fight 'nemore…."

"What? No, you have to! Virgil?" Scott was breathing harshly.

Laura flashed a light into Virgil's eyes. "He's under. Intubation kit please? He probably doesn't mean it Scott. He has a multitude of drugs pumping around his system at the moment. He's a little confused, that's all." He nodded weakly. Watching in horror as she lowered the tube down Virgil's throat before tying it off. "Okay. Scott, you come with me. The nurses will get him ready for theatre." He followed her out of the door, dragging his eyes away from his brother.

The smell of cleanliness filled the air as Scott walked into the theatre. He could already see Virgil lying on his side on the table. The tube that was breathing for him sat at an odd angle. Scott was led to a chair at the head of the bed. He sat down transfixed by the monitors and wires. He held a firm grip on Virgil's limp hand. He found himself following the network of wires that ran all over his brother's body, all serving different purposes. Scott gently thumbed his younger brother's hand, skirting round or dusting over numerous dressings where tubes had been inserted. Noticing Virgil's unusually pale complexion blending in with the sheets, his eyes taped shut he looked so defenceless. The calm whooshing sound of the ventilator was a contrast to the hurried important conversations taking place above him.

"Okay, pass those scans up here. Thank you."

"Medications on board."

"Brain Activity functioning at seventy five percent of normal."

The exchanges meant nothing to Scott, he could only tell they were important.

"Scalpel."

He couldn't help but watch as the incision was made along Virgil's hairline. He was vaguely surprised at how much blood poured out. His stomach lurched as the scalp was pulled back to reveal… Scott couldn't look anymore. He turned away resting his head alongside Virgil's on the bed. He stopped listening as sets of vitals where read out. He tightened his grip on Virgil's hand pulling it closer to him. He screwed his nose up. Virgil didn't smell like Virgil. The distinct aroma of sterilisation filled Scott's nostrils instead of the familiar smell of Virgil's aftershave that he'd expected. He swallowed back some of the bile that threatened to rise in his throat.

"Drill." Scott looked up at the words, somewhat distressed at the whirring noise above him. He didn't look; he didn't need to. He felt the vibrations through Virgil's body. His stomach did somersaults, he'd seen a lot in his time but this was something else. His grip on Virgil's hand tightened further, causing Virgil's fingers to pale a little. Scott closed his eyes breathing slowly in an attempt to dispel the feelings of nausea that rose within him. He rested his forehead against the hand he held so tightly and silently prayed that it would soon be over.

Jeff Tracy paced the small room rhythmically. "Dad!" his head shot up to see the troubled expression on Johns face as they all piled into the cramped room.

"What's happening?" Gordon's angst ridden expression tore at his heartstrings.

"They took him to surgery. That's all I know."

"That was over four hours ago!" Gordon exclaimed angrily.

"It's a complex matter, Gordon." Tin-tin placed a pacifying hand on his shoulder. "I'm sure we'd have heard if by now if the news wasn't good."

"Err Tin –tin's rr..right." Brains added. "Brain s.s.surgery is a drawn ou..out affair. It can t..take err hours." Jeff smiled at the young scientist.

Sitting down on a nearby chair Jeff suddenly realised there was someone missing. "Where's your Grandmother?" He asked.

"Oh. She was right behind us. Talking to the nurse." Alan looked behind him as if she would appear.

Jeff tutted. "I'll go and find her. Any news, come and get me. Okay?" John nodded, taking control subconsciously. He was the oldest one there. Suddenly he knew how Scott must've felt all the time.

"I err… I…. erm ………I" All eyes turned to Brains as he stuttered. "I… err…I … I"

"What is it Brains?" John asked sitting alongside the scientist.

"I err… I … I'm sorry." He eventually got it out. "I should've picked up. Err … on it sooner"

Gordon looked to John for guidance on what to do. Tin-tin saved the day.

"Oh Brains." She crouched in front of him a hand resting on his knee. "You heard yourself, what Laura said. Head injuries are unpredictable. There was nothing anyone could have done."

He returned her smile. "T.Thank you, T Tin-tin."

John placed an arm around the smaller man, only a few months younger than himself. "She's right, Brains. You did everything you could."

"We all did." Gordon added. "We got him here as fast as we could."

"Was it fast enough though?" Alan vocalised everyone's thoughts.

Jeff Tracy had looked everywhere he could think of and still there was no sign of his mother anywhere. He was just about to give up when he spotted the lady in question. Sat on one of the chairs along the corridor purse in hand. She spoke to someone else.

Jeff got closer; he had paced the small room out of worry for not one son but two. He knew this surgery ordeal would not be easy for Scott and the first sight of his son did not bode well. As he approached his mother and the dishevelled young man beside her he noticed that in fact it was his mother that was doing all the talking. She looked up at him as he sat on Scott's other side; a look of pure worry mixed with frustration crossed her face as she gently shook her head in defeat.

"Scott, Are you alright?"

He responded to his father's voice, looking up.

"They're changing some tubes." He didn't even acknowledge the question; his voice remained monotone yet his eyes searched Jeff's. For what? Reassurance? Jeff glanced sideways at his mother.

"Okay Scott. But are you okay?" Jeff immediately regretted letting Scott witness the surgery. It had obviously had a detrimental effect on him. His eldest son looked pale and haggard.

"Yeah." The reply was small. His lip trembled and he ran a shaking hand through his hair. "No." He admitted, suddenly clapping his hand over his mouth he got to his feet. His instincts kicked in inevitably prevailing, he did something he had never done before; he turned his back and ran.

Jeff instinctively sprung to his feet to follow but his mother held him back. "Leave him a while, Jeff. He needs time to think. It wasn't easy for him."

"I know that mother. Do you think I wanted him to go in there?" He sat back down.

"Then why did you let him?" Her tone was almost angry.

"Because he's a grown man. He can make decisions for himself." He sighed heavily. "And because he was the best person for the job. If anyone could calm Virgil down, it'd be Scott."

They sat in silence for a few seconds.

Dr Martin approached them. "Mr Tracy?" He looked up to face her. She sat alongside Jeff. "I've just spoken to the boys. Virgil tolerated the surgery well; we've drained off the access blood. Everything went to plan. The nurses are just making him more comfortable. Then you can go in." She smiled.

"Thank you." The first piece of good news he'd had all day.

"He's not out of the woods yet. There's always the possibility of brain damage or further complications but we're running tests to see what we can find out. Once we get the test results we'll be able to tell you a lot more."

"When will he wake up?" Jeff asked eagerly.

"It's impossible to say, the next few hours will be crucial. Providing there aren't any more complications he should wake up fairly quickly, within the next four to six hours at least. We'll know more by then." Jeff felt himself nod as he took in her comments. "Scott was waiting here. I think the surgery shook him up a little. Do you want me to talk to him?"

"No, thank you dear." He was surprised that his mother was answering this time. "Scott has just gone outside for some air."

"Okay. Well, the nurse will come and find you when she's finished. If you need anything, give me a shout." Both smiled up at her before she left.

"Go and find Scott, Jeff. Talk to him. I'll see to the others."

"Thanks Mom." He walked off in the direction Scott had fled.

He headed outside. Still retching, unable to get the lingering taste of vomit from his mouth. Fresh air filled his lungs, as he leant against the solid wall. Shakily he tried to light the cigarette between his lips. Suddenly his hands were pulled away and a flame danced in front of his eyes. He looked closer as he accepted the light, staring deeper into the familiar eyes of his father.

"Thanks." He said softly. "I'm sorry about up there." He paused. Jeff expected him to stop there; knowing how his eldest son kept his feelings mostly to himself, obviously today had been too big a strain for him. "It was horrible Dad. They used a drill." He paused running a hand over his mouth, taking a drag of the cigarette. He wasn't a heavy smoker but God he needed that.

"I'm sorry Scott. I shouldn't have let you go in there." Jeff leant up the wall alongside his son.

"No. I wanted to. I can't let him down again."

"You keep saying that. But when have you ever let him down Son? I don't know of a time. You two have always been each other support systems."

Scott shook his head. He was not going to divulge Virgil's biggest secrets just because he felt a little low. And his father didn't push the point.

"I should be holding it together better." Scott smiled to himself. "Scott Tracy: Man of Steel. That's a joke huh?" He added ironically. Gordon used to call him that when they were younger.

"Scott you'll learn this in time but sometimes no matter how hard you try. You can't help how you feel in here." He motioned to his heart. "Frankly Scott, knowing you two, I'd be surprised if you weren't upset. You can be Scott Tracy: Man of Steel some of the time son, but even steel men don't have steel hearts. For me, for your family, for Virgil it's enough to be just Scott Tracy."

"Yeah?" Scott questioned. "Well you're doing a pretty good job."

"Only on the outside and that is definitely a trick you learn with old age, Son." He paused for a few seconds silently contemplating. "It's a flaw with us. Tracy men don't cry, but crying makes you human. And as much as we try, we are all only human." He squeezed Scott's shoulder firmly. "You can't dwell on what might have been Son, we have to concentrate on what is. He's doing okay. You did well in there."

"Thanks Dad." The words were sincerely spoken and Jeff knew he meant them, the small smile that followed proved him right.

"Now, you've got a certain younger brother in there in need of your support. Are you coming?" Scott swallowed.

Slowly he nodded his head. "I'll be up in a minute. I'll just finish this." He held up the half smoked cigarette. Jeff nodded slowly as he made his way into the hospital again.

He made his way down the corridor towards where he could see his father stood. Scott smiled. His father looked away. "Oh Scott." He placed a hand on his first-born son's shoulder. Scott followed his view, through the glass window knowing instantly something was wrong. He was horrified to find an angry buzz of white coats trying desperately to revive his brother.

"No." He heard his own voice before he'd realised he'd said it.

Father and Son stood side by side equally revolted by the traumatic display in front of them. Time was meaningless. Neither knew how long they'd been stood there staring helplessly before Laura appeared.

"Mr Tracy, Scott." She began. "I really am very sorry but Virgil's heart has stopped, as you can see we've done everything in our power to help him but I'm afraid he's not responding to the treatment. I feel it would be kinder if we stopped trying to resuscitate him now."

Father and Son stood side by side in stunned silence. Neither able to comprehend what the blonde lady had insinuated.

"No." Scot vehemently shook his head. "He's come this far. There must be something else you can do."

"Scott. Believe me. I've tried everything. I'm so sorry." The sympathy she tried to convey only furthered Scott's anger.

"No!!"

Jeff turned to look at him. Red eyes, ready to spill the tears that they held. His voice no longer recognisable as Scott Tracy. Not commanding and assertive but beaten and weak. Pleading for a grain of hope to hold on to. "There must be something else. There must be! Tell her Dad. Tell her!"

He looked at his father who merely looked away. Deaf to his pleas.

"We have to face facts Son." Scott froze for a moment. Was his father just going to accept this?

He watched as Jeff took the clipboard and pen taking a deep breath and blinking speedily, Scott could see he struggled to keep his composure.

"He's not in any pain." Laura did her best to ease the hurt, but nothing could ease the pain and anger Scott felt.

"No. Dad, no." He swallowed, trying to stop the tears falling from his burning eyes down his hot cheeks. "You can't sign that." He mumbled softly but firmly.

"Scott." Jeff placed a hand on either shoulder.

"No." Scott pulled away, the shock and horror of what his father was about to do displayed freely on his face. "How can you give up on him so easily? All he ever wanted was to please you. After everything he'd been through all he thought of was you. Protecting you from the pain he felt. He suffered in silence for you and you're going to just sign his life away. Just like that!"

"Scott. What are you talking about? You heard what Dr Martin said. They've done everything they can."

"You sign that paper. It'll be more than one son you loose!" he spat out.

"One day Scott, you'll understand why I'm doing this. I'm sorry." He placed the pen to the paper, hesitating only to look up at the expression of hatred in his eldest son's eyes. He shuddered, as if this wasn't hard enough for him, Scott's expression tore at his heart further and he struggled to stop his own tears falling. "I'm doing what I think is right Scott..."

He stalked away. Unable to watch his father sign his precious brother away.

He closed the door firmly behind him, with a slam.

Several pairs of eyes looked up to him as he leant against the closed panel.

"Scott, are you alright?" John frowned at his brothers red eyes.

"What's wrong dear?" His grandmother asked, sipping at her hot chocolate.

"Oh God." Scott muttered. "Oh God. I'm sorry." He clapped a hand over his mouth.

"Scott, you're scaring me." He looked across to Gordon.

He composed himself.

He coughed uncomfortably. "I don't know how to say this." He looked to the floor. "But Virgil's heart stopped." He faced them. "Dad's just signed the forms, he's dead." He paused, not believing he was actually saying those words. "Virgil's dead."