> REPOST - PARAGRAPHING CHANGED (Changed due to FF doing weird and wonderful things to my paragraphs - Grr!)
Hey guys!!
Many thanks for all the reviews for chapter eight.
Pepsemaxke – Thank you, I get it now!
Jo/Jetmcn – Gordon's reaction is explored a little further in chapter ten; I hope that will explain a bit why he reacted as he did.
Findal – Thank you! And yes, Anna's sister is called Jaime however the computer spell checker kept changing it to Jamie. I thought I'd managed to change them all back – but obviously not! Not even my beta reader picked up on it!!
Okay well, thanks for all your comments, each one is really appreciated. I really welcome the feedback, its good to know what you are all thinking, and feeling about the way this is going so please feel free to continue.
Here's chapter nine, hope its okay! (You'll have to let me know!)
Thanks
Kim
Watching From Above
Chapter Nine
The smaller bed lay untouched. Both wanting to be as close as possible to him.
Jeff looked at his watch, glaring at the overly bright display - 6:15. He looked up for any signs of movement. Virgil's condition hadn't changed in the last ten hours. Doctors and nurses came and went the same phrase over and over.
'No change.'
He studied the young man laid unconscious in front of him, connected up to an infinite number of machines.
This was his Son. His time trap.
"Oh Virgil." He began softly stoking his cheek with his own knuckle; the action may have seemed out of character for the usually undemonstrative man if it were not the fact this very son had only marginally escaped death, hours previously.
"I know I'm being selfish here, because wherever you are its obviously better than here, but we want you back. We need you Virgil, I know I haven't been the best father I could've and I'm truly sorry for that. But I hope none of you will ever have to go through what I did, never know how that feels or to struggle like I did. I know I can't make up for it Virgil." He looked across at Scott to make sure he was truly asleep; he didn't want his eldest son to witness this unaccustomed moment of weakness. The dark haired young man had succumbed to exhaustion induced sleep a while ago. His head rested on his folded arms on the bed. Eyes closed his even breathing wrongly suggested he was still asleep, his hand protectively stretched over Virgil's. Assuming he was indeed asleep, Jeff began his confessions.
"When your mother died, it was hard for me. I know that doesn't excuse the way I left you boys to cope on your own, but I was so lost Son. I didn't know what to do, and it was because of my inability to cope with the situation that you and Scott had to do so much. I can't give you back your childhood. I know that, and I can never make up for what you two gave up to care for the others. I know that too." He sighed heavily.
"It was just every time I thought I was making some progress you'd do something or say something; it was like watching her, like she was mocking me from beyond the ground. I guess that's why I always used to think it was a bad thing that you looked like her, sometimes it broke my heart just to look at you and what made it worse was I know you knew that. I know you could see it in my eyes, just like I could yours." He paused again remembering sadly.
As he said the words he seemed to realise how much he meant them, as if by never talking about these issues before he had denied they were issues at all, as if he didn't have to admit his mistakes, his failings as a parent. Yes, he had always known he hadn't been the best parent he could have, but he'd never admitted it to any of his Sons; afraid of losing their respect, the high regard they held him in. Jeff Tracy did not make mistakes; certainly not of the calibre he had when it came to his boys, he mentally chided himself; they weren't boys anymore they were men.
Of course he knew he'd made mistakes, errors of judgement, oversights, not realising their needs, as he should have, and sometimes realising those needs but still being too afraid himself to provide what they so desperately required. He had always known it but somehow admitting it seemed the hardest thing for a man like himself.
Yet now he'd started the words came without difficulty and he continued quietly, knowing it was the best thing for Virgil to hear familiar voices. The prospect of losing one of his sons made him appreciate just how significant it was that they knew these things, Virgil especially. It suddenly became the most important thing in his life to tell his second eldest son how much he regretted the aftermath of Lucille's death, to express just how much he really did care, did love him.
"Your grandmother took me to one side once; it was your eighteenth birthday. She's always got something to say about everything but she was a bit tipsy too, you know how she gets all righteous. Well, she gave me a different view; told me that you were a gift, your mothers gift to me; herself. That might not make sense to you but to me it was crystal clear. No matter where your mother was, a part of her was still here with me, in you. I held that thought; you are a gift Son. A very special one at that." He paused reaching down to take Virgil's hand.
"Sometimes when you play," He fiddled with Virgil's fingers reminiscent of his piano playing. "I close my eyes and I swear I can almost feel her standing next to me. She'd be so proud of you, all of you." His bottom lip trembled; he swallowed hard, fighting the strong emotion that swirled within him.
Tracy men don't cry.
"I can't go through this again Virgil, its not right. A father shouldn't outlive his Son. It's not natural." His voice sounded strong, not in the same way it usually did but determined, firm.
"You look nothing like her anymore." His voice was barely a whisper now as he continued, forcing the words to begin with before the sentences completed themselves. "She was such a special person, your mother. She was everything to me Son." He paused wistfully, he couldn't remember any other time when he'd spoken of Lucille in front any of his sons, it had been a topic that was strictly forbidden during their childhood; another example of him not recognising their need to talk about her, only knowing his own instinctive need to forget.
"I remember the day we first met as if it were yesterday, she was so beautiful. Just like you, she knew exactly what to do and when. When I cried, when I laughed, she was by my side, always. She stole my heart, and she's never given it back, not even now." He paused, surprised by his own honesty. It was somehow easier talking to an unconscious man, knowing when and if Virgil came round he probably wouldn't remember, of course he hadn't counted on Scott.
"When she err… died. I realised I relied on her so much that I couldn't cope without her. It wasn't until I had to deal with it all on my own that I realised just how much I couldn't survive without her. I don't know why I'm telling you all this now; maybe it's to ease my guilt. You see, I looked at you yesterday, all that thick hair; gone, her mannerisms; gone, her eyes; gone, well closed, her; gone. I only saw you and I'm ashamed to admit that it's the first time I have only seen you Virgil."
He paused again, knowing if his late wife could hear him she would be disgusted at his behaviour. "I know it's too late now, but I am sorry Son. You will never understand just how sorry I am for the way I left you boys to cope on your own, forcing you and Scott to grow up almost overnight. You especially, I let you down. You're so much like her Virgil it's frightening. I used to think it was a curse; I can't put into words how much it upset me to look at you when you were growing up. But then I don't need to do I? You knew; you could see it, I know you can never forgive me for the way I treated you then, I can never forgive myself." A short silence ensued.
"I hate the fact I hurt you that much Son, I never meant to. It was just my way of dealing with it. I never had the courage to tell you I loved you, to comfort you. I left that to Scott, I guess that's one of the reasons you are how you are. Sometimes I used to think God was punishing me, that I must've done something terrible in a past life, really horrible. Horrible enough to warrant the one person I loved being taken away from me and to be left with this constant reminder she was gone; to be left with you. And yet at the same time I'm so grateful for you and Scott, without you we would never have survived. I know you tried to help me to ease the sorrow; you used to hide yourself. You think I didn't notice but I did. Oh, yeah, I knew and I wasn't the only one."
He laughed softly, almost forgetting himself. "Scott knew, I could see that; the nights I found you two asleep together, yes, I knew about that too. No, worse than Scott; your grandmother knew. Do you remember your eighteenth birthday party?"
Of course, no reply came. "It was John's idea to have a double celebration, you going away to Denver and all. Your grandmother got a little tipsy that night. I never did work out who spiked the punch. My money was on Gordon but he and Alan blamed each other and there was no evidence. They were probably in it together." He laughed again, being distracted from the point.
"Well, your grandmother has never shied away from saying what she thinks, as you know. And with one or two sherries inside of her and that damned punch, she really told me what she thought. Oh yeah," He whistled lowly. "Things she'd hinted at in the past; it all came out. What she really believed, that I never gave you and Scott time to grieve, that I expected too much of you. They were all things that deep down I knew already, just didn't want to admit to. And then she told me you thought I didn't love you as much as the others, that cut me to the quick. But of course, as always she was right. And as she explained I began to understand why. I never truly admitted to myself just what I'd put you through as a child. As if it wasn't bad enough that you'd lost your mother I had to do that to you too. I feel terribly guilty Virgil, I know I can only ask for your forgiveness but deep down, I don't think if I was you I could forgive."
He exhaled deeply, trying to keep his voice level, struggling to find the appropriate words. This was not a topic of conversation he was used to and he found it difficult to formulate the words and sentences he wanted, difficult to express himself yet weirdly once he started he found it easier to finish what he was trying to say.
"When your mother died, I thought she'd gone, but she hasn't gone anywhere. Her memory lives on in the lives of all of you, I have five amazing sons and she's in each one of you, especially you and that's a blessing not a curse. I only hope and pray that you never have to endure the pain I did, never know how it feels to lose someone you love that much. I know you loved her, don't get me wrong, but I was in love with her." He contemplated that for a few seconds. "I love you all equally, I know I don't always show it but you have to believe me; I do. I only hope you can forgive me for my mistakes." He paused, ostensibly all talked out.
"Maybe if you told him all that then he would."
He bit back the small yelp as Scott's voice made him jump, feeling his cheeks redden, he stiffened subconsciously, immediately regretting letting this fatigue and the emotional situation get the better if him.
"Scott!" He sighed, hurriedly trying to asses how much his eldest son had heard. "I thought you were asleep." He smiled shakily, trying to cover up this intense feeling of discomfort.
"You should talk to him. Tell him how you feel." Scott pushed; Jeff paled realising just how much of his emotive outburst Scott had actually heard.
"I can't do that." He admitted, shaking his head.
Scott was tempted to repeat the words his father had told him so many times as a youngster 'there's no such word as can't.' He bit his tongue instead settling for, "You need to talk to him."
"I sat there watching them trying to bring him back. What does he really think of me Scott? Does he hate me?"
Scott shook his head vigorously. "No, of course he doesn't. Look, I really think you should talk to him about this Dad, he doesn't know you feel like that." Scott paused weighing up whether to speak again. "You've got a lot more in common than you think." Scott said cryptically.
Jeff frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Nothing. I just think you should try and talk to him that's all." Scott said a little too defensively.
"Well maybe, when he's a bit stronger, if I'm given the chance." Jeff silently hoped the subject would drop; he didn't like this unknown territory they seemed to have unwittingly entered.
Scott sighed, eyeing his younger brother praying for any sign, his fathers words reminded him off the dire situation, that little word - if. He spied how worn his father looked.
"You look terrible Dad. Maybe you should go back to the hotel and get some rest. I'll stay with him." Scott tried to coerce his father into leaving.
Jeff merely shook his head. "I'm okay Scott." He paused, unsure whether saying what was on his mind was the best course of action, but deep down he knew it needed to be said. "Scott, you do know that I would never hurt him, don't you? That I would do anything to bring him back."
Scott knew what he was talking about.
"I know that and I'm sorry about yesterday, I guess I was just upset. I know why you did what you did Dad. Truth be known, I would have done the same thing. I just couldn't accept that he was dying. I didn't want to accept that he was dying." Scott rarely opened up to his father and Jeff listened, feeling somewhat privileged that Scott felt he could talk to him. Scott on the other hand felt indebted to his father having listened in on a private 'conversation', he continued. "When we were kids there were times when I used to hate him. Following me around like a lost sheep; 'Can we this' or 'I want that'. He was always so annoying yet there were other times when he just seemed to know what to do. Like he could read my mind. He knew when I needed to laugh, when I needed to cry, when I needed someone. Even now, he knows. When we come back form a particularly bad, well y'know?" He didn't want to say the word 'rescue' in public, but Jeff nodded knowing full well what he meant. "He knows when I need to talk about things. Hell, sometimes he knows before I do." Scott smiled, before looking downward. "Dad, he has to pull through this. I don't know if I could cope with losing him, not after Mom."
"I know Scott, I know." Silence filtered into the small room, only the beeping of machinery and sucking of air could be heard. "We have to think positive Son. He'll come through, he has to." He wished he could've spoken those words with real conviction but his voice betrayed his lack of faith.
"You don't really think that. You're as scared as I am really." Jeff had never heard Scott speak so openly, knowing it was probably instigated by his own heartfelt words.
"Yes, I am." He admitted, feeling he should be truthful in the face of Scott's honesty. Scott looked up at him, stunned not so much by the contents of the revelation but the revelation itself. "Of course I am. I know as well as you do that the only thing that stopped this family falling apart when your mother died was you two. And I also know that that was my fault. I can never make up for leaving you boys on your own Scott. I know I wasn't a particularly great father to any of you, especially you two. But you have to understand, I never set out to be a bad father." He couldn't look at him though he saw Scott's wide-eyed stare out the corner of his eye. He checked himself not believing that he'd actually said those words, actually admitted it freely to his eldest son.
Scott sighed; this all seemed too surreal; this was the man he had idolised as he'd grown up. The great Jeff Tracy; proud, brave, stubborn, unemotional, inexpressive. And here he was admitting that he was scared, scared of losing his son. Apologising for being a bad father, not once but twice. Scott was beginning to think he'd wake up soon to find Virgil sat by his bed, telling him it was just a nightmare and to go back to sleep, like he had done so many times before now. He prayed to wake up, to find this wasn't real. He tried to compose himself a little.
"You were never a bad father Dad." He frowned slightly. "None of us think that, least of all Virgil and I. You were our hero growing up; we aspired to be like you, we worshiped you. Secretly we still do." Scott smiled at the expression on his fathers face.
"Thank you Scott. You have no idea how much that means to me." Jeff dare not take his eyes of Virgil, but Scott knew he meant it, his solemn tone told him as much.
"I wouldn't say it if it wasn't true, y'know I sat here last night, thinking." Scott gently rolled his thumb over the back of Virgil's hand, careful not to disturb any instrumentation that might be inserted there. "Do you think he knows?" He paused, taking in Jeff's confusion. "I mean, do you think he knows we're here?"
Jeff nodded. "You heard what Laura said…" Scott stopped him mid flow.
"I know that but do you think he knows we're here for him. When he does wake, do you thing he realises how much love and support he has waiting for him?" He paused. Eventually forcing teary eyes to look at his father. "Do you think he knows how much we love him? How much I love him?" Jeff frowned at the deep-seated sadness in Scott's eyes. "Because I don't think I ever told him. Not truthfully, not honestly how much he means to me."
"He knows Scott. He knows how much you care about him, just like you know how much he cares about you." He tried to appease Scott's concern.
"When Mom died, I tried so hard to be strong for everyone, I thought I could cope. Of course I couldn't and he knew that. That night at the hospital he found me up on the roof. I told him to leave but he didn't. He just sat down next to me and pulled me close to him, he wouldn't let go. I cried my heart out on his shoulder. I felt so safe, it didn't matter that I hurt because I knew I couldn't hurt any worse and I had him there to protect me, to hide me when I didn't want the rest of the world to see me. And do you know what he said to me?" Jeff shook his head briefly. "He said 'Don't cry Scott, I'll look after you.' And he always has. Always. He was there forcing me to get up on the morning of Mom's funeral. He was there when I felt I couldn't do it anymore, telling me I had to. He was there when I wanted someone to confide in, to talk to. He was there when I needed help, when I couldn't cope, he pulled me along." He stopped himself adding; 'And when he needed me, where was I?' He continued, "And all through this, I don't think I've once told him that I love him." Scott finally admitted. "After Mom died I never thought there could be a God. Course I never told Grandma that." He smiled, all be it briefly, a welcome break from the deeply emotional topic of conversation. "But I swear I'll do whatever he wants. Sell him my soul, anything. Just to have Virgil back, even if it's only for a few seconds just to tell him all the things I wish I had."
Jeff laughed. "You sell your soul to the devil, Scott. I know how you feel though. It's ironic isn't it? I have more money in my bank account than some small countries have and yet all the money in the world won't wake him up. Won't enable me to tell him everything I want to, to hear his voice again."
They exchanged a suspicious glance, neither understanding how this conversation had happened, both seemingly as confused as the other as to how it had become so deeply emotional and personal and yet both seemingly willing to accept it was a necessity. These two men were the backbone of their family, providing unwavering towers of support to various other family members; they seemed to have this mutual understanding of this weakness. A small smile spread across Scott's face.
"Y'know if he could hear us, well, if he can. He'll be laughing at us. Maybe old age is softening us up. I mean listen at us, spilling our guts!" Scott smiled.
"Well, I hope you are listening to this Son, you're giving us a rough ride. And I'd spill my guts a thousand times over if it meant we could have you back." Both men looked up hoping to see a sign, an answer to their prayers. Any small token that the Virgil they knew and loved was still there, but none came. Instead the familiar silence returned, as he lay deathly still, the machines continued noisily to do their jobs.
The door opened. Both men looked up to see Laura come in.
"Morning!" She greeted. "Night Doctor said he'd had a good night."
Scott nodded, rubbing the edge of his thumb along Virgil's scalp. "He's doing okay. Isn't he?"
"Yeah, he's doing just fine. Do you two want to go for a coffee? While I take a look." She smiled.
Jeff spoke first "I should go back to the hotel. See if I can't organise the mob. Will you be okay?" Scott nodded in reply. "Call me if anything happens." Again, a nod. "Bye Virgil. I'll be back in a few hours." He leant forward, Scott watched amazed as his father gently kissed his brother on the head. "I love you." No one heard the whispered words.
It would seem that this whole ordeal had had a mellowing effect on both of their icy resolves.
He resumed his vigil as soon as the medical staff was finished.
Still feeling more than a little distressed about his father's words, a new sense of anxiety settled in the pit of his stomach as he settled into the chair. He couldn't help but feel it was strangely perverse for his father to be so unguarded with his feelings; it only heightened his own dread and despair. He thought back to the bizarre conversation, his father had never spoken to any of them about their mother ever; he entertained the idea that this ordeal had a bigger effect on his father than he'd originally thought. That it had served as a wake up call for what could've been, even so his words caused a deep unease inside Scott, a feeling that didn't deteriorate any the more he thought about it. In fact the more he considered it, the more he convinced himself it was acutely disconcerting for his father to be so candid. He tried to convince himself that if his father was half as exhausted as him it was probably a mixture of fatigue, stress and anxiety that had caused this uncharacteristic truthfulness in both of them. He shuddered at the feelings that returned, despair, fear, and emptiness.
He focused on his brother again, his thumb back to its usual habit. "Do you remember when we were kids? We used to climb up into that old hayloft of Grandpa's. That day you fell down, you scared the life out of me. I thought you were going to die like Mom did. I was so scared." He paused. Long enough for the soft beeps and pumping air to circulate his eardrums. He moved his hand across to the other side of Virgil's face, affectionately stroking at his cheek. His dark hands a strong contrast to the paleness of his brother's skin.
"I guess." He hesitated. "I'm scared now." The admission was quietly spoken, hardly audible above the machines that worked around him. "Remember how we curled up in Grandma's bed? I wish I could do that now and make it all go away. I wish you could tell me that everything was going to be ok again. I don't think I can..." He didn't try to stop the tears fall. No one was there to see him cry now. "I can't do it on my own Virg. I need you and I don't think I ever realised how much until now. Please. Wake up." And with those words, Scott Tracy; Man of Steel, broke down and sobbed. "Please don't leave me. Please." He buried his head into the unconscious mans shoulder and let it all pour out. Sobs shook his well-built frame as he half hugged his brother as tight as he dare, tighter with each torturing sob that convulsed his body.
"I'm sorry Virg." He muttered softly.
He felt something tickle against his ear. The pressure on his hands. He tried, he couldn't return it. He had no energy to. He was fully prepared to let comforting darkness return.
"I guess." He strained to hear. "I'm scared now."
He tried to stop himself falling. Who was scared? Why? He managed to pick out words, bits of sentences. Still not able to comprehend who was speaking. He knew the voice was familiar, knew it was important. He just couldn't remember whom it belonged to.
"…Curled up in Grandma's bed? I wish I could do that now." He felt the need to smile though no energy to complete the act. He and Scott used to curl up in Grandma's bed when they were younger.
"…Make it all go away." Make what go away? Was that's Scott's voice? It sounded distorted and unlike his brother. He became confused.
"………Can't do it on my own." This is absurd. "…I need you, I never realised how much until now."
"Don't leave me. Please don't leave me." Was that a sob? Now he knew he was hallucinating. Scott would never say that. They had a mutual understanding that they relied on each other, but Scott would never admit to it, he'd certainly never say it out loud. Was it Anna? Was he dead? He felt a tingling as he realised that something, someone was putting pressure on his body. Another body pulling him tightly. A warm body. He frowned, completely bewildered. He tried to open his eyes desperate to find out what was going on. They felt heavy and sluggish; he gave up on that idea. He moved a hand up the arm that rested across his chest.
Scott sobbed so hard; he failed to notice the hand on his forearm. He was determined he would never cry in front of his father. He tried not to cry in front of anyone. And now he felt the effects of keeping his emotions, over the last twenty-four hours, bottled up. Sure, he'd talked to his father, but that had only scratched the surface. Wave after wave of terror, fear and pleading hit him like ripples in a pool of water. He couldn't stop it; it was so strong it was beyond his own control.
Virgil realised the movement had no effect. He tried to speak but the tube in his throat prevented him from doing so and he panicked. Choking, suddenly he found himself unable to breath as he fell out of rhythm with the machines. He grasped hard at the arm he'd held, squeezing it tightly as the pain hit him and fear dominated his heart. His eyes shot open, wide like saucers. No longer feeling tired he was suffocating, as this obstruction in his throat caused him to gag. The only noise he was able to make was a small-strangled whine as the asphyxiation continued. He was unable to stop, as he tried to prevent the panic in him taking over.
Scott was so hidden from the outside world that it was only an uneasy, laboured gasp that roused him. He felt his brother's chest heave with every failed attempt to breath, the iron strong grip that almost crushed his arm.
He quickly looked up. "Virgil!" He exclaimed. A small smile appeared on his face just in time to disappear again as he realised what was happening. Fearful eyes begged him to help. He immediately hit the emergency button and went about trying to calm Virgil down. Cupping his brother's face in his hand he smoothed his thumb over Virgil's cheek. "Just try and stay calm. Laura'll be here soon. You're okay. You're going to be okay. Just try and let the machines breath for you." Virgil's body tensed a few times involuntarily, before slowly he adjusted and calmed a little. "That's it." Scott smiled, though Virgil frowned hard.
Unable to stop himself he whimpered as he pulled his heavy arms up to try and rid himself of this obstruction.
"No." Scott stopped him, pulling his hands down. "Don't do that." He kept a firm grip to avoid Virgil pulling away, every few minutes he'd try again and Scott's grip would tighten.
Eventually Laura bounded into the room. "What happened?"
"He woke up, but he can't breath. He was trying to pull the tube out." Scott filled her in as she manoeuvred between the brothers.
As Laura spoke softly to his brother Scott became slowly aware of a nurse talking to him. "Would you like me to call your father? Or if you want to do it yourself I can show you to a 'phone?" He nodded. He should call his father, though he was reluctant to leave. He glanced over at Laura. Virgil was in safe hands. He followed the nurse out of the room.
He eagerly waited outside until Laura appeared.
"Is he okay?" She smiled at the familiar concerned expression.
"He's fine. We've taken the tube out. He's breathing on his own." Scott sighed allowing a brief smile to surface. "He's very disorientated though. Don't expect him to make any sense for at least the first few hours. You can go in but encourage him to rest. I've told him he should try not to talk, whisper only if necessary. When he came round, his body rejected the tube in his throat as a result his throats very sore where the tube was and it's slightly swollen, but that's perfectly normal. There's some ice chips near the sink, you can give him some of those if he wants some, they should help with the swelling and cool his throat a bit. We can't give him anything more for the pain until we get his scans back. But it's only his throat that's bothering him at the moment, from what I could make out anyway." She paused, "Scott, he really is very mixed up, confused but it's just the effects of the drugs, he just needs time to sleep them off." She tried her best to prepare him, knowing he would not understand until he saw for himself.
"Is there any permanent damage?"
"His pupils are equal and reactive. His reflexes are improving; it's looking good. I'll be surprised if the scans show any serious damage. When he gets a bit stronger, we'll get some further tests done."
Scott sighed harshly, running a hand over his head. "More tests."
She smiled sympathetically. "More tests. It's the only way we can find any problems and pin point them. We can't help him until we know what's wrong with him."
"You think there is something definitely wrong with him, though? I mean, you think there is some damage, it's just a case of how much?"
"Scott, its impossible to say. I won't be surprised if the scans come back clear and there's a possibility that he's escaped any temporary damage. We don't know what effect his heart stopping had on his brain yet."
"What are his chances?" Scott was anxious for some kind of definite reassurance.
"I don't want to talk about chances. I didn't take the decision to ask your father to sign those forms lightly. I didn't think he was going to pull through then, but he's here now."
Scott listened to her words, interpreting them differently. "Are you saying he's going to die?"
"I'm not saying anything of the sort. He's doing very well. Let's just take it one step at a time." She smiled. A reassuring hand on his shoulder as she led him into the room. "I'll leave you to it."
He smiled to himself. Virgil was laid on his side. Rolled up in ball, Scott could tell be his body language alone he was hurting. The tube breathing for him had been replaced by the tubing running around his ears, like he had before the operation. Slowly Scott approached the bed and sat down again.
Virgil's eyes remained closed and Scott tried unsuccessfully not to disturb him.
"Anna?" The word scraped down his throat. His voice was rough and faint.
He swallowed. Wincing at the pain as it hurt his tender throat. He held out a shaky hand. Scott took it.
"No, it's me. It's Scott."
"Anna. Don't make me go." Scott strained to hear the words. He could feel his eyes becoming redder, he bit his bottom lip. He hadn't really comprehended just how disorientated his brother would be.
"Shh." He smoothed over the young mans hand. "It's me. It's Scott."
"Scott?" His name was slurred, almost as if he didn't know anyone called Scott.
Virgil's eyes remained closed; Scott remembered what Laura had said. "Don't try to talk. Just go to sleep. We can talk later."
"Hmm." The younger man murmured. Scott felt the grip on his hand tighten, if only a little. He let Virgil pull his hand closer.
"I love you, Anna." Scott bit his lip harder, causing the sting to further make his eyes water. Looking to the heavens. Unable to watch his brother's deluded confession.
Thankfully he fell slowly off to sleep.
Scott sighed heavily, he half wished his father had heard that, then Virgil would be forced to tell him the truth. But he knew forcing Virgil wasn't the answer. Leaning back in the chair, he suddenly felt the familiar sensation of weariness creeping through every bone and muscle in his body. It wasn't long before he too was asleep, his hand still firmly held in Virgil's. Not yet prepared to break the contact.
Sleep had not been serene for Scott; powerful images remained in his subconscious. Images that no matter how hard he tried he couldn't shake; images that he didn't want to remember and scenarios he feared he could still witness. His body involuntarily wrenched itself from sleep with a jolt, just in time to witness the door being flung open and his father entering the room at a run. His coat flapped behind him as he made his way across the room, peering cautiously at the bed.
"Scott?" he asked breathlessly. "How is he?"
Scott almost recoiled visually at the extreme look of torment on his father's face. His tired face strongly contrasted his bright eyes; so full of hope. Scott forced himself to sit up, watching as his father ran a hand over what was left of Virgil's hair, taking his other hand in his.
"Son? Can you hear me?" He asked Virgil's still form, pleading for a reply.
"Dad, don't. He's completely out of it, he didn't even know who I was a few hours ago. Laura said to let him sleep it off." He told his father's sad eyes.
Jeff sighed, pulling up a chair. He tried to catch his own breath as he realised he was wheezing.
"You okay?" Scott asked concerned.
"Me? Yeah. I'm fine. I didn't get your messages straight away, I was asleep. What exactly did Laura say?" The frown that covered his face set hard, showing no signs of lifting.
"He's doing fine Dad, she said they'd run more test to check but his pupils are reactive, his reflexes are getting better. She said she'd be surprised if there was any major damage." Scott smiled weakly.
"That's great! But you're not convinced?" Jeff picked up on the hesitant tone in Scott's voice.
Scott sighed. "It's just the way he didn't even know who I was." He paused not really wanting to vocalise this fear; he eventually blurted it out. "What if it's brain damage Dad? I mean you hear about it all the time. People wake up; they don't know their families. What if that's what it is? What if he can't remember me? Us?"
"Scott, Laura wouldn't say it if she didn't mean it. I'm sure we would know by now, if it was bad news." Jeff tried to console Scott, though he couldn't admit to not considering this very outcome himself.
Scott sighed heavily, running a hand over his face, Jeff noticed, not for the first time, the heavy bags that sat under his eyes.
"Yeah. You're right. I'm sorry; I just can't help thinking of the worst case scenario." He admitted.
"I know Son, but we've got enough problems to deal with right now without the maybes." Scott smiled, believing his father was right, possibly more than Jeff himself.
Jeff gestured to the bed alongside Scott, still untouched. "Why don't you see if you can get some rest while he's sleeping? He's going to need you when he wakes up properly; you'll be no good to him in that state. Try and get some sleep. I'll stay with him." Jeff tried to persuade him and for a minute it looked like it was working. Scott eyed the bed; it did look appealing, he had to admit.
He shook his head, knowing if he tried to sleep the nightmares would only haunt him. "I'd rather stay here."
"Scott…" Jeff was about to make a further comment when a small moan from the man between them grabbed both their attentions.
Jeff smiled, smoothly gliding his hand over Virgil's head, hoping to quell his restlessness. Scott studied his brother closely; subconsciously strumming his thumb across Virgil's hand; it was becoming habit. Instead of having its desired effect, the contact caused Virgil to move, he rolled his head towards his father, slowly opening his eyes. He blinked a few times before focusing on his father's relieved smile; he'd never seen his eyes so, what was the word? Clear? He tried to speak, succeeding in only making a strange, unidentifiable sound.
"Here." Scott's voice this time, he felt his head being lifted and the metallic spoon on his lips, he gratefully accepted the chipped ice, it slipped down effortlessly, easing the raw, burning sensation in his throat. He felt his head being placed back on the pillows. His head again, rolled towards his father.
"Dad?" he managed to grind out, his voice rough, grazing his throat, he closed his eyes grimacing before opening them again.
Jeff smiled, continuing to run his hand over the top of Virgil's head, though no hair remained, it wasn't completely bald and the stubble tickled at his hand. "Hi Son, How are you feeling?"
"Bad." Was the shortest word he could think of, his brain seemed to be responding but at a much slower pace than normal. Jeff looked across to Scott when at first no answer seemed to be coming at all.
Jeff laughed softly, "Well, I'm not really surprised." His smile seemed to grow warmer, "I'll tell you one thing Son, you certainly know how to keep us on the edge of our seats."
Virgil looked up at him after a few seconds, as his smile was fading, he was befuddled. He went to speak again but Jeff stopped him.
"Shh." He soothed, seeing Virgil's struggle. "Don't talk, just go back to sleep. You'll feel better when you wake up."
He seemed to be conforming to Jeff's request. Sinking into the pillows, his eyes drifted shut. Suddenly his eyes popped open, he tried to move his head away form his fathers touch. "Scott?" He grimaced back the whine that threatened to escape his lips, at the words that scuffed his throat. His free hand frantically tried to locate his brother.
Scott took a hold of the hand, clutching onto it tightly. He manipulated Virgil's hand in his until he had a tighter grip. The ritual thumb running gently over his brother's hand.
"Shh." He reassured him. "It's alright. I'm here. I'm right here." He said softly, remembering Virgil telling him those words not so long ago. Virgil seemed to relax and rested into a mellow sleep.
Above him Scott and Jeff exchanged mutual grins, unable to stop the pure relief they obviously both felt form spreading mercilessly across their features. There were a few moments of silence, Scott's heart pounded in his chest. Terrified to look away in case it wasn't true. Jeff eventually broke the silence.
"I should get back to the hotel. I need to talk to the others." He begrudgingly pulled away from his Son.
"They don't know?" Scott seemed surprised.
"Not yet, I need to talk to them. When I got your message all I could thing of was to get here." He sighed guiltily. "When I tell them, they'll want to come."
"I don't think we should swamp him Dad, he's still pretty unsettled. We should give him time to come round properly before he's bombarded with people."
"I know Son." Jeff nodded. "I agree, but I don't think your grandmother or your brother's will see it like that. I'll explain to them, tell them they have to make it quick." He stood up. "I'll be back later. I need to sort out the business too." Scott looked up, understanding what he was saying. Now they knew Virgil was going to be okay, they would be expected to commence operations again.
"Okay, I'll see you later."
Jeff hesitated as he stood by the door he turned to look back. Scott still cradled Virgil's hand, his other hand carefully, running over his brother's head as he watched him anxiously. He didn't have the heart to order Scott to rest, and deep down he knew Virgil would make sure he was okay now. Quietly he left.
His eyelids still felt heavy, like opening them would take all his strength. They weren't as bad as before though. He opened his eyes cautiously. Wondering where he was. What was happening?
"Hey." Scott smiled.
He went to answer. Struggling to conquer his dry mouth. He vaguely remembered an excruciating pain in his head. Scott, thankfully read his mind. "Do you want some more ice chips?"
He nodded as best as he could. Within minutes he felt Scott lift his head and place a spoon to his lips, a carbon copy of the way he had done before. He felt them slide down his sore throat. That felt better.
"Better?" Scott asked. He smiled.
"Yeah. Much. Thanks."
"How are you feeling?" Scott enquired smiling worriedly.
"Tired and sore." He was pleased at the response in the form of a sentence this time.
"Yeah. Well, if you could have seen what they were doing to you. Its no wonder you're sore."
Virgil frowned a little confused. He could tell by the way Scott spoke that it had upset him. But who had done what to him?
"What happened? Did the operation not work?" He asked, still a little hoarse.
"Oh, the operation worked. You had an allergic reaction to one of the drugs that they'd given you. It was quite hairy for a while there." Scott smiled tiredly.
"Is that why I feel so bad?" He asked, allowing his eyes to close automatically against the dreary feeling.
"Yeah, probably." Scott admitted. He watched his brother grimace, tightly closing his eyes.
"Are you okay?" Scott asked, a little worried.
"Honestly?" Virgil didn't wait for an answer. "I feel like my head's going to implode and my body's been underneath a steamroller. I hurt everywhere. What the hell happened?"
"Well, this allergic reaction caused your heart to stop and…" Scott found himself struggling to say the words out loud. "And, they didn't think you were going to make it."
Virgil opened his eyes cautiously. "My heart stopped?"
"Yeah. Dad signed the forms and everything. But then at the last minute you pulled through." Scott's frail smile filled his vision, as he struggled to understand his brothers' words.
He frowned, further cringing as his head throbbed; he let out a mournful groan.
"Is it that bad?" Scott asked, liking this less and less.
"Worse." Virgil mumbled through closed eyes.
"Can I do anything?" He asked sympathetically.
"No." Virgil shook his head, immediately regretting it as stabbing pains attacked his delicate brain. "Argh." He moaned, reaching a hand up to his temple.
"I'm going to get Laura." Scott said decisively.
"No, Scott, don't, I'm okay." Virgil insisted.
"No, you're not." Scott said forcefully.
As if on cue Laura came in. "Well look if it isn't sleeping beauty and the beast." She smiled at Scott's haggard, half-hurt expression and Virgil's weak smile. "Nice of you to join us. I found some stragglers outside. They want to see you. I think I'm going to start charging." She laughed, as Virgil strained to see his brothers in the doorway.
"He's in a lot of pain." Scott told the Doctor.
She frowned, scrutinizing Virgil. "Well, we'll see what we can do about that." She turned her attention back to Scott. "Scott, why don't you wait with them?" She gestured outside the room. "Whilst I take a look at my beautiful artwork." She went to lift the bandage up that laid over the incision she'd previously made. Hesitating when Scott didn't move. Both her and Virgil turned to look at him.
"It's okay, I'll stay."
Virgil smiled softly, seeing his brother's reluctance to leave him, his muddled thoughts tried to understand why. He resolved to ask Laura why he was acting so strange. "Its not like I'm going anywhere Scott." His smile was genuine.
"Not like the last time I left you then." He muttered. Virgil flinched at his words.
Laura obviously hadn't heard that last comment. "He's right. You need a break. Go and get a coffee and something to eat. We don't want a repeat performance of Tuesday." Her eyes held a meaning Virgil didn't understand. Scott obviously did, as he stood up.
"I'll be back in a few minutes." He told the mystified young man.
He could hold it back no longer. As he watched Scott disappear into the corridor, he finally asked.
"What happened?" He looked up to Laura, who was examining the wound on his head. "And since when has Scott taken orders from anyone?"
She smiled, sitting back on the bed. She began explaining.