Scott lay in his cot, listening to every sound that was coming from the other bed. Eventually he heard his brother's breathing settle into the rhythmical pattern of sleep. It was only then that he allowed himself to relax enough to doze for a short time.
Several times during the night he awoke and listened for any sign of restlessness.
There were none.
Eventually he checked his watch. One am. Nearly the time when Gordon had said Virgil's nightmares had tended to begin. Scott lay quietly and listened.
He was therefore awake when he heard the first signs of distress. He climbed out of his cot and padded softly to his brothers bedside. "Virgil?" he whispered. "It's okay."
Virgil stirred in his sleep, turning his face to the voice. A shaft of moonlight fell across his face, casting into sharp relief the expression of torment on it. "Scotty?" he whimpered. He held out a hand in the pathetic gesture of a small child.
Scott had a warm feeling of déjà vu as he took the hand and rubbed it reassuringly. "It's okay, Virgie. Scotty's here… I'll look after you. I always have haven't I?"
"Make the monster go away, Scotty…"
"I will."
"Help me."
"I will help you," Scott repeated. "But you've got to help me. You've got to come back to us, Virgil."
Virgil's eyelids flickered and Scott laid his hand back under the bedclothes before backing up so he was sitting on the floor and his back was against the cot. It was the most unthreatening position he could find.
Virgil awoke slowly. "Scott?" he said thickly.
"I'm here," Scott said gently.
"I think I remembered."
"Remembered what?"
"Everything."
Scott fought an impulse to become excited. He forced himself to remain calm and quiet. "Do you still remember?"
"No," Virgil said sadly. "It was like a dream." Scott could hear a tremor in his voice, but refrained from commenting.
He gave his brother time to collect himself.
Eventually Virgil sat up and turned the light on. He pulled a pillow out from behind his head and hugged it close.
Scott noticed that his eyes were red. "Are you okay?"
Virgil answered the question with a question. "Why do I have to live in this nightmare?"
"I don't know, Virgil. If I did perhaps I could help you 'wake up' from it."
"Why did this have to happen to me?" Virgil suddenly cried out in frustration. "I feel like a child. Here I am… You tell me I'm supposed to be a member of your family, have a responsible job, be able to do these fantastic things, and yet I can't do anything, I don't know anything, I don't remember anything…" his voice cracked and he fought back tears.
"I wish I could say something to help." Scott averted his gaze by retrieving the bag from under his cot. "Maybe this'll go someway towards making you feel better. He pulled out a vacuum flask and two mugs. He placed the mugs on the table and filled them up with hot chocolate. "Whenever our father was away looking for work, after Ma died," he explained, "you'd get nightmares. The only thing that would calm you down would be Grandma's hot chocolate with marshmallows." He plopped a couple into each of their mugs. "And then…" he grinned and removed another bag from the pack, "I'd add my own secret ingredients." He dropped four tablet sized brown disks into each mug.
"What are they?" Virgil asked warily.
"Chocolate buttons," Scott held a drink out to his brother.
Virgil took it and eyed the mug as if it might explode. "How could anyone sleep with that much sugar in their system?"
Scott picked up his own drink and retired to the cot, sitting with his back against the wall. "We didn't. We'd spend the rest of the night talking. Kept John awake, but he didn't mind. It gave him an excuse to read his books."
Virgil savoured the rich chocolatey smell of the liquid. "It was you who left the drink that first night, wasn't it."
"Uh, huh," Scott agreed.
"What did you talk about? When Fa… When he was away."
Scott thought about the answer. "What we wanted to be when we grew up. I always wanted to be a pilot. You kept changing your mind. One minute you were going to be a fireman, then a concert pianist, then a mechanic, or a great artist."
"Is that all?"
"No… We'd talk about Father, how we could help him. Wondering what job he'd eventually get. We'd talk about Ma. I don't mind admitting to you that initially we all shed a few tears. I think it helped us get over her death and in the long run we became stronger."
"We must have talked about more than that."
Scott noticed the unguarded 'we' slip into Virgil's conversation. "We did, but I can't remember what. I know that we did talk about what your nightmares were about."
"And what were they?"
Scott decided to try something. "Monsters."
"Monsters?"
Scott nodded. "Monsters. You were always having dreams where monsters were taking away a family member. Usually Father."
Virgil sipped at his hot chocolate.
Scott sampled his own. "Maybe that's what you've been dreaming about this last month," he eventually said.
"No…" Virgil stared into the brown liquid. "I know what I was dreaming now."
Scott looked up in interest. "What?"
"A pair of hands… Skeletal hands are reaching out for me… A skull is screaming at me."
"Sounds horrible."
"It's wearing a white dress."
"What?"
"It's wearing a white dress," Virgil repeated.
"Your monster is wearing a white dress as it grabs at you?"
"Yes… No… It's not grabbing at me," Virgil reached out, then turned his hand so his palm was facing upwards. "It's begging me for help. We're both falling."
"Do you think it's been the same dream every night?" Scott asked.
Virgil cupped the hot mug tightly in both hands. "I think so."
"I wonder what it means," Scott said reflectively.
"It means I don't get a good nights sleep," Virgil said irritably. "And neither does anyone else."
"Well Gordon should tonight," Scott sipped at his hot chocolate and then looked ashamedly at his brother. "I'm sorry, Virgil."
"Sorry for what?"
"I haven't been much help to you over the last month. It seemed that every time I tried to get close something bad would happen. I kept thinking there must be something wrong with me."
Virgil shook his head. "No, not you. There's something wrong with me." He sighed and wiped his eyes.
"What you need is some soothing music," Scott stated firmly. "That always makes you feel better. Why don't you turn your stereo on?"
"Stereo?"
"Yeah. That thing," Scott pointed at the electronic device.
"Oh, is that what that is? I wondered."
"You mean Gordon didn't show you?" Scott shook his head in exasperation. "Would you like me to?"
"Please," Virgil said eagerly.
Scott shifted his position so he was able to reach the stereo. "You turn it on by pushing this button," Scott pressed it and the stereo lit up like a Christmas tree. "Initially you'll probably find the radio easier to handle, but the tunes you've got loaded are listed in the database…" The system's computer sprang into life and Scott scanned through the long list of music. "How on earth have you stored everything? I can't see any logic to this – but I guess you did." He thought for a moment. "How would you store your music, Virgil?"
Virgil found himself being stared at by a pair of piercing blue eyes.
Scott smiled slowly. "Of course." He punched in a series of numbers and a gentle piece of music wafted out the speakers. "There you go. Have a lie down and a listen. You'll soon feel better."
"Thank you." Virgil didn't accept the invitation to lie down but instead rested his head against the headboard and closed his eyes.
Scott watched the lines of worry and fear fade away from his brother's face and enjoyed the moment.
When the music finished Virgil opened his eyes again.
"Better?" Scott asked.
Virgil nodded. "Yes."
"Glad to see I haven't lost my touch," Scott said a trifle smugly. "Gordon's right. I do know what makes you tick."
"Do you?" Virgil looked at Scott. "I think you do. I think you understand me, more than I understand myself at the moment. That…" he hesitated, "that 'G.I. Joe' act…
"Air Force," Scott corrected.
"…Was only an act wasn't it?"
Scott gave a shy grin and nodded. "Yeah, it was an act. I wasn't about to let you go hungry. I gambled that I did know you well enough to know how to get you to eat. Thanks for proving me right."
Virgil attempted to say something and stopped himself twice before steeling himself for the third attempt. "Can I tell you something, Scott?"
"Shoot."
"I want to believe that you are my family. I like you all, and I like the idea of you being my family… But I don't seem to be able to believe. Even when things happen that only make sense if I tell myself that they happen because I knew that they were going to happen.
Scott tried to make sense of this statement. "Such as?"
"Such as… I came in here after our 'discussion' this morning, and I was so mad I automatically turned the… stereo on. And what's more I selected the piece of music that I wanted to hear. How'd I do that? How did I know?"
"You knew because you've always known. Because the stereo is yours. That's probably why Gordon's never shown you how it operates, because he doesn't know. He was probably going to ask me to show you… but I was too busy running scared."
"But why can't I believe that that stereo is mine?" Virgil asked. He shifted position so he was now on his knees. "Please tell me something that will make me believe!" he begged. "I can't bear not having faith in what you all tell me!"
"Virgil…" Scott leant forward. "I wish I could. Believe me I've been trying to think of something for ages that will help you believe, but I can't. The only things I can think of are related to memories that you won't know. For instance, I could tell you that you got that scar on your forehead from when you were shot down by the USN Sentinel…"
"I was what!"
"I think the Captain thought Thunderbird Two was a missile heading for the States or something…"
"See, that doesn't help. From my point of view that sounds suspicious. Why would someone shoot down an International Rescue craft if International Rescue is as innocent as you say?"
"But to think that you'd have to believe that you were on board that craft!"
Virgil shook his head. "No. To think that I'd only have to believe that it's a story that you've concocted or had happened to someone else and you've made into my history. So I've got a scar…"
"Virgil!" Scott said in mild irritation. "You've got to meet me halfway here."
"I'm trying! I feel as if there's a brick wall between us and I can't scale it. A brick wall called amnesia!" Virgil sat back and pounded his pillow to relieve his feelings of frustration.
Scott watched him helplessly. Then something happened that lifted his spirits. "Got it! You're going to sneeze three times."
Virgil stared at him. "What?" He sneezed.
"That's one."
"Why'd you say I was going to sneeze…?" Virgil sneezed a second time, "… and why three times?"
"Two!" Scott was grinning. "Because you always rub your nose that way before you sneeze and you always sneeze…" He was interrupted by the third sneeze. "Three!" he cheered. "You always sneeze three times!"
Virgil sniffed. "I do?"
"Yep! And I'll tell you something else. You always sneeze when you go out of a dark room into sunlight. Brains said it's a medically recognised phenomena and has a medical term for it, but I can't remember what it is."
"Autosomal Dominant Compelling Helio-Ophthalmic Outburst," Virgil stated.
"That's right! Adchoo!" Scott exclaimed. Then he stared at his brother. "How'd you remember that?"
Virgil shrugged. "Dunno." Then he frowned "How'd you know I did that? You've hardly been around…"
Scott looked meaningfully at him.
It was as if a light bulb had suddenly been illuminated, except that Virgil didn't sneeze in the glare. "You are my brother," he exclaimed as if he'd only just worked it out.
"Halleluiah," Scott said. "Do you believe us now?"
Virgil nodded, his eyes wide with the sudden revelation. "I do believe you. Don't ask me why a sneeze was the only thing that could convince me, but I do believe you."
"Sounds like you sneezed down that brick wall."
"Well, I've blown a hole in it. It's still there, stopping me from remembering everything, but…" Virgil smiled, "at least I've got some certainty at last. What a relief."
"Tell me about it," Scott agreed. "Do you feel up to rejoining the family fold in the morning?"
Virgil nodded. "That's if they'll accept me after what I said about them."
Scott waved his hand dismissively. "Don't worry about that. They'll be so pleased that you believe them that they'll forgive you anything."
Virgil frowned. "Even Gordon? He didn't sound ready to forgive me yesterday, he sounded like he wanted to get rid of me."
"Gordon was tired," Scott told him. "When he gets that tired his mouth kind of disengages from his brain. He says things he doesn't mean and then usually can't remember what he said the following day."
"Something we have in common then," Virgil said.
"He's feeling terrible and is blaming himself for you running away."
"Oh," Virgil said quietly. "It wasn't really his fault. It was my crazy head to blame."
"You're not crazy," Scott told him. "But next time you decide you need to escape, choose somewhere a little less dangerous, will you? You nearly gave me heart failure yesterday…" He placed his mug on the floor. "Tell you what. How about I take you on a tour of the island later today? I'll show you the places to steer clear of if you feel the need escape again."
"I hope I won't feel the need to escape again."
"So do I. But it'll give us a chance to get to know each other… That's if you want to," Scott looked at his brother hopefully.
"I upset you and Gordon, didn't I? I'm sorry." Virgil sounded despondent.
"It wasn't your fault."
Virgil wondered how many times he was going to have to repeat these words before he would no longer feel the compulsion to do so. "No, but I was the cause, wasn't I.?"
"You know, that is one thing, the only thing, that everyone is finding irritating. No one blames you for your amnesia or things that happen because of it. You don't need to apologise."
"Sorry," Virgil said, his eyes downcast.
Scott ignored the apology.
"I guess this has been as hard for you as it has for me... but in a different way," Virgil said.
"It's been hard for everyone," Scott told him. "Normally we pull together and support each other. That's how we cope in difficult situations. But this time…" he shrugged, "well, this time we've been pulling back from each other, and worse, we've been pulling away from you when you've needed our support more than anything. It's us who should be apologising to you, Virgil."
"No," Virgil shook his head. He still looked depressed.
"So… Do you want to go for that walk today?" Scott half expected Virgil to decline the invitation.
Instead Virgil's face lit up in a smile. "I like that."
"Great!" Scott beamed. "I guess we should get some shuteye then."
Virgil indicated his empty mug regretfully. "I don't feel tired now."
"No," Scott admitted. "Neither do I. Oh well, in that case…" he reached into his bag and pulled out the vacuum flask again, "…we may as well finish this off." He poured them each another drink and then tossed the bags of marshmallows and chocolate buttons to Virgil to take care of while he continued to rummage about in his pack. "Here," he said pulling several boxes out, "when we got sick of talking we'd play games." He balanced the boxes on the edge of the table as he returned the flask to the bag.
Virgil allocated each mug it's requirement of sweets and then picked up the top game. "I remember this one!"
"You remember…! But you never liked that game," Scott took the box from Virgil and looked at it. "I always beat you," he said with a mischievous grin on his face.
"Probably why I didn't like playing it," Virgil told him.
"Can you remember how to play it?" Scott asked.
"I don't know. Shall we try and find out?"
Two hours later and they were both still wide awake, playing games, laughing and, most importantly…
Enjoying each other's company.