Scott helped his father coax a still complaining Virgil onto a bed in the infirmary.
"W-What happened?" Brains asked as he took note of Virgil's vital signs. "Did he fall…?"
Virgil moaned.
Brains finished his question, "…or receive any blows to the head?"
"No," Scott said, his gaze on his brother who was lying prone on the bed with one arm across his eyes. "He seemed to be fine. There was some damage to the track so I went first to check it was safe. When I turned back he was as white as a sheet and seemed to be in some kind of trance."
Brains looked at him in interest.
"I jumped down and he 'woke up'… but he started talking about his last rescue… I think."
"What!" Jeff exclaimed.
"I think he was remembering what happened before he fell."
"A-And what was that?" Brains asked eagerly.
Scott hesitated. "He saw a girl die. He ran down the debris to help her and his legs went out from under him. Am I right, Virgil?"
The only reply from the bed was a moan.
An anguished looked crossed Scott's face and he took a step towards the door.
"Wait, Scott!" Jeff caught his arm. "What else happened?"
"Um… He was shaking…" Scott looked from his father to the scientist. "It was so violent it was almost like some kind of seizure. That stopped and he said he wanted to walk home, except he couldn't stand. That's when you arrived, Brains…"
"Did he remember anything else," Jeff demanded.
Scott shook his head sadly. "No. I asked him and he said he couldn't. It was obvious that he was in pain," his voice took on a distressed tone, "and I kept on pestering him. I had to know that he'd remembered. I wanted to know! I needed to know!" He looked over at the bed. "I'm sorry, Virgil. I'm really sorry... For everything!" Scott looked back at his father. "Can I go now?"
Jeff released his grip.
Scott escaped into the hall. Once there he stopped and braced himself against the wall. Things had been going so well. What had gone wrong?
Scott decided that he desperately needed some fresh air.
Gordon looked up from his magazine when his eldest brother walked into the lounge. "You're back early."
Scott didn't reply and carried on walking.
His Grandmother looked at his pale face and placed a hand on his arm, arresting his progress. "What's wrong, Darling?"
John put his book down. "And where's Virgil?"
"He's…" Scott swallowed. "Brains is checking him over. He had a bit of a turn."
"A bit of a turn? What do you mean?" Mrs Tracy asked in concern.
"It happened again, didn't it!" Tin-Tin exclaimed.
Scott nodded. "Only this time he's got a headache. We had to stretcher him home."
"Stretcher!" Gordon exclaimed. "For a headache? It must have been a whopper."
"Yeah," Scott said dully.
"It's not your fault, Scott," John told him.
"Isn't it?"
"Of course not!" John said with emphasis.
"Do you think we should tell Alan?" Gordon asked.
Grandma Tracy fretted over the suggestion. "And worry him unnecessarily?"
"We all know," Gordon reminded her. "It's not fair that he's left out of the loop." He initiated the video link.
"Mister Scott? Would you care for a drink of coffee?" Kyrano asked solicitously.
Scott nodded and allowed his grandmother to lead him to a comfortable seat.
"What happened?" John asked.
Scott gave them a brief overview of events, stopping only to thank Kyrano for the coffee. "Virgil saw Maria fall…"
"Who's Maria?" Gordon asked. "Do you mean Doctor Kershaw?"
"No. She was that little girl we found when we were looking for Virgil." Scott decided to gloss over the facts of her death, wanting to spare his Grandmother and Tin-Tin the gory details. "He ran down the mudslide to help her and fell himself."
"He remembered all this?" Mrs Tracy asked. "Can he remember…?"
"No. I asked him."
"How come he only remembers the bad stuff?" John asked no one in particular. "And not the things he likes?"
"He forgot us, so I guess that means he likes us," Gordon theorised.
Scott finished his tale by explaining about the trip back, with Brains, on the hoverbike.
"Virgil's had headaches before," Gordon noted. "Mainly since the accident."
"This one was a killer," Scott said. "What can cause amnesia and that kind of head pain?"
Alan had been listening in on the conversation via his portrait. "Brain tumour?" he asked quietly
At once the room went quiet as the horror of the thought sank in.
John eventually shook his head. "Brains has done scans. He would have picked something like that up…"
"What if it were some rare type that our equipment can't pick up?" Alan persisted.
Tin-Tin let out a strangled sound and her father put a comforting arm about her shoulders. "It is not possible," he said reassuringly.
"If you can't come up with something sensible, Alan, then don't say anything,' John snapped.
Alan lapsed into a sullen silence.
"Is it possible though?" Gordon asked.
"No!" John said emphatically, aware that Tin-Tin looked to be about to burst into tears.
The uncomfortable silence returned.
"It can't be that!" Scott said heatedly. "It's me! It's got to be! These things only happen when I'm around!"
"Scott!" John protested.
"It's not you…" Gordon tried to say.
"I'm…" Scott took a deep breath. "I'm going for a walk. Let me know if there's any news will you, John?" he indicated his watch, placed his mug on the table, stood and started walking towards the patio doors.
John was on his feet and after his older brother. "Scott! It's nothing to do with you!"
Scott turned back. "What other explanation is there?"
"I don't know, but come back and we'll talk about it. There must be something that triggers these attacks off…"
"There is. It's me!"
"No it's not, Scott. It can't be! It's not logical. The pair of you had a great night last night with no problems. You've been together…" John looked at his watch, "… about 15 hours and this thing's only just happened. It can't be you! Let's think about it…"
"I have been thinking about it, John. At nights I've been doing nothing but! And the only common factor I can find is me! There's no point going over it again!"
"But with our help. We're not so emotionally involved."
"Yes you are."
"But not in the same way. Please, Scott." John barred his brother's progress.
"John!" Scott said in frustration. "Has Virgil ever had an attack when you were present and I wasn't?"
"No, but…"
"Alan?" Scott asked his youngest brother's portrait.
"No," Alan said sheepishly.
"Grandma?"
"No, Darling, I've never seen one at all."
"Kyrano?"
"No, Mister Scott."
"Tin-Tin?"
She dabbed at her eyes, shaking her head at the same time.
"Gordon?" Scott turned to the redhead.
"There were his nightmares," Gordon suggested hopefully.
"They weren't the same thing," Scott said. "He was asleep then. Has Virgil ever had one of these attacks around you while I wasn't about?"
"No," Gordon said reluctantly.
Scott turned back to John. "See," he said. "It's me."
"I don't…"
"John! I'm going for a walk! Let me past!" Scott snapped. Then he softened his tone so he was pleading with his brother. "Please, John, let me go. I need the fresh air… I need to think."
John hesitated and then with obvious unwillingness stood to one side.
"Thanks," Scott said. "Promise me you'll call as soon as you hear anything?"
John gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile and patted his brother on the shoulder. "Sure, Scott. Not a problem."
"Where are you going?" Grandma asked in concern.
"I… I don't know. Just for a walk I guess." Scott reached the door. "Don't worry about lunch for me, I'll grab something later." He disappeared outside.
John moved to the patio doors and watched Scott walk down the stairs and then take a path. "He's going down to the beach. Makes a change from the gym."
"I think he's past the gym stage," Gordon said. "He's really upset."
John turned from where he was watching Scott slouch morosely along the sands, and looked at his family and friends in the lounge. "I still say we can figure this out! There's got to be a pattern, something that doesn't involve Scott."
"But what?" Alan asked. "Do you have any ideas?"
"No," John admitted. "But let's look at this logically." He went to his father's desk and got out a pad and pen. "I'll bet we can solve this if we all work together."
"You've been reading too many mystery novels," Gordon commented as he pulled up a chair beside his elder brother.
John started off. "Right. How many attacks has Virgil had?" he asked.
Gordon thought a moment. "Are we counting the nightmares?"
"Not at the moment," John suggested. "I think Scott's right. They're different."
"In that case three," Gordon said.
"Three! Is that all?" Mrs Tracy asked. "The way you boys were carrying on I thought there must have been at least fifty."
John made three columns on the paper. "Where were they?"
Tin-Tin brought her chair closer. "Thunderbird Two, Thunderbird One and the runway lookout."
John headed each column with these titles. "Who was present?"
"Thunderbird Two was… Scott, you, me, Alan and Dad," Gordon remembered.
"Scott was showing him about," Alan supplied.
John wrote 'S, J, G, A, D'. "Thunderbird One?"
"Scott," Alan said.
A 'S' went on the pad. "And Scott was the only one with Virgil at the look out," John made the appropriate mark.
"So far, so bad," Gordon said.
"Well, we already knew all that," John said. "It's only the start." He thought a moment. "What was in the immediate surroundings?"
"Thunderbird Two's flight deck," Gordon said.
"Virgil's territory," Alan said. "It's pretty enclosed."
"Outside Thunderbird One's more open and had has the 100 foot drop," Tin-Tin said.
"Yeah, but you're still inside a hangar," Gordon added. "It could be pretty claustrophobic, if you think you're not used to it."
John made some notes. "Anyone been up to the lookout lately?"
"No, but judging by Scott's description it's all mud, water and shrubbery. There's nothing in common there," Gordon said.
"So we've got two state of the art facilities and, you can't get anymore low tech than a dirt track," Alan said.
John sighed as he wrote. "What time did the attacks happen?"
"Afternoon, late morning, mid morning," Tin-Tin said.
John groaned. "We're getting nowhere, aren't we. What else can we compare?"
The thorough medical examination was over. The results suggested nothing ominous, or any cause of the debilitating headache.
Virgil lied and said he was feeling better. He felt an irresistible need to be in a place of relative familiarity, away from the cold sterility and antiseptic smells of the hospital wing of the complex. He insisted that he be allowed to return to his room.
His father's and Brains' expressions told him that they didn't believe him, but they didn't stop him.
Virgil didn't know how he managed to make his way back to his bedroom unaided. He was grateful to find that someone had already closed his curtains for him. With a groan he collapsed onto his bed and lay there willing his pounding head to cease its agonising rhythm.
He closed his eyes tightly and tried to sleep, but failed. As his head pounded images floated in and out of his mind, renewed with each brain-strangling throb. Images that, behind his closed eyes, were as clear as the room he was lying in…
He saw the world flash past as he slid helplessly down the mudslide…
He saw Maria falling…
He was switching on his radio to call Scott…
Maria was reaching out for him…
He was climbing the rock fall…
He could hear a small voice calling for help…
He was talking to Scott at Mobile Control…
He was arriving at the danger zone...
He was flying out, in Thunderbird Two, from Tracy Island…
He was playing 'Moonlight Sonata' on the piano…
Other images formed and faded.
Successful rescues…
Unsuccessful rescues…
The first test flight of Thunderbird Two…
Seeing Tracy Island for the first time…
The memories came flooding back. Before International Rescue; his school years; his mother…
Denver University of Advanced Technology…
High School…
Family Outings…
Christmases past…
Birthdays - both his and his family and friends…
Ma's death.
At last Virgil slept.
Jeff and Brains remained in the infirmary after Virgil had left.
"Did you believe he was feeling better, Brains?" Jeff asked.
"N-No, Sir."
"Me neither," Jeff said with a reflective air. "Do you have ANY idea what's wrong?"
"N-No, Sir," Brains repeated. "…But it is worrying."
Jeff ran his hand over his face in a tired manner and suddenly Brains saw how much the strains of the past month were bearing down on his employer and friend. Jeff Tracy suddenly looked like an old man.
"I've, ah, d-drawn up a list of the things th-that I'm aware of that Virgil has forgotten." Brains timidly held out a clipboard to Jeff. "I-I've noticed a pattern."
Jeff didn't even look at the piece of paper in front of him. "They're all things that he cares about, one way or another, aren't they?"
"Yes."
"But I don't see how that knowledge helps us."
The scientist cleared his throat. He had something that he had to say, but didn't particularly want to say it. "M-Mr T-Tracy."
Jeff leant against a table and sighed wearily. "Yes, Brains."
"It's b-been over a m-month since Virgil g-got amnesia."
Jeff sighed again. "I know."
"A-And th-there's been no n-noticeable improvement."
"I know," Jeff repeated again.
Brains swallowed nervously. "H-Have you r-read the literature I-I gave you?"
Jeff looked at Brains sharply. "Yes!" he said succinctly.
Brains found he couldn't look at Jeff. "D-Do you th-think…"
"NO!" Jeff exploded. "You're saying I should book Virgil in for that treatment, aren't you?"
"I-It's an o-option."
"No it's not!" Jeff stormed. "It's inhumane! It's cruel! It's barbaric…"
"M-Mr Tracy…"
"It's mediaeval torture!"
"A-And it h-has worked in s-similar cases."
"I'm not putting him through that!" Jeff began to pace up and down.
"M-Mr Tracy. I a-agree that the t-treatment is h-harsh…"
Jeff snorted. "Harsh! Is that what you call it? I'd call it abuse!"
"It m-may b-be a cure," Brains protested.
"Which is worse than the disease!" Jeff snapped.
Brains took a breath. He hadn't seen Jeff this angry in a long time. "H-Have you r-read all of th-the information?"
"No! It was too sickening. Look, Brains. I respect your opinion, but that treatment is not an option. We can't risk International Rescue's security!"
"M-Mr Tra…"
"There are no guarantees!"
"Mr T-Tr…"
"I'm not about to waste my money on a load of quackery!"
"M-Mr Trac…"
"And I'm not going to put MY son through that punishment!"
"M-Mr Tracy," Brains was finally able to get a word in. "I-I understand. I-I feel the s-same. But, f-forgive m-me for s-saying this, it is n-not your d-d-decision… Or m-mine," he added quickly and then braced himself for the blast that he felt sure would come.
Instead Jeff stared at him intensely. "You mean Virgil should be the one to decide, don't you?" he eventually said in a quiet voice.
"Y-Yes, M-Mr Tracy."
"Why would he want to put himself through that?"
"P-People have chosen to u-undergo this treatment of th-their own free will. I-I don't pretend to kn-know what Virgil is g-going through. I-I can only im-magine what having amnesia is like. M-Maybe h-he will feel that the p-possible outcome is w-worth the sacrifice."
Jeff let his shoulders fall in defeat. "I don't want him to go through that," he said sadly. "But if he wants to I'll have to let him," he looked at his friend, "won't I?"
Brains felt his heart go out to this man who loved his son so much that he was torn between the need to protect him at all costs and the equally strong desire to help him. "Yes, Mr Tracy."
Jeff sighed. "I'll tell him when he's feeling better."
John dropped the pen onto the paper in frustration. "Scott, why didn't you stay and help!" he exclaimed into empty air. "We need you!"
"Maybe he's right," Alan said slowly. "Maybe he is the trigger."
"Shut up, Alan," John said. "I don't believe that."
"Why don't we add the nightmare into your chart?" Tin-Tin suggested. "Maybe there is a link."
"Okay," John added an extra column and headed it 'Nightmare'. "What do we know about it?"
"I don't know," Gordon admitted. "I didn't hear what it was."
"Virgil's falling beside a skeleton dressed in a white dress," Mrs Tracy told him.
"Huh?" Gordon stared at her. "Is it Virgil or the skeleton in the dress?"
"The skeleton," his Grandma said.
"Thank heavens for that."
"And the skeleton is asking him for help," Tin-Tin added.
"Weird," Gordon noted.
"Well?" John asked. "What's the link?"
"Uh," Gordon was stumped.
"Let's go through your criteria again," Alan suggested. "Who was present? No one, or Gordon."
"Or me," John added, depressed.
"And Scott was the only one able to stop it," Tin-Tin said. "That's got to be a positive, isn't it?" Then she sat up. "Wait a minute!"
Everyone looked at her in interest. "What?" Alan asked.
"Gordon!" she turned to his brother. "That girl that Scott said that Virgil said he saw fall. What was she wearing? Was it a dress?"
"I think so," he said.
"What colour?" Tin-Tin asked eagerly.
"I don't know," Gordon admitted. "I know it was covered in dust and dirt and blood and…" he looked at his grandmother, "…and stuff. It wasn't pretty."
"But was it originally white?" Tin-Tin pressed him.
"I didn't notice."
"But Virgil would," John said. "He'd notice the colour before anything else!"
"But how does that help?" Alan asked. "That could explain the dream, but it doesn't help us with Scott's problem."
They all lapsed into thought again.
"Maybe it's nothing physical that's the trigger," Tin-Tin suggested. "Maybe someone said something!"
"Such as?" Mrs Tracy asked.
"I don't know. I wasn't there…" Tin-Tin looked expectantly first at Gordon, then at Alan and then finally at John.
"Don't look at me," John reminded her. "I was on Thunderbird Five when the Thunderbird One episode happened."
"Well start with what we know," she insisted. "What was Scott saying up at the lookout?"
"I don't know," Alan said. "What was he saying?"
"We can surmise," Kyrano said quietly.
"Okay. Let's try that," John said. "I'll be Scott, Gordon you be Virgil."
"Thanks. Give me the pen and paper to get into character, or shall I go sit at the piano?"
John ignored him. "Scott was probably leading the way. What would he be saying?"
"'Follow me'?" Gordon suggested.
"You're Scott," Alan said. "You tell us."
John thought. "They're going up to the lookout. We saw how muddy Scott's clothes were. He'd be commenting on the state of the track, and telling Virgil to look out for himself."
"And Virgil would be listening," Gordon said.
"And then what?" Mrs Tracy asked.
"They come to the clearing and are faced with a blocked track, and Scott checks it out and decides it's safe to climb…" John said.
"Fine," Alan complained. "But what was he saying?"
John gave a small smile. "How about 'Be careful while you climb the mudslide'?"
They thought about what he said. "Makes sense," Gordon admitted. "Maybe that could jog a memory. But why would Scott say something like that when he's showing Virgil Thunderbird One? And we were there in Thunderbird Two. Nobody said anything remotely similar!"
"Oh," John slumped slightly.
Tin-Tin wasn't prepared to give up. "Maybe it doesn't have to be the same word. Maybe it's just a memory jogger of some kind. What was everyone saying in Thunderbird Two?"
"We'd got the testing seat and he was sitting in it," John remembered.
"And Scott was initiating the flight sequence," Alan added.
"And?" Tin-Tin asked impatiently.
The three Tracy men frowned as they thought.
"Nope!" John threw his hands up in exasperation. "I've gone blank. It seems a lifetime ago."
"It is as far as Virgil's concerned," Gordon noted.
"You said Mister Scott was initiating the flight sequence," Kyrano prompted. "What are the procedures?"
Gordon closed his eyes to visualise Thunderbird Two's control panel. "Turn it on…" his fingers flipped an imaginary switch. "Check everything's A-OK… Check the radar…"
"Then Scott leant across Virgil to…" John mimed the action.
Gordon's hand went out to the invisible switch. "Open the hangar door." He opened his eyes when his hand came in contact with Johns. They both hurriedly retracted their arms.
"And then Virgil jumped out of the seat as if something had bitten him," Alan said.
"That doesn't sound too promising," Grandma Tracy said.
"No…" John agreed. "Okay. Let's try Thunderbird One again."
"But none of us were there," Alan moaned.
"Virgil told me he had this sensation of falling," Gordon told them.
"I've had this," John said. "We need an informed opinion. I'm calling Scott." Before anyone could stop him he'd opened the link.
Scott's eager face appeared almost instantaneously in place of his portrait. "You've got news!"
Immediately John felt guilty. "Ah… no. We wanted your help."
Eagerness was replaced by disappointment tinged with curiosity. "Help?"
"We're trying to work out what's triggering Virgil's attacks."
"John!" Scott said in exasperation. "I told you! I've thought about this. The only link is me!"
"I don't believe that, Scott. We think we can…" John sentence faded away as Scott grew visibly angry. He shrunk back. "I'm sorry. I'm trying to help."
Gordon stood so that Scott could see him over the video link. "Humour him, Scott. He thinks he's the detective in one of his whodunit novels."
Scott checked his temper. "What do you want to know?"
"What did you say to Virgil up at the lookout?"
"I… I think I commented on the view… and the state of the track."
"Anything else?"
"I offered to help him up the mudslide."
John looked at his family. "Okay. That tallies with what we thought. What did you say to him at the time of the Thunderbird One attack?"
Scott thought. "He seemed happy. He was admiring Thunderbird One and asking questions about her stats and where the launch bay was. So I answered that. He said I must be a good pilot to be able to land her through the pool and I said we all could do it. He commented on how high Thunderbird One was, and I think I remember telling him to hang on to the guard rail so he wouldn't fall."
John appeared surprised. "Really?"
Scott nodded. "Really. And then he freaked out."
"Okay. Thanks." John thought about this for a moment and then decided to move onto another tack. "We think the nightmare's related to that little girl's accident."
"Maria," Scott reminded him. He thought for a moment. "That would make sense…"
"So what actually happened?" John asked.
Scott seemed reluctant to reply. "What he told me was pretty disjointed… It took me ages to realise what he was talking about…"
"Yes?" John prompted.
"She was standing on a ledge up the cliff…"
"And?" John prompted again.
"He… Virgil…" Scott grimaced. "He couldn't save her in time and saw her fall. Apparently she…" Scott cast about for the right word, "bounced against the cliff face a few times before she hit the ground…"
Tin-Tin gasped and Mrs Tracy emitted an "Oh, my!"
Scott heard them. He became angry again. "I thought you two were alone!"
"Ah, no," John admitted. "Everyone's here. Everyone except…"
"Leave it, John!" Scott interrupted. "You can't solve it because there's nothing to solve! Just count your blessings that your brother doesn't have a fit every time you're with him!"
"Scott…" John tried.
"I don't want to hear from you again, unless it's to tell me how Virgil is! Okay!"
"Okay," a severely chastened John said. "I won't call until…"
But Scott had signed off.
John rubbed at his face. "That was a mistake wasn't it? And I don't know that it really helped."
"We know a little bit more," Tin-Tin tried to reassure him.
"I guess. A reminder of falling may be a trigger too," John said.
"But no one said anything about falling in Thunderbird Two!" Gordon stated. "We're still no closer."
"I know!" Alan suddenly exclaimed.
"Know what?" Gordon asked.
"I bet I know what the Thunderbird Two trigger was!"
"Sure, Alan," John said, a lack of interest evident in his voice.
"I do!"
"Well don't hold it in," his Grandmother instructed him. "Spit it out, boy!"
"Scott said…" Alan paused for effect. "That the hangar door was hidden by the CLIFF face."
They stared at him as they rolled the phrase around in their minds.
"By George, I think he's got it," Gordon said in his best imitation of an upper crust English accent.
"Alan. You're brilliant!" Tin-Tin enthused.
Alan blushed.
John slowly looked up from the pad towards his youngest brother. "Alan," he said with feeling. "I take back every unpleasant thought I've had about you these last few days."
Alan smiled. "Thanks. Are you going to call Scott and tell him?"
John shook his head. "No."
"Why not!" Tin-Tin asked. "He'll be so pleased."
Mrs Tracy agreed with her grandson. "We'd be wise to make sure of our facts first."
"I want to run this past Brains and see if he thinks we're right," John explained.
Jeff Tracy chose that moment to enter the room. He was carrying a folder. "What are you all doing? Where's Scott?"
"He's gone for a walk," John said. "He needed some fresh air. How's Virgil?"
"Pretending that his headache's gone. He's gone back to his own room. I've just been in to check on him and he's sound asleep."
"So Brains is alone?" John asked eagerly.
"Yes he… What's going on?" Jeff asked as they all rushed for the door.
But they'd gone.
All except his mother, who had looked at her son, noticed his expression and pale colouring, and decided that her place was with him. "Are you alright, Jeff?"
"Me? I'm just dandy," he looked at her tiredly.
"You look like you could do with a nice hot cup of coffee."
"Sounds wonderful, Mother."
"Just you relax, Darling. I'll get one for you."
"Thanks…" Jeff watched her as she walked out the door. Then he slowly walked around to behind his desk and sat down.
He placed the folder on the desk and stared at it at moment before opening it. He felt sick as he read the opening paragraph…