The glass bottle hit the wooden floor with a thump and Scott wearily opened his eyes, pushing his duvet cover from over his head as the alarm echoed throughout the house. His head felt as though it was being pounded from the inside and sitting up made his head swim through a blurry, whisky tasting sea. His tongue felt like sandpaper in a gooey mouth and his stomach jerked violently as he got a whiff of stale cigarette smoke and alcohol. Scott cursed out loud; he hadn't had a hangover like this since long before he'd joined his family on the island. He stumbled to the lounge and greeted his brothers and their father, trying to hide his painfully bloodshot eyes.
"Scott, get back to bed," his father ordered instantly.
"What?" Scott asked. Alan and Gordon shuffled their feet distractedly, not wanting their guilty expressions to be seen by their older brother.
"You were up drinking most of last night. You're still under the influence so I'm not allowing you out on this rescue," Jeff said.
"What? I'm fine Dad…just because I had a few whiskies…"
"More like a bottle Scott," Jeff interrupted, nodding at Alan to take Thunderbird 1 and for Gordon to get to Thunderbird 2. Scott watched as his youngest brother took his place at the wall and turned to glower at his father before retreating to his room, slamming the door shut and kicking the bottle to the other side of the room, wincing as it smashed against his en-suite door. He lay face down on his bed, waiting for the room to stop spinning and his stomach to settle. There was a soft knock on his door and it opened before Scott had any time to protest. He lifted his head as his Grandma sat at the edge of his bed, placing down a cup of coffee.
"Just because Virgil isn't here, doesn't mean there is no one for you to talk to," she said in her achingly soft voice. Scott made no motion to acknowledge the comment and he heard her sigh before her fingers stroked his hair softly.
"Scott, this isn't like you…I know you miss your brother, but I didn't think you would be like this." There was a long silence.
"I just thought he'd be back by now…" Scott said, his voice muffled by the covers he'd pressed his face into. He heard another voice cutting through his Grandma's soothing words and sat up slowly. His father stared at him, on the verge of boiling over as he tried desperately to keep his anger in check.
"Mother, can you leave Scott and I alone for a moment?" he asked and Scott watched as his Grandma left the room, placing her hand against Jeff's arm as if to ask him to take it easy on Scott. Jeff waited until the door had closed before beginning to speak. Scott eyed him wearily, the relationship between himself and his father being very strained as of late.
"Scott, you can't do this. You can't drink yourself into oblivion…we needed you tonight and you were incapacitated. With our other experienced pilot going A.W.O.L, I can't have you of all people doing this…"
"By other experienced pilot, you mean Virgil…you want to mention his name sometime?"
"Your drinking is worrying me, Scott. I know Virgil leaving has had a terrible effect on you, but I didn't think you'd do this Scott…turning to alcohol instead of the rest of your family…"
"Oh, but you were always such a great influence on me Dad," Scott spat angrily and his father grabbed hold of his t-shirt, pushing him against the wall.
"Don't you ever talk to me like that," he hissed. Scott stared at his father, shocked by the rage he thought his father would have repressed, before he managed a laugh.
"You think John and I didn't know what you did all day in your office? I think even little Virgil knew, although he was only young…Dad, the reason you are freaking out about this is because you couldn't control your drinking after Mom died…" The blow came out of nowhere and knocked Scott off his feet. Jeff stood over him, rage deflated as he looked at Scott in horror. Scott slowly sat up, rubbing at his jaw as his father reached down to help him up.
"Scott…I'm sorry…God…what am I doing…?" Scott shoved his father's hand to the side and eased himself to his feet.
"Get out of my room," Scott said quietly, sitting down on his bed.
"Scott…I…I don't know what came over me…"
"You're angry maybe," Scott muttered, glancing at his father.
"Not with you…with myself…with Virgil…" Scott snorted and lay on his bed.
"There it is…you hate to see me in this state because it reminds you that you pushed my brother away so far he had to leave…"
"That's not it at all Scott. I don't want to see you ruin yourself."
"Yeah, you mentioned. John knows where Virgil is…why don't you go get him and this horrible mess could all be resolved."
"Scott, Virgil left for a reason and until he's sorted that for himself, we have no place dragging him back…"
"The problem was you!" Scott yelled, sitting up suddenly. "You obviously can't do the whole compassionate thing, but at least be a father to us sometimes Dad…"
"I don't have to listen to this," Jeff muttered, making his way to the bedroom door.
"Yeah, you never do. You've already managed to get rid of one son, I don't think he'll be the last!"
"You were shouting for Scott again in your sleep last night," Caitlin told Virgil as he slowly opened his eyes, the light slicing through the crack in the curtains blinding him. The smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted past him and slowly he remembered where he was. He looked at the crumpled blanket, thrown from him during the restless nights sleep. He'd stayed on the couch, shying away from Caitlin's advances. She placed a mug down in front of him, her hair falling into her eyes as she stepped back. Virgil longed to reach out and push it back, gaze into those eyes as he kissed her over and over, but he lifted the cup and shifted his eyes. It had been months since the accident and his bones, bruises and scars had long healed, but since the accident, he'd been pushing Caitlin away. She knew that the boy in the building not being found had shaken him. He was questioning his own mind, was it his imagination? Was it some kind of sign? He'd been having regular nightmares about his accident and Caitlin believed there was more to his fear and anxiety than just being trapped in the explosion. She cast her eyes over his pale skin, dark shadows under weary eyes and wanted to hold him and make everything right again, back to the way it was before the accident. She feared it was too late for that.
"Yeah…I guess I was dreaming about that boy again," Virgil mumbled into his mug.
"I want to help you, you know that?" Caitlin said in a small voice, standing in front of him, chewing on her pinkie nail. His tired eyes met hers and she managed a trembling smile before moving towards him. Virgil placed his mug down on the table in front of him, staring at it until his eyesight blurred.
"Please don't do this…don't make me do this…" she whispered, moving to kneel in front of him, placing her hands on his knees and looking up at him with moist eyes.
"I don't know what you mean," Virgil said and she pushed herself to her feet, wiping at her cheeks.
Everything in the room was covered with a thin film of dust. The last painting, almost finished, still sat on the easel, pots of random colours spread across the desk in front of it. A pile of sheet music sat on his bedside table beside a stained cup, once filled with coffee. Jeff's heart sank as he looked around the room, untouched for almost three years and it seemed like Virgil was still here. Although he wanted to be able to accept his son had gone, Jeff clung to the hope that one day Virgil would return to the island. Of course, Jeff would resist the warm return; he had an image of professionalism to uphold, but he would be truly happy to see him home. He promised himself he would not make the same mistakes twice, Scott was wrong. Jeff desperately wanted to be there for his sons, but they seemed to forge their own alliances and, he felt, they didn't really need him. Jeff trailed his finger along the bookshelf, noting that Virgil had taken no personal possessions with him, he'd simply up and left, leaving behind everything he'd once called his own. He glanced at the bottle of whisky on the shelf and lifted it, brushing off the dust on the warm glass. Slowly, Jeff unscrewed the top, the familiar smell of musty peat filling his nostrils.
"No Jeff," he told himself. He hadn't touched alcohol since he'd been given a yelling from his mother about how he had seemingly given up on his sons and was drinking far too much. It was almost exactly the same speech he'd given Scott. Looking at the bottle, Jeff was driven into a spiral of guilt associated with his drinking. Now it seemed that stopping alcohol passing his lips had not been enough to reunite a once happy family. They were falling apart and with a heavy sigh, Jeff realised one of the major causes was himself. Slowly he lifted the bottle to his lips, but was startled by footsteps along the hallway and turned swiftly when he heard the door opening and Gordon stepping into the room. His eyes caught an image of an empty photograph frame and wanted to glance back, to see if he'd seen correctly, but instead he was drawn into his son's confused look.
"I...um…" Gordon tried to explain, but failed. Jeff stood firm and cleared his throat.
"What are you doing here?" he asked Gordon.
"Looking for…Virgil's maintenance paper things…"
"They should be in the hanger," Jeff replied stiffly, placing the bottle of whisky back on the shelf and cleared his throat.
"This place needs cleaned out. We could do with an extra room…"
"Scott will actually want to kill you if you do Dad…I'm just warning you…"
"Yes, I know," Jeff said firmly and Gordon nodded slowly, watching for his father's confident, assured pose to falter.
"Dad…you didn't…I mean, you're in Virgil's old room with the whisky and…"
"I just dusted it off Gordon. I promised you I'd never slip into old habits and it's one I will keep," Jeff assured him.
"I thought…well, you know Mom died…with Virgil gone maybe it was all a bit…"
"It's fine Gordon." Gordon nodded and smiled wearily before leaving the room, he'd come to think of as forbidden. As the door closed behind Gordon, Jeff sunk to the ground, his eyes fixed on the bottle that would have caused them all so much pain.
As Virgil slept soundly for the first time in what seemed like weeks, Caitlin grabbed her suitcase and placed it in the middle of the living room. She piled her clothes into it, grabbed a few photographs she'd put up and rummaged through the drawers in the desk for her cheque book, her personal paperwork. A brightly coloured, glossy print caught her eye and she eased it out from the papers it was wedged between. The first person that caught her eye was Virgil, smiling widely. It must have been taken a few years before she guessed. Holding onto his shoulder was a tall, blonde haired man, flashing a gleaming smile as he looked down at the three people in front of him. Her eyes found Scott instantly. His dazzling blue eyes, stunning smile and ruffled black hair were not easily forgotten. Behind him she found Gordon, copper haired, cheeky smile, making bunny ears behind Scott's head. The last man in the picture was also blonde haired, blue eyed. He looked to be the youngest of the group and was pulling a face. She smiled at the poses before a frown took over her face. Gordon and Scott were in International Rescue and Virgil had never mentioned knowing them, but obviously they had some kind of connection if they were in the picture together. Was this a photograph from his days at university? Was it a load of friends together? Was it a family picture? There was certainly a resemblance. Caitlin felt her mind filling with questions when she heard a noise from behind her and glanced over her shoulder to see Virgil standing in his doorway.
"What are you doing Caitlin?" he asked quietly, his eyes passing over her guilty expression before noticing the full suitcase in the centre of the room.
"You aren't leaving?" he asked, although Caitlin wondered if it was more of an order. She met his gaze, but didn't reply.
"What's the picture?" she asked instead.
"You shouldn't have been going through my stuff," Virgil retorted.
"I was looking for my stuff," Caitlin said curtly, holding up the photograph so Virgil could take a good look at it. Immediately he turned away stumbling back into his bedroom. He knew what one it was without having to look. It was the only one he had, the one he'd lifted from the shelf in his bedroom at the last minute. Taken on the rare occasion that all five brothers had been together, it showed them in a somewhat natural pose. Unlike the perfect portrait their father had wanted, he got Alan sticking his tongue out at Gordon who was making bunny ears behind Scott's head, while behind, John and Virgil laughed at the sight. Caitlin followed him into the bedroom, not wanting to let her questions go unanswered.
"You are standing with the two International Rescue guys I met…you know them, but you've never mentioned it…"
"It isn't important how I knew them," Virgil snapped, snatching the picture.
"It seems you have a lot of secrets Virgil. You don't want to talk about your family, you don't want to talk about this picture and you don't want to talk about how you know those guys…"
"None of that has anything to do with you!" Virgil yelled and Caitlin got to her feet.
"I would have thought if our relationship meant anything to you, you might have wanted to tell me all about you…"
"I don't want to! And it seems you don't think much of our relationship anyway," Virgil muttered, gesturing towards the suitcase and instantly regretted it when he saw the anger in her eyes blurred by tears.
"I'll stay on the couch tonight in case you need me, but you better find yourself someone else to yell at in the morning," she said in a trembling voice. Virgil couldn't watch her leave, the door slamming setting his teeth on edge. Grabbing hold of his crutches, he limped to the door, about to open it when he heard Caitlin's heartbreaking sobs from the other side. He placed his forehead against it and lifted his hand from the doorknob.