Author's Note: Many thanks for the reviews for the last chapter, as always they're greatly appreciated. Thank you, especially to MCJ for her insight into this one. Please continue to review; readers' thoughts and comments are invaluable - knowing the aspects that don't work as well as what does, is so important. Thank you.

Chapter 21 - Brother of Mine

Scott was in the kitchenette when his father returned. He watched the older man covertly as Jeff dumped a small bag on Sam's bed and surveyed the room. When it appeared Scott wasn't around, he turned to where Virgil slept. He watched his second son for a few moments before scanning the room again and walking over to the balcony doors, peering out. Scott felt it was time to make an appearance and stood in the main room.

"Looking for me?" He asked softly, Jeff turned to face him immediately. "Sorry, I was just getting a refill." He gestured to the glass of scotch he held in one hand.

Jeff nodded, though a worried frown crossed his features. There was obviously something on his eldest sons mind. "Are you okay Scott?"

Scott smiled. "Fine." He didn't pause, continuing quickly. "Do you want a nightcap?"

Jeff looked to the scotch glass in Scott's right hand and the bottle in his left, before glancing over to Virgil again. His worried frown deepened, his concern only increasing and he nodded. "Sure."

Scott poured him a glass of the amber liquid and gestured to the balcony, not wanting to disturb Virgil. Jeff followed him out through the glass doors and into the cooler air. A gentle breeze pulled at his shirt as he took the same pose as Scott; leaning against the wall. "Is everything okay Son?" Jeff asked after a long silence, during which Scott had failed to instigate conversation.

"Yeah." Scott didn't look at him, instead taking a gulp from the large amount of amber liquid that swirled around the glass he cradled.

"Virgil told me that things had been a bit strained between you two." Jeff ventured softly. He had always had a very close relationship with his eldest son, second only to Virgil. He watched Scott carefully, as he turned to face his father sharply. Scott's eyes widened in clear surprise that Virgil had been so candid with the older man. It appeared Scott's surprise at the revelation stunned him in to silence. "That is what we've come out here to talk about, isn't it?" Jeff frowned, wondering if there was something else. "Or is there something else?"

Scott turned back to the dark sky before he stared down to the ground. From the height they were at you could barely make out the streets below. The odd siren penetrated the quiet but that was all. Scott swirled the glass in his hands, waves of amber liquid rolled against the sides of the glass, like the sea in a storm. Not dissimilar to the stormy turmoil Scott felt inside. He gulped the liquid down in one sudden movement, taking himself and his father by surprise. Looking across to the balcony table where he'd placed the scotch bottle, he contemplated pouring another. He could do with a second refill.

"How many of those have you had tonight?"

Scott met his father's disapproving frown, stubbornly. "Just a few, I'm not drunk."

Jeff shook his head. "I'm not suggesting you are." No, he could see Scott wasn't drunk. The struggle to maintain his composure, and the way he seemed so hesitant, contrasting his usual confidence were sure signs that he was upset though. "But you want to talk about it; otherwise you wouldn't have asked me out here." Jeff concluded with fatherly shrewdness. "And you're not going to find a better offer at the bottom of that bottle."

"It was my fault." Scott admitted finally.

Jeff closed his eyes, sighing. He had dreaded hearing those words; it just confirmed his own suspicions.

"Scott," Jeff shuffled closer, placing a hand on his eldest son's shoulder as he spoke. "I know you feel responsible for your brothers, you always have." He paused for a few moments. "Maybe that's my fault. I put a lot of pressure on you as a child to care for them; maybe I relied on you too much." Scott squirmed uncomfortably under his father's judicious words. "The fact of the matter is Son, that they're all responsible for themselves now. You and me, we're not accountable for them anymore." Jeff paused again, feeling the waves of distress pour off his son. "What happened on that track was an accident Scott."

"I know that." Scott nodded, looking down at the empty glass in his hand and wishing he'd taken that second refill now. He didn't dare look at his father as he spoke the words he intended to. "I didn't mean the crash." He sighed, taking the time to pause and watch his father frown out the corner of his eye. "I meant Virgil. It was my fault Virgil passed out this afternoon." Though he daren't look, he could see Jeff's frown lift. He turned to face his father when the older man began to nod slowly in understanding.

"There was no door handle, was there?" Jeff asked his wide eyed son. Scott just shook his head, surprised that his father had known all along but hadn't said anything. "Virgil never has been a very good liar. So what really happened?"

Scott turned back to the starry sky. "We were arguing."

"Arguing?" Jeff asked, a raised eyebrow suggested he was more than a little surprised at this revelation. "Scott, Virgil said he was frustrated with you and that you were mad with him…. But arguing?"

Scott nodded, though frowned at his father's words. "Mad with him? I wasn't mad with him." He paused. "Not then anyway." His frown deepened, Jeff let him go on. It was rare Scott came to him with problems these days, rarer still that the problems involved Virgil. "I was so angry Dad." Scott confided as he shook his head. "Angry at him for saying things, angry at me because most of what he said was true…" He trailed off. "I wasn't thinking Father. I just reached out and…" He bowed his head remorsefully. "I grabbed his arm as he was walking away. He doubled over, and then his eyes rolled into the back of his head, like he was some dummy or something." Scott screwed his face up in disgust at the memory before he paused again. "I tried to catch him but I couldn't hold him."

"And you lied because you thought I'd be angry?" Jeff asked, attempting to stay calm.

"Virgil said you didn't need the extra stress." Scott shrugged, he picked at the brick he leant against. "Are you telling me you're not angry?"

"Oh I'm angry." Jeff assured him, with sentiment. "You're damned right I'm angry. You should never have lied to me." He said in a tone that Scott knew he shouldn't question. "That goes for him too." Scott watched his father wave a hand in Virgil's direction.

"Father, please don't be angry with Virgil. He was just doing what he thought was the right thing, trying to protect you. And me." Scott looked across at his father with pleading eyes.

"Protect you!" Jeff smirked incredulously. "Protect you from what?"

Scott bowed his head. "He knew you'd be angry with me, for hurting him like that. Dad, I swear I never meant to…"

"Oh Scott…" Jeff sighed, squeezing the younger mans shoulder before moving his hand up to the back of Scott's neck. "I know you'd never hurt any of your brothers deliberately. I'm angry that you lied to me, I don't need to be angry that you hurt him."

Scott frowned, clearly confused. "You don't?" He shook his head. "You're not going to tell me I'm selfish, and that I'm a terrible person for lashing out like that. Or that I don't deserve him or…"

"Scott, Scott." Jeff appeased the younger man's ongoing self-recrimination. "I don't have to be angry with you, and I don't have to tell you any of those things. Scott, I can see by just looking at you that you're punishing yourself much more than I ever could." Scott swallowed, looking to the floor. "Son, just remember that you're not going to find the answer at the bottom of that glass."

"I'm so sorry Dad." Scott mumbled. "I can't believe I hurt him like that…"

"Did you talk to him? Whilst I was in the bar?" When Scott nodded, Jeff went on. "And are things better now, between you?"

"Yeah, a lot better." Scott nodded. "We talked about everything."

"Good." Jeff smiled. "What you have with Virgil Son, that relationship, it's very special. You're very lucky to have him…"

"I know that Dad." Scott butted in. "I appreciate him."

"I know you do and I'm sure he knows that too." Jeff continued, a thoughtful smile on his lips. "You won't ever have a relationship like that with anyone else Scott. Cherish it and value it, Son. Because if this weekend's reminded us of anything, it's that life can be taken away so easily. We were so lucky that it wasn't Alan or Virgil, don't waste time arguing Son."

Scott just nodded, unsure what else to say or do. "I do value him Dad, he's my best friend. I just can't remember ever feeling that angry at him before."

Jeff chuckled. "How about when he painted that model of yours? You were pretty angry then, an old Tornado F4 wasn't it?"

Scott shook his head. "It was a Tiger Fighter," He smirked. "We were talking about that tonight actually; Virgil insists I threw a tantrum."

Jeff frowned. "If I remember correctly, Virgil insists right." He grinned as his son, with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah but I don't want the kids to know that Dad." Scott protested. "You should have seen Alan and Gordon; they were laughing so hard I thought their sides were going to split. Even John was smirking at the idea of me being sent to bed with no supper." He paused reflectively. "Having said that, I think it's the first time I've seen Alan laugh in all the time we've been here."

Jeff smiled wistfully. "Good, I'm worried about him; how he's going to handle things at this hearing. He's can't be himself when there's all this hanging over him." He paused. "Don't get me wrong," He added quickly. "He's dealt with this really well, it's just…" He sighed. "Well, he's still so young, it's a lot for anyone to have to deal with but …" He trailed off again. "I suppose, deep down, in my eyes you'll always be my children first." After another pause, Jeff chuckled again. "Those were the days Son, weren't they?" He smiled as he thought back to Scott's words. "When the nearest we came to a serious accident was letting John anywhere near the kitchen."

Scott returned the smile, re-visiting memories of his own. "Or letting Virgil under the hood of my car."

They both grinned at the memories for more than a few minutes. Memories of a painful time for both of them, yet ironically such a happy time too.

"Do you think they'll ever get over this Scott?" Jeff's words sobered both their waning smiles.

"They're tough." Scott nodded, though in all honesty he felt he needed the reassurance too. "They're stronger than we give them credit for, both of them. Sure, it'll take time but they'll be okay."

"Hmm, yeah but do you think they'll ever get over it?" Jeff asked again, pensively looking out over the dark skies. The stars were shining brightly and he spoke absently as he studied the constellations.

"I don't think you ever get over something like that." Scott shrugged. "It's one of those things that'll stay with you all your life." He paused. "I guess you just learn to accept it. And we've dealt with worse, right?"

"Hmm." Hearing those words from Scott's lips brought him the reassurance he needed but he still felt he should be doing more. "I wish I could afford to take some vacation and spend some proper time with the both of them." Jeff confided longingly.

"Well, why don't you? Virgil could certainly use the help. He insists that he'll be fine and that he'll call if he has any problems. But I think he's going to struggle when he gets back to Denver." Scott questioned his father. If he couldn't support Virgil, their father was the next best thing. "And then there's Alan, it's going to take him a while to get over something like this."

"I can't Scott." Jeff shook his head. "You know how important this project is and it's just reaching the crucial stages, I can't disappear now. I spoke to Alan about coming to stay with me in New York; I want him nearby, not halfway across the country. Maybe I'll talk to Virgil too; he could always come stay for a while."

Scott shook his head. "No, he won't do that. He feels as if I'm mothering him as it is and he's got 'Dorothy Complex' too." Jeff nodded in comprehension, a grin pulling his lips into formation at the use of the childhood phrase.

"I guess we're just going to have to trust Alan and Sam to keep an eye on him then." Jeff added, in a tone that assured Scott it was something he wasn't happy about.

"I hate the thought of leaving him when he's sick like this." Scott confided softly. "He looks so vulnerable Dad." He shook his head at more memories as they replayed themselves. "I've already offered him the spare room at my apartment but he wasn't interested." Scott sighed. "It's not good for him to be on his own at a time like this Father, I wish there was some way I could be with him."

"Virgil might be stubborn Son, but he's not stupid. If he really needed help he'd ask for it." Jeff assured him. "Besides, you've done everything you can; it's up to Virgil now. And it's not like he'll be on his own completely Scott, we're not abandoning him; we'll all be calling him regularly."

"I know Dad." Scott sighed. "But it's not the same. Virgil's right, a video link isn't any substitute for the real thing." He ran a hand over his hair. "Being there in person, there's no comparison for that. I can't hold him from God knows how many miles away and tell him it'll be okay, I can't take him by the shoulders and remind him that he's got our support whatever happens."

Jeff was taken aback by the comment. "What do you mean Virgil's right?" He asked with a frown.

"This afternoon, he was saying about how much he was looking forward to this weekend. And how we hardly ever see each other anymore." Scott paused, not wanting to offend his father. "He thinks we're drifting apart and he's right Dad, we are." They both frowned. "I can't remember the last time all six of us were together, it must have been…" He racked his brains. "Alan's birthday, last year. He misses us all being together, so do I."

"I miss it too, Son." Jeff conceded. "You all lead busy lives but you're adults now Scott." Jeff smiled; sighing and allowing a brief silence to envelope them. "I was hoping to talk to you whilst you were all together this weekend. I'd even organised for a friend of mine to come over, but it didn't seem like the right time so…"

"Sounds important." Scott thought aloud with a suspicious frown. "Talk to us about what?"

"Just something I want to discuss with all of you." Jeff admitted vaguely.

"Has this got anything to do with this Special Project thing, because none of us really know anything about it." Scott was frowning again.

Jeff smirked in reply. "You're not supposed to." He said cryptically. "Look, I understand what Virgil's saying, so why don't we set aside a week in a couple of months time and get together then? You can visit the Island. I'm sure once you see it, you boys will love it."

"Oh, I see." Scott frowned deeply, nodding. "So as your friend can come and we can have this 'talk' you wanted to have this weekend?" He questioned suspiciously.

Jeff nodded. "I suppose." He smirked; sometimes Scott knew him too well.

"Dad, is everything alright?" Scott asked, anxious of his father's evasive behaviour. "You're not sick or anything are you?"

"No, no nothing like that." Jeff went to great pains to reassure his son's apprehensive expression quickly. "In fact quite the opposite, I've got a proposal for each of you that would give you cause to spend a lot more time together."

Scott frowned; his sleepy brain barely understood just what his father was saying, he felt slightly confused at the outcome of this conversation. "Dad…" He began to question but was cut off.

"It'll all be clear soon enough." Jeff smiled. "You look tired Son, it's been a long day and you've got a big day ahead of you tomorrow too. Why don't you get off to bed?"

Scott felt himself nod in reply but wasn't really sure why. His father's words had thoroughly confused him and he had so many questions. Yet he was just too tired to vocalise them at this moment in time. There was also the fact that his father's clear reluctance to reveal all riled him slightly. "Father, what's going on?"

Jeff rubbed his shoulder. "Be patient Scott." He smiled again. "Come on." He placed a hand round Scott's shoulders and led him back into their hotel room, picking up the half empty bottle of scotch as he went.

"Good night Son." Jeff smiled as he took a few things out of the bag he'd brought with him and disappeared into the bathroom. Leaving a confused Scott Tracy still processing his words.

The door clicked closed behind his father and Scott shook himself, clearing his head and clambering into bed inattentively. Their father was sometimes very cryptic when it came to business; it was often something he played close to his chest. There was something about his manner tonight though, and the way he spoke so significantly, that troubled Scott. He tried to shake it off, but the secrecy regarding this Special Project business was little short of annoying and he resolved to discuss the matter with Virgil; see what he made of it.

Finally, he set his 'phone to vibrate and wake him up when his brother was due his next dose of medication, before settling down under the covers of his own bed.

He was sound asleep by the time Jeff emerged, instigating a warm smile from the older man as he made his way to Sam's bed. Jeff pulled the covers back and let his tired body fall back against the comfort of the soft mattress and pillows. He couldn't turn off the way his mind kept going over everything and for a few moments, he just lay there thinking. Eventually he turned to check both his sons were sleeping and reached for the light switch.

"Night boys, sweet dreams." He whispered, as he plunged the room into darkness.

XxxxX

Meanwhile Gordon lay awake, and had done for the passed two hours. Releasing a harassed sigh, he turned over to face the ceiling, biting his lip and resisting the urge to glance at the clock again. He was dreading tomorrow… today he corrected himself mentally. He dreaded having to turn his back on his brother and most of all he dreaded the moment when he knew he'd have to. The moment when he'd have to leave his brother on the remote, cold, hard concrete of an airport runway. He was already running through how he'd respond to Alan's reluctance for him to go. 'You don't need me here Al, you'll be fine.' 'I'll be thinking about you, I promise.' And, 'You've got Dad and Virg, what would you need me for anyway?' Picturing his brother's face as he said those words, he knew tomorrow would be one of the most difficult things he would ever have to do in his life; or so he thought. He sighed again.

"Would you please stop doing that?"

The voice startled Gordon and he turned over quickly to find two crystal blue eyes staring back at him. "John!" He exclaimed. "You made me jump, I thought you were asleep."

"Yeah well I was. Unlike sleeping beauty over there, I'm finding it kind of hard now." John smirked sarcastically in the darkness. "It's a bit difficult y'know? What with you huffing and puffing every five minutes."

"Yeah, well we don't all need as much beauty sleep as you John." Gordon replied cheekily. The comment was followed by a childish scoff and the sound of Gordon giggling over enthusiastically; a sure sign that he was worried. Gordon often used humour to mask his insecurities; it was a trait he'd picked up as a child. Though he rarely managed to fool John, it didn't stop him trying. "I don't want to be the one responsible for you losing your boyish good looks through lack of sleep." He sighed, but in reality his smile was fading fast. "Night John."

"Night." Came the sleepy reply.

"Hey John?" The blonde brother's respite didn't last long; a few minutes maximum. "You know it won't make much difference anyway. None of the blondes in this family are good looking, never where. Ask Grandma, she says Grandpa was a blonde and you just have to see the photos to see he was butt ugly. It must be like a genetic throwback thing, if you're blonde you're not that great in the looks department …"

"Gordon…" John tried to interrupt him but failed. He wriggled further down the bed in order to avoid Gordon's mumbling but couldn't bring himself to actually ignore his brother, when he so obviously had something on his mind.

"Grandma says that's how come I'm a redhead. Remember when Danny Mathews told me it was impossible, and that I must be adopted? I was like twelve, and I believed him! Well, I asked her and she told me that it's because of this genetic throwback thing. I never really understood it, it's more your kind of thing, y'know all about science and …"

"Gordon!" John groaned. Scott often thought that his younger brothers didn't communicate amongst themselves and only ever came to him with their problems. It was at times like this John wished he was right. The reason that Gordon and Alan, or even Virgil on extremely rare occasions, came to him was usually that the thought of telling Scott was too much like telling their father. Virgil was always a good option, but there was forever the risk that the sensible side of him would confess anything major to their big brother. Hence, John had dealt with more than his fair share of problems in the past, and by no means small ones; he knew when he was needed. Despite the fact that his body, and the bedside clock, told him it was time to sleep, there was a little voice in the back of his head that told him now was one of those times. He turned over in his bed, with sullen acceptance. "You're worried about leaving him tomorrow, aren't you?" He guessed perceptively.

Gordon sighed. "I was babbling, wasn't I?" He winced, looking into the darkness and guessing that's how John knew.

"Just a bit." John replied sarcastically. "Want to talk about it?"

"No, it's okay." Gordon shrugged. "I don't want to keep you up; you need your beauty sleep, remember?" He joked lamely. The silence that followed suggested that the younger man was trying to get back to sleep. John however, knew otherwise and didn't move. Sure enough, after a few minutes Gordon continued. "I'm dreading it John." He groaned glumly, turning over to face his blonde brother.

John had to chuckle, despite himself. "Yeah, me too." The blonde brother admitted seriously. "It's not fair, us having to go back." He chose his words carefully, knowing that's how Gordon would feel, yet at the same time not being able to fully understand either.

"You're telling me." Gordon grimaced. "He doesn't deserve this John." He mused. "I know he can be an ass sometimes, I mean I'm his brother I know he can be ass… but this?" He sighed heavily. "I'm going to hate myself for not staying here." He hesitated. "Especially when I know he wants me to stay, needs me to stay."

"It's not like you've got a choice Gordy." John nestled into the pillows. At first he thought his younger brother just needed a bit of reassurance but the more this conversation progressed the more he realised it was more than that. A suspicious frown settled on his face at Gordon's tone of voice. "Is it?"

"No." The redhead sighed, equally glum as he was before. "Not really…" He trailed off with a shrug.

"Gordon?" John prodded himself up, suspicious of his brother's hesitation. He had plenty of experience in knowing when this particular brother was planning something.

"Don't take that tone with me." Gordon replied testily.

"Tone?" John frowned, "What tone?"

"That tone!" He paused, trying to vocalise what he wanted to say. "That authoritative 'you've got to tell me' tone." Gordon defended. "You think you're Scott or something?" He shook his head, though John couldn't see it. "You're not Scott; I don't have to tell you anything!"

John sighed. "Fine," He pulled the covers round him as he turned over. "Don't tell me."

A few more minutes silence followed.

"Would it be so bad if I didn't go back?" John was unsurprised as the fact his brother had spoken again. However, he was thankful that Gordon couldn't see his expression when he uttered those words. He was pretty sure his eye brows hit the headrest of his bed. Gordon continued, obliviously. "I mean, if the weather was bad or I was sick or something, then I wouldn't be going back." Gordon seemed to hesitate. "Right?"

"Gords," John blew a breath out slowly, not sure where to start. "I know you don't want to leave him, I don't either, but going AWOL's a bit extreme isn't it? I mean, you'd be facing disciplinary proceedings wouldn't you?"

Gordon nodded absently before releasing John couldn't see him. "Yeah, but it'd be worth it. He'd do it for me."

"Gordon…" John exhaled in shock. "You can't be serious…"

"You're sounding like Scott again." Gordon warned before he went on. "You don't realise how cut up he is about all this John." He frowned. "He really needs me here, I don't think I can get on that plane tomorrow and let him down again." He shook his head, turning briefly to face Alan's sleeping form before looking in John's direction again.

"Again?" John was questioning. "Gordon, you've never let him down before." He knew there were things Gordon had told him, that he hadn't told Scott or Virgil. Suddenly, he wondered if it worked both ways.

"Yeah I have." Came the sad reply. "I do it all the time. I can't watch him race because I have to work, I can't come home because I have to work, he can't come and stay with me because I have to work." He sighed and rubbed at his eyes. "You're the scientist John, can you see a pattern?" He let his arm flop over his eyes and groaned. "It's not fair." He repeated.

"Life's not fair Gords, he understands that you've got to work." John frowned as he realised how deep his brother's sense of guilt went. He adjusted the pillows that propped him up against the wooden headboard.

"That's a Virgil-ism." Gordon scoffed.

"A what?" John frowned.

"Y'know, all that insightful crap." He sighed. "Life's not fair." He repeated with a groan of exasperation. "I mean, who said that? Obviously, life's not fair! Just take a look at our family history, its obvious life isn't fair. I don't need reminding!"

"Gordon…" John didn't need to say anymore.

"I'm babbling again aren't I?" The redhead sighed. "I'm sorry."

"Were you serious about not going back?" John's question was met with only silence. "Gords?"

"Yeah, I'm thinking!" Gordon took in a deep breath. "Geez, you're getting impatient like Scott too." He grumbled, before he groaned dramatically. "Oh, I wish I could be, John." The reply came from the shadows once more. "I'd lose the command post, that doesn't bother me." He shrugged. "But the reprimand," He shook his head. "It'd be the beginning of the end of my career, for sure."

"So it's not an option, then." John concluded, breathing a sigh of relief. Scott would have a fit if he knew they were talking about this, and so too would their father.

"There are always options John." Gordon said softly.

"Gordy, Al wouldn't thank you for sacrificing your career so as you can sit by him in the hearing." John's frown didn't lift. "You can't be serious, you love what you do." The idea that Gordon had even entertained these ideas surprised him and troubled him at the same time. "I know you'd give it all up for him if you had to, but Alan wouldn't want you to make that kind of a sacrifice. He's going to be okay. Have a little faith." Gordon let out a sudden, short burst of laughter. "Shh!" John hissed. "What?"

"That's exactly what I told him this afternoon – have some faith." He shook his head at the irony. "John, we've all spent so much time convincing each other that he'll be okay. Has anyone actually thought about what's really going to happen on Wednesday?"

"You mean tomorrow." John replied sombrely. "What's going to happen is Al's going to be cleared of culpability so he'll be able to get on with his life."

"You really think it's that simple?" Gordon became hesitant. "It's going to take more than that. I don't think you guys realise how much this has affected him. He's devastated at the fact that someone died. Period. This investigation; that's just the catalyst."

"You're underestimating him." John moaned as he made himself comfortable against the pillows, suppressing a yawn. "He's come through it okay so far. He's doing great." He hesitated. "I thought you of all people would understand how much he needs to do this, without being mollycoddled like a child."

"No John, you're wrong." Gordon said adamantly. "He isn't dealing with this half as well as you think he is. He feels responsible, he's convinced the investigation team have got it in for him, and the more Virgil lays the guilt trip, the more he beats himself up about it."

John frowned at the bitterness with which Gordon spoke. "What do you mean by that?"

"Nothing." Gordon swatted a hand that John couldn't see. "Forget it. I'm sorry; I shouldn't have said that. I'm tired and I don't mean it how it sounds."

"So how do you mean it then?" The blonde brother frowned.

"It's just …" Gordon clearly struggled. "Virgil was fine this morning, why did Scott make such a big deal about not going out last night?" He sighed. "I'm sure Virg could have made it downstairs to the bar, or something. He made Al feel really guilty."

"Gordy, it's not that simple." John defended his oldest brother. "Scott's just looking out for Virgil."

"Yeah and I'm just looking out for Al!" Gordon exclaimed in a whisper. "He feels bad enough because Virg is hurt already, without Scott making it worse." He came to a halt. Feeling the waves of tension coming from his blonde brother, he sat up in his bed. In a lot of ways John could be similar to Scott when it came to these types of conversation. However, unlike Scott, with John you always knew what he was thinking.

"You know something." Gordon concluded, astutely. "What's going on?"

"Gordy…"

"I know you know something." Gordon pushed the covers back. Walking in the direction of John's bed, he took cautious steps until he could see his brothers outline in the shadows. "Tell me John." He ordered as he sat down. When John remained silent, he scoffed. "You can't. Because there is no reason for Scott to be acting like a jerk. Al's feeling the pressure right now. We're his family; we should be supporting him. Trying to protect him from it, not exposing him to more."

John remained calm in the face of Gordon's rising annoyance. "Scott is trying to protect him Gords." He hesitated. Gordon's sense of duty was as strong as Scott's at times, and somehow John knew he wouldn't be pacified.

"I don't see how." The aquanaut grumbled. "Alan's career's on the line here and he's hurt too. The way Scott was going on tonight, he seems to think that just because Virgil's got a few more bruises he deserves all the sympathy."

"It's a bit more complex than that." John replied tightly, a little uncomfortable. He hunkered down into the pillows and let his eyes drift closed.

Gordon groaned. "I don't mean this how it's coming out. It's late and I'm too tired for diplomacy. I know Virgil's hurt and I know it's more than a few bruises but…"

"I know what you're saying." John sighed. "You're right, it's late. Go back to bed, huh?" He tried to conceal his fatigue from his brother; however, the words still sounded like a plea.

"I don't know what the matter with Scott is recently." Gordon continued, ignoring John's last comment. "First he was fussing round Alan, not letting anyone else get close. Now, he's doing the exact same thing with Virgil."

"He's got good reason Gords, trust me." John smiled half heartedly. "Now, let's try and get some sleep."

"What good reason?" Gordon asked, determined not to let the subject drop.

"If I tell you, you don't say a word to anyone, you hear me? Especially not Alan." Gordon nodded and John thought he heard a serious 'Okay' escape the younger man's lips, at his stern tone. "Virgil passed out this afternoon." He blurted out with an exhausted sigh. "Can we go back to sleep now?"

"What?" Gordon exclaimed. "What do you mean passed out?"

John shrugged sleepily. "I mean he passed out. Fainted. Call it what you like, apparently he was out cold."

Gordon sat wide eyed for a while, before uttering a reaction. "Jesus!" He exclaimed. "Why didn't anyone say anything? He seemed okay… is he?"

John nodded. "Yeah, of course he is. He's fine, just needs to rest. I don't think Scott or Virg wanted Alan to find out. They know how bad he feels already." John purposely phrased his sentences. "They were trying to protect him." He told his redhead brother with a yawn.

Gordon sighed, running a hand over his face then his hair. "Poor Virgil, I had no idea. I'd never have said…" He sighed again in despair. "What a mess John."

"Yeah." The blonde agreed, tiredly. His eyelids dropping as he yawned yet again.

"Alan'd be devastated if he ever knew." Gordon sighed. "I guess I can see why they decided not to tell him." Gordon paused, letting the information sink in. John took the time to let his eyes close. "I wish I could stay until Wednesday. If Virgil's sick, Alan's going to need the extra support." Gordon mused.

"Uh huh." John filled in sleepily.

"He can get so wound up sometimes that anything you say'll get his back up." Gordon carried on despite John's lack of input. "He's going to work himself into a real state on Wednesday, and I'm going to be so damned far away I won't be able to do anything about it!" He growled. "It's so frustrating!" He exclaimed with a sigh before pausing thoughtfully. "I know Scott and Virg are hiding it for Alan's sake, but do you really think it's such a good idea? I mean, do you think they'll be able to keep something like that from him? Especially when Al's the closest one to Virg, distance-wise I mean." He looked expectantly across to his blonde brother only to find John's head had lolled to one side. "John?" He queried. "John?" He asked again, leaning closer. "Scott wouldn't fall asleep on me." He tried to provoke a reaction but none came. "Night John." He sighed.

He got up, careful not to disturb his older brother, and made his way over to his bed to settle down. It was a few more hours before sleep claimed him. Guilt at the situation with Alan and guilt at his own attitude towards his two eldest brothers kept him awake. His tired mind worked over the evening's events, slowly putting everything into perspective. Eventually his mind worked its way full circle and he started to wonder what he would say to Alan again, bracing himself to cause that distraught expression. In less than six hours, he confirmed as he glanced at the clock, he would be leaving his brother behind to face an uncertain future. Somehow, his conversation with John had done nothing to reassure him he was doing the right thing.

XxxxX

Scott startled, his eyes bursting open and his breath coming short and sharp. He forced himself to take a few minutes, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness and the mild sounds about the room; his father's gentle snoring and the ticking of clocks. Systematically, he convinced himself that he was safe in the hotel room and that it really was just a dream. He let his tense, half propped up body relax into the pillows with a sigh. For the sake of his own assurance though, he turned over on the mattress wrapping the covers around him as he went.

However, the sight that was supposed to bring him comfort only caused his breath to falter. The bed in which he expected to find his brother sleeping soundly, was empty. Moreover, the tangled covers and scattered pillows divulged a tale of restless sleep. He glanced around in the darkness, pushing himself up and eagerly scrutinizing the room for evidence of his brother's presence.

When his sleepy mind had processed the fact that his brother wasn't in the room, he thrust the covers away hastily and sat up. He shivered slightly as the chill of the fresh breeze hit his bare chest. Shaking himself, he pushed himself to his feet, rubbing at his eyes and suppressing a yawn. The more of his skin exposed to the darkness, the more he felt the draught of cooler air. He frowned into the eerie shadows of the room to discover its source. Spotting the balcony doors ajar, he rubbed both hands over his face and he blinked. He was unsure whether the goose bumps that were breaking out were a result of the fading images of the nightmare, the breeze that heavily contrasted the warmth of his bed or the sinking feeling in his gut that Virgil was nowhere to be seen. Nonetheless, he grasped the extra blanket at the foot of his bed and wrapped it round his shoulders in a feeble attempt to suppress it. Padding across the room, he weaved around the various chairs and tables whilst simultaneously checking for any signs that Virgil was there. With a determination that threatened the growing panic in his gut, his headed across to the balcony doors. Glancing as he did, across to the bathroom and kitchenette doors for any signs of light.

He shivered once more as he grasped the door handles, intent to pull them closed. Presuming that he'd left the doors open after speaking with his father, he was somewhat taken aback by the vision that greeted him as he glanced out onto the balcony. Scott hesitated, his hands still on either door handle as the scene impacted on his brain. He could only stare in disbelief at what his eyes were telling him. His frown deepened in a horrible mix of sympathy and sadness, and he closed his eyes tightly as he bowed his head.

Stood at the far end of the balcony, against the brick wall was the object of his futile search. Virgil stood with his back to the doors, facing the skyline. One hand remained wrapped around his chest, supporting his ribs; the other, held his bowed head. It wasn't so much the sight that made Scott feel so hopeless but the sounds that the small gap in the doors brought to his ears. Sounds that conveyed how Virgil felt, much more adequately than any words could.

At first, he was unable to really comprehend the scene. And then, as comprehension came, so did the awful realisation that he was facing a terrible dilemma. His mind worked overtime to consider what he should do. There had been a time when he would have had no qualms about striding over to his brother and wrapping his arms round him, in a gesture of support. However, he was reminded of Virgil's strong sense of pride, and wondered briefly what he'd expect him to do should the situation be reversed. Deliberating over whether to save his brother's pride and go back to bed, or to approach him and offer what small comfort he could. Scott's hand reached up to push the doors open and step out onto the balcony, as many times as they dropped back to his side in defeat.

Eventually, he couldn't bear the sound of his brother in so much distress any longer, and stepped out. He shivered; the air, though not cold, was considerably cooler then that inside the room. Several times as he padded slowly across the cold concrete floor, he considered turning back and saving Virgil's dignity. He glanced longingly at the doors but he knew he couldn't. He just couldn't turn his back now, not with what he knew, not with the tortured sounds that continued to greet his ears. As he got closer, he knew he'd made the right decision. As uncomfortable as this was going to be for the both of them, it was the right thing to do.

Virgil's chest heaved with the pressure, his head and shoulders rising and falling unevenly. He was so absorbed he didn't hear Scott come up behind him; he continued, oblivious to any other presence.

The chill that ran down Scott's spine continuously, he was sure, was not due to the cool air. Tugging the blanket round his shoulders a little tighter, Scott mirrored his treatment of the balcony doors as he stood directly behind his brother. Several times he reached both his hands up to Virgil's trembling shoulders before, several times, he dropped them to his side. Taking a deep breath, he hesitantly laid his hands on the top of his brother shoulders. He was unsurprised when Virgil flinched. The touch startled him and he immediately blinked, trying to control his breathing in an effort to calm himself.

"It's okay," Scott whispered as he leant into his brother's shoulder. "It's me." He moved his hands in a circular motion; rubbing the tops of Virgil's arms, more to provide support than generate heat.

Virgil made no comment. He shrugged Scott's hands off almost immediately and determinedly faced ahead, desperately trying to compose himself. He blinked to dispel the cloudy moisture, using the palms of his hands to rub a little too hard at his eyes, and he sniffled. Scott couldn't see his face, but he didn't need to. Virgil swallowed, embarrassed and humiliated in the knowledge he could never convince Scott he was okay now.

As if reading his mind, the older brother went on. "Are you okay?" Scott kept his voice low and soft, in an attempt to be compassionate. He bit his lips together, awaiting some kind of response.

Despite Virgil shrugging his hands away, Scott had made no effort to lengthen the short distance between them. As he spoke, Virgil could feel the heat of his breath behind him and suddenly felt uncomfortably claustrophobic. He tried to shrug it off, but the proximity between them made him feel as though he was slowly suffocating; overwhelmed by Scott's concern. Having not replied, Scott was halfway through raising his hand back to his brother's shoulder. Virgil sensed the movement and turned his head slightly to Scott's voice. It had the desired effect; Scott's hand hovered where it was before dropping back to his side.

"What's…" Virgil trailed off at the sound of his own voice before swallowing and taking a deep breath. He struggled to sound more collected when he spoke again. "What's Dad doing in there?"

The question took Scott by surprise but he sighed nonetheless. He knew when he father had suggested the idea that Virgil would dislike it, especially now he knew how smothered his brother already felt.

"I'm sorry." Scott breathed, truly remorsefully. "I tried to talk him out of it; I knew you wouldn't like it. But you know what he's like when he's got an idea in his head." Virgil felt the movement of air as his brother shook his head sadly. "He's worried about you." Scott stopped himself adding that he wasn't the only one.

Virgil nodding, in acceptance of the comment. "Yeah." He mused as he turned back to staring out at the dark skies.

Scott found himself frowning at his brother's abrupt despondency. He bowed his head, noting how the shaking he had attributed to distress, remained.

"Virgil you're shaking." Scott said as he shrugged off the blanket around his shoulders. "Here." He began to wrap it around the younger man's shoulders but Virgil batted his hands away, taking over the task for himself. Deflated, Scott took a step back, much to Virgil's relief. Despite pulling the blanket tight around his shoulders, Virgil shivered and grumbled inaudibly. "What was that Virg?"

"I said it's not because of the cold." Virgil told him louder, but a little gruffly.

Scott frowned at the blunt content and brusque tone, again feeling inadequate. And again, letting his head drop.

A long thoughtful pause followed.

"Let's go inside." Scott suggested eventually. The younger man was clearly reluctant. "Virg?" A hand on his brother's back was enough to get Virgil moving. Silently, they both made their way into the warmth of the hotel room.

As Scott turned back to close the doors, Virgil made his way over to his bed. "Virgil," Scott signalled to the couch, keeping his voice low so as not to wake their father. "You want to talk?" He suggested. An uncharacteristic amount of indecision in his voice.

Virgil was half way to his bed and glanced across at their father. "I don't want to wake him." He replied softly, shaking his head.

Scott became stern. "So we'll talk quietly." He looked his brother in the eye. "Sit down." His tone caused Virgil to wonder if it was ever a question. He looked longingly at his bed, before turning back to his brother and walking slowly across to the couch. Dreading what was to follow.

"Do you want a drink or anything?" Scott asked, eyeing the scotch bottle that had been left on the table. Glancing at his watch told him he couldn't have one even if he wanted to. Somehow, that knowledge just made the temptation worse. When Virgil shook his head, Scott eyed the kettle with distaste. "No, me neither." He muttered, taking his seat.

For a few seconds as he got himself comfortable, he studied his brother. Virgil tensely sat on the very edge of the sofa, as if he was afraid to relax into it. He held on to the blanket around his shoulders with white knuckles, cocooning himself away from the world. If Scott was honest to himself, as he relaxed into the plush cushions; tucking one leg under the other and stretching his arm out along the headrest. The air of vulnerability that clung to Virgil in that moment, hurt him more than anything his brother had said to him earlier.

Stealing himself to make the first move, Scott sighed. "What were you doing out there?" He asked as he absently picked at the chair arm.

The blankets moved as Virgil shrugged. "Don't know." He said softly. "Thinking, I guess." He said vaguely, as he swallowed. "Yeah, thinking." He said with a little more certainty, as if he'd only just decided.

"What about?" Scott frowned.

Virgil could feel him scrutinising his every movement. He shrugged again. "Alan, Wednesday, y'know? Just stuff." He knew Scott would ask him to explain and so he spoke again, not giving his brother the chance. "It's so quiet out there. You wouldn't think we're above one of the biggest cities in this country, would you?" He turned his head in Scott's direction but didn't actually look at him. "You can think so clearly, it's peaceful." He said as he briefly let his gaze rise to meet his brothers. Scott's expression told him exactly what his brother was thinking. Virgil scoffed a bitter laugh in response. "Don't panic Scott." He grinned with contempt. "I wasn't going to throw myself off."

"Don't joke about it." Scott replied seriously. The sombre current to his voice, caused Virgil to stare back at him dubiously. "It's not funny."

"Look, I didn't mean to wake anybody else." Virgil's tone remained apologetic however his eyes portrayed a defensiveness Scott rarely saw in his usually confident brother.

"You didn't wake me." Scott sighed heavily. He waited to see if Virgil would face him again, before he spoke. Still, the younger man remained poised on the edge of his seat, tensely staring ahead. "I had a bad dream." Slowly, as Scott had expected, Virgil turned to face him with startled eyes. The older man shook his head. "Keep seeing that body." He paused to frown and bite the inside of his cheek. "Only in my dreams it isn't Mark Jamison." He purposely met Virgil's gaze and held it as he spoke again. "It's you."

As his words registered, Virgil looked away. "I'm sorry." He mumbled, barely audible.

"Why?" Scott smiled, shifting his position. "It's not your fault." When it became obvious Virgil had no reply to that and indeed had no intention to speak again, Scott went on. "Virgil, did you have a nightmare too?"

Virgil didn't look back at him, just stared ahead vacantly. "It was different." He said softly.

"The dream was different?" Scott frowned. He leant forward, attempting to get closer to Virgil but it didn't seem to affect his brothers concentration, or lack thereof.

"No." Virgil scoffed another ironic laugh. "The dream's always the same. My reaction to it was different."

"How do you mean different?" Scott continued to coax him with questions.

"Before, I'd wake up and I'd be in such a state, it was pathetic." Virgil swallowed. "I was pathetic. I'd feel guilty, ashamed that I didn't do more, inadequate." His voice wavered as he shook his head. "Tonight… Tonight, it's as if someone's just taken all that away; there's just this … void. I … I feel empty, hollow."

Scott licked his lips, unsure how he should respond. Irresolute as to whether the words of comfort he could offer would make any difference; he reached out a hand to Virgil's shoulder. "Virg…" He trailed off.

When Virgil knocked his comforting hand away yet again, Scott let out a frustrated sigh. He sat back, breathing through clenched teeth to control his irritation and looked away. He wasn't well known for having any vast amount of patience. However, when it came to Virgil, he always tried to keep his cool that bit longer. Right now, Virgil was pushing him further than that patience would stretch.

"Don't." The younger man wriggled uncomfortably, but Scott's hand remained. The comfort it had intended to provide was now forgotten and Virgil found a firm grip on his arm.

"Don't?" Scott questioned. "For crying out loud Virgil!" He snapped irritably. "Stop pushing me away!" Scott sighed again, controlling his angry outburst. "I thought we talked this through." He spoke much calmer. "I thought you understood; you can't keep punishing yourself like this."

Virgil pulled his arm away with a jolt and a resultant wince. "I'm not!" He exclaimed, a little too loudly.

Both of them looked up as they heard their father stir. Suddenly the air held a new tension and the brothers released identical heavy sighs of relief when the older man settled back into sleep, unperturbed.

Virgil squeezed his eyes closed. "Scott when I get back to Denver, you're not going to be there in the middle of the night."

"I could be." Scott told him softly. "I could be there, if you'd let me."

Scott saw his brother hesitate and shuffled forward, he was about to speak again when Virgil marginally beat him to it. "I don't need you to hold my hand Scott; I'm a grown man. I can do this." His voice betrayed the uncertainty of that comment, despite its literary absolution.

"Can you?" Scott watched his brother as he uttered those words with so little faith.

"Yes!" Virgil snapped back. His voice rose and his head snapped round to face his older brother with fury. Suddenly his chest was tightening and he began to breathe faster to compensate. Feeling the familiar rush of emotions, he turned his face away from Scott. He leant forward in despair, and placed his head in his hands, breathing deeply. The movement sent the blanket that had provided that extra protection, plummeting to the seat behind him. The final of his barriers to break down.

Scott shook his head sadly. "I know you can." He told Virgil, conveying the abundance of faith he had in his brother. "But you don't have to." He sighed as he mirrored Virgil's position; leaning forward. He reached his hand out to his brother's back, pleased when Virgil didn't flinch away. He purposely let his hand rest there for a while, trying to provide a tangible reminder that he wasn't alone.

Virgil rubbed at his face, trying to keep it together. Trying to ignore what he knew Scott was attempting to do. As he'd anticipated, after a short pause, Scott's hand snaked up to his shoulder and he felt his brother lean into him.

"Come on." Scott whispered as he secured a firm grip on his brother's shoulder, guiding him back. Virgil was apprehensive but he didn't trust himself to speak or move. He concentrated on gathering his shattered thoughts and trying to appear as natural as possible, despite every muscle in his body straining at the task. Tensely, he let Scott pull him until his head was leaning on the back of the couch.

As they'd grown up, the times when they'd accepted the need for physical comfort had grown fewer and farther apart, and they'd both learned to support themselves. The fulfilment they'd gotten from a comforting embrace as children had become uncomfortable into their teens. Now hugging had become something accompanied with a farewell pat on the back; a brief contact that was reserved for airports or monorail platforms. Nevertheless, Virgil couldn't help but feel some kind of deep need or unfathomable knowledge, that Scott's strong arms around him would chase away the after effects of the nightmare that still lingered. Easing this sensation of being adrift and vulnerable.

He was torn between the knowledge that Scott could soothe his troubled soul, and a typical masculine need to protect his dignity; to not let anyone know how he really felt. Scott's hand rubbed reassuringly at the top of his arm and before Virgil had really thought about it, he found Scott's hand resting against his face. Confidently manoeuvring his head until it rested in the crook of his brother's shoulder.

Despite his feelings of unease, a sigh of relief escaped Virgil from deep inside. He relaxed into the hold entirely; letting the comfort and reassurance he had previously denied himself, wash over him with contentment. For his part, Scott rested his head on top of where his brothers nestled against his shoulder, sighing his own breath or relief though for different reasons.

Scott was surprised when Virgil sniffled, shifting slightly he broke the content silence. "I really hate you sometimes, you know?" He felt Scott's chest shudder as the older man scoffed a laugh. Nothing could be further from the truth than those words. And both of them knew it.

"Yeah I know." Scott grinned, appreciating Virgil's choice of vocabulary. Virgil had a unique way of understanding him and his discomposure when it came to his emotions; a connection he felt he had with no-one else. "Sometimes, I hate you too."

Virgil smiled in response as Scott pulled the blanket up to cover both of them. Along with the comforting warmth, he allowed the sense of ease he felt to consume him; slowly accepting that his eyes were closing with or without his consent. Scott listened for the change in his breathing that would tell him his brother had settled and sure enough after a few minutes, it came. It was only when he was sure Virgil was comfortable and peacefully sleeping, that he tightened his hold somewhat. Burying his face into Virgil's hair and closing his eyes, he placed a single soft kiss on his brother's scalp.

And then, glancing across at his sleeping father, he could have sworn he saw an eyelid move … and the contented smile on his lips, disappear...